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 |   You never know what you'll find - humor, ramblings, rants, randomness- it's all me! |
This description part is challenging. I never know what I will blog about until I start typing. I do know there will be typos. I don't reread or correct my blog. Otherwise it turns technical instead of my feelings and thoughts. Trust me, on stories and poems I'm a grammaraholic, but this is freedom. Sometimes to keep it from getting too personal, I even turn my head away while I type. Weird, right?. I hope you find this somewhat entertaining, thought-provoking, and humorous.   A little about me. The most important things in my life are family, especially my son, Reese, and my husband, Bruce, my walk with God, and making a positive impact in some way. I am a teacher, currently teaching 6th grade Language Arts. While at times my job can be trying, overall, it is one of the most rewarding passions in my life.   This is my wonderful son, Reese. He is now 20 and and a junior at Oklahoma State University. I may be partial, but he is an exceptional kid with the best heart I've ever known. He makes me laugh, think, and want to be a better person. We are both huge Oklahoma State Cowboy fans - Gooooooo Pokes!  This is Reese's dog, Betty. She shares a name with my mother. Reese named her that because she was beautiful and kind just like his Nanny (my mom). I'm not sure my mom is quite convinced it is a compliment though. Betty is a huge part of our family. She even had her own blog for awhile. Poke around at your leisure and shake your head at some of things that go through mine. I always return reviews/comments, though admittedly, sometimes it does take me awhile depending on what life is serving me at that point. Keeping the faith, Audra  |
| Writing to Write or Writing to be Read? Why do I blog? Okay, let's just lay it out there - The main reason I blog is so I can procrastinate from doing something that needs to be done yet doesn't really appeal to me. I do write as a release . . . of what you ask? Hmmm. . . creativity, anxiety, confusion, outlet, sexual tension ~okay, okay, I threw that last one in just so this wasn't quite so boring and you might read on. But do I really write for me? Is that enough? Or does part of me want someone to read it? Is it the act of writing or communicating that appeals to me? This is seriously on topic though it might not seem so at first. We got new English books for my 8th grade class - they are kind of hokey and I rarely use a textbook anyway, but so the school board would feel justified I tried out the first chapter. At first, it appealed to me. It was about why writing is important and the different ways we use it. I believe this is important, because if you can't convince a 14 year old that they will use what they are learning and they might actually benefit somewhat from it, it's going to be a long year! But here is what it said: The Main Purposes to Write: 1. Entertain Others 2. Share Information 3. Persuade 4. Inform No personal fulfillment addressed? Are you kidding me? So, I decided to 'alter' the well-meaning author's list and turned Entertain Others to - To Enjoy: Not only can writing bring your reader enjoyment, it can be personally fulfilling too. It enables you to express your thoughts and feelings. For me, writing helps me escape from everyday life. Was this wrong of me? I don't think so. I mean I didn't mislead their entire English class venture by telling them that nouns are really verbs and they banned all adjectives when the higher ups decided Pluto was no longer a planet. Though, the mischievous side of me does see some fun in that. All I did was tell them it was okay to write for themselves -- despite what I've believed at times in my own life not everything we do has to benefit others or the world. Sometimes it is okay to just do something for yourself. That being said, why then do I check to see if I've had any views? Sometimes it is just for enjoyment - to see if I made someone smile or laugh. Curiosity - does anyone know Audra Ralls is out there? And those times I share something personal that I write because I know I'd never allow myself to say the words aloud - that would make them too real, maybe too much to handle, even if it seems like a small thing. And if I'm able to share that even with someone I've never met and I made it through 'talking' about it - maybe it is some sort of confirmation that I can handle it. Wow! How many times can I type 'maybe' in one confusing paragraph? And then there is that part of me that thinks that maybe something I've written, some little piece I don't even remember creating, has an impact on someone somewhere. Ahhhhh - the dreamer in me lives - shocker! Here's a little incidence from my Home Ec class; Kennadee loves to make me coffee. It's a tough thing to put up with having coffee prepared for you every school day and actually being able to say it relates to the curriculum, but I do what I can to make others happy.  Kennadee makes the coffee. Emily puts it in my favorite mug that the best guy in the world bought for me. Haedyn wanting to be a part of it mentions there is some creamer in our mini fridge. We have the class in my English classroom. We work with what we have. You know, budget cuts and all. I'm helping Cole look up a recipe, so I just give Haedyn a nod and said that would be great, just to check the date. Approaching with smiles are Haedyn with English Toffee Creamer and Emily with my coffee. Life is good! Haedyn tells me to tell her when to stop pouring it in; she wants to make it just right. What a sweetheart! Suddenly, there is more excitement and tension than a fire drill during a 9 weeks test, as I shriek, "Stop! Stop!" I'm a little unclear on this next thing but I'm pretty sure I gagged for at least fifteen seconds. "Haedyn, did you check the date?!" "Yes, Ms. Ralls. It's October 17th." I look at the bottle for an expiration date that no doubt will be too small for me to read. The creamer should be fine. "Cole, what does that say?" "September 29th." His voice is bland, factual. Apparently, the fact that I almost drank English Toffee chunks of spoiled creamer isn't a top priority in his life. "Haedyn, I told you to check the date!" I'm not 'mad', but coffee receiving usually is the high-point of my school day. "I'm sorry, I thought you meant the date on the board." I start to ask why today's date on the board would matter about her putting creamer in my coffee, but I stop myself remembering these are teenagers. Their minds 'work' differently. All I know is I won't run out of things to teach them this year in Home Ec. Monday's lesson: The importance of checking and respecting expiration dates on food products, medications, and household products. Winging Life, Ralls
