Enliven and Vitalize

July 18, 2011


I felt a blog post coming on yesterday.  You may want to watch this video before reading further (I write, knowing most of you will skip right over the video when you notice that I have requested nine and a half minutes of your time, plus whatever few ticks of the clock it will take you to read my mighty exposition of it), and be forewarned that there may be more than the usual meandering before I get to my ultimate point. 




This story starts yesterday, but goes back many years.  Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture was the first actual piece of music I purchased with my own shekels.  I had listened to my parents records and had even talked them into buying me some 45s:  The Beatles "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and Three Dog Night "Joy to the World" come to mind.  I didn't own my own "stereo" until high school, and since record albums cost about three times my hourly wage and I was pretty stingy, I satisfied my listening urges by listening to KRBE (for pop music) and later KLOL (for my more sophisticated "album rock" tastes) and by pirating cuts off the radio onto cassettes. 


So what led me to buy Tchaikovsky:  1812 Overture (Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Zubin Mehta with Orignal Civil War cannon, bells and carillon by Maas-Row Carillons--I know this is exactly right because I am holding the original on my lap as I type)?  I thought it was the most delicious and blood pumping fifteen minutes of music I had ever heard!


It didn't even matter that I had a somewhat embarrassing history with that piece of music (skip the next five paragraphs if you tend to leave the room when Beaver is about to make a decision that will get him sent to his room to wait "until his father gets home" or if awkward middle school moments give you the hives).


Awkward Middle School Moment


A few eighth grade band kids (the usual suspects--suck ups and goody-two shoes) got chosen/selected/anointed to sell programs at all the home high school football games as a fund raiser.  Our reward was to go with the high school band when they performed at a University of Houston game, alongside the Cougar Marching Band (under the direction of Dr. Bill Moffitt!!!) and also alongside at least a couple of dozen other local high school bands invited to the exclusive halftime presentation (I can only imagine the innovative minds needed to build a crowd for U of H to fill the Astrodome in the early 1970s).


There I was, dressed in my junior high band uniform (no, they didn't find real uniforms for the eight of us little kids to wear), consisting of a pair of black pants, a white turtleneck, and a black jacket with orange piping.  No big, furry hat with the bill drawn two fingers above the slope of my nose.  No big brass buttons to catch the glint of the lights in the Astrodome.  Just a plain black apprentice waiter outfit, duly marked with bright caution tape on the seams to avoid mistaking me for the real thing.  


As luck would have it, we were the band staged to the immediate left of the college band (I think we were organized alphabetically and Alvin trumped Angleton) between two yard markers near the center of the field.  They also decided to put the middle school kids at the front of our group (I guess to keep uniformity) and because we were short.  They also put me on the very first rank so I wouldn't jab anyone with my trombone slide--though that wasn't too likely, since they didn't issue the eighth graders any music.  


So, there we were at the pre-game practice playing (you guessed it) the 1812 Overture.  The drum majors had climbed tall ladders so everyone could see them, the tom toms, the timbali, and the bass drums in every band were banging out the finale, the scantily clad, but oh-so-beautiful twirlers were tossing their batons impossibly high, and the strains of the very familiar tune were echoing around the domed stadium.  I cheated.  I listened to the music and figured out my part (at least in places), and when the final minute or two of the piece reached its crescendoing thunder, I was playing along!  And feeling quite excellent!  Until I pushed my slide out to distant sixth position

Somewhere between HERE:

AND HERE:

And then accidentally, I let go of my slide and it continued on its forward trajectory and landed at the foot of a twirler, eyes to the heavens awaiting the return of her high-flung baton while whirling round like a dervish with a toothy smile showing between her impossibly (and unnaturally) red lips.  The whole left side of the Fightin' Cougar Band took their instruments from their lips/mouths and stared, just like you do when you think you're about to witness a car crash, leaving the high school bands to soldier through alone to the end of the piece.

End of Awkward Middle School Moment

Yet, even that moment, seared in my memory forever, did not diminish my love for that song.  
I heard it yesterday on the way to church.  As soon as I recognized it I cranked up the volume.  By the time I made it to Finfeather, the familiar last two minutes boomed around me.  I did my best Zubin Mehta, Leonard Berstein, Seiji Ozawa conducting the orchestra---great big arms, hitting the downbeat especially hard, and singing the trombone countermelody.  And smiling!  Smiling bigger than a dog with her head out the window on the highway.  


