Whale of a Tail

Well, it's official. I am a college graduate. It hasn't quite hit me yet. I still feel like there's another paper due in a few days...but I'm done! At least for now. I have a ton of highlights to share, but for now I wanted to share one of my best papers. I wrote for my "Writing and Rhetoric for Teachers" class. It's my "feature article" and features one of my dearest friends, Amy, and whale watching. I'm sharing it with you because my professor commented that he enjoyed reading it: "the assignment is to make nothing read like it's something and you accomplished that-excellent story." I was quite proud of it. So, here you go. Enjoy:

 A Whale of a Tail

            In March of 2000 I was a parent chaperone for my son’s class whale-watching field trip. As all of the fourth graders scrambled to the front of the ship, the teacher and I rallied behind the students to lead the search for whales off the coast of Santa Cruz. The Monterey Bay water was choppy and stormy, but the Captain assured us that we would see California Gray Whales. We spied sea otters and sea lions, common visitors in Santa Cruz, and a few dolphins, but no whales. “Be patient,” the Captain said. My patience ran out when my son, in the grip of seasickness, vomited over the side of the ship. Then I got seasick. Nathaniel and I spent the rest of the trip in the hull, as my son and I chewed crystallized ginger and resisted the queasiness of seasickness. That was the extent of my whale-watching experience. I decided then that I would never go whale-watching again. Period. By the way, nobody saw any whales that day.

            So what are the chances that you will see a whale or two, or three, while on a whale-watching trip? That is a very good question. A question, from my research, that is not easy to answer. Of course, from my experience, my chances of seeing a whale was 0%. My friend, Amy Atkinson, a Long Beach, California resident, would agree with this fact with her experience on a recent whale-watching trip. However, she says, “This was the best whale-watching trip I had ever taken. Within 15 minutes of our trip, the captain informed us that we were coming up on a pod of about 200 dolphins called ‘Common Dolphins.’ After pulling the boat near them it became evident that there was more than the 200 originally thought to be there but instead, closer to 700!” But I thought the point of the trip was to see whales?

            During the California summer is when blue whales are usually abundant in our Pacific Ocean waters. According to the Long Beach Aquarium, there are a few things to take into consideration when on a whale watching trip: Weather, water condition and time of season. In other words, every thing must be perfect. Unfortunately, the gentle giants were in short supply this summer as “the unusually warm waters this season was not the kind of nutrient rich chilly water that these blues come here for feeding! They have traveled on to more krill-rich waters on their mysterious next leg of their journey.” So, pretty much no blue whales at the end of the summer season. Hey, a whale has got to eat sometime.

Who wouldn’t jump at a chance to see the largest living mammal swimming in the ocean? But what if your chances were slim to none? Yeah, I would be bummed out too. Here is what you are missing out on: According to the National Marine Mammal Laboratory (NMML), the blue whale is of the sub-order of whale-species: a baleen whale.  An adult blue can grow to about 100 feet in length, which is longer than a professional basketball court. They also can weigh up to 160 tons, which is heavier than most dinosaurs! For a different perspective: imagine walking through the blue whale’s main blood vessel. NMML states that the blue whale’s aorta valve is so large that a human could easily crawl through (Yeah, I’m not interested in trying it either.) When asking the question “How can I identify a blue whale?” The NMML website has the answer: “They are huge!”

No one can argue with this giant if it needs to go elsewhere for its dinner. This picky eater can be quite particular about its diet. Get this: the largest mammal on the planet eats one of the smallest, bottom of the food chain’s, creatures: krill. The blue whale does not have teeth like the orcas, but a brush-bristle (the only way I could think of describing it) substance that filters out their favorite food. The adult krill will measure to less than one inch in length and is a shrimp-like type of crustacean. For a blue whale to get its fill, it must eat over two thousand pounds of krill at one feeding. During peak consumption period, the blue can eat up to eight thousand pounds of krill. Apparently, krill can be just as picky as whales, considering they prefer chilly waters as compared to Southern California’s unusually warm waters this past summer. The Long Beach Aquarium of the Pacific website showed that the blue whales had to travel on to deeper, krill-rich waters to get their fill. Would you want to hang around if there was nothing to eat? Me neither.

Well, that explains why chances of seeing a blue whale can be slim, but what about our namesake, the California Gray Whale? Amy went on her whale-watching trip early in November and if she had waited just a few weeks, she may have had an improved chance of spotting a whale or two. The Aquarium of the Pacific is excited about the upcoming whale-watching season, but states: “We are hoping to see gray whales during the end of November all the way through May.” This is the time that the gray whales make their winter migration from the coasts of Alaska and Russia all the way down to the warm waters of Baja California. This is a several months long trip that is a 12-14,000 mile migration for the whales.  If you are lucky, the whales will be willing to make a rest stop to say “hello” while you are out there.

What should you look for when spotting gray whales? They are almost as easy to spot as blue whales, if they are out there, except they are not as big as the blue at about half the size at about forty-five to fifty feet in length. That is about the same size as…half the basketball court. I am sure this means it would be a little difficult to crawl through its aorta valve, which I am still not interested in trying. The gray whale is also a baleen whale. It gets its food not from the open ocean, but from the sediment of the sea floor. They sieve the sediment through their baleen to capture plankton, a substance that is even lower in the food chain than krill. In fact, krill larvae are considered a type of phytoplankton. Smaller whale, smaller food. Yet the size proximity is still ironic, isn’t it? How many pounds of plankton can a gray whale eat? About the same as the blue whale, over two thousand pounds per feeding. They can sieve through as much as fifty acres of sediment during a feeding. That is a lot of ground cover! Fortunately, the gray is not as picky and will eat other arthropods called mysids and tiny fish.

It is still too early to surmise if the gray whale will be as allusive as the blue whale. However, if you are still interested in a fun boat ride and the opportunity to see other ocean-life, there is an almost iron-clad guarantee that you will see dolphins. Amy came back from her trip eager to recount watching the hundreds of dolphins frolic: “They swam alongside the boat and jumped and played around us.” That was not the only encounter they had with dolphins. “After about twenty minutes the captain spotted another pod of dolphins, this time, about 200 bottle-nose dolphins. These dolphins are known for their jumping abilities and some of them looked as if they were flying out of the air!” On her two-hour trip, she viewed as many as nine hundred dolphins?  It is a big ocean; I guess that could be possible. Does that make up for not seeing any whales? Amy says yes and “It was amazing! Unfortunately during our trip we did not see any whales but it was not disappointing to me at all. I consider myself very lucky to have seen so many beautiful dolphins!” I tend to believe her after all of the pictures she showed me. The dolphins were beautiful and quite acrobatic.

