You want me to dust what?

Today I had the day off...good right?  WRONG.  I woke up from my land of dreaming to 8 fire alarms going off saying, “Fire...Fire”.  I slowly get out of bed, the mutt at my heals, and fling open the door...half hoping to see some sort of something.  Of course I open the door to the wonderful land of nothing.  The alarms then stop.  Thank goodness!  I climb back in bed hoping to go back to sleep for another hour...it is only 8 am and this is my day to sleep in!  I pull the comforter over my head and close my eyes....

Instead of falling back into a dreamy world, I lay there and think of all the things I need to get done on my day off.  I had just figured out last night the oven quit working, so I knew I was going to need to make some phone calls about that.  I wanted to get a head start on the laundry, and I needed to clean the house.  I also thought about all the follow-up calls I needed to make for work...my ultimate goal of trying to trap people into signing a lease, to make a small bundle for myself...ahhhh, sales.  

I very dramatically fling back the covers, wishing the Chief was there to see how early I was getting up.  I stomp my way down the stairs, sill with no audience to witness my tantrum.  

I flip on the television, and head straight into the office to pull out the manual for the oven.  Since I got up, I might as well get started on my to-do list, right?

Side note-I am watching price is right...when the hell did Drew Carey lose 500 pounds?

Okay, back to my morning.  So I flip the manual to the  troubleshooting section....right, like I am going to really get lucky here.  I look at all the problems, and none of them is the problem I have.  I then look for a 1-800 number, which I find quickly.  I called that and talked to a kind woman that asked if I tried shutting it off yet.  I asked how I might go about doing that.  She informed me to shut it off from the breaker...wait 5 minutes...then turn it back on.  If that didn’t work, she wanted me to call her back and she would send a technician over.  Great right?  Now if I can just find where the breakers are.  I started with the basement..GOAL!  Okay, I stand there for twenty minutes and stare at this: 

Ummm, do I start at the bottom and work my way up?  I read all the labels and none say “oven”.  So I start with “microwave”..thinking because they were close in vicinity that maybe I would get lucky.  I turn it to off, and run upstairs.  Not lucky.  I go back down, flip that one back to its original position and try for another, “refrigerator”.  Eight trips later, I am staring at this stupid box trying to figure out why this has to be so tricky.  I notice one that says, “range”.  What the hell does that mean? I assumed it meant a series of things in a line (thank you online dictionary for putting the words I couldn’t think of together).  I thought maybe it was the orange room upstairs, because it is one long range (area).  I figured I had to try it, though, since the only things I had left were bathrooms and bedrooms (all upstairs).  Sure enough, it worked!  Then I realized I think an oven can also be called a range...yes guys, school teacher on board here.  So I sat down to wait my five minutes.  

As I am sitting down to enjoy a bowl of cereal, guess what jolts me up out of my seat?  The fire alarm.  As I am wiping up the cereal that went flying (due to my scare), I am cursing this state, this house, and myself for being so jumpy.  Then the alarm stops.  I decide this alarm thing won’t be able to be ignored.  I called The Dad, to get his advice.  After minutes of lecturing the obvious, “you have to get that fixed,” he suggest that I call the fire department.  Great...a plan.  Just as I am about to hang up I explain the oven issue I am having and how it took me forever to find the right breaker.  He says to me, “don’t you have one labeled 'range'?”  I politely said my goodbyes and then accidently dropped the phone on the ground and stepped on it...twice.  

My next task at hand... calling the fire department.  I looked up the number and called.  The man explained to me that I needed to call 911.  I told him it wasn’t an emergency and there wasn’t a fire, and he explained it was "protocol". I hung up with him to make the 911 call.  I explained the situation and was VERY clear it wasn’t an emergency.  He said, “no big deal, we won’t sound the alarms or anything, we will be there in a few to take a look.”  I hung up thinking, “maybe this is going to be easier than I thought!”  Oddly enough, I hear fire truck sirens in the distance, lightly laughing to myself about someone else having the same problem.  Three minutes later, those sirens from the fire trucks were parked outside my home.  Four LARGE trucks, blasting sirens like an apartment complex was blazing to the ground.  Excellent, I thought to myself.  