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| What Would Life be Like if Our Past & Future Were Joined. .. Now, I know some of you are going to say they are because of what happens in the past becomes a part of who we are. And while that was my initial response too, I think my mind may be changing or I'm meaning something different by the notion of past meeting future. Maybe I've stumbled on my idea of utopia. What would I want to bring from my past into the future? This is off the cuff so it may be a little rough ~ ha, a rhyme! No charge, it's a freebie. 1. My fitness and energy 2. My naivety - that may seem a strange one to miss, but I do. I miss not knowing that bad things happen to all people. And pain, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual - can change you forever and make you wish for things that perhaps you shouldn't. I miss only seeing rainbows, not being touched by the storm. 3. My faith that I could and would impact the world around me in incredible ways. That dreaming and sheer determination were all it took. 4. - I have to come up with a fourth - This is another one that may seem odd. I miss the selfishness - that's not the right word, but hey, it's Friday - my brain is tired. I guess it's basically putting myself first or at least in the top four. Focusing on what I need and want. Obviously, I can't make a list of what I have in the future that would collide with past me since . . . well, it's in the future; and one thing I've learned: The future is never certain. Therefore, I will list four from the present ~ of course, four; when did this passion for a number even begin?~ 1. The realization and knowing first hand that you can love others much more deeply than you love yourself. That when you allow that love to develop and embrace it, your life is enriched more than you could ever have alone. 2. Mistakes and failure aren't the same thing - and neither define you as a person. They are results of actions, not characteristics. And, no matter how long you hide under your covers in the fetal position denying it, you will in fact learn something from them. 3. You don't get to travel back in time - life isn't a dress rehearsal, as they say - but sometimes you get do-overs. Accept them for what they are - a gift for the future. Looking back is fine as a pastime, but looking forward paves the road for the impossible. 4. I wish I had the strength I have now and the ability to take care of myself and others. Though this isn't necessarily the factor in my life that I am 'proudest' of, it is something I lacked in my past. Something I didn't even want. I was quite content being taken care of. That's the baby of the family for you ~ all those psychological studies can't be totally incorrect. I'm not sure where I'm even going with this. Maybe I'm having a mini mid-life crisis and I'm too poor to have plastic surgery or buy my dream car. I just look back and wonder where that girl went. . . and I look forward with anticipation of the life I have yet to experience. I have so much to be thankful for in my past and present - overall, life has been kind to me. Even at forty-five-years old, the future feels promising. Promising of new adventures, changes, adaptation, decisions, occurrences that will quickly turn into treasured memories. I don't want to change the past; I just want to channel a little bit to the future. Final Realization: I think these steroids the doc put me on for an ear problem may be affecting a little more than my ear. Off to google 'side effects of 6 steroid pills in a day, Audra love
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| According to Recent Studies . . . Okay, okay, maybe just one study. Well, more like a survey . . . with no independent/dependent, placebo/non-placebo, secret-pinkie-swear group. Though this may lack supporting scientific evidence, I pretty much trust it . . . at least given that all factors are the same, such as town population, mood of the participants, arguments on the way to school, and who looked at them strangely in the hall between classes. As a teacher, I look for every opportunity to get to know my students. I'd like to say it helps with their instruction - and it might - but it is more correct to say that I'm just nosyinterested. Therefore, when I call attendance they are given a daily question they must answer. They can lie, because I really don't care about what their favorite fast food restaurant is . . . it's not like I can afford to go there  . It's less boring than 'here' or the occasional 'present'. Plus, I figure if they can't make the small decisions in life, the big ones are going to hit them hard. But I have learned some interesting information about parenting this week. Monday's question was: What is one thing you like about one of your parents/guardians? They HAD to come up with one. Well, the secret is out! Apparently, I have been trying waaaaayyy too hard, because according to roughly 80 percent of my 8th graders the number one things they like in an adult that has