Ron Clark and Oprah

Written Last Week, but posting the first day of school


Today I had the privilege of listening to Ron Clark, founder of the Ron Clark Academy. You might know him from his appearances on Oprah, various media outlets, and the movie based on his experiences, "The Ron Clark Story" starring Matthew Perry, my favorite Friend.

This is just one more example of how Oprah is always right.


Scoff if you will, but years ago, I saw Oprah interview this darling Southern boy who had made such a success out of a school in Harlem, New York that he won the American Teacher of the Year award. He inspired me then. Now that I've seen him in person, I want to drop everything, move to Atlanta, and convince him that he needs a full time choir director/piano teacher on staff. (Mom, if you're reading this, I'm just joking.) (Mr. Clark, if you're reading this, I'm so not joking.)


Other things Oprah has been right about:


1. Reading is fun. When Oprah decided that Americans needed to read again, we all did. Well, technically you all did, because I read all along. However, at Oprah's suggestion, I did vary my Stephen King/Trashy Romance diet with some Barbara Kingsolver and Lalita Tademy. And, you know, a lot of those books were pretty good.


2. Dr. Phil. I always tell people that I can't stand Dr. Phil, but the truth is I usually get advice on his show that totally makes sense for me. I'm sorry. It's a sickness.


3. Every celebrity breakup ever. Well, maybe not, but I personally knew the Brad Pitt/Jennifer Aniston marriage was over when Oprah, using her penetrating and deft interviewing style, asked Pitt about marriage and married life. His answer: "Well, it's great, it's a lot of fun, but I don't think there's such a thing as a lifetime of happiness with one person. I think you have to enjoy the time you have with someone, and then be ready for the next thing." Or something to that effect. How did Jen not see it coming?


4. Your bedroom should be a sanctuary. It sounds corny, but since I took the time to really clean and organize our bedroom, there is a sense of peace and relaxation there that I swear was not there before. Oprah, of course, recommends a complete redecoration for the whole "sanctuary" thing to be complete, so Sven... (cough)


I could go on, but I won't. (You're welcome.) But I have to tell you how inspired I was by today's talk. Mr. Clark is an energetic, goofy, lithe man who bounds all over the stage and has an expressive, mobile face. He is the antithesis of "passive." I've been going to these "Welcome back, now get inspired!" meetings for a long time now. Here's a sample of some of the other things I've heard:


1. Unintelligible mumbling about Los Angeles
2. How China and India are going to drive us all into homelessness and we can't stop it
3. How self-esteem is imaginary and we shouldn't cater to it
4. How test scores don't matter, but here's how you raise them.


I could go on, but I won't. (Stop it.) Fortunately, this year I got to hear Ron Clark, which meant I got dinner (a lot of good, substantive ideas for classroom management and instruction) and a show (Mr. Clark's humor and genuine feeling). What a treat! Although there was nothing said specifically about fine arts, I'm already imagining how I can incorporate some of his techniques into my classroom.


If nothing else, I can bring the enthusiasm. Come on, kids. I'm ready.


Really.

Good News, Bad News

I was cleaning my house today.

No, that's not all, but it's fairly momentous in and of itself, since I simply don't "do" household chores.

Anyway, I was cleaning my house the other day, and I uncovered a box we inherited when Sven's oldest brother, Olaf, passed away. Olaf, who was the oldest of the boys, was 7 years older than Sven. He was only 39 when he died; he passed away the day we brought Princess home from the hospital. Understandably (I hope), when Olaf's partner Jim gave us boxes of things Olaf wanted us to have, we simply weren't able to get through it all. We tried, but the demands of a newborn won out over everything else.

Then, two years later, another newborn came along.

So now, almost four years after Olaf's death, I uncovered this box. Inside the box was Sven's father's watch (Sven's father died when Sven was 17), some other costume jewelry pieces, and some mysterious bagged objects.

The bagged objects contained some real treasure.

As many of my readers know, I'm LDS. We LDS spend a lot of time on family history, or "genealogy," to use the technical, outdated term. My mother's family comes from a long, long line of LDS folks, so much of my family history, at least on her side, is done.

Grandma and Grandpa Debmom.

The Debmom Family Reunion, 1998

Sven's side, on the other hand, is a huge mystery.

