passion

Passion is important in every part of our lives. I am a particularly passionate person, very opinionated with strong points of view regarding how I live my life and what I believe to be good and true for me, my family, my country, and my world.

I am a passionate mother, much like many parents are. I could be a passionate wife and lover when with one who can bring that out in me--challenge that passion and match it.

Part of my fabric, which I have learned to be true in my adult life, is my passion for teaching. I am a language teacher, but the first time I taught was violin. I had a student while I was in high school, then had a few while in university. I thought music was my greatest passion; my violin and choral work would evoke such emotions that would bring me to my knees. I had never known such joy or such melancholy as I did when expressing myself with music.

In the second grade I remember answering that I was going to be a teacher. Teaching was always a part of me; Daddy was a math teacher, Mom was an English teacher, my grandmother had a teaching degree from OSU, my uncle retired relatively recently from teaching in Sacramento. I always held all my teachers in highest regard. Clearly I had my favorites, but I respected all my teachers for all they did for me. I can remember every single teacher I have ever had.

Now I am teaching in my own right. Fifteen years of teaching while affiliated with an institution of some sort has given me the confidence to branch out on my own; my teaching evaluations always came back stellar and I resented old-school professors who wouldn't allow me to teach the way I do (student-centered rather than egocentrically me-centered).

Today an ex-student from the uni contacted me. He is an African man about to finish his Ph.D coursework and embark on his dissertation. He needs Spanish to help him fulfill his doctorate in nationality and ethnicity, but is unwilling to continue with the University's program due to the lack of, in his words, 'qualified professors like you who know what they are doing and can actually teach well.' So now, two years after he first took my course, he would rather study with me than earn any credits through the University.

Tonight I met with two new students, both from Iran. These young men are extremely interested in learning Spanish--and with me. One told me today, "Do you know why I contacted you? Let me tell you. I took two advanced courses at the local uni. The professors could not captivate my interest nor keep my attention. They didn't seem to care. So then I went through Spanish Black Belt. Great website, only native speakers teach. But they offer absolutely no substance to back up their marketing. I was surfing around on CraigsList, ready to give up but then saw your ad. I checked out your website and you know what got me? Your enthusiasm. It comes through in your words and in your testimonials. You obviously love what you do. So I figured I should try you out and see if I can complete my goals through you, and here you are meeting with us, letting us get to know you and ask questions all on your time."

Enthusiasm. Passion.

When creating my website, upon deciding to go independent, I struggled with how to market myself without coming across as a braggart. Tonight's feedback told me that, to at least a couple choosey customers, I have succeeded in that quest.

Now I only hope not to let anybody down.

mother nature's intervention

I honestly believed last night was one to be restful.

Emotionally I have been completely wrung this week. I can hardly feel anything right now. Lots of reasons, nothing really postable. Last night before surrendering to a few moments of slumber I linguistically deconstructed the word "tears" and the Spanish word for tears, "lágrimas." I find "lágrimas" so much more fitting to express tears one sheds. The term begins with a soft aveolar lateral placement of the tongue /l/ while "tears" sounds harsher, the dental occlusive forcing the sound out of from behind the front teeth with a force, like a gunshot. "Lágrimas" allows the idea to glide smoothly out of the mouth, much like a "lágrima" would roll down your cheeks...

And I fell asleep. Nothing like linguistics to knock a poor soul out.

Mother Nature, however, had other plans. Lightning, thunder, wind started up a little after 2 a.m. (I think...) which required me to get up, run around closing windows and then lay in my bed, watching the light show. In my entire life, I don't believe I have ever been known to have slept through a single storm.

By the time the cloudy sky began to show signs of light, the lightning passed. And I could finally sleep.

Perhaps I am part vampire? Nah--reincarnated sun goddesses and vampires cannot coexist in the same body. Too much essential, internal conflict.

A shot of Mama Llama-bucks (cheaper than *bucks, mind you) and let's just see how productive I can make this day. Lemonade from lemons, correct?

word of the day

From Anu Garg's A.Word.A.Day:

callipygian

having well-shaped buttocks

That about made me spew my Mama Llama-bucks all over my keyboard this morning.

And on that note, I sign off for now. Not feeling too well this week, need to rest and revive. This is what Vacation does to me--makes me sick. Almost always.

in a manu chao mood

Today is a Manu Chao mood day. I love him.

I use this song to teach and practice that "gustar" grammar formation in my class. It is how you express what you like in Spanish, but is literally translated as:
"(object) is pleasing to (indirect object)".