            What are the chances that I will go on another whale-watching trip? Probably zero, but you never know. I may become inspired by my friend and brave the open sea to catch a glimpse of an enormous gray whale, provided I have taken something to combat sea-sickness but I don’t think so. Since my son had his whale-watching experience, he has had a few ocean fishing trips and could only get through the trip by taking something to combat the sea-sickness, but is whale-watching one of his favorite activities? Absolutely not. But if you are still interested in braving the sea, then remember that whales are much pickier than dolphins and also keep in mind weather and water conditions and the time of season. Unless everything is absolutely perfect, your chances of seeing a whale will most likely be…zero percent. Come to think of it, 900 dolphins could beat out a 160 ton blue whale any day, what do you think?

Does the shoe drop?

Wow-what an incredible month this has been! One month ago today I started my new job. It has been a great experience and I am very happy with the decision to take this job. And to have a steady paycheck again! I'm sure there are many people who understand how comforting that is when you haven't had a steady paycheck for a long time. My life instantly got busier, but it's worth it. I had to invest in some great shoes for this job. I am on my feet for 4-8 hours and great shoes make a huge difference in how my feet feel at the end of the day.

That was the beginning of the month, but the rest of the month just got better, thanks to Shakespeare.

Did I tell you I'm in love with Shakespeare? Well, if I haven't, I'm sure it's easy to figure out. But I'm not in love with my writing-which I know I've told you. So, I struggled with a decision to submit a paper for presentation at the Shakespeare Symposium at CSU Fullerton happening in just a couple of weeks. Standing up in front of 500 people and talking: no problem. Presenting my written paper-MY writing-to an academic symposium where there will be people who are way more philosophical and learned than me: no thanks.

Then I got "the look" from my Shakespeare Professor. Ok, ok. So, I  submit my paper. The next day, I got an email saying "Thank you, I will inform you if your paper has been accepted..." I let it go. I took the risk. The feelings of intimidation set in and I was sure my paper would not be accepted and that was ok.

One week later, I got another email: My paper was accepted. I will be presenting at the Shakespeare Symposium. I can't stop crying about this.

You know what's amazing? That my hard work just continues to pay off! Accomplishment after accomplishment! I am so overwhelmed-I can't even begin to describe how this feels.

But this is life. I was talking to a friend of mine this evening and I was reminded that there is nothing wrong with this accomplishment. In fact, it should be expected. Good, hard work reaps good results. I deserve this.

Do I? Wow-that is so hard for me to grasp.

This brings me back to shoes. What about that saying-how does it go?

When the other shoe drops? You know, when the good stuff ends and bad stuff happens?

Ah-well that's where my philosophy begins. Life is about ups, downs, good and bad. You see, my friend is right. I can humbly and proudly accept the rewards of my accomplishments. Just because I am reaping the rewards of my hard work doesn't mean that it will end and that I should expect something bad to happen. It is in my faith in God's provision that I know I can get through the bad stuff whenever it happens.

And the great thing about when the shoe drops, you can either pick it up, or put in on and keep going.

I just live, work hard, study, and embrace my blessings.

And manage my time to get my final papers done. And graduate. And work. And find time to be with my friends and family. And thank God for helping me walk in my shoes.

Being friends with poetry

Poetry and I have not been friends since I was 9 years old. When I was very young, I fancied myself an accomplished writer as was evident in the silly rhyming poems I created. No, I don't know what happened to my poetry. Somewhere along the way I lost all of my understanding for poetry. Most of it is so metaphorical and, well, weird that I just don't get it.

Until I transferred to CSU Fullerton and took a Literary Analysis class.

My professor was very patient while he answered all of my "I don't get it" questions. I was introduced to Andrew Marvel and William Blake and, of course, William Shakespeare. Gorgeous poetry. Poetry and I are slowly becoming friends.

Until this semester.

I am taking a writing for teachers class and last week's assignment was to write a poem. "You have got to be kidding!" Yep, that's what I said to the professor, who has also been very patient and helpful. I wrote a poem. I decided to write about my concern about my new job. No one, except the professor, has seen it. 

Until now:

As I walk through the Gate…

Dare I go to my happy place

Is the magic still there?

Streams of shooting beams at night

Notable memories and magic

Ever still the black ears promise

Your dreams will come true

Like magic I am transformed 

And I am a little girl again

Now, though, is the magic still there?

Dare I go, all grown up

Just as I was, is it still the same?

Overjoyed with opportunity

Believing in magic is still possible

Says the black ears.

Go ahead and tell me what you think-I can take it. I don't think I'll make a career out of being a poet, but I am learning to be friends with poetry.

Automatic

You already know that I love to cook. It is one thing I can do for me, my family, and my friends just because I love doing it. Cooking brings me joy. And I'm usually the one who's thankful that I get to cook.

Practically every time I cook dinner my boys will say, "Good dinner mom. Thanks!" It always takes me by surprise when they say it. I don't know why it does. After all, I've cooked dinner for my family for their entire lives. Although now that the boys are grown and we're all in college, I don't get to cook every night...well...ok...I cook dinner at least 3 nights a week.  And they still make a point to say "Thanks mom." Every time.

I have my dad to thank for that. He always thanked me every time I cooked dinner-a habit the boys picked up from him. It's automatic. It doesn't seem flippant, though. You know, that just automatic-flippant-thing-we-say-without-thinking-and-everyone-just-takes-for-granted kinda' thing?

You can hear the difference between flippant and genuine...usually. Anyway, they truly seem to be automatically thankful for the dinner I made them. This could be attributed to my great cooking skills (Yes, I am a great cook-no modesty here), but they even thank me when I make hamburger helper!

Yes! I know! Hamburger helper!

Boys are so easy to please.

My point is, I think they are thanking me because they are genuinely grateful that I cooked dinner. They recognize this loving thing I do for them and they appreciate it and want to thank me for it. And yes, that gesture just comes automatically to them. And yes, I am still surprised and touched every time they say it.

This idea of the automatic thank you got me thinking. When do I automatically thank God? I mean the genuine-from-the-bottom-of-my-heart totally thank God? I bet you can answer that as easily as I can:

When something horrible happens and then everything works out ok.