As I said, Sven's dad died when Sven was 17. His parents had been divorced for over a decade at that time. His mother, Helga, was an only child; Helga's mother died when Helga was 18. Helga's father, Rufus, lived to be 97, but was a fairly incoherent man by the time Sven knew him. (He knew Sven as "the other one.") Sven's relationship with his paternal family was somewhat distant after the divorce, so he didn't get to know them very well.

In short, there was a lot of missing information. So, imagine my joy when we opened the box to see this:

Sven's dad's Bible

And this:

Cassette tapes of Sven's Uncle Snookie telling the family history and lineage

And these:

TONS of pictures and newspaper clippings, mostly preserved in the Bible.

That's the good news. The bad news was this:

Yes, when I opened the family Bible, I was greeted by a wad of anonymous human hair.

Many of the pictures had no captions or notes, so I'm writing letters to Sven's surviving aunt and great-aunt to see if they are interested in helping me find this information. I sincerely doubt they can help me with the hair.

But what a joy it was to see my children's faces echo some of the photographs! Having grown up myself with a strong sense of my own family history, I am so excited to get to compile some of this for Sven and my children.

We're a good looking family, if I say so myself. I know you can't see much detail, but trust me.

However, all of this got me thinking about the nature of family "heirlooms." There are some heirlooms that I love, I mean LOVE to have. My grandmother's pearls come to mind. In fact, I have a jewelry box so full of current and future "heirlooms" that I just ordered another jewelry box, so I can use this one just for costume stuff.

I have a problem. Don't judge me.

However, when I was going through the box, I laughingly pointed out to Sven that, ha ha, Olaf had saved two gas bills Rufus had received in 1956 for the house we no longer own in Beaumont, Texas. Ha!

"Heh," Sven said. "You know Olaf, he saved everything."

"Ha," I agreed. "Throw those away, okay?"

He didn't throw them away.

So, of course, when I broached the subject of throwing away the mystery hair, Sven poo-poo'd all over it. (Figuratively.)

I get that the Bible, which we're sure was Sven's father's, is an heirloom. It's cracked and old, but it's something of his dad's, so I have no problem keeping it.

But the mystery hair? Is that really an "heirloom?"

One of my friends made the point that she saves things because she knows who the things belonged to, but her kids don't so they can feel free to throw them away. (She pointed out that the things she saved were quite ugly.) Sven and I are keeping a wad of hair, hair belonging to various deceased persons, because that hair PROBABLY came from Sven's relatives.

So, I have contained the entire Bible in two gallon-size Ziploc bags, thusly:

and shall label the entire package "Papaw's Bible And Dubious Hair."

I'm sure my progeny will shiver with delight.

I Like Mondays

Good morning! It's the start of another week, and here are my five things to like this Monday, April 27, 2009:

1. Although acess to my blog is cut off at work, I can still access my dashboard and make new posts! So I won't be able to read your comments, or read and comment on yours, until I get home this afternoon, but I can still post during my break!

2. Neither of my children ran any fever all weekend. I am hopeful this means they are getting over this; they certainly were full of pep and vigor this morning. This also means they can go back to day care today, which means I won't have any more money docked from my paycheck this week, hopefully! (They both have ear infections, and I've exceeded my allotted sick days, so every day I'm out costs a day's pay.)

3. The premier of "Daisy Of Love" totally lived down to my expectations last night, except for one thing: I actually kind of liked Daisy. I wonder if we'll see that much of her tummy in every episode? I hope she finds love this season. Or, at least, someone who keeps her out of general society for a few weeks. And Tough Love? Best episode ever. VH-1, keep them coming. Either your shows are getting better, or I'm getting dumber. Or both.

4. My Amish Friendship Bread was the best. bread. EVER! My little bubbling bag of goo made some very tasty treats, and in 9 days I'll have more to share. I had a very busy weekend, and the fact that I managed to bake bread in the middle of everything makes me feel like Supermom. Or, it would, if I didn't have a week's worth of clean laundry to fold sitting on my couch and a carpet that would make my mom go blind if she saw it...

5. Summer is only a few weeks away. Sven and I did our taxes and we can travel a bit, so we're deciding now where to go! It's so much fun to think about different places we can go. Of course, I always want to go back to Branson, but Sven wants to go somewhere "new" this year. We shall see...I'm betting I still get at least a weekend in my home-away-from-home.

I hope everyone has a wonderful week!

Confessions Of A Musical Theater Snob

I have another confession: I am a total musical theater snob.