So "Me gusta el chocolate" would be "Chocolate is pleasing to me" or, in real English, "I like chocolate."



So...your 'sleepless night' homework: how many things can you hear Manu Chao say that he likes? What would you add to that list...just to be random? It does not have to be in Spanish (a-hem). And if you have any questions, feel free! We'll just call this lesson "Spanish 1".

vaginas on PBS?

You know it has been a long time when...

You are watching PBS KIDS programming and you hear, "What if a giant asparagus..." does something (yeah, it's a cartoon. I have no clue as to the context). Honest to God I didn't hear what it was the CyberChase crew was worried about the giant asparagus doing because I was trying to hard to process what I heard,

"What a vagina..."

I had to check my programming there for a minute.

Duuuuuude....time for a vacation.

stung!

The Young Prince had his first bee sting this morning while at preschool.

And with a bang!

Details are sketchy as nobody saw the culprit, but he was stung twice, probably by a wasp or a yellowjacket. I can still see the sting marks on his arm.

When I got to his classroom to pick him up at noon and the teachers told me, I asked him to show me. He looked at me and said, "Yes, Mommy, but it's all over now, ok?"

Well, okay then!

There was also no air conditioning in La Princesita's classroom today...nor in any of the classrooms of the same corridor of her elementary school. So they had their little Parents' Program today in the music room instead (giving each of us a carnation at the end of the show!) and then were excused for the day.

No A/C is a big deal today as we are under a Heat Advisory until Tuesday night, with heat indices to reach up to 110ºF (that is over 43ºC). Code Red air quality, so busses are free to ride. It's nasty...and it's not even August.

The other big news...my telenovela, Yo amo a Juan Querendón, is about to end (sob). I have drooled over Eduardo Santamarina now for a year and I will be in mourning come Monday June 23.

So the good:

1. Learning the Young Prince does not appear to be allergic to bees. Good to know.

2. Getting an impromptu "Girl's Date" with La Princesita thanks to no air conditioning.

3. I'd like to design an advanced/conversation course around this telenovela, however, so I guess I'm ready for it to end so that I'll just have to buy the disc set when it comes out!

food for thought

Ben Stein. He is just a God in my eyes. I love his manner of teaching. Here is a podcast from him, about 50 minutes worth--but if you like his way of speaking and what he usually has to say, this is worthwhile. You will laugh, you will cry...and you will wonder what is happening to us!

http://wordforword.publicradio.org/

I can't seem to embed, but here is the direct link...you can either download, podcast or listen streamed from the site.

Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

the human barometer

We have a low that moved over last night and brought us some rain. Possibly some snow as it moves out and the cold north winds come back in overnight, but nothing that would cancel or postpone school.

As the Human Barometer, I feel every passage of these lows almost as if being a personal attack. The headache starts--sometimes, as in yesterday, very low and gradually builds. Other times, depending on the intensity of the low, it hits so hard I can almost fall down with the pure force. How do I know that this is caused by my sensitivity to meteorological events? Two reasons: one, as soon as the low passes, the headache disappears completely, and two, my palms say so.

Yes, I do know Basic Palm Reading. I could say I have passed 101 level and can operate more on the 200-level. Not advanced, but I found it a great way to teach verb tenses expressing future, probablility (subjunctive) and even use of the imperative (commands) in some of my intermediate Spanish classes that was different and a lot of fun for my adult students. So I learned how to read palms, put some general diagrams together with general Spanish terms and voila! a new class activity.

Anyhow, my Mercury line is extremely well-defined. It stretches from the inner palm of my hand outwards and upwards toward my pinkie finger. Some people have it, some do not. Some have a weak line, some have strong lines. The stronger the line, the more “affected by one’s environment” one tends to be…and this extends to sensitivity to emotional states, allergies, foods…not merely weather.

Interesting. Want me to read your palm? Scan me a copy of your palm. We’ll see what I can do! ☺ Couple that with my dream analysis, and I can add an entirely new realm to my language business…

hmmm…the Language of the Past, Present and Future….

I like it!

中之条町 Nakanojo-machi in cold January

成人の日 (Seijin no hi) is a national holiday in Japan, the annual Coming of Age day. It is now observed the 2nd Monday of every January in order to create a convenient three-day weekend, but when I lived there it was always on January 15. This is the day that all young people who turned 20 years of age during the past year "officially" turn 20. They gather at a local Shinto shrine all dressed in formal attire, with women in kimono wearing white fur collars, and, all at once, ceremoiously become legal citizens of their country. This is the age these young people now can officially smoke, drink, and vote...priority given usually in that order.

