Summer’s over . . . “Meet the Teacher” & “Personal Conscience vs. Collective Conscience”

Yesterday I took my wee elf child to her school.  We met her teacher (Mrs. Tanamachi) and tucked all her newly purchased school supplies away in her desk.  I know it’s only third grade, but gosh — it feels as though I’m sending her off to college.  Something about third grade . . . it just seems so much older than first or second grade.  After we met Mrs. Tanamachi (I love that name — it’s so much fun to say), we went to Chick Fil A for lunch.  Yum. 

So today, Miss Jami is being lazy and I’m going through the motions of getting some work done.  Tomorrow is the honest-to–goodness first day of school.  I’ll drop her off at 7:45 a.m. and then pick her up at 3:30 p.m.  Oh, my gosh!  3:30 p.m.!  Just like the big kids.  She got out at 2:30 last year.  So while I will be missing my small girl, the silver lining in the cloud is I will have SEVEN hours a day to accomplish great and wonderful things without interruptions of the eight-year-old sort.  THIRTY-FIVE hours a week to sell many, many window treatments and contribute to the flourishing economy with my ambitious attempts to prosper and contribute to the family piggy bank.

I love this quote:

“Any attempt to replace a personal conscience by a collective conscience does violence to the individual and is the first step toward totalitarianism.” –Herman Hesse

While I’d like to write a lengthy opinion of this quote and what it says to me, I don’t have time right now.  So I’ll just post a little “this is what strikes me on first reading” blurb and maybe come back to it later:

I read so many liberal ya-ya’s waxing not-so eloquently about “community” and “the better good” and “human rights” and “working together . . . ”  Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m a firm believer in helping others and standing up for the little man until the little man can stand up for himself.  But these liberal ya-ya’s won’t be happy until we are all standing in line formation repeating the party line like zombies.  Until our individual, God-given consciences hum in concert the party song:  “Raise our taxes to the maxes, do our thinking, while we’re drinking away our misery.  It’s okay, we don’t care . . . as long as you send back a little-bitty share.”

They just want us to cough up the money we’ve worked hard to earn, not to think about what they are doing with it, and be grateful if we can afford a six-pack to numb the pain of having no part of our lives untouched by the bloated federal government.  After all, misery loves company and those who won’t work can complain about the size of the little check they get from our taxes, and we can complain about our taxes going to those who won’t work.  So let’s all be miserable together!  Can you pass me another beer???

The green-eyed monster has me by the tail . . .

This is where my sister-in-law is right now.  And where I am not.  While the average Jill might be a little green with envy, a tiny bit jealous . . . I am CONSUMED. 

This is St. Croix, U.S.V.I., and St. Croix is where I spent 14 of the most glorious months of my life when I was a teenager.  In fact, this picture that I copied for your viewing pleasure happens to be of Cane Bay, where I made my certification dive when I was 15.  Yours truly swam out to sea and dove a deliciously scary 80 feet down the Cane Bay Wall (which continues to drop a toe-curling 3,200 feet before hitting bottom — think phosphorous glowing fishies a’ la “Finding Nemo”).  I saw the most amazing creatures, collected the most beautiful shells, made the most wonderful memories.

While it has been 24 years since we returned to Texas, I am positive this is the condominium we lived in the first three months we were there.  The name has changed — it was called “The Barrier Reef” when we lived there, but the view is the same, the design of the condo is the same, I’m certain this is it.  In another photo on the website, I identified the condominiums next door as Mill Harbor, hence my confidence.  I learned to snorkel off this beach before advancing to my scuba adventures.  The reef we explored was full of sea life and named “The Barrier Reef” because it resembled (on a much smaller scale) the Great Barrier Reef off Australia.

I remember wandering through the 300+ year old streets of Christiansted and shopping in store fronts that were built by Danish settlers in the 1600’s.  My best friend, Cindy, and I would roam the shops and then grab a sandwich at Reed’s Deli followed by a trip to Steele’s Smokes and Sweets. 

Did you know that the aroma of flavored tobacco mingling with the sweet scent of chocolate is intoxicating?  We bypassed the smokes (although the antique lady’s pipe with a pink coral bowl and long ebony stem made smoking a pipe seem almost elegant), indulging in the chocolates that were to die for.

I don’t know why, but many of my memories are tied to scent:

Each morning, our school bus drove past the Cruzan Rum distillery.  Even now, at the age of 40, when I smell rum, I think of Good Hope School and the school bus . . . weird, I know.

I met probably the most intelligent and interesting educator of my life while a student there.  Richard Collings was my European history prof and even now, I occasionally correspond with him.  An amazing man, he was born in England and travelled all over Europe and other parts of the world.  He was able to teach history with so much more depth and make it so much more interesting because he’d actually been all the places he was telling us about.  While he managed to keep us on track lesson plan-wise, he still allowed us time to discuss issues that were important, confusing, or interesting to us.  One topic that came up repeatedly was the hostage crisis in ’79 – ’80, when Americans were held prisoner for months on end in Iran.  We were 9th graders, and for the first time in our lives, we realized that sometimes things happen that our parents might not be able to protect us from, or even themselves.

In my mind’s eye, it seems almost like yesterday when we left.  Three days after my sixteenth birthday, we boarded a plane and came back to Texas.  It was really difficult for me, because I’d made some very close friends in the brief time I lived there.  I wrote some heart-wrenching poetry (thank you, teenage angst) and slowly but surely readjusted to life in the “real” world.