If I had to pinpoint a beginning, I would have to go back to early childhood. By the time I started kindergarten, I knew the score and most of the choreography to Oklahoma, Fiddler on the Roof, Funny Girl, Guys and Dolls, My Fair Lady, and, of course, Sound of Music. All of these well beloved, very mainstream shows were wonderful to me. I had the movie versions literally memorized.

The highlight of this phase of my life was my senior year in high school, when I played Laurey in our school production of Oklahoma. Though my acting skills weren't on par with Olivier, or even the more talented Monkees, or even literal monkeys, I sang pretty well and was relatively famous in our town for a couple of years.

"I know you," the grocery store checkers would say, squinting at me.

"You do?" I would respond.

"Yeah. You're that girl. The one who sings. Huh."

Fame is a cruel mistress, but it is sometimes the price we pay.

All of this was fine. Loving musicals, after all, doesn't make one a snob, right? No, it's loving obscure musicals no one has ever made a movie of that makes you a snob. Loving musicals you've never technically seen makes you a snob. By the time I was 30, I was a bona fide musical theater snob.

It began when PBS broadcast a documentary called "Broadway : The American Musical," hosted by Julie Andrews. This 6-part series, available on DVD, traces the history of Broadway and the musical from the late 1800's to the opening of Wicked in 2004. By the time I finished watching this series, I was hooked. I bought books, CD's, and DVD's of all of these amazing shows. I learned the songs and performed them, if it was at all appropriate. Though my senior recital the year before contained a set of Sondheim songs, I now sought out original recordings of Pacific Overtures and Sunday in the Park With George. I developed a distaste for even hearing the name Andrew Lloyd Webber. I had to be physically restrained when I heard the following sentence:

"You know what musical I like? Cats. I like it when I don't have to think too hard."

The test, though, for the musical theater snob is when a musical comes along that is both cutting-edge and popular. Which side to take? This was the situation for me with the musical Rent.

Pro: It was very innovative, incorporating musical styles and theatrical conventions not seen before.

Con: The music was definitely pop.

Pro: It was political and relevant, embracing controversial topics.

Con: It was really popular, even getting on the cover of major magazines like Newsweek.

Pro: It featured a cast of edgy young unknowns, like Idina Menzel, Adam Pascal, Anthony Rapp, Taye Diggs, and Jesse L. Martin.

Con: The theme song was recorded by Stevie Wonder and marketed as a pop single.

And on, and on it went. For years I just avoided it, refusing to listen to it, considering myself above the controversy.

And then.

I actually listened to some of the music. And loved it. Then the movie came out, and I loved it. I especially loved how they got so many from the original cast to come and pretend they were 10 years younger. It is now one of my favorites.

AND I'M GOING TO SEE IT! I'M GOING TO SEE RENT IN TWO WEEKS! ANHONY RAPP AND ADAM PASCAL ARE REPRISING THEIR ORIGINAL ROLES ONSTAGE AND I'M GOING TO SEE IT!

Ahem. I'll make sure to post after I see the show, but I have to say I'm looking forward to this very much. If at all possible, I'll get a picture of Adam or Anthony to post. If not, I'll get a picture of me looking at them, which is just as good, right?

Life is good.

Why I Do It

In the spring of 2002, I was hired to play piano for a voice studio recital. The students were all high-school age. I remember very well the first time I met Josmery, a slender, almost gawky girl of 15 with curly black hair and liquid black eyes. Josmery was a freshman that year, 14 or 15, singing in her first recital.

Josmery's song that day was "I Love All Graceful Things." Not one of my favorites, but a sweet song that showed off her beautiful high notes. Practices went well; Josmery was prepared and professional throughout.

At the performance, Josmery forgot the words to her song. I assure you, this happens to singers very often, and it is always unsettling. Josmery didn't miss a beat, however, and continued to sing, making up words that not only fit in with the rest of the song, but that rhymed. Even her teacher didn't know she messed up, but I saw it all. I thought to myself, "This kid has got it. She's the real thing."

In 2003, after graduating college, I was hired to be the assistant choir director at the high school Josmery attended. I taught her junior and senior year, and got to know her fairly well. She made the All-State choir both years, ranking first in the area her senior year. I helped her with that audition. I really thought that was as good as it got.

I'm writing this at 11:00 p.m. on Thursday, April 16. I just got home from Josmery's senior recital for her Bachelor's degree in Vocal Performance. I have never, in my entire life, been so moved by a performance as I was tonight. That gawky 15-year-old I remember is now a poised young woman with an amazing instrument God placed right in her body. Sitting there, next to her former teacher and current teacher, taking my place among the many who have helped and influenced her over the years, was the most amazing feeling.