And of course, this makes no sense.  Offically called The Year 1812, Festival Overture in E flat major, Op. 49, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky composed it in 1880 to commemorate Russia's defense of Moscow against Napoleon's advancing Grande Armée at the Battle of Borodino in 1812.  I am not a guns and battle kind of girl.  You know I don't love wars, generals, or much of that martial stuff at all, but there I was having a viceral experience and absolutely loving it.


When I got home after back to back to back meetings, I went to my computer to listen again.  And again.    Sometimes to the whole thing and sometimes to the last two minutes or even the last minute.  Sometimes with recorded cannon.  Sometimes with live 105 mm cannon.


Every time I listened, I thought, why do so many rousing songs celebrate battle?  And then, instead of getting mad at the waste of a really good song (or several, if you think about it), I started thinking anew.


Why doesn't some (or many) great (or near great) composer write songs that enliven and vitalize in this heart-pounding, visceral, I-have-to-wave-my-arms-around-and-direct for another equally heroic cause:  childhood cancer?


Think of a rip-roaring song that makes you feel proud, bold, ready to act, urgent, defiant of odds.  You kind of get sucked into the music and the way it makes you feel, before you know what it is really all about.  Your senses engage, then your brain engages.


Last year, a local congregation commissioned a composer to write an anthem in Erin's memory.  We were honored.  We visited with the sponsor.  We showed them what Erin was, what she stood for, how she lived.   We got a lovely chorale piece, but not a stirring one.  A pity because it was an opportunity missed.  


What I want is a celebration and call to action for all the children.  I want a song that makes me feel like this one does.  Here's another version that is edited down to the final minute, in case you skipped the longer version up top.  


Anyone willing to give it a try?

Paint

July 8, 2011


Monday will mark the 45th anniversary of the premier of Bob Eubank's The Newlywed Game.  Add bonus points if you knew that it was the last commercial U.S. network series to premier in black and white.

Why do I mention this?


I didn't watch The Newlywed Game too often and probably didn't know what making whoopie was, but I do remember thinking how dumb the couples were.  I distinctly remember a question that some of the couple got wrong that I figured everyone would match on:  How many outside doors does your current home have?  


They were newly married, for goodness sakes.  Even if they had only lived there a short time, how big could their houses be?  How hard was it to count the front door and the back door?  Or if they lived in an apartment, just the front door?  


Fast forward to 2011.  Walter and I are newlyweds of almost 27 years.  We have lived together in the same house for a little longer (don't read this, mom, I'm exaggerating for literary effect).  I set myself the task of painting all the outside doors including the two shed doors as a summer project.  One evening before I started, Walter and I were discussing how much paint I needed to buy.  We each mentally counted the external doors at our house and almost in unison spoke the number:  "8" came out of my mouth, "7" out of Walter's.  No points awarded.  If I had had my answer on a piece of poster board, I would have had to clobber him over the head for forgetting the utility closet door.


We bought the paint, and I started on the two shed doors (half garage doors each) that had their original white paint exteriors which didn't do much to match the rough cedar siding.  I figured I tackle the big ones first and then move on to the six regular doors that were already green, but in desperate need of new top coats. 


I actually began a couple of weeks ago when Davis was home.  Summer is no time to paint outdoors everyday, so I figured I would work a little each morning after breakfast and knock off after a couple of hours, so that I could make consistent progress and still get other projects done each day.  First, I scrubbed the shed doors to remove a decade of grub and grime, then I gave them a good going over with a pre-paint cleaner and prep.  I also did a bang-up taping job so that I wouldn't ruin the trim.  


When I finally started painted, I discovered that eggshell finish was not what I wanted or needed, but it was what I had.  I put the first coat on, and even though I was painting the doors green, A LOT of the white primer showed through.  I re-did the two doors the next day to very unsatisfactory results.  Still plenty of door showing through, and brush marks galore.  I had expected more from Forest Wonder, Pro-Hide Gold.  I guess I didn't realized that when you bought the "professional" brand, instead of the "homeowner" brand they were letting you in on a trade secret:  painters charge by the hour and do not not mind in the least if they have to put coat after coat after coat on a door.