at least minimal control over them is 1. that they feed them and 2. they are nice. Smile and food? That's it? I read a braziallian inside joke - I know that's not a real number - parenting books when I was pregnant and really all I need to do is slap some peanut butter on some bread and sometimes fake a good mood. ASTOUNDING! However, there is more to this study. Yesterday, I asked them on a scale from 1 - 10 how strict are their parents, with 10 being they are in lock down prison and 1 being their parents may have forgotten who the adult is supposed to be. Well, those answers were allllll over the place, but it got me thinking so I added another question. What is the ideal number for parental strictness? Now, there were some 1's but majority ruled at 5.5. Strangely, there were no 10's. And to think, I crave lock down prison at times. My son is a Senior, so I thought I would ask him. He's pretty honest, though he is smart enough to fudge the truth a little too to keep the peace. When asked what are two things he liked about me, his response was, "You cook for me from time to time and you brought me doughnuts for breakfast." Apparently, the food answer continues on through high school. When asked about strictness at first he said a 7 which surprised me quite a bit. I asked him why and he said, "Well, I didn't want to give you a low number because that would make it seem like you don't care and you do. You let me do my own things, but your expectations are clear. So, I guess more like a 5.' There you have it - I'm the perfect parent. I've decided to quit worrying about making sure there are clean clothes, planning activities, buying him things. I'm just stocking up on Ramen Noodles! I'm a little hungry myself. I wonder if my mom is busy. Researching the teenage brain I use that term lightly, Audra
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| I've Decided to Retire . . . from Adulthood Don't get me wrong, I know there are some advantages to being a grown up, but tonight I would trade the ability to legally drink, drive a car, - not at the same time, of course - and . . . well, at the moment I'm drawing a blank. Anyway, I would trade those two things for any of the following, or if I won the 'be a kid again' lottery, all of them: 1. Being able to stay in the bathtub for two hours and no one even missing you, much less coming in to ask you to do something or if you know where the milk is. 2. Being described as "That girl has more energy than she knows what to do with" 3. Being MADE to go to bed early or you might be cranky in the morning I think adulthood has proven that point. 4. Opening your dresser drawer with never a thought that there might not be clean underwear in it. 5. Heck, I'd even go back to the age where my clothes were laid out for me no matter how dorky and my mom did my hair 6. When a scraped knee was the worse pain you ever felt 7. When you innocently dreamed of being a teacher so you only had to work until 3:00 and got the summers off and No Child left Behind meant every kid in the class was invited to the birthday party. 8. When the phrase "back in YOUR day' was never directed at me in a conversation. 9. When curling up in the fetal position was expected not cause for alarm 10. When everyone you met immediately became your friend because you hadn't developed pet peeves or the realization that some people are plain weird. 11. Awwww. . . to hear the words "Would you like some ice cream since you cleaned your plate" instead of thinking "oh shit, I ate EVERYTHING on my plate . .. I can't eat again until Thursday . . . way too many carbs" 12. when I was filled with excitement at the sound of the phone ringing instead of having to pep talk myself up to look at the caller id to see what bill I have forgotten to pay. 13. when the biggest and only decision I had to make that day was what card to ask for in Go Fish. 14. when receiving money for a birthday was fun because you actually might get to spend it how you want 15. and there was a certain age when you always smelled good no matter if you had been sweating in the sun all day 16. when after you had a bad dream it was acceptable to crawl in bed with a family member instead of awkward and just plain wrong for all those involved 17. oh yes, and you NEVER had to wear a bra! How could I have almost forgotten that one? 18. there were always Popsicles in the freezer 19. hearing the phrase "you are too young to know about or worry yourself about that" 20. you got to sit in the backseat and color in your Muppets coloring book no matter how short of time you were in the car Wouldn't it be nice? Just for a day or two? . . . until you remembered how wonderful a glass of wine was? or you screwed it up by being a kid and saying those silly words of "I can't wait to grow up and do what I want.. Pity Party or Wishful Thinking? Audra
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| Epiphany or Common Sense? In retrospect, I'm not honestly sure. Maybe they are one in the same - synonyms - one sounding like I have a little intelligence and one stating clearly what is meant. This is a continuation from my last blog so you might want to peruse it if this doesn't make sense . . . or it could just be that I don't make sense. Here's the last two paragraphs from the previous post, maybe that will help the segue. I received a Facebook comment from a friend I had gone to kindergarten through high school graduation. I hadn't talked to him since the night we received our diplomas. We were both in such a hurry to conquer the world and reach the goals that we thought would bring us happiness and perhaps a little glory . . . and contentment, maybe? Two words on Facebook - prayers, please - have changed my life in the last six months in ways I never even allowed myself to dream could happen to me or even should happen to me. Bruce, the friend from high school - the Facebook comment-er, took the