Like the time I got a phone call that my youngest son, Ethan (who was 15 at the time) was hit by a car just 2 blocks from home as he was skateboarding. The guy on the phone told me he was alive and coherent and I thanked God as I bolted out of work to get to Ethan. I thanked God through my tears of relief when I saw him in the emergency room. I thanked God profusely when we realized the only major injury he sustained was a broken arm. I was continually, and non-stop automatically, thanking God for taking care of my son.

A few days ago, I started a new job. I can't begin to describe to you how excited, nervous and thankful I am for this job. After not having a steady job for 3 years and 9 months and hundreds (thousands, maybe) of applications and futile interviews, this job just fell in my lap. Out of the blue.

But when I got the job offer, I did not automatically thank God. Why not? I should have. It was a total God thing! He placed this job right into my lap! In fact, the last few years of my life (ok, ok, my entire life, but you know what I mean) have been about opportunities falling into my lap.

Going to school full time: in my lap.
Providing financial needs: in my lap.
Going on a mission trip: Yep, God put it in my lap and said, "here, you need to do this."
Being a camp counselor: God says, "You need to do this too."
8-week stint as an after school paid tutor: in my lap.
Dare I repeat myself: College has been the smoothest, open, most wonderful thing God has put in my lap!!! And He puts these things in my lap because He loves me. Period. 

Did I ever automatically thank God for any of these wonderful things He's given to me? I have to say...probably not. And these things matter just as much as the horrible things that turn out ok.

By the way, I did thank God for this job. I have been thanking God like crazy ever since I began my new job. It gets me every time. Every time God just provides. He just places something in my lap.

Automatically. 

A Matter of Inconvenience

Vacation is officially over. I went back to school today and, so far, I am very excited about this semester. More about that later...

Before I get into the thick of doing what English majors do best (reading and writing ridiculously monstrous essays) I want to share a concept I've been mulling for most of the summer: Jury Duty. You see, I received a jury summons and, well, due to not having any acceptable excuses to get out of it (summer school had just finished), I did my civic (civil?) duty and served jury duty.

I didn't expect much to happen. After all, when I served for the first time a few years ago, all I did was sit in a room all day. I thought it would be the same this time. Silly me. I was called within an hour after I arrived.

And the antics began. My antics. I couldn't help it! I tried to be a good little sheep and follow along and stand quietly in line, or wait quietly while the judge is in chambers, and not challenge the attorneys while they questioned us prospective jurors, but...well...I'm not a sheep. I made jokes like, "Anyone having flashbacks of 3rd grade while standing out here?" (laughing spreads) Or while in the jury box and the judge and attorneys are in chambers I whisper "Cool! The chair swivels! What would happen if we all swivel?" (gasps and giggles and a dirty look from the bailiff). And yes, I did challenge the prosecutor when she asked me a question about making a judgement call, telling the truth, etc... Basically I asked her to clarify the differences between her job and mine. After a few minutes, the judge stopped us. I was sure I would be excused.

I was not. In fact, I was moved up from being an alternate to sitting right smack in the middle! I was definitely on the jury panel. A few of the other jurors teased me that they thought the judge and attorneys liked me. Great (not really). At the end of the day, we were excused and told to return the next morning. I was livid. It was the beginning of July, a few days before my birthday. My daughter was coming to visit and instead of spending time with Jennifer and my little grandson, I would be stuck in court, being a juror on a case that I really didn't want to have anything to do with! As I walked to my car all I could think was:

This is so inconvenient!

My mind went racing. Was it really inconvenient? Was it? Doing my civic (civil?) duty is inconvenient? What does "inconvenient" actually mean?

I'll tell you what it means (because, yes, I did look it up in my beautiful dictionary as soon as I got home that day): Inconvenient: adj. causing trouble, difficulties or discomfort

From a definition point of view, I was not inconvenienced. I wasn't put in harm's way, or suffered any difficulties or discomfort. I still would have been able to celebrate my birthday with my children and spend time with Jennifer and Brandon, just not as much time. Either way, they would have been just fine with spending time with the boys and my mom.

No, there is nothing inconvenient about serving jury duty (ok, ok, I know there are so many people who would disagree, or want to debate the process, etc...It's not perfect, but it's the system we've got and I know it can get quite complicated and I have learned to have the utmost respect for all who are and have been involved with the process so please, let's just leave it at that. Pretty please. By the way, I did feel guilty about my antics.)

You want to know what is inconvenient? Things that truly make life difficult. War is inconvenient. A broken arm is inconvenient. Cancer is inconvenient. Unemployment-the kind where you apply for 15 jobs in 2 days and get 4 rejection emails and no interviews, or the kind where you are over qualified, too expensive, under qualified or too old to get a job, or you find out there are over 100 people applying for the 1 job you're applying for-that's inconvenient. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

Serving jury duty was the right thing to do. Period. And in the grand scheme of things, it's only a few days, not my entire life. It kept me from doing things I wanted to do, but it didn't inconvenience me.  I realized how fortunate I was that, when court was done for the day, I could go home and celebrate my birthday.

There is a difference between doing what I want to do and doing what I should do. I should always do what I should do. That may keep me from doing what I want to do, but not being able to do what I want to do is not an inconvenience. Does that make sense?

Here's the kicker: on the 2nd day, the jury was excused from service. Not only did I get to enjoy my daughter's visit, I got paid $15 for sitting and swerving in the jury box. Definitely not an inconvenience.

In God's hands

I just realized that it's been over a month since my last post AND I haven't updated on how school is. Hey, what do you expect-I'm on a 7-week vacation and since I really don't like writing, I didn't.

Then I realized that I need to write. It's good for me. So, here I go: I'll write and share with you how the last 6 months of school went.

It went very well.

Ok, ok! I'll give more details!

I have loved being back at school and feel a strong sense of accomplishment at the end of each semester, but this last spring, and in summer school, that sense of accomplishment was evident in more ways than one. I had professors who motivated me and encouraged my writing style and gave me tools to improve my skills. I also had a blast working on essays and projects with a very dear friend from school.

My Chaucer class was the most challenging (imagine reading and interpreting literature in Middle English-it was exhausting!) and I got a B in the class, but learned so much about Geoffrey Chaucer, "Canterbury Tales," mythology and the 14th century.