Someday, I hope to return.  I’d like to take my husband with me and share “my” island with him.  If I’m feeling particularly generous, I might take my daughter, too . . . but it would be an awesome “just the two of us” trip.  Jami might have to stay with her MoMo . . .

Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All About You . . . I just love these stupid quizzes . . . Really!

So I managed to sneak a peak at the t.v. last night . . .

I was at my mom’s and caught a blip of the convention.  Some blonde woman I didn’t recognize was speaking and she said the funniest thing!  I mean, the absolutely funniest thing!  She said that John Kerry was . . .

TENACIOUS!  Yes!  Tenacious.  Can you believe it?

According to my American Heritage Dictionary, “tenacious” means:

1.  Holding or tending to hold firmly; persistent; a man tenacious of his opinions and averse to new ideas.  2.  Holding together firmly; cohesive.  3.  Clinging to another object or surface; adhesive.  4.  Tending to retain; retentive; a tenacious memory.

I don’t know about you, but I just find it absolutely hysterical that anyone would use the word “tenacious” to describe John “Flip Flop” Kerry. 

I honestly think that’s the first time I’ve ever watched/heard a Democrat speak and walked away with a smile on my face.  The absolute hilarity of the moment overcame me . . .

I’m not allowed to watch t.v. . . .

Or at least the Democratic National Convention.  My husband has forbidden it.  With formidable authority he has threatened to leave if I but even act as though I might flip the channel to catch the coverage.  Who can blame him?  Would you want to suddenly find the woman you thought was your sweet wife foaming at the mouth and sweating bullets of bloody frustrated fury when Hillary or Bill or Al or Ted or John or John took the stage?  Even now as I think about it, small knots are forming in my shoulders with the anger and frustration I feel towards people determined to destroy my country, in the name of progress.  Progress my eye! 

Now, when the Republicans take the stage in a few weeks, now that’ll be t.v. worth tuning in for . . .

Thanks to Miss O’Hara for another fun quiz . . .

The Pride and Prejudice type: Truly an Austenite, this type is a Romantic at heart, but they always keep their head and are wary of melodrama. Lively, clever, and independent. These people are easily amused by their own foibles and the quirkly foibles of others. They lament society today, and dream of the time when guys were gentlemen and girls were ladies. http://quizilla.com/users/sensefille/quizzes/Jane%20Austen%20novel%20quiz/ This is too funny, and fairly close to the mark!  I’m not sure that I always keep my head, but I certainly try to do so (unless I’m watching political commentary by some raving liberal, and then I am in danger of becoming completely out of my head with frustration and unladylike longing to knock some sense into the head of said liberal . . .) The last comment about longing for days past is 100% on target.  I wish there were a way to slow down our society, yes, even rewind it back to the days when things didn’t move so fast, we actually got to know our neighbors, and manners were considered a good thing, not something just for old fuddyduddies and geeks. Sigh.

Betcha’ thought I’d disappeared . . .

I’ve been really busy the last few days.  Busy good — as in, spending time with the family and measuring lots and lots of windows for window treatments! 

So because of the busy state of my life right now, I’ve not heard much news.  Until today when I heard that ultra-super-duper classified documents had somehow inadvertently jumped into Sandy Berger’s jockey shorts.  With no help from Mr. Berger, those devilish documents managed to skinny their way right past his belt and into the most unusual briefcase I’ve ever heard tell of.

Of course, the libs are putting their usual spin on it, whining “Foul! Foul!” and claiming suspicious timing in relation to the release of the 9/11 commission’s report in a couple of days.  Of course, there was nothing suspicious about the timing of Clinton’s overseas bomb raids and the Lewinsky matter here at home.  No, siree . . .

Maybe the Republicans are playing dirty pool, and I say, “It’s about damned time!”  A huge part of the party’s problem is that they’ve always played by the rules, gentlemen’s rules, and they always get burned.  While I have to confess that I would prefer that we could all behave like gentlemen and women, some of the folks across the aisle just won’t allow it.  And so I say, take off the gloves, and let’s have at it!  Knock some of that snide attitude out of Daschle and his ilk and get on with the business of the country . . . confirm some judges (I hear that yet another has been blocked, and this one because he didn’t sit around the environmental campfire singing Kumbaya . . . ), do away with our insane tax code and come up with something that doesn’t have a majority of the tax department’s employees as puzzled as the rest of us.  There are many more things I could list, but I have to go now.  I’ve got appointments tomorrow and I need to get some sleep!

I find this simply fascinating!  I would have never thought that I would match up with Gandalf . . . I’m somewhat honored, I am.

Just finished reading this book — it was a pretty good lazy-day read.  I’ve got to do a few chores around the house and then meet with some clients at 6:00 p.m. to discuss quotes for their window treatments.  I’ve been having a hard time getting motivated about doing much the last few days.  I mean, I’ve been doing things that need to be done — but I can’t seem to get past this feeling of exhaustion.  Everything seems to be a monumental effort . . . even the slightest things.  I just want to sleep!  I need to exercise more (ha! — I say “more” like I exercise at all).  I need to start exercising.  That would probably help with the energy levels AND mild depression that I struggle with.

Off to do my chores.  Will write more later, if I can think of anything interesting to write.