time to respond to my request for prayers. I was having health issues. A few days later, I responded with thanks. We began talking, and I was saddened to hear that he too was dealing with things in life that are impossible to understand, come to terms with, or even believe are real when the pain is so raw. To put it mildly, we were a mixed up pair. This is not the post to share the whole story . . . maybe there never will be such a post . . . but just to get you up to speed - Bruce is the best friend I have ever had. That friendship has grown to love in so many ways. Through our ever-growing relationship I have learned to accept and give of myself, to allow myself to feel and even welcome emotions. But really, this post isn't about him . . . except that he is beyond belief wonderful . . . it's about the fact that he invited me to church. Two years ago, I had told God I would go if someone asked me. To be honest, when Bruce first mentioned the subject I wasn't exactly doing back flips of excitement. First of all, the church was a different denomination than what I had grown up in. It was also a large church - I was used to a congregation of 150 on a good Sunday. But as I got to know Bruce better, and I allowed myself to think about it . . . even research it. But in Bruce, I could see a light; a light I missed in myself. So . . . to church I went. Any nerves that were twittering in me dissipated when Bruce put my hand in his. The church was huge. The bulletin stated that between the two services last week, they had over 2000 people in attendance. This was definitely not my hometown church. In new situations, I either seek to take in as much knowledge about my surroundings as I can or make jokes to cover any insecurities I might feel. Well, this was church, not exactly the time for my barrage of blonde jokes. I was paying attention to the service, but my mind was multitasking. There were so many different types of people - all ages, all races, various cultures. . . and it felt so amazingly right. At first, I was surprised some people had their phones out. Growing up, I had received many disapproving taps on my shoulder for attempting to play hangman with my brother during service. A gentleman was a few rows ahead of us. Again, I was surprised at his actions. He was drinking coffee and had a bagel. This is church, not Starbucks was my initial reaction. However, somewhere between the welcome and the ending hymn, I realized the epiphany that who was I to judge? Why was my way of worshiping the 'correct' way? I did a self-check and wondered if someone looking at me would see my actions as disrespectful, though not my intent. After all, I had worn slacks instead of a dress. I was holding hands in church. I'm sure to someone my actions would seem out of the ordinary. I began to wonder what it would be like if we allowed ourselves to see past the distractions and actually see the person behind them. How many times do we discount someone because of first impressions that are more our own doing than theirs? How many times have our personal perceptions kept us from possibly gaining insight or friendship from someone different than ourselves? This spurred more thoughts about societal priorities. Or at least my priorities. Had this been an invitation to a football game, I wouldn't have cared who was playing or felt the need to research the teams. Also, at a football game people are standing and cheering the majority of the game. Yet at church, we wait to be instructed as to when to stand. Is it reverence, habit, or following? I'm not sure. As I contemplated this - why we love God so thoroughly but praise and honor him so differently - I had an 'aha' moment and those thoughts didn't matter any more. I had spent the last twenty-five years searching for a church for me - one like the one I grew up in, that I was accustom to. And that was the problem - me, I. This would never be MY church, no matter how at home I felt. A place of worship is God's church. I had searched for what I needed not what God needed from me. I had embraced differences and distractions rather than the purpose of gathering together in His name. I had claimed to have searched for the right church. . . finally, my eyes were opened that there are no wrong churches. Sure, some are better fits to different people, but as I sat there with Bruce's fingers intertwined in mine, mouthing the words to an unfamiliar hymn, while secretly wishing I had thought to bring coffee - I felt. No that isn't a typo. For the first time in so long, I felt. I wasn't numb; I wasn't hiding; I wasn't looking for an opportunity to run. I felt emotions - some amazing, others slightly terrifying, but it was such a relief to know that I still had the capacity to actually feel. My hand tightened around Bruce's; I smiled at the man with his cell phone out, and it was clear to me that though different, God had made us all - none better than the other. And if I chose to let those differences put me off, the only thing I was doing was cheating myself of life's experiences. I don't remember the preacher's final prayer. My head was bowed; my eyes closed, but my thoughts and prayer were my own. Through Bruce, God had brought me home to the church. I thanked Him. I thanked God for showing me their was more life to live and it was long past time for me to live again, not merely exist. Not only was my heart opened, but my eyes saw the blessings before me. This happened several weeks ago, and I recognize that it is a journey not a mere occurrence. Tomorrow, I will return to God's church and praise Him while holding Bruce's hand - I might go out on a limb and wear a dress though, who knows - but I will be open, my walls torn down, and I will live, feel, and love. I will never have all the answers, but I will know where to search and that I am worthy of God's answers. Love, Audra |