Though tonight's event was not religious in nature, I felt the spirit of God in that room. After the recital, when I waited my turn to tell her how proud I was, her face lit up as she embraced me, as sweet and unselfconscious as she ever was.

All the gripes, all of the complaints about being a teacher, I take them all back tonight. Tomorrow I may go back to complaining, but tonight, I'm so glad I chose this life.

Hecklefest 2009

I just gave myself the best gift any heckler can give herself.


A DVD set of the 1991 revival of "Dark Shadows," the only show to ever jump the shark during the opening credits.




For those who are unfamiliar with the Dark Shadows franchise, it began as a daytime soap opera in the 1700's, and was then revived as a prime-time soap opera in 1991. The cast is a veritable Who's Whom? of acting: Ben Cross, Michael Weiss, Adrian Paul, and the formidable Jean Simmons, who takes bewilderment to a level so committed, it is almost ethereal.



As a young teenager when this show aired originally, I was of course too young and immature to fully appreciate it. I loved this show when it first aired. We taped every episode and, when the show was cancelled after only twelve episodes (thanks, Gulf War!) we watched it again, and again. By "we" I of course mean my sister and myself. My mother never would have indulged in such shlocky, tasteless fare.



I am, of course, kidding. My mom is the queen of shlocky tasteless fare. The only thing she knows better than the Scriptures is 1950's Science Fiction B-movies, preferably the ones where you can actually see the crew members hoisting the alien spaceships on hempen ropes.



But, I digest. Loving the show Dark Shadows as I did then, I failed to see the amazing level of humor so present for me in the show now. It has become a new experience.



The way the psychic indicates that she is using her powers by bugging out her eyes, for example:



Maggie: {Eyes half-closed} I don't know what's going on in this town...but I'll tell you this: {Eyes POP open, as though she's just noticed a large tarantula in the corner of the room} the evil has just begun!



Of course, my pitiful blog cannot convey to you the sheer magic of the magnificent Ben Cross wailing in pain after he attacks his cousin/descendent Caroline because he aged 200 years in an hour because the doctor who was treating him for the malignant vampire cell got jealous that he was really in love with the reincarnation of his former fiancee and gave him a bogus injection. Whatever else this show has, the writing is awe-inspiring.



So, to truly share in the magic of heckling this masterpiece, I'm declaring my intention to establish Hecklefest, a yearly event in which priveleged few will spend a day with me and heckle. This year's theme: Gothic Romance. We will begin the day with a viewing of Twilight. (Selected scenes will be played with the commentary track, so Rob can heckle with us.) From there, we will watch the first six episodes of Dark Shadows. Alfred Hitchcock's Rebecca will follow to cleanse the palate, a visual sorbet, if you will. (Rebecca very much fits in with this theme, both in overall tone and eye-bugging.) The final six episodes of Dark Shadows will round out the evening.



I expect those attending to treat Hecklefest as audiences at Bayreuth treated performances of The Ring Cycle: total committment to the event. Bathroom breaks will be tolerated. Snacks will be provided.



It sounds like heaven to me.

My Musical Legacy

I often reflect on how different my two children are from each other.  I have a three-year-old daughter, Princess, pictured below:

I also have a 16-month-old son, whom I have been referring to as Sven, Jr., pictured here:

I have been reflecting on Sven Jr.'s blog name, looking for a defining characteristic that can be summed up in one descriptive term.  This weekend, I believe I found it: Dexy.  As in, Dexy's Midnight Runners?  As in, the band that recorded one of the greatest '80's songs ever, "Come On Eileen?"  Let me explain.

I believe I have referenced before on this blog my love for countdown-type shows, often featured on VH-1.  I Love the '70's, I Love the '80's, I Love the '90's, I Love Toys...these all fill me with varying degrees of delight.  However, I really love the ones with titles like "100 Greatest Songs of the '80's."  Those occupy me for days, as I track down song after song on iTunes.  I especially love the '80's countdowns because they show video clips, which bring back memories of me sneaking out to the living room to watch a brand-new station called MTV, which only showed music videos, and which my mother was convinced would send the entire nation into a seething mass of immorality, hence the sneaking.  Fortunately, my dad really liked MTV, too, so I got to watch a fair amount of it after Mom went to bed.  (Sorry, Mom.  In his defense, Dad only let me watch if I was quiet enough that he could legitimately say he hadn't noticed me there.)