I also took a class that examined the modern American novel. I had to keep an open mind for this class. I didn't like most of the stories. I'm just not that into modern literature. As the semester went on, though-towards the end of the semester, we read a few books that I enjoyed: "The Crying of Lot 49," "The Hours," "The History of Love," and "Gilead." Part of the theme of these books involved a search, whether a mysterious society, loved ones, meaning of life, spirituality...but they also dealt with leaving a legacy. The last 2 books especially left an effect and I wrote my last essay on these 2 books, incorporating a dedication to my dad and what his legacy meant. I don't know what I got on the essay, but I ended up with an A- in the class, so I assume I did really well.

By the end of the semester, I felt greatly accomplished. I ended with a G.P.A. of 3.78. During the semester I applied and was accepted into the International English Honors Society and got a certificate and a pin. I also was chosen to receive a substantial scholarship (yeah, I cried when I got that letter).  A few weeks later my success was felt even deeper when I received a letter from the dean's office informing me that I had made it onto the dean's honor's list (Yep, I cried some more). To do so much work and feel good about it and succeed-I'm flabbergasted!

But there's been something missing in all of this success. The one person who I found out almost too late that he was my biggest fan. I'm feeling the loss of him more, now that he's been gone for over a year. I feel like my heart has this ache in it that just won't go away. Dad would have been so extremely proud of me. I know this because he cried with me when I got my first A in Algebra 3 years ago (considering that when I was in high school, he spent countless nights pounding algebra into my head and I just couldn't get it-then he finally sees success many years later-imagine what it meant to him to see his daughter finally do well in math). Anyway, that was when I knew how excited and proud he was of me that I had decided to go back to school.

And he's not here to cry with me and celebrate my successes. And he won't be there when I graduate. If you've been reading my blog, you know that I wrote last year about dad not being here, but that the peace of knowing that I am in God's hands and that Jesus is still here has helped. Please don't get me wrong, I still know this, but for some reason, now that it's been more than a year...it's worse. It's tumultuous. It's like Satan is taunting me with the reminder that my dad is gone and will never be there to praise me, or pat me on my back or encourage me to follow my dream to study in England. Yes, it's been exciting to share my successes with my kids, my mom (who is my super fan!) and other family and friends, but I can't share it with my dad.

So, a little part of me shut down. I didn't write. But I need to. And I need to remember Dad's legacy: Do. I need to do. I need to sing. I need to share. I need to keep working and succeeding. Writing has been the best way for me to express myself and work through my ache. Writing, doing, and praying has been my best weapons against Satan's taunting attacks of remorse, failure, disappointment and anger. I am glad that I had 7 weeks of down time. I needed it. Maybe I needed to shut down a little too, but I need to use the tools God gave me to keep living my life. I am continually-sometimes every other minute-putting this ache in God's hands, working through the thoughts of anguish, turmoil and loss. I am amazed at how many times a friend calls, or a song comes on the radio, or something happens (like a Shakespeare festival or trip to Disneyland, or a chocolate party) at just the right moment to bring some peace to that ache. Writing this definitely helps too.

There are some pretty fantastic and exciting things happening in my future. This fall is my last semester and I will have a bachelor's degree in English. I can't even begin to describe to you how that type of success feels to me-it's an unimaginably phenomenal feeling. Oh, not to mention that I've begun the application process to the Shakespeare Institute in England. This time next year, I could be packing for Stratford upon Avon and working on my master's in Shakespeare studies. Right now, I have no idea how I'm going to pay for it, or if I will even be accepted, but I do know that I am supposed to pursue this.

And it's in God's hands.

Almond Belgian Waffles

I woke up this morning craving waffles, but not just any waffles. Waffles, after all, are really not a substantial meal. Then I had a thought: What would happen if I ground up almonds and put that in the batter? At first I thought I'd just add it to a waffle recipe in one of my cookbooks. Except, I don't have eggs, buttermilk or vegetable oil. So, I decided to substitute and experiment. I already knew how to make a buttermilk substitute (at least 1 tablespoon of lemon per 1 cup of milk-lemon is better than vinegar, trust me) and thanks to my mom, there's egg substitute in the fridge. Oh, and I used butter instead of oil. So here's what I came up with:

Squeeze the juice out of 1 lemon into a large measuring cup, then add enough milk (I used whole milk) to measure 2 1/2 cups of liquid. Stir and let stand while measuring other ingredients, or at least 5 minutes.
1 1/2 cups of finely ground raw unsalted almonds (I pulverized about 2 cups of raw almonds in my food processor-it should look like bread crumbs)
2 1/2 cups flour (begin with 2 cups and add a little more if batter isn't thick enough)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar
3/4 cup butter, mostly melted (1 minute in the microwave-it's ok if there's still pieces of butter left)
1/2 cup egg substitute (make sure you've shaken the carton before you pour so the egg stuff is frothy)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Mix dry ingredients and ground almonds together, then add all other ingredients and whisk until thoroughly mixed. Batter should be thick, not runny. Add a little bit more flour if necessary. Measure and poor onto belgian waffle iron, bake and enjoy!

I ate them plain and they were simply luscious! Ethan put syrup on his and even he couldn't eat enough! I also think these waffles would be good with a butter that has a bit of honey whipped into it.

The great thing about this blog: I can edit this later if I decide to try real eggs and buttermilk-stay tuned!

My Dad's legacy

My dad passed away one year ago today. I thought about doing some kind of dinner, or something for my family, but I didn't see the point. Plus I'm almost done with summer school and I have a mountain of homework to do. I think having all this homework right now is a good thing-keeps me focused on life and not on other stuff.

I did decide that I wanted to write more about my dad, to write about his legacy for me. For the most part, getting on with life this year has been pretty smooth. At home, we've worked through those tough times when we have to figure out what to do about the plugged pipes, broken water heater or the gardening-the things dad used to do. Or when I was accepted into the English Honor's Society-even mom said how proud dad would have been. These things haven't been the most difficult parts of my dad's legacy. I look at the rose garden outside and smile and be glad that dad taught me how to prune roses. I know my dad would tell me to keep living, and keep studying. All for God's Glory, treasures in heaven, he would say.

For me, the most difficult part of dad's legacy is church. Don't get me wrong, I love my church home. I am so glad that I had the task of picking up grandma for church every Sunday for the first 6 months after dad died. I needed to learn to embrace being where he was, at church, where his hand has touched almost every inch of that building and all of the people, my church family. For a long time when I would hear something in the sermon that reminded me of my dad, I'd shed a tear. Or when someone would tell me a story about my dad, we'd both get choked up, but this is how it's supposed to be. I need to embrace that too.