As a child, I had grown up in the church - a small one, which makes sense since we lived in a small town. I was involved; I loved it. It wasn't one of those things my parents forced me to do. Reflecting now, I can remember being perplexed by those who didn't believe or attend church. Perhaps it was my age or immaturity, but I didn't have the skills yet to verbalize why church was so important to me. At the time, I enjoyed it and it made me feel wonderful. . . and the Bible said to gather together to praise God. That was more than enough for me. The thing is I hadn't prepared myself for church in the next phase of my life. Shortly after high school graduation, I moved away from the small town where I had spent my life. When we reach this milestone, we think of things like losing touch with friends, missing family, having different responsibilities, etc., but I had never given any thought that I would be leaving the only church I had ever known as well. Either I was clueless or in denial . . . take your pick. I tried to find a church in college. There were a couple of them I actually went to more than once, but they just didn't have the same feel as my church. It wasn't just being an outsider looking in, it might be that lack of people my age or I didn't know the hymns. Eventually, I convinced myself it was better at this point to worship alone. Truth be told, even then I knew it wasn't better, just easier. I was comfortable around myself; I wasn't comfortable being an outsider wondering if I would fit in. Eventually, I had a family and moved to a town closer to where I grew up. It was important to me that my son grew up learning and knowing the love of God. We attended my grandmother's church. But that's what it always was . . . my grandmother's church. Sure, it made her happy we were there, and being in her presence in God's house brought joy to me, but I never immersed myself in the church as I had in my youth. I'm not sure what happened, but we attended less often until we weren't going at all. Though I have shared and talked with my son about God and my beliefs, and we have prayed and read Biblical books, I know I have failed my son by not encouraging him to grow up in the church or by the very least leading by example. I moved to the town I teach in about a year and a half ago. It is small, similar to the town I was raised in. I know many people since I've taught here ten years. I believed in my heart that I would find my church again. I prayed to God to lead me. I made a deal with Him. Why do we do that? God probably isn't the biggest fan of Let's Make a Deal. Nevertheless, I told God I would go to church as soon as someone asked me. No one did. So, I prayed at home. Less often than I knew I should. My heart and soul knew I was sticking my head in the sand. I'm really not sure why, but I was. I knew the story of Jesus dying for our sins, yet, something in me didn't feel worthy of asking for help or guidance. To protect myself - or so I thought - I built walls around me. I don't think I did it consciously, maybe I'm so bull-headed I did. But they kept me from feeling - hurt, despair, loneliness, guilt. Somewhere along the line though, I realized they also kept me from feeling love, empathy, forgiveness, true joy, faith. When coincidences happen, people are quick to say that life is strange. Maybe it is, but I believe sometimes 'coincidences' occur because we are too stubborn or blind to notice the obvious. Maybe we wouldn't notice the importance if it were an every day occurrence. I don't know. . . but I know my 'life is strange' moment had God's hand in it waiting for me to reach out and grab it. Earlier this year, I went through a few months of poor health. This took its toll on my life in every aspect. I am one who prides themselves on a strong work ethic; I missed more days of work than I have combined in my life. My emotions were all over the place. I didn't feel as though I was able to pay attention to my son the way I wanted and needed to. Nothing seemed right. One particular night, I was in so much pain, and the doctors hadn't been able to find the cause. I felt like I couldn't go on. Had it not been for my son and parents, I would have asked to just die. I had nothing left - pain, despair, and frustration were not companions I wanted to suffer with. That night, I signed in to Facebook - good ole Facebook - and typed simply "prayers, please". I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the fact that I found myself unable to pray, and I still recognized the power of prayer. This might not seem like a big deal unless you know me. I am horrible at asking for help, letting people in on what is going on in my life, and publicizing anything except a funny/sarcastic remark at times. To show you the extent of this post, my sister left her job as a hospice nurse the moment she saw it and drove over an hour to see me. My mom arrived shortly after she did. Again, I felt pain that I had worried them and disturbed their schedules. I received a Facebook comment from a friend I had gone to kindergarten through high school graduation. I hadn't talked to him since the night we received our diplomas. We were both in such a hurry to conquer the world and reach the goals that we thought would bring us happiness and perhaps a little glory . . . and contentment, maybe? Two words on Facebook - prayers, please - have changed my life in the last six months in ways I never even allowed myself to dream could happen to me or even should happen to me. ....to be continued on next blog. . . too much to share at once. Sorry if you were expecting laughs, but sometimes honesty sneaks out of me too! Thanks for sticking with me, Audra |