As I run outside explaining there was no emergency, they shut the alarms off explaining it was "protocol".  Whatever, I thought.  They came in and checked the house...I guess they thought I missed the angry flames, heat and smoke.  After determining there was no fire (glad I had them to point that out), they said it was probably dust.  They told me to open each detector and dust it with a paint brush.  Do you know how many fire alarms are in my house?  Eleven.  Do you know how long it took to dust eleven fire alarms?  45 minutes.  I finished dusting the alarms and went down to the basement to turn the breaker back on for the oven so I could test it.  I came upstairs, turned the oven on and sat down to do some follow-up work calls.  I grabbed the house phone and noticed it wasn’t working.  I went to the Chiefs office (where the base is) and noticed it was all off.  Luckily, I knew how to get to the breaker since we had already bonded.  I walk downstairs, wondering what crazy name they labeled the office with.  Luckily it was obvious “den”.  I flipped it the rest of the way off, and then flipped it back on.  Easy right?  Ha.  Nothing is easy today.

I immediately hear the familiar blast of the oh-so-dutiful fire alarm.  You have GOT to be kidding me.  I stomp back upstairs (I was in the basement), cursing the fire alarm, which led to the government, which led to the president.  All his fault!  I grabbed the phone, which was now working since the breaker did it’s job.  I stomped out on the back patio because at this point the alarm was constant.  I called 911 again, explained the situation, begged them NOT to turn on their sirens, and hung up the phone.  I sat on the porch for about 3 minutes as I listened to the “range” of fire truck sirens.  Can it get any better?  Oh, it does.  

They come back into the house, search it again for the imaginary fire that I keep missing out on, and notice my oven is on.  They asked if I was cooking something, and I said, “no, I am just testing it” (kicking myself for forgetting to turn it off before they came in).  Five men stand there staring back and forth at each other hoping someone speaks up saying, “yeah, my wife does that all the time.”  I explained that I was testing it because it wasn’t working and assured them the two things weren’t related.  They then determine that the alarm sounding is from a malfunction in the detector.  Really?  We pay for these geniuses?  My 95 pound mutt (who isn’t all that bright) could have told you there was a damn malfunction in the system! As I was explaining how the breaker set it off the third time, I walked over to show them which alarm was making a different sound.  As I did, something caught my eye behind the piano.  

Okay, despite what the Chief says, I can’t control my fear.  When something scares me or catches me off-guard, I scream and jump.  Call me a girl.  I know it is dead, but at first glance the only thing that goes through my mind is, “OMG, that is a mouse, a rodent, in my house, that could ultimately somehow manage to raise from the dead, and jump on my face.”  So naturally, I scream.  I wish it was as simple as a scream, but no, I like to do the full blown, death-feared, ear piercing scream.  They all look at me like I am completely psychotic...at this point I think I am too because I can still feel the mouse crawling on my skin.   I recover quickly flinging my arm toward the mouse explaining I thought it was alive (leaving out the part about it coming after me).  As I hear one of them mumble, “you don’t get more dead than that”, it took everything for me to not turn around and say, "is THAT protocol?"  Instead, I tried to quickly divert their attention away from the fact I had a mouse in my house (which is disgusting to me), and go back to explaining the weird sound coming from the alarm.  

They got the alarm to stop, and left my home with instructions to hire someone to fix the problem, “thanks dad,” I mumble as they all walk back down to their trucks.

That has been my morning, and it is still early.  I have informed the Chief there is a gift behind the piano for him when he comes home.  My oven is now working, and my alarms are no longer making a peep.  I hope I don’t have to add a part two to this blog.              

Heaven is For Real

I recently read a wonderful book.  Heaven is For Real by Todd Burpo.  The brunette BFF recommended it, telling me it was amazing.  