The ceremonies are followed by parties (of course--this is Japan!). If you want to see beautiful native ceremonial dress, this is one festival day not to be missed.

Following 成人の日 comes the 鳥追い祭り Torioi Matsuri that brings dear Nakanojo some fame. This is an old festival dating back to Japan's early Edo period. All the celebrations begin before sunrise with the どんど焼き dondo yaki a huge bonfire into which the だるま daruma faces of the previous year are thrown and burned or bad luck with ensue. We also roast what appear to be big white marshmallows on tree limbs...but are in reality hard little balls of steamed rice, so if you're expecting to sink your teeth into a nice, hot, sweet, gooey marshmallow, you are in for a very sorry surprise. Instead, your teeth crunch through the tough outer shell that formed on the rice ball in the yaki and then you can barely chew the rice ball due to the intense stickiness and thick texture. Perhaps these are leftovers from the New Year's もち mochi rice cakes that were pounded out of stick rice put in a wooden container by heavy (very heavy!) wooden mallets. Many actually choke and die on this もち during each New Year.


Okay, so the だるま are those funky little creatures that are said to bring good luck, and have two eyes that are to be colored in. The first eye is colored when one begins a new endeavor, and the other when that goal had been realized. You are not to keep that doll into the New Year, however, so they are burned in the superstition that all the hard work will be somehow undone.

Then we chase the rice balls with cups of 甘酒 amazaki a sweet sake drink that's warm and perhaps akin to our hot chocolate...no chocolate, and although they say the alcohol, when heated, burns out, that is just not true, having started all three of my 鳥追い祭り celebrations out with quite the buzz by only 6 a.m. Ay, those were the days...

Then the fun begins at about 11 in the morning. The BIG Edo-period 和太鼓　wadaiko drums are pulled through town by the local young people (late teens/early 20s) dressed in festival gear. They stop at various points on the main streets in town (all closed off for the day to any traffic) and are beaten. In order to beat the taiko drums, you have to engage your entire body in the swinging of the drumstick, thus requiring quite a workout.

The purpose, you may ask? To chase the bad birds and spirits away in order to ensure a fruitful harvest in the New Year. Nakanojo is located in a rural, agricultural area of Japan--rice paddies everywhere. The country's largest crops of cabbage were just up the road from me, in Tsumagoi. We didn't want any bad birds ruining the fruits of labor! Let me just say that the beating of those drums would scare just about anything away, while perhaps awakening the dead in the process.

The unarguably best, most fun aspect of this festival, however, is the みかん mikan clementine orange throw. At various established stations throughout the town, mikan are thrown in a mad frenzy to the crowd below. Having been both at the receiving end, with my big plastic bag wide open to catch all the mikan I could in hopes I got some with a good prize attached (some had town sponsors giving away prizes from their stores--the best I got was a rug for my cold kitchen floor) and enough mikan to sustain me for the next few weeks so I didn't have to buy any at the store (which were, of course, at rock bottom prices because there was no demand--everyone got their oranges at the festival throw for free!) and the throwing end, when I could peg current and ex-students and co-workers and not feel guilty in the least, I can honestly say I preferred being the peg-ger than the peg-ee.

This festival continues for 10 hours, until 9:00 at night, at which time the drums are brought back to their various neighborhood stations and parked until the 夏祭り, the summer festival, and then the partying ensues. I was adopted by one specific neighborhood in the town, so I would go with those guys to a big dinner, a lot of drinking (of course, having been drinking since 4 or 5 a.m., this was for the heartiest...as I have full recollection of all of this, this serves as a testament as to how I spent my early 20s) followed by karaoke and, for the strongest of souls, ラメン　ramen at about 2 or so in the morning.


I cannot say I have experienced anything at all like this outside of Japan, and truly doubt I ever will. La tomatina de Buñol, Spain is certainly inviting, but as that is more of a free-for-all, it is very limited time-wise, and it is incomparable in that it lacks the ceremonious control and rules that create an omnipresent undercurrent in anything Japanese.

troubling beginning blends

The Young Prince, at the up and coming age of 3 and almost 1/2 years, has been experiencing for quite some time difficulties in the pronunciation of words that begin with blends. For some of my longer-term readers, you might remember certain posts from a while back our issues with the certain word in particular: TRUCK. Yes, it still comes out primarily as F*CK...so we have the variations on the theme: The Fire F*uck, the Big F*ck, the Small F*ck, the Fast F*ck...it is not only a great conversation topic, it is a surefire way to get Looks from old ladies around town. (We have been able to morph Fire F*ck into Fire Engine, but that unfortunately does not cross over to other types of, well, f*cks).