| This is a 2-fold, 2 issue whatever you want to call blog today because I was a slacker last week. But hey, both are important, so here goes! Topic 1 I Got Better at Screwing Last Week Why are your minds always in the gutter when you visit my blog? Okay, okay, I admit maybe I lead you there just a tad, but honestly do you think I would blog about IMPROVING in sex? That would imply I haven't done it right; and I'm pretty sure - wellllll, never mind - on to the real screwing. My son wanted a window air conditioning unit in his room, because our house is pretty old and doesn't do a great job circulating the cold. Well, I couldn't really deny him since I have one. So we got one. Buying it was the easy part. See I didn't install mine; I had a couple of high school kids do it, but they are off having real jobs or something now. Besides if they could do it, my son and I could too, right? Well, my dad strongly implied we would NOT be able.... So that just made me completely determined. I remember last year they had to go get a drill, so I borrowed a drill - actually I'm pretty sure it was the mother of all drills - a de walt or something like that. Keep in mind neither of us have used a drill or for that matter many tools at all. I had to get a couple of bit thingies for them. One to put holes in the window frame and one to screw the screws in. Well, the first night I figured the guy must have sold me the wrong size because those holes were not matching up (mind gutter alert). So the next morning, I saw a small independently owned hardware store on my way to Lowes (which is pretty much in my world as much hell as going to the zoo and Wal-Mart in the same day). I carry the drill in. The guy by the register is reading the paper. The positive person I pretend to be, I smile and say hello. His response: I'm reading the paper. I wasn't sure how to respond to that since it was an obvious statement.So I just stuck with "Great". And waited. He looks over his paper, "Do you need help?" "Yes, please" (still minding my manners) "I need help finding the right size bit things to go in this." (I'm kind of proud, I'm holding this monster drill. - he didn't seem that impressed.) "Stay here, I'll go get them." I admit to be a hater of hardware stores, there is some pretty cool stuff in there. While I waited I got some of that white velcro strips you can stick pictures up on the wall with, a floatie for the pool, some sandpaper - life essentials, you know? He comes back with these tiny things. I'm thinking maybe he missed my drill. "I'm sure you know what you are doing, but those look way too small." "They'll fit." He grumbles ringing up my purchases. I secretly put a curse on him to have all the pvc pipe fall off the shelf as he walks by it. I'm sorry, but he should be nice. Okay, I'm not sorry - well, sorry that I didn't have time to stick around to see if it came true. I happened to be delivering some things to my friend, Larry G. He's a pretty handy guy - well, I mean I think he has tools. Anyway, he shows me how to adjust the size of the bit holder thing. So easy - could no one show me this? Now we are about to put in the window unit. Supplies - check instructions - check mountain dew - check. I start the drill just to make sure I got this thing, my 17 year old son jumped about 2 feet. Obviously, I will be the designated driller. I get it put together; he puts it in the window (it's kinda heavy). These were my instructions to him: Go outside and hold the air conditioner so it doesn't fall out while I get it put in. That is all you have to do. Hold the air conditioner the whole time. So he goes out and holds it. I'm ready to drill the first hole. Now my hands are shaking a little - either from nervousness or the mountain dew. So I take my other hand up to steady the drill. Makes sense, right? "Holy Mother of Drills and Berries!" I know that makes no sense but that's what I screamed as I dropped this drill that was having my skin for lunch. Lesson 1: Don't steady the thing by holding on to parts that spin while operating. I didn't cry though - really, I didn't. I get the holes in the window in the right places after a couple of well-intention-ed efforts. I told my son, I had to change the bit thing. I'm changing the bit, and I feel someone tap me on my shoulder. It's my son. "Why are you not holding the air conditioner!" At his age it is pretty amazing that he can still pull off the innocent look, but he kinda does. "I thought we were taking a break. It's hot out there." But he begins his sloth-like movements back outside with only a stare of impending doom from me. I got this screw ready. And I start screwing, drilling whatever you call it. Well, it falls. Surprisingly, I find it -- my son's room is a scary place. I pick it up and Son of a Turkey Leg! It is burning hot. The really stupid thing is, I couldn't figure out what was happening for a few seconds so I continued to hold it as hell's demons blistered my skin. But we got it in and it is awesome. I want my own drill now! What could there be more to learn -- don't touch the spinny parts or hot screws. Now that I'm writing this I realize gloves might not have been a bad idea. I'll have to get me some of those. Topic 2 I'm NOT Joking! I hope you are still with me, because I'm struggling with this one. My best friend left me a text challenge this morning. Actually, he's on WDC now - you should check his writing out Chivalry_lives   .The challenge was to make up a joke. Sometimes, some people think I'm funny so this shouldn't be that hard, right? WRONG! I got nothin'. Therefore, I must not be funny - sigh. I mean if people say things I might be able to have a witty comeback or my mind does apparently work in somewhat humorous ways - or either people mean 'funny' like crazy not like ha ha. I tried "Why did the chicken cross the road", but for one I felt like a 1st grader and two I don't give a crap why he's crossing the road. Someone must have not built a very secure hen house (is that what it's called?), but I say if he's crossing the road he/she is fair game; so shoot it and let's have dinner. (wait, 'he' would be a rooster. . . .that doesn't even make sense - why are there tons more chickens than roosters. Why don't we have Rooster McNuggets? What happens to all the guy chickens? Are they killed at birth? Are they in an internment camp in California? Holy Hat! Where have all the roosters gone???) I'm sorry, Bruce. . . I'm just not a joker. . . or a stoker . . . or a real life toker. I don't even know what a stoker is :( To clarify today's blog: I'm not a joker, but I am an excellent screwer - even if I get hurt I just keep going until the job is done! Oh, that gives me an idea for tomorrow's blog! Love, Audra the Tool Expert |
