The teacher at the dinner party

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One
man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education.

He argued, 'What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his
best option in life was to become a teacher?'

He reminded the other dinner guests what they say about teachers:
'Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.'

To emphasize his point he said to another guest; 'You're a teacher,
Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?'

Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, 'You
want to know what I make?'

(She paused for a second, then began...)

'Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents
can't make them sit for 5 without an I-Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.

You want to know what I make?' (She paused again and looked at each and
every person at the table.)

''I make kids wonder.

I make them question.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.

I teach them to write and then I make them write. Keyboarding isn't
everything.

I make them read, read, read.

I make them show all their work in math. They use their God-given
brain, not the man-made calculator.

I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to
know in English while preserving their unique cultural identity.

I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.

I make my students stand, placing their hand over their heart to say
the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag, One Nation Under God, because we
live in the United States of America .

I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work
hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life.'

(Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)

'Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing
money isn't everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention
because they are ignorant... You want to know what I make?

I MAKE A DIFFERENCE. What do you make Mr. CEO?'

His jaw dropped, he went silent.

Green Christmas

It was my goal last year to pursue a green Christmas....some of you may think this is easy since trees are green, garland can be made from that green sparkly stuff, and the recognized colors of the holiday season just happen to be red and GREEN. Well hold your hats because I am referring to the new pop culture definition of the word green.

Eco-friendly, Environmentally Friendly, tree-hugger--you know. So here are a list of websites that offer fair trade goods, green-friendly products, and some great gift ideas for those of you trying to do your part!

http://www.eco-artware.com/index.php
http://www.greenhome.com/
http://www.wedgeworldwide.coop/index.php
http://www.zanisa.com/
http://www.greenfeet.com/index.asp
http://www.earthinspire.com/
http://www.arenaturals.com/
http://www.giftswithhumanity.com/
www.thehungersite.com
http://nosweatapparel.com/index.html
www.ornamentalthings.com
http://www.taraluna.com/index.htm
http://www.worldwildlife.org/home.html

Love it!!
Happy Christmas

My Car happens to be Republican

I was listening to my favorite band of all time....The Dixie Chicks in my car today and one of the most controversial songs that they have ever written, and also one of my favorites, came on the player. "I'm Not Ready to Make Nice"

This song was, of course, written after the Chicks made a very bold political statement regarding their and the President of the United States, George W. Bush, place of shared permanent residency...The great state of Texas.

So I was getting ready to belt out the song in my best car Karaoke voice....almost as if I am an integral part of the very strong and united band.....and low and behold the song skipped. It teased me with the counter, numbers making their way up from .01 seconds on and as I sat waiting for the banjo to start strumming, the counter reached .08 and the song skipped.

Now I pushed the back button and all was good, the song came on and Martie, Natalie, Emily, and myself sang to our hearts content.

After our musical performance had concluded, I checked the cd twice over for scratches and couldn't find a one. Racking my brain for an answer I looked around....I was in a Ford. It was my car that did it. My car, the Ford Focus, is a member of the ford family of vehicles and I am pretty sure Henry Ford, creator of a certain Model-T was voting right wing red all the way......

I am going to have to have a talk with my Focus about the importance of sharing political opinions without letting it get out of control, and commanding the CD player to skip one of my favorite songs just because of its history of being right wing is way out of line!

The Gingham Dress

THE GINGHAM DRESS

A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston and walked timidly without an appointment into the Harvard University President's outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard & probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge .

"We'd like to see the president," the man said softly.

"He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped.

"We'll wait," the lady replied.

For hours the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away.

They didn't, and the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted.

"Maybe if you see them for a few minutes, they'll leave," she said to

him!

He sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, and he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern faced and with dignity, strutted toward the couple.

The lady told him, "We had a son who attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. My husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere o campus."

The president wasn't touched. He was shocked.

"Madam," he said, gruffly, "we can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we

did, this place would look like a cemetery."

"Oh, no," the lady explained quickly. "We don't want to erect a statue. We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard."

The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical buildings here at Harvard."

For a moment the lady was silent. The president was pleased. Maybe he could get rid of them now. The lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it cost to start a university? Why don't we just start our own? "

Her husband nodded. The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment.

Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford got up and walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the university that bears their name, Stanford University, a memorial to a son that

Harvard no longer cared about.

You can easily judge the character of others by how they treat those who they think can do nothing for them.