The newest compilation countdown to appear on VH-1 could only have been designed for me, so rapturous was my reception of it: 100 Greatest One-Hit Wonders of the '80's.  So this weekend, Sven, Jr. and I sat together and watched commentary on some of the best music ever produced.

Sven Jr. loved it.  Remember his instant reaction to Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)"?  That paled in comparison to his instant affinity to the song "Mickey".  His thumb popped out of his mouth as a wide grin stretched across his face, and his little foot began to stomp as those timeless lyrics wafted out over us:

"Oh, Mickey, you're so fine,

You're so fine, you blow my mind,

Hey Mickey!  Hey Mickey!" 

         -(William Shakespeare, As If You Liked It Or Something, Act IV, Scene 25)

Okay, so it's not Shakespeare.  It's Toni Basil, a choreographer who still works with such red-hot celebrities as Bette Midler and Reese Witherspoon.  The point is, as each of these songs from my youth spun out, Sven Jr./Dexy got more and more excited.  The high point, though, was that song that VH-1 determined was the greatest One-Hit Wonder of the 80's: "Come On Eileen."  That song has always just made me happy.  I remember when I was in my early 20's, I would listen to that song (which was already an oldie) just to feel good.  I actually made a mix tape that featured that song four or five times per side.

It would seem, then, that little Dexy's affinity for '80's music is come by honestly.  I plan to encourage this, as I have encouraged Princess' love for Andy Williams and the score from Hairspray.  I think I'll have a lot more fun encouraging Dexy, this time, though...

A Quest, Continued

Sven's contest is over. It was not the triumphant, against-all-odds Oscar contender I hoped it would be. It was more like a Very Special Saved By the Bell (in which: Zac learns that you can't win 'em all). I suppose Rob Pattinson wouldn't have guest starred on Saved By the Bell...



To recap, Sven took his band to Contest yesterday. They were the second band, the non-varsity band, the young band with eyes full of dreams. Contest has two parts: concert (prepared music) and sight reading (music never seen before). Each part gets a rating. Here is the official rating system:

• I: Excellent, really good, I was actually glad to hear you.


• II: Not bad, still needs some work, but my ears aren't bleeding.


• III: Okay, I understand why you came, but you still need a lot of work.


• IV: Bless your heart.


• V: Go away.

The good news? Sven's band made a III in sight-reading.

They received a "Bless your heart" on stage. :(

Sven says he knows why. One of his very young trumpet players "freaked out" under all the pressure and really bungled the first piece, the march. Sven said he recovered after that, but the judge's minds were probably already made up after that.

Furthermore, Sven's buddy, R-Dog, who helped organize the contest, says that the judges were unusually harsh on non-varsity bands this year, judging them by the same standards as the varsity groups. R-Dog said that many of the non-varsities got III's and IV's on stage. Especially the non-varsity bands from large schools, and since Sven's school is one of the largest in the region...

So Sven feels the IV was perhaps a little harsh, but he understands it. His primary concern, though, is for the kids.

The kids had a BLAST. They had a great time. They heard they got a IV and cheered. When Sven called me from the band hall after returning to town, I could hear the laughter in the background. It really made me see things from Sven's point of view: sometimes it is good to just go do things the kids will enjoy, and not worry about the scores. In 20 years, they may not remember the score they received, but they'll remember the trip and the good time they had.

(Your comments of encouragement have been very well received, as well. Perhaps, in the future, when Sven asks me if I'm going to turn something into an entry for my blog, I won't see the eye-rolling and sarcastic "air quotes" anymore.)

Sven is probably going to get a fair amount of "I told you so" from the more experienced teachers who told him not to go. But, being the man that he is, he will continue on his path, never ceasing from his endless quest to improve the lives of his students.

This does sound like a Very Special Episode. We've got to get a decent guest star for this one...what television actor can accurately portray the anguish, the decency, the...gravitas of Sven?

I've got it:

45 Days

I happened to notice last night, when looking at the school calendar purely for recreation, that we have 45 instructional days left in our school year, counting today.

Okay, technically, it's 46 days, but two of them are early release days, so I combined them. But I want to stress that I'm not counting. I especially did not count twice to make sure.

I can almost taste summer. The freedom, the knowledge that the only children driving me crazy will be my own, the lazy nights in bed after the kids are asleep...it's coming.

Is it crazy that now, as an adult, a teacher, "one of them," I look forward to summer more than I ever did as a child?