| I wonder . . . If I will succeed at writing this blog on my phone Why some species of dogs look sad all the time Why people generally talk about the catastrophes they've encountered rather than the positive occurrences If giraffes wish they could swing from the trees like monkeys I wonder why I never take my own advice Why my new contacts film over after wearing for an hour If cave people sat around the fire talking about how fast the world is progressing and missed the simpler times in life I wonder What I will be when I grow up About the term 'full potential' I mean if you've reached it it really isn't 'potential' any more Why people read my ramblings Whether bubble wrap should be labeled as an anxiety relieving drug Goals seemed easier to set and reach when we were younger. We should have more knowledge and experience to use now to reach them Finally, tonight I wonder if it's harder for turtles to be extroverts since they have that she'll so handy to hide in. Obviously not the person with all the answers, A.L.R. |
| I think most of us can agree (unless you are just trying to be difficult - and just don't be - it's a blog not a debate forum - we will save that for a rainy day and brother we are in a drought ) that social media has led us to interact with people we would never have 'met' without it, reconnect to those we would never have talked to again, and realized that our memory isn't as good as we thought it was. On a more personal level, it has taught me many things I wasn't even looking to learn This could probably fill up more than a book - so I'm really going to focus on one main evident. But quickly on a side note: Those of you that think my blog posts are too long. Here's a thought. . . Don't read 'em! It's a choice not a law - YET! So if I could get a drum roll . . . I will end your suspense of what I learned. In fifth grade, I was a Martian. Yeah, you heard correctly - green, gold lame space suit - freaky hair-do - flashing hot lights the whole she-bang! How do I prove I haven't gone insane? By a facebook message, of course! It's almost as reputable as Wikipedia. But here it is: Bruce B I am aways happy to help a fellow martian. (elementry school christmas program) You might not remember that. Serious, if you need prayers, just ask. Apr 5 · Sent from Chat Now, I went to school with this Bruce B. from Kindergarten through High School graduation in 1987 - so I did know the person it was from. Super nice guy - dedicated - focused. But then again that is over 25 years ago; people do change. I mean he called me a fellow Martian, used the word 'serious' (something I'm not often), and prayers in one message. My first thought was, 'Oh man, Bruce musta gone a little on the whacko side'. I didn't respond immediately, because I wasn't sure the correct tactful way to inform him he had taken a ride on the loony tune train with a one way ticket. So I closed my eyes, grateful that I at least have a little sanity. And that's when it hit me - the memories came flashing back - I was a freaking green alien! And more than that I LOVED IT! Now, after conversing for I don't know say about 10000 messages I realize Bruce's memory is a little sharper than mine, but I may have had a few more shots of tequila in my time -- I think he has me beat on Whiskey 101 or something like that. Anyway, I would NEVER have remembered this without Bruce. And this is how I'm sure of it. A few weeks prior to this a lady in the community I grew up passed away. Her name was Bendina Bennett. She was great at doing braids and hair. I'm talking like the all over the head braids like Bo Derek had in '10'. I think that was the name of the movie. When I heard she had passed, I had a vague memory of her doing these braids on me ONCE. It had taken hours and hurt like hell-fire. But I loved it! At that time, I'm pretty sure I was the only pale, blue eyed, blonde 5th grader with these braids. I couldn't remember why. I called my mom and she didn't even remember the braids. She assumed it was for some dance recital. I knew hat couldn't be right, but I couldn't figure it out so I let it drift to the spot in my brain where all unanswered questions of no urgency go to die. But Bruce -- he brought it back to me! No doubt, we had been chosen because we were both teacher's kids (in case you don't know - teachers' kids are kind of like that super old Life cereal commercial where they give it to Mikey to try because he'll try anything), we both were pleasers, and took things we did pretty seriously . . . for fifth graders. So there we were - painted green with I'm guessing paint that was not made for painting the face and body (I'm sure it is mild lead poison that led to my memory loss), hot-stick-to-your-skin gold lame costumes (I would love to see the picture of Bruce in gold lame - You don't get more country, farmer, cowboy than Bruce), and the spotlight was like being in a malfunctioning tanning chamber - there was no filters it was like Crescent School found the money in the budget to rent the freaking sun! Why were their aliens in a Christmas program? No clue. But I do think we may have been chosen as aliens because we didn't speak. We held hands, walked and pointed at things. Usually, there is singing in Christmas programs - so this could have been a strategic move - apparently, neither Bruce nor I can carry a tune. Maybe