The hits keep coming

So, how was your weekend?


Me? Well, two of my sons had the first part of their hockey tournaments.  My youngest son had his first game shutout as a goalie(for non-hockey folk that means no one scored on him).  My middle sons team won their game as well.  Unfortunately he took a check (hit from an opposing player) and fell back and caught himself with his hand.  Long story short - we spent all of Saturday evening and into the wee hours of Sunday morning at the hospital. After much waiting and staring at the walls we found out there was no break, only a severe sprain.  My son was a tad disappointed because he was really hoping for a cast.  Alas, he had to settle for bandaging and a big brace. 


On a sad note - my pre-algebra teacher from 8th grade died last Thursday.  Why do I remember this woman you might ask?  I'm glad you did.  This woman who terrified me during school hours, who obviously knew algebra like the back of her hand, who put the fear of god in you was,under all of that, a MOST compassionate soul.  Her name was Mrs. Wilmarth.  This dear woman did something for me that I will always remember.  I was so afraid of not getting the material right that when test time would roll around it was as if the writing on the paper would dissolve and I would sit there, paralyzed in fear.  This went on for a while until she confronted me and we talked.  She offered to meet with me every afternoon, EVERY afternoon, to tutor me and get me comfortable with test taking.  I owe her so much. So Mrs. Wilmarth, you helped a kid realize that there is more to people than what they show on the outside.  That someone who may not be initially warm can be one of the kindest souls you'll ever meet and to open my mind and be fearless. Lastly, to welcome in a new subject (pre-algebra) and do so with abandon and with the knowledge that I could do it. Thank you Margie and may you rest in peace.


Such is the life in our house.  So taking a tally of events in the last month - one dog at the Vet Hospital (thankfully fine), one expensive flat tire (thankfully covered), spindles broken on the house front banister (to be replaced), leak in the roof somewhere (still to be found), middle son with a severe wrist sprain (on the mend) and lastly and sadly the passing of a beloved teacher (rest in peace dear lady).


But I'm sure you, dear reader, have similar stories of your own. Life is an amazing yet terrifying journey isn't it?


Well, on to new things: 
I had a dream last night that I was somewhere near the Ohio River (don't ask me why, have no friends or family around that river).  I had moved to this new (unknown) place and was in my 20's again.  I ended up with a pet praying mantas (very weird right?). I had my canvas in the small backyard facing the river with lots of trees making my own glazes and beginning to paint.  I could see my hands on the canvas, first with brushes and then with my hands.  I keep making design after design and then painting over it.  Like I'm warming up.  I begin mixing glazes and setting them aside.  It felt good to paint.  It was weird to be where I was and there were other things but the painting part was so vivid and fun.  The colors were vibrant and so on.  I love to paint in my dreams because it gives me ideas for when I'm awake. But I do acknowledge that overall it was a very weird dream (especially the praying mantas part) and to answer your question, no I wasn't on drugs or intoxicated. LOL


Well, I've taken up some of your time.  I hope that you have some time today to do something just for you.


~Peace to you all
Michelle