Little did I know that my 30 day challenge was going to be painting doors every day rather than reading poetry.


I put on what I hoped was the third and final coat yesterday morning before I left town.  And I was wrong.  I will need to apply a fourth when I get back AND at that  point IF I am finished, I will have two of the eight doors done.


If you see me walking around town looking like this:

Don't assume I am Iranian or that I just voted.  And don't assume this is the only place on my body that I have green paint.

Escape

July 6, 2011


All I can say is that I believe this video was staged, because I just don't believe corgis would have the incentive to do this unless food were involved.

Try (Something New)

July 2, 2011


After I finish this post, I'm going to squeeze into the closet where I keep Erin's American flag (the one that flew over the capital on her birthday in 2006) and put it out to start the holiday weekend.

Yesterday, I watched this TED video talk by Matt Cutts, called Try Something New for 30 Days.  I have seen people do thirty day challenges on Facebook--giving up sugar or taking photographs, but until I listened to Cutts explain what you might get out of such an endeavor, I wasn't moved to try.  


I sent the talk to Davis to gather his thoughts.  We mulled it over.  Walter, my mom, and I considered the possibilities during happy hour last night.  If you know Walter at all, you know what his suggestion for the next 30 days was, but instead, I decided on a poetry challenge (not writing, reading).  So, until the end of July, I am going to read at least one poem each day.  


I'm not exactly sure what that will entail.  I have never been entirely comfortable with poetry (especially the way I was taught in public school).  I do think, however, I may be missing out on something if I don't give it a shot.  I can't say I even know where to begin.  This is where I need your help.  


I would love your suggestions.  You don't have to start with haikus just to make it easy on me, but likewise, I'm probably not up to tackling Beowulf or Leaves of Grass straight out of the gate either.  If you have something that you think I should add to my list send the title and poet to me (hopefully, I can find a link online, if I don't already have it on my scant poetry shelf.).  I will add a column on my left bar to let you know what I have tried.


Thank you.

Listen and Watch

June 29, 2011


OOPS!  I forgot when I posted last night:  


First Presbyterian is collecting garage sale items for its big community Garage Sale on July 9.  Let me know if you have items to donate, and I will do a pick up between now and next Wednesday.  For those of you who shop, we already have a lot of really good items and enough great items that we will have a boutique inside the garage sale for the very nicest things.


Also, our youth group is collecting plastic grocery bags for a Mo Ranch Project where they will make surprisingly durable sleeping mats by weaving the bags together.  Please donate your extras!

Of course, I love Walter forever and for always.  And, of course, Davis is a more wonderful son than ever a mother could hope for, but if I had to pick my next three guys, it would be Nico, Adam, and Ian Tjoelker. 

These guys, starting with Nico as a 3 year old in Bev Dawsons's class with Erin at Covenant and Adam, at first unable and later unwilling to leave his momma's arms (no way, no how), forged a friendship with our family that is inviolable.  Nico made an uncountable number of trips to clinic in Houston and Bryan, balancing homework on a clipboard on his knee,  shouting out "Kickapoo Road" in chorus with Erin when we passed the exit off Hwy 290 both going and coming every trip, finding easy entertainment with whatever we had available (making tableaus out of earplug people,  watching Hogan's Heroes re-run, playing travel yahtzee, doing whatever it took to make the time pass).  Adam starting going as soon as he was old enough and patient enough to hang in until the day was over (according to the doc and nurses).

Erin loved these guys.  I remember the secret code:  "Can we have some crackers?"  which meant that someone (probably not the adults) was planning and hoping for a sleepover.  You were all too polite to put your parents on the spot and ask a question that they might say "no" to.  

The big kids let Ian hang out when he came along:

Erin played Jezebel in Elijah.  Nico didn't want to sing, but he agree to be a foot solider and have Erin's back.

We even coordinated vacation and lobbying a couple of times.  This was the mall in DC, where, as luck would have it, there was a giant do-it-yourself Lego exhibit when we visited.