they tricked us into thinking we were stars to keep us from ruining the music. Noooooo - that's silly! We are stars! Aliens~! Will Smith's Independence Day has nothin' on us. But, most joking aside, this is the main thing - Bruce and I reconnected - over something 35 years ago (geez - I can't believe I typed or thought 35 freaking years??), and it was at a time we both really needed a friend. A real friend - not one just mouths the words and goes on their way. A friend that shows you there is more than one path to take in this world and those paths/doors/whatever don't stop just because you get older and life changes in ways you hadn't expected. I saw Bruce yesterday on the 4th of July for the first time since high school graduation. I don't hide the fact that I tend to close my eyes to things in life that I don't want to deal with, face, or might cause me to stress out to a slight panic attack level. But yesterday, it was so strange - it was like my eyes were opened to so many things. I allowed myself to think without fear. This probably is making no sense to anyone - and might not to me in 35 years, but I wasn't afraid to try new activities, give forgiveness where it needed to be given, let down part of my wall of sarcasm. But I think most importantly for one day I allowed myself to relax, focus, and enjoy things around me - things I never pay attention to - like stars, silence, wind (I usually am not a fan of wind of any kind - but I liked it). I have to say, I owe it to Bruce. Not because he said - 'do this' 'look at that' 'calm down' - he led by example and his presence for whatever reason felt safe. He made me realize that though we may not wear green paint and gold lame anymore, you can still have out of this world moments - you just need a little help from your friends and channel your inner Martian. Thank you, Bruce. Nano-nano (I know you don't watch t.v. - It's from a show in the 70's Mork and Mindy. Youtube it. :) Look at the stars tonight (one might be my home planet), Audra Note to self - things not to forget: bubble wrap, cat litter, long rides, no bugs, lots of kittens, dropping phones, butt numbness, - you'll have to remember the rest by yourself, Ralls - time to get ready. |
| Who wouldn't want to vacation or even live in Oklahoma? They call Chicago the windy city, but do they have a song about it? I hope not or my point is mute. But let me clarify the wind does not just sweep it blows faster than most Priuses go on the Highway. Let me have a Word with you about what else Oklahoma has to offer. I mean we are no Hawaii, but we hold our own. (Where is the rolling of eyes icon): I mentioned wind, but seriously your daily wardrobe is decided on whether your skirt will be over your head when stepping outside or you will just be giving everyone a nice little flash. Weather? We have hotter than a hog in heat and colder than a witch's tit in a brass brassiere with a 1000 percent humidity every day of the week and twice on Tuesdays. (We also have an expression for everything. Or at least my father does, that's where I learned 'em.) Oh yes, and don't forget those tornadoes. If you've never taken cover in a bathtub with a mattress on top of you, you haven't lived, my friend. Are you getting Smitten with my state? Truthfully, I do love it, but some things about it just aren't right. We are home to Will Rogers who coined the phrase, "I never met a man I didn't like." (My personal life motto). Unfortunately, he died in a plane crash going to Alaska with his friend, Wiley Post. So what do we do? Name our airports after them. Am I the only one that thinks naming an airport after guys that died in a plane is a bad omen? What else? Hmmm we have one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in the nation as well as one of the highest divorce rates. Gosh, could there be a connection. Oh yes, and I decided to teach in the state with the lowest teacher salary except for Utah, I think. and they wouldn't take me, because I'm not Mormon -- sorry that was rude, Utah readers. People step off the plane (if they make it) thinking they are going to see cowboys in boots and hats and Native Americans running wild. They are disappointed. We have a few real cowboys, but they are on the farm getting shit on their boots and other lovely things. We have a musical after the state. But honestly if your choice is Cats or Oklahoma. Aren't you always going to go for the pussies, I mean felines. We have towns that you will never pronounce right the first 20 times you try: Chickasha, Konowa, Okeemah, Muh-hal, Pottawatamie, Checotah (Home of Carrie Underwood), Narangich, Weleetaka, and Wapanucka. Okay, I made one of them up. Here's the quiz: Which one? no googling - geez there isn't a prize. Outsiders think we ride our horses saying yeehaw and ya'll. First, I've never been on a horse. 2nd - I've only said yeehaw once and that was in the bedroom after a few shots of tequila, but I do use ya'll, because there is no other word to replace it - well, maybe you guys, but what if I'm talking about girls? ya'll covers it! I do love my state; I live here by choice though I did choose to spend my college years in Arizona and came back because I was poor, missing some life direction, and had a hankering to beat my dad at dominoes. I know every state must have their pluses and minuses, I just thought I'd share mine with some people/person (cough cough). By the way, if you hear the phrase "I'm hungry enough to eat fried farts and pickled assholes", that's not any Oklahoman, that's my dad. So tip your hat and say, Howdy, Sir." On another note, I have gone from over 1000 emails to 92 on WDC! All since the first of June. Granted a lot of them were newsletters, but I've done a lot of returning the favor of reviewing. So if you reviewed me in 2012 - don't lose faith; you may be next! Queen of procrastination, Ralls |
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