A Six Flags day.

Once again we took a friend along with us for a day in our favorite park. After Alex visited Six Flags for the first time two years ago, she knew she wanted to return, so today was finally the day.

We were constantly admonished to "have a Six Flags day," and thanks to relatively small crowds and frequent stops at the misters (not THAT kind of mister, Mister!), we were able to do that! We rode just about everything we wanted to without too much waiting.

Lunchtime!

This little guy provided dinner theatre for us at lunch. I'm sure all those french fries he finds on the ground can't be good for his figure, but he sure was cute. Later on, Ryan's imitation of the squirrel was our suppertime entertainment!

The traditional "big chair" shot, 2010 version

And for comparison, "big chair" shot from 2008

Ryan and I rode the Superman while Katie and Alex headed to the Mine Train. Our hosts at the Superman were trainees from Turkey--interesting!

We rode the chute-out a couple of times.
Later in the afternoon we noticed that this very chute was stuck midway up! How scary would that be!

Alex on the Batwing

Meeting Green Lantern and Wonder Woman

I was impressed with how personable these two costumed characters were. They didn't just pose with Alex and Katie; they both engaged in conversation with the girls. I appreciated that personal attention.


We rode Tony Hawk's Big Spin. I love that ride and all the skateboarding trivia that lines the queue, but the errors on the signs are still there:

LET'S fix these signs, huh? (I know, I know. Let it go.)

We also cooled off with the log ride, Roaring Rapids and the Aquaman, including the bridge:

Well, Ryan and the girls stayed on the bridge for the big soaking.

Drenched!

Our afternoon Pink Thing reverie was interrupted by Mr. Six's Dance Party.

Some are creeped out by the dancing dude, but I like him!

Katie (and sometimes Alex) joined in, showing off her moves.

And Katie's dancing skills were noticed! She was one of two dancers to win Six Flags T-shirts!

Even though we had hoped to stay later, my dogs were barking (stupid shoes are NOT Six Flags-worthy!). We rode the train to Boomtown, checking out progress on the Giant's reconstruction.
Then it was one more spin on the Mine Train and we were out of there.

Oh, how we love Six Flags, hot, smelly, overpriced SFOT! Now that we've finally spent a weekday at the place, it really feels like summer.

Down with Horns down.

First, let me just say that I'm horribly disappointed that Vince Young, one of my all-time favorite Longhorns, was even IN a Dallas strip club over the weekend. Add to that that he HIT someone and was charged with assault? Completely unacceptable. After his big comeback season last year and his attempts to clear his name, all of this is just sad to see.

But when I found out WHY he hit the guy in that club, I had just the tiniest inkling of his ire. A bartender (from Oklahoma, by the way) flashed the "Horns down" sign, which got some sort of reaction from VY. Then words were exchanged, and in the silent video, we're left to our imaginations what those words entailed.

In my classroom I'm known for my unflappable nature. When I do get truly angry, my students know it's A Big Deal. But there's just something about seeing opposing fans pervert our beloved "Hook 'em Horns" sign that really chaps my hide. Especially when we're playing OU, it's crazy how EVERYONE (fans, players, band members, even coaches) will throw down the Horns down. It's as if that sign IS OU's sign since apparently the Sooners have no symbol of their own to display. Baylor has its bear claw, the Aggies have the thumb, the Raiders have their "guns up" (or "L for Lubbock," as we like to call it), and TCU has its horned frog made out of knuckles. But OU has to "borrow" our symbol. If you know why Sooners are called Sooners, it's not that big of a surprise that they purloined our Hook 'em.

The whole upside-down Longhorn motif is pervasive in Oklahoma. I got a good laugh out of the upside-down Longhorn head above the door at Toby Keith's I Love This Bar and Grill in OKC. And on our visits north of the Red River, I've lost count of the number of vehicles bearing our silver Longhorn car emblem upside down (and it tickles me to think that The University gets royalties for each one of those inverted Horns). I can deal with all of that, but for some reason, it really gets to me when folks make our hand sign upside down.

VY was wrong to hit the OU fan. Period. Who knows what was said in the club backroom to set him off, but as I said before, it doesn't matter. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Still, even my pacifist self knows that when someone flashes the "Horns down," logic and level-headedness can fly out the window.