Today I about spilled my hot tea all over my lap when, while driving Young Prince about on a Freecycle pickup with his Sidekick, Dame F, She-ra's daughter, I was listening to their conversation from their carseats and The Young Prince was relating about how one of his TV favorites, Annie from "Little Einsteins" was clapping with the song. Alas, this of course came out as "crapping along with the song" and I started laughing so hard I thought I was going to, well, clap my pants.

Brings me back to the days of Presidential Erections and Eric Crapton in Japan...

ay de mí.

Trying to prove myself "not stupid"

I spent three wonderful years in Japan. I had a lot of fun but, as an educator and a language person I got a lot more out of my experience than the run-of-the-mill university graduate who goes abroad to teach English for a stint. I had a MINOR in Japanese, after all.

Like that got me far. I couldn't talk to a preschooler.

I was humbled. Here I was, already bilingual on my own accord (no heredity here) in Spanish and English, honors graduate overachiever who felt I could do anything I set my mind to...and yet when I opened my mouth, I could not be understood. I could not understand even the names of animals; such trivial knowledge is not taught in the University curriculum (and you can bet your buttons that I have included specifically animals and the sounds they make in the adult ed. Spanish textbook I'm writing!). ...oh, that would make a good post, too.

I have already written about my understandable difficulties with the written language regarding such menial tasks as, say, food preparation or singing karaoke. The spoken language, however, posed a great obstacle to me in my attempts to establish my place, my identity in this culture during my entire first year in 中之条 Nakanojo. I could understand much more than I could produce, which I could logically comprehend due to lack of common root language but could not figure out quite why it took so long to acquire even while experiencing total immersion. One of my key phrases became, "I'm not stupid, I just don't know the words to say..." Surprisingly, that seemed to help and I would end up learning more than I had initially set out to communicate.

The entire first year, I did not feel comfortable talking on the telephone, I dreaded seeing my landlord to make my monthly rent payment because I did not want to be invited in for a drink of Calpis...yeah, it tastes kind of like what it sounds like...and the obligatory offering of a rice cracker graced with a piece of dried seaweed and a dead little fish (eyes still there, thank you) on top. Yummers...actually, I'm too Japanese for my own good now.

I think one of the most difficult challenges I had to face had to do with my first encounter with ゴー先生 Go-sensei Mr. "Go"...short for his real name. Same guy who I later reported having kicked the student in the stomach (see ethics post). He was rotated into my school in April with the new fiscal year, school year and routine changes of staff. He had previously been at my friend Mike's school over in 吾妻 Agatsuma. Within two days of having him at my school, I was in tears. I could not go into any room alone, be it the copy room or the little kitchen to get more お茶 ocha green tea or anywhere but the women's bathroom without this man following me. I understood enough Japanese to know what he said when he moved in close while I was making photocopies and whispered in my ear, "You know, the previous teacher in my town never looked this good leaning over a photocopier" or reaching out to grab at or touch me in some fashion. I was disgusted. Not that it would have made any difference, as this was the workplace, but he wasn't even young and good-looking. Ugh. After a couple of days of this, and returning home in tears, feeling trapped and naive, I called Mike and asked for some advice. He mentioned that I might want to start a conversation, while Mr. Go is in earshot, with an English-speaking faculty member about セクハラseku-hara sexual harrassment. That is such a big key phrase, sekuhara, that if it is mentioned all sit straight up and nobody would ever believe there is a sexual being in the room. It's pretty funny. Anyhow, I did just that and won that battle, although I still was privy to grotesque demonstrations of Mr. Go lifting his shirt while walking through the 職員室 shokuin shitsu teacher's office and showing all his bare chest and his beer belly. Lovely.

Language-wise, things got better for me. I was asked to prepare a 1/2 hour speech for a local UNESCO group, which marked a huge turning point in my Japanese aquisition and I worked for a long time with my Japanese teacher on that. I got a Japanese boyfriend and that helped, of course. I was asked, by my third year, to do translations for local national parks and new hot spring resorts, and to give formal presentations and hold Q&A sessions for PTA groups and UNESCO. It was an honor and it really gave me the opportunity to be more than a mere "token foreigner." I let my opinions fly on certain issues and stimulated discussion.