We also met up in Pittsburgh and made a day of Kennywood.

Of course, we didn't have to leave town to have a vacation:

We were so sad when you went on sabbatical in Australia:

By the time they got back, Erin was gone.  Now they are so much bigger and more interesting.  This could be Adam's first talent contest:  

Live at Mo Ranch

Nico has become more and more amazing with each passing month.  First, watch his entrance to the talent show, then watch his performance (The Ride of the Valkyries):





If you rock on the organ (and you don't get dizzy watching sideways video) you can see Nico's virtuosity on a fantastic pipe organ, playing Lobe den Herren.  I hope I am always part of your lives, even across the ocean and the years!

Born and Inspire

June 20, 2011

Sometimes the calendar conspires against you and compresses things so you don't have time to work through them before you have to move on to the next thing.  That happened over the last several days, as we burned through first my mom's birthday, Davis's departure back to Ohio, a roadtrip, PPR Day, Father's Day, and today, Erin's fourteenth birthday.

My sister and I celebrated the today by making donations to the Let's Do It! fund at 1st Presbyterian Church.  The Let's Do It! fund supports youth programs at the church and is the "go to" account when someone has a great idea, and wants it to actually happen instead of having it talked to death or committee'd to death.  This completely captures Erin's spirit.  Happy Birthday, Dear Girl!

Here is her first photo:

And here is one of my favorites:

Fall

June 18, 2011


I've loved Ella Fitzgerald for a long time, but my love solidified in 1977 with a New Yorker cartoon that had two guys looking at a bird in a birdcage.  The bird was dressed up in a long evening gown and had a trademark Ella Fitzgerald wig.  The caption read:  "Funny, she doesn't sound that much like Ella Fitzgerald to me."


Walter and I are going to an out-of-town concert in a few minutes (not Ella), with the added bonus:  the date extends overnight in a king-suite at an out-of-town hotel.  So, in honor of Ella, in honor of Erin, and in honor of falling in love (still), sing along with me:

Return (for a Moment)

June 7, 2011


My compressed calendar has unwound a bit, though I still have miles to go before I sleep.  When it has to do with advocating and supporting childhood cancer research, my first inclination is to say "Yes" then figure out how to do whatever it is that the requester has asked.  This is my Erin's Dream Lanyards mantra and it carries over into my world of public policy advocacy.  


This explains how I found myself driving 500 miles roundtrip last week to do training for camp counselors and a workshop for Presbyterian women, coming home to rest overnight, then flying to the West Coast to set up at Max's Touch-A-Truck.

Bright and early Saturday morning I wedged myself between this horse trailer:

and this rainbow muscle car:

This convertible completed the triangle:

Walter and I took a few days to catch our breath and enjoy the mild California weather (and truthfully, to avoid the harsh Texas temps, humidity, pollen, and drought).  See how quickly we catch on?

I'm using free wifi in the San Diego airport to make this post.  We're headed home.  On Thursday, I leave again for West Texas to train another 60 camp counselors how to make Erin's Dream Lanyards so they can shepherd Flaming Arrow campers through the process all summer.  By Friday, I'll be back home, frantically cleaning the house (which I haven't touched in the last month) preparing Chez Buenger for the state visit of the young prince, who will arrive on Saturday for a weeklong trip.

I hope I can stuff the beads that have overflowed into his room back in the "bead room."  Luckily, after the last week there are many fewer to store.  I sent them to camp for the summer and the lucky ones have moved to California.

Store

June 2, 2011

I drove back from Mo Ranch this morning, staring into the rising sun, chatting with Jimmie (thanks for the deft assist at everything we did!), and pondering this:

What would anyone born almost anyplace in the world at almost any other time in the history of man think about a culture and society that spends so much money renting ugly spaces to store our extra stuff in?

 

Really?  We have so much extra stuff that we pay a hundred bucks a month to stow the stuff that our over-sized homes don't have room for?  As a nation we have given rise to an entire industry where we can pay money to have someone store all those treasures in our lives, which we have cleverly disguised as garage sale material to keep it safe:  our collections of mismatched freebie coffee mugs, canvass totes we got at every conference we ever attended, toys our children played with for ten minutes that we are now saving for our grandchildren, lawn chairs we are going to repair when we have the time.