So. Very. Tired.

So I realize this is kinda cheating, but at least I'm posting something, yo.

Emotional day. Said goodbye to a good friend who will be out of the country for three months. After eight years and eight musicals, bid adieu to music camp. Even had to say farewell to our Horns baseball team.

I hope to have some musical pix later, but since I was running sound, I didn't take any!

Now I'm off to bed--provided I can get the "Fish Sandwiches" loop that's stuck in my head to stop or at least pause!

Sent from my iPhone

One show down...

one more to go!

This year's children's musical is our family's swan song. Katie is graduating into youth and out of the children's ministry music camp. It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago that she was too young to participate and played in a spare classroom while Ryan learned his "Go, Go, Jonah" lines. Now, eight years later, we have just one last show to go.

Maybe it's the fatigue talking, but WAAAAAH!

Katie and the rest of the cast did a great job tonight, by the way. She nailed her solo, as I knew she would. How crazy is it that even after eight of these musicals, I still get nervous when my kid's solo is coming up?

(Thanks for the photo, Jeana!)

Packing up for the PAC 10.

On the verge of the Big 12's demise and the Horns' apparent move to the PAC 10, I have a confession to make: I still miss the Southwest Conference.

Granted, I love that Texas/ou is now a conference game, and yes, it's been thrilling to beat Nebraska over and over and over and over and—you get the idea. The level of competition has been exceptional in many sports, not just football. And the TV markets the Big 12 pwns cover much more territory than our old, quaint little SWC. But back in the day, I could drive to all of our conference away games, and at one point or another, I did (except for Arkansas, but they ran away before I got the chance). Once I moved to the Metroplex, I was guaranteed two local football games, ou and either TCU or SMU. And there was that long-standing tradition to boot.

We all got used to the Big 12 quickly enough. Our conference opponents have given us some entertaining games, for sure. (Just look at 2004. The big comeback against Oklahoma State? VY's huge 4th down conversion against Kansas? Crazy!) And having conference and even national titles riding on our annual visit to the State Fair has been pretty sweet.

But now we're looking at another set of foes. No dueling "Wabash Cannonballs" in Manhattan? What about the rock chalk in Lawrence? Dare I say we may even lose Waco's Dr Pepper-drinking bear? (No! Not THAT!) We trade the simplicity of Nebraska's "N for nowledge" helmets for Oregon's atrocious unis. We'll have to give up Iowa for California. (OK, so that might not be such a bad trade.)

I don't know. It all just seems so strange. Plus, the idea of being in a conference with West Coast teams makes me, well, SLEEPY. While I love the idea of having fewer (if any) 11 a.m. kicks in DKR, I shudder to think of the 9 p.m. Central broadcasts for those away games.

At least all of this conference talk has helped pass the time until football season starts (an offseason that will be even drearier if the Horns can't beat TCU twice in a row). It's also provided some great talk-show material, like this: ESPN Radio: Big 12 Eulogy

And I'm just twisted enough to get a kick out of reports like this one, saying that ou and other schools are waiting to see where Texas goes. There are plenty of questions remaining: Is this really going to happen? What will the aggies do? Where will Baylor end up? What about KU and K State?

But there's one question that can be answered definitively: Who's your daddy?

Aging gracefully.

Our little girl has one foot in the children's ministry and one foot in youth. Since music camp allowed kids who had finished sixth grade to participate, she's part of that CM program. But since Power Zone and youth promoted at the beginning of June, she's also participating in events with the teenagers, too.

That's why she left for church at 7:45 this morning and just returned home at 10:30: a full day of KidSONG followed by tonight's summer youth series outing.

When the musical closes on Sunday night, our family officially will have graduated from the children's ministry. I can still recall dropping off our babies with their diaper bags in the church nursery. How can we not have any kids in the kids' ministry? All the take-home papers and refrigerator art, the Bear in the Big Blue House backpacks stuffed with wipes and a little tub of Cheerios... Now it's all about the text messages and fast-food cash.

Still, this whole "growing up" thing has its rewards—and I don't just mean for Ryan and Katie. Family of four minus two kids at SYS equals DATE NIGHT FOR MOM AND DAD!

Hooked on music camp.

