For Sale: 1 Puppy

My most recent puppy, Ralphie, just celebrated his first year as part of our family. It might be his last year too.

Now don't get me wrong, Ralphie is fulfilling many of his duties quite well. He is really good at cleaning

and being cute in general. That is the function of both of my puppies: cuteness and stress relief.

There are very few things more stress relieving than cuddling your puppies. They look at you with their cute little eyes and you know they are thinking the same thing you are: when are we going to eat next. 

Both of my dogs have been well drilled on the virtues of cuteness and being stress relievers. But Ralphie is still learning and struggling with these concepts. Just like all dogs, Ralphie loves to chew on things - anything really. My hair, my other dog, the couch, nothing is really too big or too inappropriate for Ralphie to approach with a gleaming eye and biting jaw. 

Ralphie is also attracted to shiny things, which is what got him into trouble here. 

A couple of weeks ago, I was suffering from a cold. And, as all teachers know, half the time it is just easier to go to class with a cold than stay home and deal with all the lesson plans and other hurdle that come with staying home. So when I did get home, I immediately took my puppies outside to pee and then went to bed. 

When I go to bed though, I have to be careful. Buddy, my other dog, and Ralphie, the subject of this particular rant, love shiny things like my diamond ring and earrings. So before I fell asleep, I slipped my jewelry off and put it on my dressing table, far out of reach from any puppy eyes or mouths.

Or so I thought. 

Around 6 p.m., I woke up to the most distressing sounds I have heard in a while. A sound that could only be described as part gagging and part barfing up a lung awaited me as I struggled out of sleep. What was going on? I did a puppy check. Buddy, being the wonderful and lazy soul that he is, was contentedly laying on his side in the middle of my bed. 1 puppy safe. Ralphie was the source of the noise. 

Obviously, he had put something in his mouth that he shouldn't have. I picked him up and tried to open his mouth, but he wasn't having any of that. He jumped out of my arms and stood on the floor trying to work out whatever it was in his mouth. Since he was still breathing, I decided to let him try. I looked around the room to see what on earth could possibly be in his tiny chomper. Diamond ring - check. Necklace - check. Earring....only 1. 

Let me tell you a bit about my jewelry collection. It's pretty non-existent. Especially the more expensive stuff. My mother and sister, thanks to their husbands, have lots of nice jewelry pieces. I, the single one, am still working on my collection. And not very diligently at that. I like books and clothing instead. The particular earring that Ralphie decided to sample were my favorite pair of Pandora earrings - adorable little white flowers that go with anything. Now one was gone. 

At first I thought Ralphie had swallowed it, which really freaked me out since that meant, in order to get the earring back, poop sifting might be in my future. I turned my attention back to my pup to see how things were going. Pretty well, on one hand, because the barfing a lung sound had stopped. But the gagging was still a major problem.

In one of my attempts to get Ralphie to open up, I saw a shiny piece of metal stuck in his upper back teeth. My earring!! So, redoubling my efforts to get that mouth open, I finally dislodged the metal and Ralphie coughed it out. It was not my earring, but the back clasp. I found the actual earring part about 5 feet away on the floor, looking much worse for wear. Here is a before and after picture. 

 So, after many lectures to Ralphie about the danger of swallowing Mama's favorite earrings and to Buddy about watching his younger brother to keep him from doing stupid stuff again, I decided to go get another pair. And have a little fun of my own.

So they weren't really stress relief that day, but I probably will still keep them around. I think... 

AML

5 Things I Learned About Selling Your 1st House

The Lord is good to everyone who trusts in him,
So it is best for us to wait in patience - to wait for him to save us -
And it is best to learn this patience in our youth. Lamentations 3:25-27

85 days. Wow...

It was 85 days ago that I was crazy enough to put my house on the market. 86 days ago, I decided to start what my mom would call a new adventure.

I hate adventures. I have learned in my life that they are just code for something I don't really want to do.

Working for a professional theatre company, moving to a new city, having my cranky grandfather live three miles away from my house, hunting for a teaching job, having bats in my home...all of these experiences have been labeled as an adventure by my mother. (She also calls them opportunities and learning experiences - two other terms I have extremely wary of.)

ALL of these experiences were horrible. I hate adventures.

So when my mom called selling my house an adventure, I knew I was in trouble.

But, as someone who has directed numerous musicals with a cast and crew made up entirely of teenagers, I knew I could handle massive stress and chaos. I am tough. I can do this.

I think...