Dad, me and my little sister Jen.
I haven't found a music photo yet.

The hardest part about being at church is the music.

You see, the biggest legacy my dad left me is music. You may not know this about my dad--not only did he perform in musicals when he was in high school, but for many years, he sang in the church choir. When I was very young, I remember hearing his voice boom while singing what we would now call "the old hymns," like "Amazing Grace," "Old Rugged Cross," and "How Great Thou Art." He loved to sing and he passed that great love down to me.

I remember dad singing all the time and I would sing with him. Our family would take long road trip vacations and we would sing on our long drives. One of dad's favorite stories to tell is how many times we sang "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "Jingle Bells" all throughout the year. We couldn't help it-my sister and I LOVED those songs!

After sitting at the dinner table our family would sing a song before praying for our dinner. The song would switch from "The Doxology" or "The Johnny Appleseed" song. I loved both of those songs.

Christmas time at our house was joyous. We sang all the Christmas carols continuously, night and day and dad would lead all of the songs.

Dad imparted his love for music on all of his children. My sister and I took piano lessons. I didn't like it, but Jen did. In high school, all 4 of us kids were involved in the music program. I in choir, John in band and Jen and Joel in orchestra. Jen is an accomplished bassist, and married a wonderful man who has a Phd in music. This legacy of music even has a strong hold on his grandchildren-all of them have been involved in music in some way, shape or form. My son, Ethan, is a music major in college. Dad's love of music has permeated every inch of this family and my heart.

I love worship time during the church service. Singing praises to God, thanking Jesus for his wonderful gift of eternal life-my heart soars, especially when I'm singing in the choir. This past year, while my heart heals from dad's passing, singing in church has usually brought me to tears. I didn't sing in choir this year because I knew I would just be a tearful mess. It has been getting easier as time passes, but when we sing one of those old hymns, or the Doxology (Praise God from whom all blessing flow...) I hear my dad's booming voice and his legacy rings loud and clear in my ears, and in my heart and my eyes well up in overflowing tears.

As you read in my last blog, it does take time. Time to heal and time to recover. Dad's legacy of the love for music is burned in my heart and the voice God gave me (Oh I boom out those songs, but I'm really not that great, trust me). It is in God's comfort and love for me that I embrace dad's legacy and know that it is okay if I'm still a little teary-eyed when I sing those wonderful songs and remember the joy Dad received from singing, hearing, loving and enjoying music.

Here's a youtube video of the Doxology:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=levjTDnb1zM

Instant Coffee

I love coffee. Coffee is a wonderful thing. The smell of the bean, the smell and taste of fresh brewed coffee-ahhhh...it's just divine. I even enjoy the different ways of brewing coffee. Right now I have 2, no um....5 different coffee makers: percolators, auto drip, french press, espresso maker, oh and one of those fancy Keurig things-so fun. I think my favorite cup is from the perc-it just brews a full-bodied cup of coffee.

Then there's instant. Oh, there are some good instant coffees out there, but...well...I'm sorry, but it just isn't the same as a fresh brewed cup of coffee. Coffee is definitely worth the wait!

Now you're wondering what in the world am I getting at-instant coffee is not that big of a deal. Sure, it may not be the best cup of coffee, but when I'm in a pinch, and want that coffee right now, instant is great when I don't want to wait. But is getting what I want instantly really worth it? Am I truly satisfied with instant coffee? I don't know about you, but I am never satisfied with instant coffee.

What about all the other "instant" stuff? You know, you've heard the terms. Let's see, there's "Instant gratification." Yeah right. Look, I'm not a psychiatrist, or a philosopher and getting too profound just makes my head hurt, but from what I can see-or what my life experiences have taught me is that instant gratification (or being gratified by a want or need or desire instantly) is rarely (dare I say never) fully gratifying. In fact, all that instant gratification does is make you want more, make you more dissatisfied, and (dare I say) make you act like a spoiled brat when you don't get what you want right now!

Then there's the term "Instant Intimacy." I almost laugh when I see this because there's no such thing. Sure, it's happened. You jump into something way too fast, get way too deep, then freak out and it all falls apart. In fact, when you're swept into searching for any kind of intimacy in an instant, you end up dissatisfied. There is the argument that it can work, it can develop into something wonderful and long lasting, but the point is LOOOONNNG! It takes time to develop. It takes time to learn to communicate, work and get along. It also takes time to heal.

That's how I know that the whole "instant" thing doesn't work. We humans can't heal, or grieve instantly. We can't just shed a few tears and be over it. We can't just put a bandage on it and be recovered. It rarely (dare I say never) works.

Today (other than it's my daughter's birthday and I mention her in my blog from Valentine's day so look back and you can read more about Jennifer) is a huge day for my family. One year ago my dad had his surgery to remove part of his pancreas. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. While my dad was in surgery, my sister was at her doctor's office being told she has breast cancer. My dad died from complications of the surgery. My sister has finished treatment and is in recovery.

I have learned that grieving is a long process. It is different for everybody, but it is most definitely long. (Dare I say) No one, not anyone, absolutely no one can grieve instantly. It takes time. Sure, maybe it's a year or two, or maybe 10 years or longer, but it is a process that we must go through, and if we don't, we just make it harder for ourselves to live. Sure, we want to just make it go away, or get over it, fix it, but we can't fix grief. We'll have those moments when we're ok, but we'll also have those moments when we aren't and we must let it work through. Healing is the same. Especially with cancer. Jen went through 6 months of chemo, 6 weeks of radiation and is about to have her 2nd surgery. There's just not a magic pill that she can take to get over this. She had to go through the healing process. She's still going through it. We all are.  Right now we all wish my dad was here for Jen. For all of us. So we work through it together and love on my sister.

It was this epiphany about grief and healing that got me thinking about how we humans just aren't made to have things happen instantly. Everything about life: growing up, learning, loving, working, etc...all takes time. When we try to circumvent that and make things happen instantly, it eventually just doesn't work. We're dissatisfied, or spoiled brats or just mentally messed up.

So now what? Go brew a nice cup of perc'd coffee and I thank God that He's given me what I need to live, love, grow, learn, grieve and heal.

What if...