WWALS (What would Abraham Lincoln say)?  What would Marco Polo say?  What would Pliny the Elder say?  What about your average Ugandan or Fiji Islander?

I passed bunches of these places and wondered how this had happened.  It made me say hmmmm.

Mo was terrific as always.  A special salute to the women of First Presbyterian of Fort Worth who all came by on Ellen's instructions and joined the fun!  We are also now geared up for Erin's Drem Lanyards at Mo summer camp.  I am refreshed and ready to start the summer.  Tomorrow we are San Diego bound and are ready to marvel at Max's Touch-A-Truck and see various Thornburgs!  Next week it is back to the Guadalupe River in Hunt, Texas (just down the road from Mo) to introduce a new set of camp counselor's to Erin's project.  

Life is good.  

I won't start worrying about WWALS or how the American culture and society gave rise to two roomfuls of glass beads in my house until I get back. 

At least I haven't had to resort to off-site storage.

 

Capisce

May 25, 2011

A few years ago to celebrate the end of school, Erin, my mom, and I went with the Tjoelkers down the road to the Little Brazos River to wade around, look for fossils, and hang out.  

We picked some seed pods off a wild hibiscus we found and planted them in the flower bed outside Erin's bedroom.  When I came around from the dog walk this morning, I noticed the plant that came up had started to bloom.

It is not as bold as my day lilies or as edible as the pears that are in process in the next flower bed over.  

In fact, it is reasonably spindly and windblown in comparison.  But I'm glad it it there for me to gaze on.  I have almost reached the point in my grieving that I can appreciated reminders of our good times together without it taking my breath away and making my nostrils burn.  As I said, almost.

Speaking of walking the dogs, I have noted some strong similarities between my three dogs and the students I encounter in the business school.

Uma is the dog equivalent of a doctoral student.  She has a very deep, but narrow working vocabulary.  For example, she knows at least twenty different words for food.  And when I say know, believe me, she knows.  Here's a partial list:

breakfast

snack

treat

cookie

lunchie

schnacken

green beans

milkbone

kibbles

dinner

eats

supper

"it's time"

beans

food

Willie, on the other hand, is the complete undergraduate.  He has nine total words that he understands only vaguely.  He might be able to guess the meaning on a multiple choice exam if there were enough other clues and the alternative choices weren't too fine-grained:

"letsgo"--we are headed outside and I don't have to be on a leash, at least not immediately, and I think I'm supposed to catch up if I'm lagging behind.

"thisway"--oops, I'm interested in something over here, but someone who has a dull sense of smell would like me to go in the exact opposite way.  I will come when I'm ready. 

"wait"--I'm supposed to slow down enough that it looks like she could catch up if she tried but actually I can bolt and get away if I need to.

"uppie-uppie"--someone wants me to sit on their lap and give me mega pets.  This might or might not include an invitation to jump up on people when I first meet and greet them.  I'm not sure.

"youdaman"--I have done something great fantastic stupendous, but I'm not sure what it was and am absolutely certain I won't be able to do it again, except by accident.

"wheresyourropetoy?"/"getyourropetoy"--she wants me to do something and if I can figure out what she wants me to do she will play with me.

"whowantsatreatie?"--if she says this as she walks to that box in the kitchen I get a pitifully small milkbone snack.  Can't she see that she has bought the ones for medium-sized dogs and I am venti?

"biteface"--she wants a sloppy kiss.

"bunny"--there is a fierce intruder threatening my kingdom.  I should run from room to room (if I am inside) or dash around as quickly and randomly as possible (if I am outside) to protect my people from this menace.

"No" would have taken him to double digits, but it has proven problematic.

"noooo"--not sure, but I think it means keep doing what you are doing, only try harder.

Notice the complete absence of "come," "stay," "sit," or "heel." 

Teddy is definitely an MBA, about to graduate.  She has only one word, 

"Cheese"

But that's all she needs.  Capisce?

Count

May 19, 2011


The one thing about the possible rapture on Saturday (not that I'm going anywhere or anything), but there could be a radically lower number of kiddos attending summer camp at Mo Ranch and Flaming Arrow, and my mission to count out 1800 bags of beads (one for each proposed lanyard) might magically melt away.