This year's children's musical is a whopper, and that's no fish tale! Actually, it IS "Fish Tales." And like the other Kathie Hill productions we've done, it has its share of catchy tunas—I mean, TUNES.

The dialogue's pretty punny, too. Several of the scenes really string along the fishing puns, and they remind me of Kip Addotta's novelty hit from the '80s with the suggestive title. Here's a sample verse:

Well, the place was crowded
We were packed in like sardines
They were all there to listen to the big band sounds of Tommy Dorsal --what sole
Tommy was rockin' the place with a very popular tuna -- "Salmon Chanted Evening"
And the stage was surrounded by screaming groupers
Probably there to see the bass player

Fortunately, "Fish Tales" isn't nearly as PUNishing as that old ditty.

For some of the sights from this week's KidSONG workshop, including a shot of our Katie in action, check this out.

Three little words.

For years I waited for those three little words. Week after week, month after month, I ached for affirmation that what I wanted, someone else wanted, too.

After such an extended period of unrequited longing, I had begun to lose hope. Sometimes we have to just let go of those dreams, right? But then, one afternoon after a particularly long day at work, even as my spirits were sagging, I finally saw something that transformed my downcast mood. My fantasy was coming nearer to reality. I saw those three little words:
(Insert "Hallelujah Chorus" here.)

This intersection, which is now ruled via four-way stop, is the closest one to our church building. That means we pass through it at least three times a week. Because of music camp and SYS on top of our usual church services, this particular week we'll be crossing those paths no fewer than nine times. NINE TIMES! That's nine awkward "you go"/"no, you go" pauses, nine opportunities for an accident.

Several months ago I ran sound for a homeowners association meeting, and the whole ordeal was completely worthwhile because of the big announcement that signal lights were coming to this intersection as well as another at the interstate overpass nearby. I was elated to know that the end was near for our dern four-way stop. Ever since our new church building opened, I'd hoped we'd have traffic lights there someday. Not only is the intersection inconvenient, it's also dangerous. My mom even had an accident there last year.

Because of the HOA meeting, I knew the light was on its way, but I had grown tired of waiting. I'd about given up. But then, on my way to a church meeting, there was that glorious sign I'd longed to see.

As of this week, the actual lights (complete with red-light cameras) are in place, just waiting to be turned on. Every time I pass that way, I'm thrilled to see the progress the city has made. I used to dread that intersection, but now I'm filled with hope that relief is near.

I'm loving those three little words.

The week formerly known as music camp.

It's back and better than ever! OK, maybe it's a little too early to claim the "better than ever" part, but music camp is back. It's called KidSONG now, but it looks an awful lot like the workshops of old: five weekdays spent learning/preparing for the musical to be presented on Saturday and Sunday.

For the record, we've survived "Go, Go, Jonah," "Esther-ordinary Faith," "Hans Bronson's Gold Medal Mission," "Holy Moses," "Donkey Tales," "Nic at Night" and "Amerikids." This year Katie and I are taking on "Fish Tales," but not Ryan. He's too old!

Today's highlight: the Bubble Lady! Her show was impressive, but my very favorite part was hearing the younger kids' responses to the big bubbles. Over-the-top, full-throated WOWs! Loved that!

Desperate measures...

So I took on the "blogging every day" NaBloPoMo challenge last November and my laptop's hard drive died. This month, I'm a big six days into June and Blogger is "temporarily unavailable," so I can't post. Really? I have NEVER seen that Blogger message.

Maybe I should take a hint. Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn't take on these pointless but discipline-building pursuits.

Grrr.

I'm trying the email post, seeing if that'll get through, just because.

Grrr x2.

At long last.

When we moved into this house, we said it'd be fun to walk to breakfast at this diner some Saturday morning. That was 8 1/2 months ago! Especially since spring arrived, we've been trying to find a time to try out this place, but EVERY SINGLE SATURDAY has been devoted to work, school or band for months! But today was the day. Finally.

We enjoyed omelettes and sausage and pancakes and hash browns and toast and fruit. Considering the temp's supposed to end up hitting triple digits later today, this morning's walk was quite pleasant.

But the best part? All four of us were together on a Saturday morning!

From band kid to band parent.

You know, I'm all about task commitment. Once I sign on to do something, I really want to see it through. So even though I'm going off-topic from today's NaBloPoMo prompt, I have to give it a teensy bit of attention.