Did you know there was such a thing as the Shakespeare Institute where you can go and study Shakespeare and Renaissance Literature AND get a Master's degree in Shakespeare studies? Oh my goodness!!! (She says with arms flailing and an excited expression on her face.)

If you and I have had a conversation about how my classes are going this semester, then I have said this to you. I know I have promised you an update on how school is going and I am sorry that this is a little on the late side. After all, the semester is over in a little more than a month. It has been a good semester. I am taking 15 units-5 classes and so far the load has been not only manageable, but enjoyable as well.

Three of my classes are British literature classes: Elizabethan (16th century) poetry and prose, Shakespeare and Chaucer (Canterbury Tales). I have enjoyed British lit for many years, after becoming a fan of Jane Austen when Ethan was in Kindergarten so it's been...more than 15 years now. All 3 of these classes share one major reason why I love British lit so much: The time it takes to read it. Most of the time I don't even understand it, but this seems to add to the beauty of it. Particularly the Renaissance period. I have realized that I have a passion and love for classic British lit-that it speaks to me in a way that makes me feel alive. The history, the complexity, the tedious time it takes to get through it. This kind of literature has also helped me to learn to enjoy the middle of a story, to get lost in the characters, the settings, the plots and taught me that a story is not always about the ending.

So now do you understand my excitement to learn about the Shakespeare Institute in Stratford upon Avon (Shakespeare's birthplace), UK? Since I have been at CSU Fullerton, I have considered what I would do when I graduate. I want to eventually teach high school English and Adult education, most definitely, but I have realized that it may not necessarily be what I'm supposed to do right away. In fact, since last year, I've been considering the "what if's". What if I go to Japan, or China, or Korea, or Africa and teach English? (this was planted by my grammar prof last semester).

OR what if I go to England for a year and study the stuff that makes my heart skip a beat AND get a Master's in it? Plus add to that the fact that the Director of the Shakespeare Institute was in my class a few weeks ago AND my professor introduced me to him!!! Oh my goodness!!! AND he answered all of my questions!!! AND they let old people go there!!! OH MY GOODNESS!!! Just the thought of going to England and studying Shakespeare FOR A WHOLE YEAR just makes my heart jump and brings tears to my eyes! What IF this is what I'm supposed to do after I graduate next December?

What if???

So, last week I told my boys that I have decided to pursue this. To seriously make it my goal to apply and go to the Shakespeare Institute after I graduate. They both think it's a great idea. AND I have been praying about it since the beginning of the semester.

Right now, where I will be a year from now is really up in the air. I could still be at CSU Fullerton working on my credential, or applying to teach overseas, or getting ready to go to England, but I know what I want to do. I want to go to England. I want to immerse myself in British Literature. I want my heart to speak, to soar, to learn more about what I love.

For the next year, my life will be all about the "What if's".

My first recipe: Chili

I love cooking. Cooking relaxes me. When I used to work 10-12 hours a day I could still come home and cook dinner for my family. If I get really stressed out I'll look for a new recipe to try-that's usually baking. It helps me focus, think, unwind. For me, working in the kitchen is the easiest part of my life. Even if it takes all day to make, I still look at it as easy and fun. Just as I derive pleasure from going to Disneyland, cooking is another pleasing activity for me. 

So, for the first time ever, I made chili for 30 people. I had a blast! A few people asked for the recipe, so I thought I'd blog it and send it out while it's still fresh in my memory. See, when I cook, I usually start with a recipe, but I have a tendency to stray from the recipe and wing it and that's what happened this time.

Here you go:

3 lbs. ground turkey

3 lbs. ground italian sausage

3-4 tablespoons of olive oil

4 onions, chopped

5-6 stalks of celery with leaves, chopped (I used the middle stalks so they were kinda small, and they had all the leaves-keep the leaves! They render a beautiful aroma when you're sautéing the vegetables-trust me!)

3 green bell peppers, chopped

2 red bell peppers, chopped

lots of garlic (ok, I used garlic from a jar-it was a squeeze jar so I put in 2 squirts in each batch)

1 can diced jalapeño

1 can diced green chiles

6-7 tablespoons of chili powder (note that I approximate because you'll want to season to your taste, and I added a little bit more at the end of cooking)

4-6 tablespoons of cumin

1-2 tablespoons seasoning salt (I used Tony's Original Creole Seasoning salt)

4 teaspoons of cayenne (less if you don't want it too spicy)

4 28 oz cans of crushed tomatoes (I accidentally bought crushed instead of diced, but it worked pretty good)

12-14 cups of pre-soaked dried beans (about 3 lbs of beans. I used red kidney and white beans, soak in water over night, then rinse.)

2 cubes of beef bullion (enough to add 4 cups of water to when making broth, but you're just dropping the cubes in the bubbling chili)

I divided all ingredients in half and worked in batches. 

Combine ground turkey and italian sausage in skillet, crumble and fry until cooked through (trust me, cooking 1/2 the meat is a lot easier!) In your large cooking pot, heat up olive oil and sauté half of the onions, celery, bell pepper and garlic until onions are translucent and celery leaves smell awesome! Add 1/2 the cans of jalapeño and green chiles and cook for a few minutes more. Add half of the seasonings, stirring and coating vegetables. Add meat, 6-7 cups of beans, then 2 cans of tomatoes to each batch. Rinse 1 tomato can with water, keeping water to rinse other can, filling with water to get the tomato bits. Add that water to the chili mixture. Add another 1/2 can of water, if more liquid is needed. Toss in the beef bullion cubes. Bring mixture to a boil, stirring occasionally. Turn stove to simmer and cover pot. Simmer for 1 1/2 hours, stirring occasionally. 

Olga let me borrow her mom's tamale pot so when I finished combining the batches, I put all of it in the huge pot for the long simmer. 

By the way, I made this day before-wise choice! 

How's that for my first recipe?

May I have your attention please?

We are right in the middle of tax season. You know what that means: On every main street corner you will see a person dressed up in a Statue of Liberty costume holding a sign that reads something like "tax returns completed here!" or "Free e-file tax return here!" The sign is long, and the person has to hold it and dance with it, just like Lady Liberty would, or I assume she would if she was holding that sign. (I have a feeling that she would have nothing to do with it). Mr. or Miss Liberty's job is to get your attention and get you to think about going to where ever that arrow sign is pointing to get your taxes done there.