My mom was right about one thing, though. This has been a huge learning experience. A Texas sized learning experience. So I am going to share some of the wonderful lessons I have learned thus far in my first home selling opportunity.

Lesson #1: When selling your first home, you will have friends sell their houses much faster than you. And you will hate those friends. 

Selling a house takes FOREVER. At least my house does. But that's just me. Everyone else seems to sell their house effortlessly and without trouble. One of my friends was able to sell their house in 24 hours. And I had to be happy for them!! That was the worst part. I had to smile at their happy news, help them move, AND admire their new house as they started making improvements.

One of my friends actually had the audacity to sell their house within three days and had the Holy Grail of House Selling Experiences. They had a bidding war. There were 6 offers. They got significantly higher than asking price. And I had to hear about it. I had to smile, grit my teeth and congratulate them, help them move, and admire their new location.

Idiots.

I am 85 days out and it's a Friday night with no scheduled Saturday showings.

Lesson #2: You will have to move out every possession that you enjoy - everything that makes your house fun to live in - to a storage unit. 

All my books - storage unit. Almost all my clothes - storage unit. All the pictures I love - storage unit. Dogs - not the storage unit. They need to stay so they can pee and poo on the floor five minutes before I have a potential buyer show up.

Don't let them keep anything fun - that's the realtor's credo. The house has to look generic and boring.

Lesson #3: Common items that human beings use on a regular basis are now objects of shame and humiliation that must be hidden from all potential buyer's eye at all costs. 

You can't leave your tooth brush out for buyers to see. That would be catastrophic. They can't find out you actually use a comb and towel every morning - put those shameful objects of hygiene out of sight immediately.

The cereal bowl in the sink - nope, can't happen. No one can suspect that you actually EAT in your own HOUSE! The horror!

Then you have another problem because you develop places like this:

This is one of my many stashes of stuff. When you don't know what to do with something and you have a buyer coming in 10 minutes, you end up with hidden places like these. I have about 6 right now. I can't find anything.

Lesson #4: You discover problems with your house you didn't even know existed. 

Did you know my galley kitchen is not accessible to someone in a wheelchair? I never knew this before - had never really even thought about it before. But now I know - because a potential buyer pointed it out to me.

My bedrooms are too small. The carpet is awful (of course, this one I knew. I can't even try to disguise how bad my bedroom carpets look. Lord knows the last time they were replaced.) The stairs to my basement are too steep. There is a stain in my basement that looks like there was a fire. My kitchen appliances are out of date. One of my light switches is upside down. I have no room for additions of any sort. And the list goes on and on and on.

And you will find out about all of them. Every. Single. One. And if it's not your potential buyer, it's your realtor.

Of course, I must say, my realtor is fantastic. Tammy knows exactly how to sell a house. She was the one who sold all my friend's houses in hours. And she apologizes every time she gives me a list of things to fix. It's her job and I totally get that. But when she tells me I have to:
1) Scrape and touch up the paint on the entire exterior of the house
2) Fix the crack in my spare room
3) Pull all my weeds
4) Mow and trim my lawn
5) Get my garage door lock replaced
6) Call the energy company because one of the realtors who showed the house smelled gas
7) Clean the link by my dryer because it's a fire hazard and
8) Clean my entire house top to bottom because the open house is on Sunday

let's just say it gets a little tough to take.

Lesson #5: Smells in your house take on a whole new meaning and level of panic.

Not that I am a smelly person myself (or at least I hope not - if I smell, let me know), but in my single existence, I have become immune to some of the smells a buyer would usually notice. Yeah, my dogs smell a little, but that's what they do. I don't smell it. I forgot to take out the garbage and now the garbage can has a little odor, what's the big deal. My dogs found a new, secret place to take a dump - I will find and clean it eventually. My kitchen smells like gas a tiny bit, but I don't notice and am still alive. So what's wrong with that?

A lot, my realtor told me. No one wants to buy a smelly house. It's a huge turn off. And again, I get that. So I get a couple of those Glade plug in things in Apple Cinnamon, like Tammy told me too, and try to keep the place smelling fresh.

It's a lot harder than I thought! I had to replace my gas line to the stove because it wasn't up to code and you could smell gas. My dogs took on new dimensions of smelliness. Musty towels, putrid dishcloths, stinky garbage cans - the smells where everywhere, like Martian invaders!!! I started smelling weird parts of my house like the A/C vents and my couch cushions, trying desperately to find the evil, hidden smells while feeling like a complete idiot.

When Tammy told me people said the house smelled nice during our open house, I felt like I had won the lottery. I was proud of my house and it's lack of odor! Success!!