Still, to this day I have times when the words come first to me in Japanese. It's hard when that happens while I'm teaching Spanish, but it does and that is natural. I just have to live with it. But it occurs less and less frequently than before. I miss the days when I could really surprise people with my Japanese but, once I get into a conversation I can still work it a bit. All is not completely lost.

和製英語 wa-sei eigo Japanese-made English

Any 外人 (remembering any of these characters yet? I told you there'd be a test later...) gaijin living in Japan, especially those from the English-speaking world, will at once have their sense of their own native language completely assaulted. I don't think there are many other ways I can comment on this phenomenon but by simply giving you a few good examples of true, living 和製英語 wa-sei eigo Japanese-made English. Some will make you roll with laughter, some will simply fill your head with "Huh?" The teacher in me says that perhaps I should make you match up the 和製英語 wa-sei eigo Japanese-made English phrase in Column A with the correct English equivalent in Column B. We'll see.

So, here we go. If you decide to try to actually utter some of the phrases, remember to keep the vowels constant (a=ah, i=ee, u=oo, e=eh and o=o). All consonant+vowel combinations create a single syllable; Japanese is really not as hard to pronounce as most other languages. So there is your first Japanese lesson and your first 5 letters of the Japanese alphabet to boot!

Food products:
-Pocari Sweat (gatorade-type drink often sold in vending machines)
-Creap (creamer you put in your coffee)
-bata (butter)
-furaido poteto (french fries) at Makudonarudozu (McDonald's), of course (that one took me three years to master)

Anything with the word "city" morphs as the "si" sound does not exist in Japanese...it becomes "shi-". So in an effort not to be profane on this site, please say the following out loud, using "shi-" in the place of "ci-":

1. New Yo-ku city
2. Citibank
3. Pure-zu sito down. (please sit down)

The differentiation between "l" and "r" is very hard for the Japanese to master. Translate the following:

1. Eric Crapton
2. Za erection ofu Puresidento Curinton (my era of being there, so dang appropriate)
3. Arufu (big TV star in Japan, one of the most popular shows along with #4)
4. Furu Hous-u

Logos:
Lets SPORTS yOUNG gAY CluB
Happy Time Card Dick (ATM card)

Other goodies:
1. amefuto (American Football)
2. apa-to (apartment)
3. baiku (motorcycle, NOT bicycle)
4. baikingu (smorgasbord) viking
5. basujjakku (bus-jacking, like a car-jacking)
6. bebika- (stroller-baby car)
7. cheriboi (a male virgin) cherry boy
8. pinchi (a pinch, a dangerous situation)
9. resutoran (restaurant)
10. sa-bisu (a freebie) service
11. suma-to (looking sharp) smart

My test to see that I had actually mastered sounding enough like a Japanese person perhaps occurred in my third year in Japan. I don't eat McDonald's hamburgers, but at the time I would travel miles and kilometers for a chocolate shake and fries. Which I did, driving all the way into the city of 渋川 Shibukawa for my heart's desire. Deciding this time to go through the drive-thru, I placed my order and made my way around the building to the pick-up window. There, the lady almost dropped my order when she saw I was a 外人 and she made a comment, something about how surprised she was.

I drove away, chokore-tto she-ki and furaido potetto in hand, most satisfied...in more ways than one.

thinking in espanglish

Big translation job came through so I am working hard. Good potential for future work with this company as well, so I need to get my rear in gear and work on this...I will post again soon when my thoughts aren't quite so めちゃくちゃ mechakucha all jumbled up.

But I continue reading...!

back to 日本: breaking my カラオケ virginity

Ah...カラオケ. The magic katakana script that, when printed on banners flying next to a building comprised of bunches of tiny rooms with one window, usually with a parking lot filled with people, could only mean one thing:

karaoke.

Pronounced "caw-raw-OH-kay", not "carry-okee" of course.

The great Japanese pasttime. I have to be honest--I never once sang カラオケ before setting foot in the Land of the Rising Sun.

I broke my カラオケ viriginity on the intoxicated evening of my 勧化会 kangekai welcome party, after demonstrating my high degree of tolerance for 酒 sake and my great love of 寿司 sushi and, moreso, 刺 sashimi (forget the rice, just give me the raw fish please!).