As I was driving in my car today, I think I counted six of them on various corners throughout town and I began thinking about what God does to get our attention.  How many wake up calls have you had in your life? I know I've had quite a few and I could go on about what God does to get our attention. But that's just way too easy.

You know that theory about people doing whatever it takes to get other people's attention? You know, that "bad attention is better than no attention"? I remember falling into that trap while raising my children. Privileges constantly get taken away because homework isn't done, or the same misbehavior happens so the same consequences are given. At one point, I changed the way I gave attention, finding ways to give praise. Even saying please and thank you to my kids seemed to make a difference. Telling them I love them more, hugging, kissing and forgiving them made a difference. Sure, there were still consequences, but my attitude was different about those consequences.

Here's another thought: What if we were the sign holder and had to act silly to get God's attention? Think about it. What if we had to do whatever it takes, act out, misbehave, yell and scream (or dance silly for that matter) to get God's attention?

Guess what: We have God's attention all the the time. Forever. He is paying attention. When we feel like we don't matter to anyone, we matter to Him. When we don't feel loved, He loves us. He is there for us 24/7. When we screw up, we still pay the consequences, but He's still watching over us. What do we have to do to get God's attention? Absolutely nothing. We already have it. We will always have God's attention.

And I think He enjoys it when I dance silly. (But I'm not putting the Statue of Liberty costume on!)

Valentine's Day

There's a consensus out there that single people don't care too much for Valentine's Day. After all, Valentine's day is for lovers, sweethearts and mushy stuff that you must have someone special to share it with, right? I used to think so. Don't get me wrong- I was one of those people, especially when I was very young, who dreaded Valentine's day if I didn't have someone special in my life. Now I just see it and think about it differently. I've always been a romantic (did I just admit that on my blog? What am I thinking?) and adore love stories, happily every after, and all that kind of stuff. So why can't I embrace that and how wonderful it is, no matter where I'm at in my life? Last year I posted my favorite "love stuff" on Facebook and I am in the process of doing the same thing today. I just posted the clip from the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean At World's End" where Barbosa marries Will and Elizabeth while in the midst of a pirate battle as the BEST WEDDING EVER!

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfkIlvtybWg&feature=share

We all know there are many kinds of love. There's been so much done about love that it's a little confusing. I think it's pretty simple. Either it's there, or it isn't. I have learned that no matter what love is, or how many kinds of love there is, love is wonderful. Love at first sight? Yes, I believe in it. Has it happened to me before? Yes. 

It happened to me the day I met my daughter, Jennifer. I wasn't her mom then, in fact, she was about to become my little preschool student. I looked into her eyes and just knew that somehow she was going to be part of my life and I fell in love with her. I began praying for her, and her daddy. Throughout most of her childhood, she would tell people that "my mommy loved me before she loved my daddy." God gave me the privilege of becoming her mommy and loving her for the rest of her life. It hasn't been pretty and we've seen some pretty dark times, but the love has never faltered. The reward in this is that Jennifer has the kindest heart and is the most loving person I know.

Because of that love, I've learned that love is to be embraced and cherished. Even as a single person I can still look at romantic love and smile. As a parent, I look at my children and thank God for the love that has brought us through ups and downs and keeps us a family. As a friend, I am willing to open my heart and love others for who they are. As a person, I love others because God first loved me and will always love me, no matter what. 

So today, I celebrate Valentine's Day as it should be celebrated. Embracing and enjoying love. I think chocolate may be involved too.

Right now, this is me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA&ob=av2e

The effects of good news

Downton Abbey. Have you seen it? It's wonderful! I don't watch regular television so I had to wait for the second season to come out on dvd to watch it. Until it did, I watched the first season over and over again. I always do that with movies and shows I really enjoy. In the last episode of the first season there is an poignant scene with the Earl and his valet. The Earl is dealing with a tragic loss, then receives a little good news regarding the valet. He ends the scene with "and today, I need some good news" or something to that effect.

I've been thinking about the effects of good news all week. This has been a really good week for me. In the midst of struggle, heart ache and stress, nothing lifts the spirit like receiving good news. 

First it was an email from my little niece about her mommy. My entire family was overjoyed to see that my sister's hair has finally begun to grow and that it "gets more fuzzy every day." 

Next it was a phone call from my daughter. You should have heard us yelling and shrieking as she told me she passed her GED and is finally a high school graduate! I am so proud of her and what she has accomplished.

That same day my Chaucer professor let me give a little Greek Mythology lesson (I still haven't told you how excited I am about this semester. Stay tuned!) AND I got a message from my friend Amy that she FINALLY renewed her Disney Annual Pass.

The next day I cheered as a friend told me about a first date she went on (Yes, I really do enjoy hearing these kind of stories.)

Yesterday, my son came home late and told me he had been on a date with a girl I really like (in his words: "well, it was a date, but not really a date") and he's going out with her again.

It feels so good to have something-a bunch of things-to smile about! I think it is these things that makes life's turmoils easier to bear. It may not outweigh the turmoil, but good news will always help in getting through the turmoil. Sure, I could get very spiritual and proclaim how I should receive comfort and strength and joy from God alone, but then why have all these life experiences in the first place? Reading a bible verse or praying does bring comfort, joy and makes the unbearable, bearable. So does good news, good things, good experiences AND I thank God for all of it. 

So, my unsolicited advice to you: go spend time with your friends and family. Let them share their good news with you. Revel in the good news. Share with them your good news. Or go make new friends. Eventually the good news will come. It always does. 

Now I need to go finish watching the second season of Downton Abbey.

Uncle Ken

Today is my Uncle Ken's birthday. He would have been 55. A few weeks ago, four days after Christmas, he lost his battle with cancer. He was my mom's youngest brother.

When I was young, he was my cool "rock and roll" guitar-playing uncle with all the tattoos. I didn't see him, or speak to him very often, but I decided I wanted to write about him to honor him. Plus these thoughts have been gnawing at me for some time and what better day to write it down than his birthday.

Uncle Ken was the first phone call I received after my dad's passing. He was in tears, asking how my mom was, and he wanted me to know what my dad meant to him. Honestly, I don't even remember exactly what he said to me-most of it is a blur. But there is one thing that stood out to me about Uncle Ken and what he said about my dad.

Hope.