Two-thirds of a million beads.

I no longer count sheep at night.  In fact, by bedtime I'm really tired enough to drop off without counting anything.


What else can I tell you?  The semester ended successfully for all but a couple of my students (and it really wasn't a disaster for any of them).  The garage sale was a success (around $1100), but if you missed it and still have items you want to donate, 1st Presbyterian is having a garage sale on June 18, so you still have a great outlet for your stuff.  


Walter's tenure as department head of history is finally coming to a close.  He has another book in the works that he has noodged along in his less-than-copious spare time.  Starting June 1 he can dive in.  I'm going to force him into a brief vacation to San Diego and southern Cali right after he goes off the clock, but then he can muck around in archives and libraries as much as he likes.


Davis is deep into his third quarter at The OSU, and it is finally not winter.  But unfortunately, winter morphed right into monsoon season.  He may never get to take his bike, the beautiful Ruby, out for a spin ever again.   His classes (both the ones he takes and the ones he teaches) seem to be fine and dandy, not that I understand much of what he does for a living.


Willie and Teddy and Uma are going to be the subject of my next post, so I won't say much about them here.  I understand that some people say that having obedient dogs is overrated.  I would like to be in a position to judge whether that's true or not. . . maybe in another life time.

Stand

May 12, 2011


So I have balanced my MacBook on my Rubbermaid kitchen step stool and put them both on the kitchen counter so that I can avoid dying.  According to this New York Times article Is Sitting a Lethal Activity? (which you can read for free here even if you have already burned through your free access to the Times this month already and can't get past the paywall) suggests that you don't just have to be a couch potato lying on the sofa watching re-runs of CSI and Law and Order to be doing yourself in.  According to inactivity researchers, including a study by epidemiologist Alpa Patel, "The death rate for women who sat for more than six hours a day was about 40 percent higher." 


Not going to catch me just sitting around anymore.  Here's the lowdown in infographic format (and, no, I'm not in the habit of perusing Medical Billing and Coding dot org regularly.  It was just something that came across my feed.):





Via: Medical Billing And Coding

Did you make it past the scary part?


Here's the rest of my post.  I'm not sure who put the master calendar together for my universe over the last week, but I sort of wish they would have checked in with me first.  Really!


May 4--Erin Buenger Scholarship presentation
May 5--Top 10% Banquet at Jane Long Middle School for all of Erin's friends and peers
May 6--Final Projects for my grad students (10-12 pages each) due
May 6-7--Relay for Life
May 7--Erin Buenger/JLMS Garage Sale
May 8--Mother's Day
May 10--Final Exam (all essay) for my undergraduates
May 12--Grades due for graduates


These are just the psycho/emotional milestones and don't actually include work or non-work commitments like meetings and conference calls aplenty.


I also needed to order 650,000 seed beads, 1850 lobster claw lanyard clasps, and over a mile of wire to supply Mo Ranch and Camp Flaming Arrow (I'm still working on the accent beads and am open to your ideas and suggestions and help)!  




My response:  Well, I took a pass on a couple of things (sorry to all our friends who were looking for us at Relay!) and slogged through the rest of them.


Given the dire consequences of just sitting around, I had no idea I was saving my own life.

Meet

May 5, 2011

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Allow me to present Phylicia Taylor, the 2011 Erin Buenger Scholarship recipient!  She is interested in biomedical science, music, and neuroscience and aspires to be a surgeon.

Salute

May 3, 2011


Announcements on top.  Fun below.