Perhaps my tolerance wasn't so high as I believed it to be, as by the 2nd tier of the party I was rather easily persuaded to pick up the microphone and belt out a version of John Lennon's "Imagine" that made my papa-chan cry. I had some formal voice training in University, a general benefit of membership in the University Choir, so I at least could hold a tune without completely embarrassing myself or those around me. However, as time went on, I realized that the カラオケ stage of the party does not usually begin until some rather unfortunate souls have already passed out with overimbibing at the first party...and those of us hearty enough to continue the party down the street at the カラオケ bar would already be drunk enough to believe that Brittney Spears trying to sing O mio babbino caro would sound great.

I soon earned the nickname "Mariah Carey," she who the Japanese equate with a great set of vocal chords (not to mention great, um, lungs--but my chest is hardly something that gets me much attention). I would be presented The Karaoke Bible each time I entered a bar. With a voicebox slicked over with 水割り mizuwari whiskey and water, Karen Carpenter and Tony Bennet would sound professional. "I Lost My Heart in San Francisco" was an oft-requested favorite.

As you can tell, the repertoire of English language songs was slightly limited.

As time went on, other songs came into popularity. "The Macarena" came to town during my third year, and I had my school's 校長先生 kouchou-sensei principal shakin' his booty while I stood atop the bar teaching everyone to dance the macarena correctly.

They liked that.

My sister came to Japan and broke her カラオケ virginity with a little Bohemian Rhapsody duet with yours truly. Nobody in that bar had ever heard that song before. She really got a kick out of how they said "Eric Crapton", also a huge Japanese favorite.

カラオケ boxes are very popular. They are little rooms that you can rent by the hour with a television screen, a big screen, sound controls and a sofa upon which you and your friends can sit, order "room service" of a variety of snacky foods and drinks--both alcoholic and otherwise. Then you sit and sing the hours away.

My Japanese became quite good while in Japan and, through exposure I learned quite a few popular music favorites, which I would be requested to perform. It felt to be a bit of a rite of passage, in a way, to be requested by Japanese to sing in their native language as opposed to yet another round of "Love Me Tender."

I still have yet to open my mouth and sing in the United States, except once at a private residence, where the hostess had a machine that rated you on accuracy and intonation. I found a Japanese song that I could sing, so guaranteeing that nobody in attendance had before even heard the tune. KomeKomeClub's "Funk Fujiyama".

I earned 10 out of 10.

I guess I've still got it!

Scrappy the Super-Dog

He is the newest member of our family of stuffed animals, C's little doggy. He named him Scrappy.

Of course, being C, it comes out as "Crappy, the Super Dog"...

English is a tough language.

I have been working.
I've been working.
I haven't been working. vs. I have not been working.
Have you been working?
You have been working/You've been working, haven't you?
Have you not been working? Haven't you been working?

Well...have you ever stopped to think about how a non-native speaker would tackle this grammar point of the present perfect continuous? Not only the formation thereof, but the adoption of the correct intonation, the adecuate enunciation of the contractions (especially the negative contractions), the natural rises and falls occurring between words and at the ends of sentences which lend nuance and meaning, the differences implied when using a contraction versus when not using a contraction...what is stressed, the subject or the action.

We take so much for granted, as do any native speakers of any language. Hats off to those who are making an honest effort to learn my mother tongue.

English is not easy. It sure isn't easy to teach it, either!

Walking our buns off...

It was true God time today with the monitos.

At 5:00 I decided that we were going to WALK, yes, WALK to Whole Paycheck. That is, according to MapQuest, .95 mile away from home. And we walked.

Now, for me that is not a huge task; I do that all the time to get to the gym. The huge task for me, indeed, was the patience factor--waiting for especially my youngest with the really tiny, short legs to, at his pace, keep up with the "big kids."

He did phenomenally well. I kept trying to find little incentives, like, "Oh, you can balance here!" or "Look, a fire engine!" (sidenote here: I have started substituting 'engine' or any other suitable word for 'truck' as, in the Young Prince's vernacular, 'truck' comes out sounding like a rather profane action...and he LOVES his f***s. Big f**k. Small f**k. Bob (the Builder) f**k. Cement f**k. Dump f**k. And the like. You get the picture. The relatives love it.)

A rewarding dinner at Whole Paycheck, followed by potty breaks for all and shopping for the cheese that I so need for the lasagna I am making for MY birthday dinner tomorrow night (the cake is for him. I went through 40 hours of labor, so I at least get to eat what I want for dinner!) and, spirits rejuvenated, we headed back for home, singing "Little Red Caboose" all the way home.

What joy. What fun. What a great way to get in touch with my inner child. I love feeling so at-peace, and with my beautiful children holding each of my hands while walking down the street singing Buckwheat Zydeco...well, that just can't be beat. Thank you, God!