"What is the first thing that pops into your mind when you think of your father?"

Again, I'm not linear enough to think of just one impression. It took many words and photos to write my tribute to him a few years ago. So many images, so many descriptions. If I had to pick one word, it'd be "missed." But like I said, I really picture a word cloud more than just one word. And that conglomeration of words also includes "doting."

Daddy doted on me, his only child, to a ridiculous extent. And that included being a dedicated band parent.

Which brings me to the real focus tonight: RYAN! How very strange to be the one in the stands cheering on my high schooler!
See these people? They're high school students. You know, like the ones I teach. AND MY SON IS ONE OF THEM! (Hold me while I sob.)

Tonight was the high school band's performance to culminate the end of June camp. From Tuesday through today, Ryan and the rest of the band have been working on marching fundamentals as well as music they'll need to know this fall.











In addition to seeing and hearing what Ryan et al. have been working on this week, we also got to see the training the color guard, pit and battery have done.

We were impressed with the precision.
(And how about that umbrella to shield the audio engineer? I'm thinking an umbrella in the Heritage sound booth might not be such a bad idea. If something goes wrong, I could protect myself from all those glaring faces...)

The performance was wrapped up with the alma mater, fight song and "Johnny B. Goode," a perennial favorite at the school.

Then, after the band director spoke to the group as a whole, the kids huddled up with others in their sections. Here's the trumpet huddle:
Ryan is exhausted after spending his first week of summer marching in the heat and playing brand new and more difficult music. But he survived! We're so proud to see the results of this hard work, even at this early stage!

In the immortal words of the Soup Dragons...

I'm free to do what I want any ol' time.

Today's NaBloPoMo prompt is to define "freedom." This time of year, that should be an easy one. It's summer, and summer is synonymous with freedom for students and teachers, right? RIGHT?

So far, my summer "freedom" has consisted of getting a new transmission for our van (which means having to share a car), running Ryan to and from band camp at his new high school (with Brett's help), attending a day-long technology class, and putting in volunteer hours in the church sound booth (both for Wednesday night praise team practice and a preschool graduation tonight). And yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.

But if I weren't free from my day job, all of the above would've been much more challenging. What's more—I must remind myself—all of these encumbrances were self-chosen. I have chosen to live without the extra car payment a more reliable van would necessitate. I most definitely chose to be a mom, and on top of that, signed on to be a band parent. Nobody's forcing me to be one of my campus's technology integrators, and no one has ever put a gun to my head to make me work in the booth (although it might've gotten ugly if I'd skipped out on the preschool thing tonight).

So maybe I'm saying that freedom isn't being able to do whatever whenever, but it IS the ability to choose when and how I give up my precious time, energy and cold, hard cash.

And for the freedom to take on these tasks, I'm thankful for summer!

I could also get into the many freedoms our country affords us, or I could talk about the ultimate freedom we find in Christ, but it's late, so I stick to my superficial summer talk.

And I'll add this because if I pass on this little ear worm, maybe it'll wiggle its way right out of my brain:

Poetry and panic.

Today's prompt sent me harkening back to junior English and an old French reader before throwing me into an all-out tizzy. But we'll get to the panic attack in a moment.

NaBloPoMo's prompt for today: "What's your favorite poem? (And if you don't have one, why?)"

Sheesh! It's completely unreasonable to expect an English teacher to have just one fave, so I'm listing three here. Keep in mind, I immediately excluded my favorite poetry to teach (Shakespeare's sonnets 29, 116 and 130—my students "get" those and appreciate the Bard's twists). Still, it was hard to narrow my list down to three. (But no, that's not what gave me palpitations earlier...)

To begin with, I must admit that for a free-verse lover, I just adore the rhythm and rhyme of Poe's "Annabel Lee." Yes, it glorifies underage romance, but how can I not love this:

And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

Dissever. Now THAT'S a great word.

Another of my favorites is "Élévation" by Charles Baudelaire. It comes from Voix du Siècle, one of my French anthologies from college, one of the few non-journalism college books I still own.

(Yeah, buddy. Ten bucks from Wallace's, the late, great and greatly missed bookstore that was on the Drag before the Co-op took over the space.)