Lately I have been...not doubting God, but questioning the whole religion thing.  I think it is a normal thing that everyone goes through at some point in their life.  Of course I ask the questions...if there is a God, why is their so much evil? Why doesn’t God protect his children?  Where was he on 9-11?  Although I question this, I still believe.  It is really more of a confusion on my part.  Unanswered questions...  

Why not believe?  Whether it is real or not, what is the harm in believing?  I mean if it turns out there is a God, and a heaven...then I sure want to be first in line!  If you don’t believe, though, and it is true...you will spend an eternity in hell.  So, the smartest choice here is to believe!  

So I picked up this book on Saturday evening.  The story is about a little boy that dies, and comes back and tells his parents about the things he saw.  After a few strange comments, they realized their son had actually been to heaven.  The book at times gave me goosebumps so large I had to get a blanket to tame them!  The little boy says things that no child, even the child of a pastor, could know.  He talks about sitting on the lap of Jesus, and the things he saw while he was on his short visit.  If this is real, and this kid was in heaven...then I have a few things to report to you.

1. In heaven we all have wings.
2. We are young and in our prime.
3. It doesn’t get dark, because the light of the Lord never dims.
4. Satan isn’t in hell, he roams the earth.
5. There are rainbows all over in heaven...colors we can’t begin to imagine.
6. Jesus is breathtakingly beautiful.  

Thanks to this book, I am eager to stand in the presence of something great.  I am a believer, and EVERYONE should read this short book.  I didn’t spoil everything...but I will leave you with this.

Over the years Colton’s mom and dad asked him, after seeing a picture of Jesus, “What’s wrong with this picture, Colton?”  The little boy would point out things here and there that weren’t right about the picture.  Then Colton’s dad read about another little girl that had the same experience as Colton...and she is a gifted artist.  Colton’s dad called him downstairs to show him the picture the little girl had drawn of Jesus.  He asked Colton, “What’s wrong with this one, Colton?”  After seconds of silence the little boy responded, “Dad, that one’s right.”  Here is that picture by a little girl named Akiane.   

Ghost Town

When we moved to Connecticut seven months ago, one of the first things I noticed was a massive set of abandoned buildings near our home.  Every time I leave the area around my house, I drive by this spooky place.  About a week in, I sat down with my laptop to figure out what the story was behind this mysterious ghost town.  This is what I found: 

http://www.forbidden-places.net/urban-exploration-Norwich-State-Hospital#gal

It doesn’t really give a cut and dry explanation of why it closed down.  I assume the main reason was because the need for this type of hospital vanished...although the building was polluted with asbestos... My personal thought is because once we discovered medication as a cure for the mental disorders of the world...the need for lobotomies expired.  The whole area is very morbid.  It is all over a stretch of a mile, and it is guarded by a chain link fence and signs threatening to cut off your left arm if you cross over the property line.  Of course that held me back...okay if that didn’t the cop did (a whole other blog in itself).  I took pictures of this area so you could see.

  

This is a video I found on youtube of the inside of this marvelous building.  It is nine minutes long, so only watch it if this is as interesting to you as it is to me.   

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5Pq_sEQubg

One more rockin’ fact...this hospital made it to the season finale of the show Ghost Hunters last year!  They say it is haunted.  We tease Little Man telling him if he doesn’t straighten up, I will make him spend an hour in their with the ghosts...it has yet proven to be affective. 

Justice is NOT served!

This story has had America’s heart since 2008.  Finally the mother stands trial for murdering her child.  We all know she did it right?  Why else would she be partying and having a good time?  If she thought her child was missing, I think she would have been distraught.  She knew her child was dead, therefore she wasn’t worried about her whereabouts.  

So, she walks free.  Free of a life in prison, free of being on death row.  She is free of the hands of other prisoners, who may have taken it open themselves to show her just how guilty she is.  She is free to have another child, and free to move on with her life.  I understand that we didn’t have enough to convict her.  That is how it works right?  What I do wonder, though, is what happens to her now?  Does she walk the streets with any guilt?  Do her past friends take her back in their lives?  Does her life get to go on?  Her little girls life doesn’t get to go on, but hers does?  Where is justice served?