You see, Uncle Ken's life wasn't a pretty one (now that I think about it, who's is?). He became a Christian 14 years ago, married a wonderful woman, Wanda-a family relation I've admired my entire life. Before that he lived a life-style where hope was lost. Uncle Ken's life has taught me that even when I've lost hope in the people in my life, there's is always hope in God's love for us. Uncle Ken stepped out in faith and gave his life to Christ, serving Him and being a witness of the miracles that God can do in someone's life. Yes, there are many ways to symbolize his life-God's mercy, grace, forgiveness.

But it is the hope that I will hold on to. Putting my faith in God's plan gives me hope, not in people, but in what God will do in those peoples' lives. I have my hope in God while my sister continues her battle with breast cancer. I have my hope in God as my grandma (my dad's mother) struggles through the effects of a stroke. I have my hope in God as other family members and friends deal with illness, loss, health, life. As I continue my journey in college, I have faith in God and the hope that He will hold me and give me the strength to keep going. To keep studying.

Overwhelming isn't it? And you're wondering how I can continue to have faith? How can I put my hope in God? I just do. You know that scene in the movie "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?" Indiana Jones has to go through that temple-thing to get the cup. You know, his dad got shot and he needs to save him. Anyway, he comes upon a cavern that is impossible to get across. In the clues he reads, he realizes that he has to step out in faith to get across. He has to put his faith in something else. Something, or someone, he can't see, and hope that something, or someone, will get him to the other side of the cavern. He steps out in faith, not knowing that there's a camouflaged bridge in front of him. But the point is, he had to step out. He had to just keep going.

I've lost hope before. Many years ago. But because of Uncle Ken, I know I must have faith in God and keep my hope in Christ's love for me, my family, friends, and everyone. For as long as he could, Uncle Ken kept going. I spoke to him right after he received his terminal diagnosis. Sure, he was afraid, who wouldn't be? But he kept saying to me: "Our God reigns, He is sovereign, He is the healer, He is in control." Uncle Ken knew the gift of this life that God had given him, but he knew what was ahead of him-an eternal life that surpassed everything else. Either way, if God healed him, or took him home, Uncle Ken shared with me that he still kept his faith and hope in Christ. I am in awe at how God worked in this man's life. I have hope in how God will work in my life, and in other people's lives.

Step out. Have hope.

Anger

I really don't like what anger does to me. It eats me up inside. I've been sick for 2 weeks and I can't sleep. Now I know why.

I haven't been praying. I realized today that I haven't prayed since...

He doesn't know it, but this is thanks to the high school pastor at my church. He began a series on prayer a couple of weeks ago. Oh, I forgot to tell you why I'm in high school-I volunteer in the high school ministry. Anyway, we were in a staff meeting and he said something about having a prayer life and the first thought in my head was: "I don't want to pray, I'm too angry at God right now." This thought practically shocked me! I was appalled with myself! Angry at God?

I've had enough turmoil and hard times in my life that I've learned to give my pain to God. To pray and seek His peace and let Him carry my burdens. There have been times I have spent hours-mostly sleepless nights-in fervent prayer. But the burdens this time around, in this season for my family, it's getting a little overwhelming. I think it's been since right after Christmas that I've been so angry that I just have not been able to talk to God.

Praying. I love to pray. I just talk to God. Just chat. And I've yelled at God before. I've pleaded and cried. I've rejoiced and praised Him. You've heard that term "pray without ceasing"? (1 Thessalonians 5:17) I take that literally. Praying when I'm driving, cooking, reading, walking, trying to sleep. Praying gives me strength. I love to pray.

The wonderful thing: God knows I'm angry and He understands and still loves me.

There's this scene in a show I have on DVD where a father is confronting a young man who wishes to marry his daughter. The father, in his wisdom, knows that his daughter cannot marry the young man. As much as the young man loves the girl, he finally acknowledges his restlessness and will feel tied down if he marries her, just as the girl walks up to see the conversation going on. She is devastated, hurt, and angry. The young man leaves town and the father goes to comfort his daughter. The girl yells at her father, pounds her fists on his chest and sobs ferociously as he envelopes her into his arms. She, exhausted, allows her father to comfort her for as long as she needs. It's a good show.

God wants that from me. He wants that from all of us. He wants to be the Father, because He knows how devastating life can be. He sees what we're going through and feels our pain, just like a father feels the pain of his beloved child. He wants me to pound my fists on His chest as He envelopes us (me) in His arms and comforts us for as long as we need. Because without that comfort, without those prayers, the anger would not subside and I could not study, cook, teach, lead, read, live, comfort, decide, sleep or be well.

Oh how good it feels to pray to my Heavenly Father.

Don't Worry, Disneyland will be there...

I have had this blog for some time now and I just realized that I rarely talk about Disneyland. I won't dwell on it too much because everyone knows.

I am in love with Disneyland.

Even in the craziness of the busiest times, I love to go. Due to the convenience of being a local, I can leave if the crowd gets to me, and come back on another day (usually the next day). Trust me, the crowd does get to me, but not as much as it used to. Not very long ago, I used to get really bent out of shape if someone pushed or rushed to get ahead of me in line to enter the park or get on a ride. One time, this lady literally cut me off in the entrance line. When I pointed her to the end of the line, she gave me such a scary look, I moved to the next line. The funny part is that I got into the park before she did.

It's Disneyland-that happens all the time-people rush, run, cut and push. I totally get it. It's Disneyland, the Happiest Place on earth! And it's all about ME! Making ME happy! Making ME have a good time. ME, ME, ME! So, of course there's rushing, running, cutting and pushing.

Then, one day I had a thought as I was walking through the entrance line: Why rush? Disneyland isn't going anywhere. It'll be there when I get there. There is no reason to hurry. Really. Think about it. NO REASON WHATSOEVER! Disneyland isn't going anywhere. Crowds, or no crowds, the rides will be there. The shows will be there. The castle will still be there. So...take your time.

I can't tell you what that has done for my experiences this holiday season. Other people pushing to get ahead to get on Haunted Mansion-eh, the doom buggies will be there when I get there-whatever. Just enjoy the scenery, the music, the looks on the faces of people who are there for the first time. Especially the little ones. What a joy!

We are always in such a rush to get to where we think we need to be and we forget about what's around us, and we forget about the other people around us. We rush, run, cut and push. We're rude, selfish, and only thinking about ME.

Take your time. Look around. Be polite. Let someone else by. Enjoy the view, sounds, and the people around you. Life will be there when you get there.

So will Disneyland.