I'm ashamed to admit that my French is très rusty, but this little poem still brings me great comfort. Back in the day, I read and reread this "fantasy of levitation" (as the editor describes it) to soothe my frazzled nerves. The language is melodic, and it's one of the first French pieces I ever read that I could appreciate without translating. Here's a sample:

Au-dessus des étangs, au-dessus des vallées,
Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers,
Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers,
Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées...

(The complete poem and several translations are here.)

Now that my Longhorn Library™ (a.k.a. Tacky Texas Room™) is in order, I was able to locate my tattered French book quickly, but it was the book I couldn't find that bought me a ticket on the crazy train.

Some of the poems that mean the most to me were written by Ed Madden, a college friend. These verses were written during a monumental time in my life, and the friendships I made during those few years are still precious to me. But even if I removed my sentimental attachment, I'd still love these works. As a grad student, Ed published a collection of his poetry, and he gave me a copy. In it I tucked a few of his other poems—stapled pages from his dot-matrix printer.

But late last night, when I first saw today's poetry prompt and wanted to find a certain poem, I COULDN'T FIND ED'S BOOK. When I was unpacking the eleventy billion boxes of books and keepsakes to load my new shelves, I had seen it, but now that I needed it, it was MIA. I scoured the bookcases, but I ended up going to bed, troubled that this precious volume was gone forever.

Today when I returned home from my technology class, my first order of business was to find that darn book. I told Brett there's no way I would've knowingly thrown it away, but what if it had been mixed up with other papers to be recycled? In spite of the heat, I ventured into the garage, re-opening boxes, double-checking. And I kept going back to the bookcases. It just HAD to be there.

And it was. Stuck between two college-era photo albums.

Ever read the parable of the lost coin? I didn't exactly invite my neighbors over to party, but I was JUBILANT.

So why did I want to find this booklet so badly? The poem that came to mind when I first saw the prompt was "Wooden bridge, Cache River, on Algoa Road." It was written after a 1991 spring break visit to Ed's boyhood home. Five of us made a pilgrimage to Graceland, and on our way, we spent a day or two with Ed's mom and dad in rural Arkansas. Our family's planning to drop by the King's abode this summer, so that trip from 19 years ago has been on my mind lately.

This poem describes a particular evening when we walked out to this old bridge. One of us noticed the poignancy of that setting and suggested Ed write a poem about it. So he did.

Here's an excerpt:

At a pause
in the stream, five cypress trees
creak in the wind, leaning
like friends on an old bridge
from where we watch them, dropping
our feet over the edge, over
nothing it seems, the grey
brown river dark and quiet
in the twilight.

The poem works on its own, but added to my personal recollection of that evening, it's a treasured keepsake, one that I'm grateful to have safely tucked away in my library.

(By the way, Ed's quite the accomplished poet! Check this out for a sample of his more recent work:)

NaBloPoMo redux.

It's summer. And it's not just summer, it's the very beginning of summer. Therefore, I'm feeling like I have all the time in the world (as if!) and that I can take on any project I'd like (bwa ha ha!). Nevermind that we have music camp (KidSONG, if you will) next week, band camp, church camp (x2), flute camp, VBS, and two weeks traipsing to D.C. and back. Oh, and a technology workshop tomorrow and a preschool program to cover Thursday night. Can't forget that.

ANYWAY, I'm ambitious—probably foolishly so. That's why I'm hoping to get back on the blogging bandwagon by taking on the NaBloPoMo challenge to post every day this month. When I heard the NaBloPoMo website will be offering prompts each day, well, THAT was a challenge I had to accept.

Today's task (besides back-blogging the entire month of May so I could begin fresh with up-to-date posts): When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?

My answer: doctor (but then I realized how much I hate needles and blood), astronaut (I was obsessed with the first space shuttle mission, even had the T-shirt), lawyer (too bad I'm so nonconfrontational), journalist (print reporter), and teacher.

My mom was an extraordinary teacher, so in some ways, I feel like I was destined to teach. But in other ways, it seems like I resisted a career in education because that's what my mom was already doing. In any case, I'm thankful to have found a career that lets me mold and shape young people so that I can see them go from timid sophomores to this:I still wish I could've found my way into space, but putting kids on their own paths to success has its own rewards!