From a young age, I was in a stable church home.  Our pastor would preach on how every sin is equal in the eyes of the Lord.  I am thinking about this now.  Really?  If I tell a lie and ask for forgiveness, I get to go the same place that someone who kills her child and repents goes to?  If this is how it goes, I am not sure I want to go there.  How is that fair?  Does that even make sense?  To me it doesn’t.  You shouldn’t be able to murder your child, or rape/molest someone, and get to just have everything wiped clean with a golden ticket straight to heaven in your right hand.  Where is justice served?  

Think about it for a second.  She murders her kid, but no biggie, she can just ask for forgiveness.  She gets up to heaven and who is on the other side of the pearly gates?  Her child, that she killed.  So then are they just supposed to grab hands and walk away in the sunset?  COME ON!  I think she should be tied up, and kicked around...maybe even have a few fingers cut off.  

I watched the interview with Diane Sawyer and Jaycee Dugard.  This woman was born two weeks after I was. She was kidnapped at age 11 and held captive for 18 years.  She was raped repeatedly.  Will justice be served for her?  The two that took her are serving life sentences.  Is that enough?  They get to be in prison?  By “get” I am implying that the punishment doesn’t fit the crime.  They get to sit in a prison, behind bars.  The prison is air conditioned, they are handed three meals a day.  They get to see the sun, they get a clean bed to sleep in.  Their clothes and sheets are cleaned daily.  They get reading material.  What a punishment.  That’ll teach ‘em!  

It is hard for me to imagine that God is so forgiving.  All they have to do is repent and they are good and clear with their golden ticket.  I don’t think it is fair.  A woman who murders her child, or a couple who steals and rapes another woman’s child.  A punishment is due...and the question I have is who is going to execute it?  

Fun Jobs

We all work.  Whether we are at home raising our kids, or we are at an office, we all work.  There are so many jobs I want to try.  I am not sure if this is normal, or if I am the exception.  

We had dinner a week ago at Cici’s Pizza.  I am a sucker for this place, I LOVE it.  The Chief isn’t a huge fan, so when I go, it is typically without him.  So here I am sitting here enjoying two wonderful things.  Eating, and watching someone clean.  Okay, the freak is about to come out in me.  

I LOVE when a family comes in, eats a meal, and leaves behind a mess of plates, drinks, and straw wrappers, followed by crumbs and stickiness of the cinnamon rolls. I then watch as someone comes, removes the plates, napkins, silverware, and cups.  They then take this bottle of spray, and shower the table with a misty cleaning fluid.  Then they take a cloth and wipe the table down.  I WANT to do this job.  I want to be the person that gets to take a mess and make it lovely.  I would be quick and efficient.  I would be able to clean those tables better than ANYONE can clean them.  Sometimes I sit there and wish I could just grab their rag and cart and finish the job for them!  

Another job I wish I could do...working with cars.  There is something very appealing about getting under a car and changing the oil or rolling tires across a garage floor and putting them in their spots on the wheel.  I want to use the gun that makes the zipping noise when it pulls the lug nuts out.  I would be good at that!  I would have to get a little stronger, but I could do it!  I want to do this job that is made to cater to men!  I want to walk away dirty, and smelling like a mixture of oil, dirt, and gas.  There is something about it that is so intriguing, that I have thought about filling out an application at a Discount Tire.  I am not trying to recreate G.I Jane...no woman can ever look that good with a shaved head.  What I am trying to say, is I can do this job.  

Another job I want to try...working in a nursing home.  Yes, I am the weirdo that wants to clean the poop and pee and bathe these people.  They have no one else.  Many of them go there to die.  They don’t get visitors.  They don’t get to go out and enjoy the afternoon.  Some can’t even go to the bathroom by themselves.  This is a sad place to be sent, and I wish I could spend their last days with them.  They deserve to have someone to sit and talk to.  They deserve to have someone read to them.  They have lived a hard life.  They have had all the challenges that we had...but many of them dealt with more war and death then we will ever see.  I wish I could sit next to them and let them tell their stories.  I wish I could learn from them.  They hold all the secrets.  They know what it is like to be married for 50 years.  I want to know how they did it.  I want to know how they loved so successfully.  This job would simply be rewarding.  