But I have learned a huge number of lessons. The major one is that I never, ever want to sell a house again. It isn't fun. But I have to have patience and trust in the Lord. I am not going to sell my house - he will send the perfect buyer to me in his own time. And then the wonderful day will come when I will get to move in a new house with my wonderful parents and...

get a brand new list of things I need to fix. And find out what that smell is.

AML

Just Kidding!

Like a maniac shooting flaming arrows of death is one who deceives their neighbor and says, "I was only joking!" Proverbs 26:18

 

Sorry, this isn't a funny one today. I don't feel humorous this evening. So if you want to stop reading, you can. I won't get mad. But this is my mom's favorite proverb and it has a special relevance this week. So I am going on a little rant.

"I was just kidding!" That evil little phrase.

I heard that quite a bit this week. And it is wearing on me. To me, it's just a code. As a observer of human communication, I always try to look to the meaning behind a phrase rather than at the phrase itself.

And this one has a interesting double meaning.

The phrase comes in several different forms: No offense. Just joking. I was just kidding around. Calm down - I was only making a joke.

To me, that phrase basically means, "I just insulted/was rude to you, but since I tagged my insult with this phrase, you can't get mad at me. And if you do, you're the unreasonable one." Or "I was mean to you, but now you're mad and I want to avoid responsibility for what I said, so I am going to use this phrase."

It's the ultimate, get-out-of-jail-free hashtag. 

My students use this phrase quite a bit. To their friends. To me. To other teachers. And they are masters at using this phrase to excuse their own poor behavior.

The point is that, most of the time this phrase is said, the person is NOT actually kidding. They are simply trying to avoid responsibility for their words. Because words are hurtful. 

Now, I like to kid around as much as anyone else. I like a joke and laughing is my favorite activity. The quickest way to get me to like you is for you to think that I'm funny. But sometimes my words can be taken in the wrong way and hurt someone. I never want them to, but I am not perfect. Not even close - ask my mom. I make mistakes and speak in the wrong way sometimes.

But I make a pledge to myself a long time ago. I don't say I am kidding.

I say I am sorry.

I try to take responsibility that my words just hurt you and should not have been said. And if I don't, you have my permission to call me on it. Because saying the phrase, "I'm just kidding," is not only an excuse, it is a lie.

So the next time you hear someone say they are kidding, or maybe even say it yourself, think about my mom's favorite proverb. An apology might be appropriate, instead of a hashtag excuse.

AML

Why I tell my students I failed Spanish IV

I failed Spanish IV as a senior in high school.

Actually, I wouldn't even use the word failed. I need a stronger word choice. A word choice with the type of punch you get the first time you drink whiskey. (No, I don't drink whiskey. I don't drink at all. It's just an analogy.)

My Spanish IV grade was abysmal.

Now, like all senior high school students in the 1990's who were failing classes, my mom didn't know this. We didn't have internet and all those fancy gadgets that parents have now to check up on their kids. It was the internet dark ages. My Spanish teacher told my mom during spring conferences my senior year.

Yes, my mom went to spring conferences during my senior year. WHO DOES THAT?

Really, I see few parents coming to this particular conference. By this time, kids have already applied and been accepted to college. What their student's teachers have to say doesn't really have much relevance anymore. If the senior is failing, they already know. If their senior isn't failing, then score one for that parent. Parents think that, by this time, their kids need to be adult enough to handle their grades on their own.

And I would support this idea. I don't have much to say to my senior parents during spring conferences.

But my mom went. And found that my Spanish grade was hopeless. I believe the conversation went something like this:

Mom: So, how is Ann doing?
Spanish teacher: She's failing.
Mom: She is???
Spanish teacher: You bet she is!!
Mom: Can she bring her grade up?
Spanish teacher: There is no way she could possibly do this. I am surprised she passed Spanish III. Ann does not have the skills to pass this class.
Mom: So what can she do?
Spanish teacher: Nothing.
Mom: Does she even need to come to class anymore?
Spanish teacher: Nope.

My mom came home and asked me if I knew I was failing Spanish IV. At that point, I gave a hearty laugh. OF COURSE I knew I was failing Spanish. This was not news to me. Mom was horrified. I was not. I didn't need the class to graduate and had already been accepted to college. It just didn't matter. I found

Now it matters more because, when I speak Spanish to native Spanish speakers in my classes, they laugh in my face or stare blankly wondering what I just said. I wish I had tried a little harder. But failing Spanish IV didn't ruin my life.