• If you live within a fifteen mile radius of my house and want to donate items to the Erin Buenger Memorial Scholarship Fund garage sale Taking place this Saturday (May 7) from 8-2 in the gym at Jane Long Middle School, please give me a message, text, email,  phone call, or smoke signal, and I will swing by your place and pick up your stuff.  
• If you'd rather shop than donate, that's fine too.  I have seen a few of the donated items:  
• almost new toddler bed and mattress 
• multiple children's bicycles in good condition 
• foosball table
• table lamps
• working toaster oven
• much, much more
• Both Mo Ranch Summer Camp and Flaming Arrow YMCA Camp in Hunt, Texas have adopted Erin's Dream Lanyards as their summer service project, thus sending me into a spinning frenzy trying to figure out how to supply 1500 kids with enough beads and wire to make beautiful things happen.  Ideas, anyone?
• Erin's Dream Lanyards is also one of the featured service projects at the Presbyterian Woman's Conferences at Mo Ranch.  
• The Brazos Interfaith Immigration Network (which I have a tiny part in helping to organize) will hold its Learn and Launch Meeting on Sunday May 15 at 5:00.  Save the date and I will provide more details later.  Here's the gist of the new organization:  As the immigrant population in Brazos County grows, there is an increasing need to promote the human dignity and the well-being of immigrants in our community and to advocate for and facilitate better access to legal, educational, and social services. BIIN will provide three main services not currently available in the Brazos Valley area:
• Information and referral services for immigrants, regardless of legal status;
• Speakers Bureau; and 
• At a later date, training opportunities for local people to become accredited Bureau of Immigration Appeals (BIA) representatives.
• Relay for Life will start at 7:00 on Friday night at Wolf Pen Creek Amphitheater. Many teams walking a raising money in Erin's memory and the memory and honor of many others. Walk some laps for someone you love.

Now for the fun:

Q: What is this hummingbird doing in my coffee cup?

A: The backstroke?

The real the answer is: Preparing to challenge Gemma Spofforth for her world record in the 100M backstroke, because I can't imagine what/who could swim faster than a hummingbird stoked by my mother's chickory-laced, fully caffeinated, loaded with sugar, Cafe du Monde French roast. Somehow, she had left a cup half-filled with "her" day starter on her second story deck. When she returned an hour later, she found the hummer drenched in go juice, still stuck in the cup. She showed up at my door with the soggy bird wrapped loosely in a towel, afraid that if she let it go it might die of C8H10N4O2 (caffeine) poisoning. I found the water spray bottle I keep in my trombone case, spritzed the little guy all over ( I don't think you really notice wet birds when it's raining, but they are pretty sad looking up close), and in a moment it flew away, willy nilly, and ever so quickly. With its chances of aquatic glory dashed, it was no doubt looking to set a new air speed record (with the added bonus of putting some distance between itself and those ladies riding the crazy train).

Finally (but still fun), I let it slip by without telling you that I had a special occasion last weekend. The Bryan/College Station Pre-Natal Clinic picked me as one of the honorees for this year's “You’re the Tops!” Luncheon, proving yet again that it is quite possible to pull the wool over people's eyes.

As lovely as it was to be chosen, it was ill timed.  Who could have known that all the horse-drawn carriages would be outsourced to London for the weekend, forcing me to drive myself in the fiery Prius? I also had a hard time finding a decent crown, tiara, or if can believe it, hat.  All sold out by the time I looked.  Something about someone's nuptials or something.  I had to settle for a new outfit and the five most handsome escorts in the room!

Starting from the upper left and moving clockwise:  Nico, me, Jesse, Jason, Ian, and Adam.

Clean or Not

April 22, 2011

My friend Lisa met me for lunch today and asked me, "How are things?"

I replied, "Oh, things are fine.  There are just so many of them."

And that's the truth.  There are just so many things these days.  Loads of things.

I am beaving along, though, knocking through the things one by one.  If I owe you an email, you will get one eventually.  If I owe you a work package, you'll get that too.  If you are my house, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait a couple more weeks.  If you are the dust bunny living under my bed, the ever expanding spider family working on the eleventh renovation to your loft-area web, or the luxurious weeds growing rampantly in my front, side, or back flower bed, that means you have a reprieve.  

If any of you are ahead of me on the spring cleaning schedule, we are about two weeks away from the 

Second Annual Erin Buenger Memorial Scholarship Fund 

 GARAGE SALE

I would so love to have any sell-able items you would like to part with.

THINGS TO REMEMBER:

• We have a storage space if you want get rid of your things before May 6 (call, email, or facebook, if you want to take advantage of this option)
• NO CLOTHES
• The Sale takes place at Jane Long Middle School on May 7
• Set up the night before

We have great applicants for the scholarship this year!