Of course I want to be a teacher.  I have gone to school for a long time to achieve my final goal.  These jobs above have always been compelling to me.  I will always have my summers free as a teacher.  Maybe I will use them to try some of these jobs out.  Just to get it out of my system :)

Todays Teens

Rainy day in Connecticut.  I decided to stop at a Starbucks for lunch.  I got my regular caramel apple cider, and a slice of lemon pound cake.  I am not a huge Starbucks fan.  I will stop once-in-a-while and enjoy a drink.  So I put my order in, then went to stand by the bar where the person passes you the drink when it is done.  As I made my way over there, I quickly realized the bar was blocked.  There stood two teenagers (probably 18).  They were chatting about someone they went to school with.  One of them was standing at the bar, with her whole arm resting on it.  She was completely oblivious to the three other people standing there waiting on their drinks.  She continued with her dramatic story, flailing her free arm around.  I am standing there, wondering if someone will say something to her (since she is using the busy counter as her personal armrest).  The woman behind the counter finished a drink and attempted to set it on the bar.  An older woman moved around and stretched to reach her drink...the dramatic teen still oblivious to the world outside her own. The next drink was the teens.  She turned around, grabbed a straw, pulled it out of the wrapper, and left her straw wrapper behind as she grabbed her drink and headed for the door.  I think my jaw must have fallen off their hinges.  

Let me say this.  The Chiefs BFF is an avid Starbucks customer.  That is an understatement.  You go to any Starbucks in the country, and not only do they know her, but they know her drink.  Before the Chief settled in the Connecticut division, he used to travel with her.  First stop every morning, Starbucks.  He would tell me stories of them walking into a Starbucks in another state, and they would call her name out when they saw her come in...no joke.  So I am thinking, as I stand here appalled by the brat that has just left the building: What would the Chiefs BFF do?  She says what I don’t have the guts to say.  She would have said...LOUDLY, “Ummm, excuse me, you left your trash on the counter.” 

This just eats my skin!  Teenagers are so different today then they were when I was a teenager.  They think they are entitled.  They think they don’t have to EARN respect.  They think we owe it to them.  This is where I am VERY old fashioned.  Kids don’t EARN respect.  An adult is an adult.  You treat an adult with respect whether they are respectful or not.  Teens think when they turn 16, they should be given a car.  They think that they should be given money to spend.  They think they should be given a cell phone, ipod, and any other electronic that is out there to have.  They don’t have to pay their own car insurance because mommy and daddy pay it.  They don’t know what it is like to earn their own money.  

What are we teaching our kids?  We are raising them to depend on others for money.  We are teaching them they don’t have to earn the things they want.  We are teaching them they don’t need to try hard in school, they will still get to have the things they want without trying.  They don’t know consequences.  They don’t know punishments.  They don’t know what life is like without a cell phone and internet.  We are losing communication with them.  We send them texts and emails to find out when they will be home and who they are with.  We consider a job well done if they respond.  

There is no more “go outside and play.”  Kids are now entertained by video games, and televisions.  Its no wonder obesity has skyrocketed in our country.  Kids don’t have to exercise anymore.  We have invented these things that keep them in the house.  Kids no longer use their imaginations and legs to run.  I want to smack some sense into these teens.  I know teaching is going to be a challenge for me, but teaching is so much more than out of the book.  I know I can’t change the world.  I know that technology is going to trump any book in their eyes.  I want to teach them that there is just as much entertainment in reading and writing than in their music and video games.  The teens that don’t know “playing outside” are the ones I will be teaching.  I pray that I will find a way to reach them despite the different views we have.  I am excited about the challenge I will face.  I am excited about making a difference.