I tell this story to my students all the time. One reason is because it's funny and I can tell a story in quite an amusing way. It humanizes me as a person and students can relate to me better. Secondly, many of my students truly need to know that it is okay to be bad at something. Especially the brilliant kids.

I have had students actually start crying when they get an A- in my Public Speaking class.

Cry. Real tears. Wow.

They cry because they aren't going to get that perfect 4.0 grade point average in high school that they have always dreamed of getting. That will go on their high school transcripts forever. That will become completely irrelevant the minute they leave Drake University after graduation.

Now kudos to that student for having that goal. But perfection is not the way life works.

My students need to know it is okay to fail at something. They will fail at many things in their lives.

Now, don't get me wrong. My students need to try (especially in my class. My class is obviously the  most important one :0) But everyone has talents and weak points. And just because you don't do a wonderful job in Chemistry, Biology, Sociology, Algebra etc, doesn't mean you won't do well in life. It just means that might not be your field of employment. And that's okay.

So I failed Spanish IV and I relate that story to my students every year. I temper it with "Do your best" and "Try hard", but I also let kids know that you can be a successful person in this life without straight A's.

I didn't even graduate in the top half of my class. And I have a master's degree in Speech Communication. But that's another story.

AML

70 Days and Counting...

In August, I made the decision to sell my house.

This isn't a decision I made lightly. I had been thinking about it for quite some time. My mom Sandy and I always joked about buying a house together and my parents could live in the basement and be my servants.

I wish....!

Two years ago, my dad Joe suffered a stroke. It slowed his movement and his speaking a little bit, but thankfully didn't affect his brain function at all. So life became a bit more challenging for my parents. Then my mom was diagnosed with arthritis in her knees which slowed her down as well. Being in their late sixties, I wasn't really surprised about these issues and want to go on the record as being overjoyed that my parents are still with me. Many of my friends parents are not - or have worse health problems. So I am grateful.

But the problem is my parents live about 25 minutes away from me. When they need help, it's a drive. I come over occasionally to change batteries in clocks, move things they can't lift anymore, and generally help out.

I love doing this. My parents have done more for me than anyone can possibly imagine. I love my parents more than anyone else in the entire world, and it's been difficult to see some of the challenges they have been dealing with.

So one day, mom and I were again talking about the huge house we were going to buy so we could all live together. The next week, I found that she had talked to a friend of ours who is a realtor and was more serious than I thought.

So I decided. Living alone is getting old and I enjoy my parent's company immensely. I also want to conveniently be there for them when they need help and wouldn't mind having someone help me get my car to the shop and make me soup when I get sick. So there are a lot of benefits for all.

Now, 70 days later, I have started to experience what it is like to try to sell a house. A beautiful house. With lots of gorgeous woodwork. And one closet in the entire house. And a REALLY small second bedroom.

This could take a while...

AML

Why Did I Start A Blog?

So, why did I start a blog?

Basically, I want to work on my writing.

Not that I can't write. I can write very well. I learned in grad school that I can whip out a half-way decent 15 page research paper on the history of the bifurcated garment (socks) in days. With that one, I learned not to be sarcastic with my costume history teacher about research paper topics.

The place where I struggle is practicing my writing. Making my writing better. Casual writing. I don't do that. The people who know me, or have met me, know I am a speaker. I teach Public Speaking at Urbandale High School in Des Moines. I love doing this. And writing isn't part of the job description. I was excited about this fact; it means not grading writing. No English teacher enjoys grading writing. Actually, no sane person likes grading writing.

But, alas, those days are over. Not that I don't teach Public Speaking anymore, but I now teach English classes as well that require me to teach...writing.

And then I went to this conference called Iowa Counsel for Teaching English. The theme of the conference was telling your story. And, as they always do at a decent conference, they challenge you to do something different. To improve yourself in some way. There were post-it notes and a wall to put them on.

We all had to write down something we were going to try to do differently to become a better writer. Normally I wouldn't care about improving writer - I want to be a better speaker and teacher instead. But now that my classes include writing, I decided to take the plunge.

My post it note is on the top left. There...for everyone to see.

So here I am. But there are a ton of things I can talk (sorry - write) about. My house is on the market. I have decided to purchase a house with my parents because they are getting older. I am in my 13th year of teaching English. I am a born-again Christian. My rescue dogs are adorable. I love to read and review books. I tell people who ask if I have a boyfriend that I am holding out for an extremely wealthy sugar daddy. So this could get interesting...

AML