---- A TRUE STORY by Malcolm Forbes

"People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did."
"But people will never forget how you made them feel."

Flushed Away

It was a normal day in the OC except my parents and little sister were in town from Oregon.  Matt and I had been having a text conversation about who knows what and I had to pee.   So I placed my perfect phone; one that has been dropped thousands of times and still worked amazingly well, one that had all 70 of my contacts, pictures of random fun stuff, etc into my pocket.  

Into the bano I went. I finished my business, flushed, and proceeded to pull up my blue plaid bermudas when suddenly and in what seemed like slow motion, my phone jumped out of my pocket and fell into the bowl of germs while the water was swirling counterclockwise. I gasped in disgust and went straight into phone survival mode as I stuck my hand into that water (which at this point was clean and clear BTW) and grasped for my phone.  It was just out of my reach every time I my fingers nearly clasped onto its antenna,  My hand and arm followed it as far up the pipes as they could but it was always just out of reach.

After I realized that my phone had entered the point of no return I grabbed the soap and scrubbed my arm and then after that I scrubbed it some more to get all of the toilet off of it.  I dried off and walked out of the room with a feeling of both embarrassment because I had my phone in the bathroom and hilarity due to what seems like a pretty unique situation.  I have heard many stories since i began sharing mine of phones that have fallen victim to the toilet, but there is one element of my story that makes it one for the history books, and that is the timing of my phones decent from my shorts to the bowl and then its subsequent journey up the pipes.

So in conclusion, I send out a plea.  Does anyone have an old but usable verizon phone that they would care to donate to a poor college student who is planning a wedding and needs a good working phone?  I am using Matt's right now, but it holds charge like an 80 year old man.

The day every little girl dreams of

since she was five. Let me move forward and rephrase. It is time to start actual planning of the day this little girl dreamt about since she was five. I could lie, like I have been for at least the last 4 years and say that I wasn't really ready to get married, but turns out I was. Or maybe up until life became more adultish, I was ready to plan the party, but not necessarily ready for the title of Wifey = Matt's number one.

Anyway so he asked me and I said yes and so starts a whirlwind of fancy planning with dresses (whoop whoop), decorations, flowers, up-dos, down-dos, half-up dos (so many choices), bridesmaids, parties, invites, etc etc etc. And the list went on.

Friends have sent me fun packages with magazines and books and cards with my new initials displayed proudly on the front of the envelope. Don't know why that is significant? Take a moment. Matt's last name is S...--My name is Amber SJR (traditionally the bride takes the grooms last name) please proceed with some brainwork as I continue on my rant. I am working really hard on not focusing on how f-ing incredibly expensive it is to get married in SoCal. Andrea sent me a very useful book titled "How to plan a church wedding for under $5,000. At first I was so optimistic about the usefulness of the book, and as it turns out there are some really great hints and tips for being a blissful yet budget conscious bride. Sadly enough the reception is already looking to cost twice what the wonderful woman budgeted for her entire wedding. And so the planning went on.

Prices and cost aside. This day is going to be incredible. I think I have decided on colors, yet they will probably change. Deep Purple and Kelly Green. Yet it will be happening in July in Pasadena so I might want to make the bridesmaid dresses a bit less dark so I do not end up being responsible for their premature deaths as a result of overheatedness (is that even a word).

So for those of you lovelies who read my little rants and raves....any suggestions and or words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated!

Dreamer

Perhaps I should be more of a dreamer. I live with someone who can be a dreamer. He dreams of trips to far off places, of houses, of a life full of big things.

Sometimes I can be too real, too far away from the possibilities floating about in my head.  I think about life in the now. I think about goals we have set (getting married and buying a house), and I think about how expensive those goals will be to follow through with.  Because my thoughts are centered around our bank accounts both now and future, I always end up being the dream squasher. The one who looks him right in the eye and says "well, what about this," or "what about that."  "How could we possibly do all of the things you keep talking about." 

I ask, why can't I be more of a dreamer.  I could say, "YESS, Let's do that!" Even if, in reality, there is no way that could happen along with all of the other goals we have for the future.  Could we go to South Africa in two years for the World Cup? Probably not, if we want to buy a house, but does that matter RIGHT NOW? No.  It doesn't.  Of course, we all know that I would be heading to a different part of Africa while my boy and his friends were watching Soccer.

Maybe I can learn a thing or two from the dreamer.  Dream big or go home.