Princess and Sven Jr. have new swimsuits. Phase 1 of my post-winter leg-shaving has commenced. The movies have even started...I look at the trailer for "17 Again" and am instantly in the state of total mind numbness that only summer brings.

My vision will blur, so that I can't focus on a book, but somehow I will have no trouble with the print in Entertainment Weekly. I will develop a taste for seafood again. My clothing will become soft, shapeless, and completely dedicated to comfort. I will cut my hair short and never style it.

I will play with my children for hours at a time. I will read books to them, pretending I'm doing it for them, but really doing it because the plot of "Timmy the Tadpole" has taken on new significance to me. I will tell myself I will clean my house.

Bring it on. I am so ready for summer.

Spring Break Adventures III: Galveston

I had totally planned to stay home on Friday, the last real day of Spring Break, and clean house.  I had laundry to do, dishes to wash, and cheese cracker residue to scrape off of every non-permeable surface in the house.

This did not get done.  Princess announced after breakfast that she wanted to go to the beach, so Sven prepared to take Princess to Galveston for the afternoon.  Sven Jr., seeing them leave, began to cry.  Sven sighed dramatically and put shoes and socks on his son.  In other words, Sven was preparing to take both children out of the house for several hours, leaving me there alone.

Like a complete and utter fool, this prospect filled me with dread.  I wanted to be there if Sven Jr. got to walk on the beach for the first time.  I wanted to know if Princess said or did something adorably precocious.  So, instead of taking advantage of the solitude and cleaning the house or napping, I said, "Wait for me!" and joined them in the car.

It was totally worth it.  Galveston still shows a lot of damage from Hurricane Ike, but it's coming back.  Here's a picture of Princess and Sven on The Strand, the historic district next to the pier on the bay side of the island:

The mark above Sven's head is the water mark from Ike's storm surge.  Sven is about 6' tall, so you can imagine how much damage there is to repair.

The good news for me: Galveston Bookshop, my favorite used book store, located on 23rd Street right off The Strand, is fully re-stocked and looking great.  GB had 7' of water in the store, completely wiping out the first floor, but they now have brand new shelves, a beautiful new tile floor, and replenished stock.  Anyone who reads my blog who goes to Galveston needs to check out this excellent book store.  (If you click on the link I provided, you can see pictures of the new look as well as right after the storm.  Very impressive.)

The better news for me: I got to see Sven Jr.'s first time on the beach, as he played in the sand with his sister:

I guess it's okay that the house is a mess.  I think I made the right call.

Spring Break Adventures II: Sea World San Antonio

Or: Deb Discovers She Cannot Heckle Shamu

It began weeks ago: Princess approached me and laid her adorable head on my knee, and, bottom lip quivering, said:

"Mama?  I want to go and see Shampoo."

"You want a bath?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"No," she answered, rolling her eyes at my stupidity.  "I want to see Shampoo the WHALE."  (You must imagine this last word spoken in 3-year-old Texan dialect, so it comes out WAY-yull.)

"Ah," I said, throwing a helpless glance at Sven, who, helpful as always, shrugged.  "Well, sweetheart, we have some vacation coming up, so we'll see if maybe we can go and see Shamu."

"Not 'Shamu,' Mommy," she patiently corrected me, "Shampoo.  Shampoo is the whale.  Shamu is the baby brother."  My misinformation sufficiently corrected, Princess went on her merry way, satisfied that her mommy would take care of it, so there would be no need to bring it up again.

Ha, ha!  Clearly, I jest.  Princess has mentioned Shampoo and her need to see him at least thrice daily for the last three weeks.  Last year it was caves.  I'm thinking this year may be the Year of the Whale.

So, like any parents with a firm and reasonable grip on their children, Sven and I planned a trip to Sea World: San Antonio because we wanted to go.  Not because Princess made us.

I must confess: I truly, truly wanted to heckle the Shamu show.  It's called "Believe!" and it is the cheesiest, most cliche "story" imaginable.  It starts with a movie.  There's a little boy who loves killer whales, so he looks at them in a book, then whittles a whale tail out of wood and wears it as a necklace, then goes to the beach and sees a killer whale, and canoes out to meet it, and the whale says, "What's up?" and the music swells.  Then, the real-life trainer walks out, and he's wearing a wooden whale tail pendant!  Which is also available in the gift shop for $15!  How inspiring.

The problem is, I am literally awed to tears by the magnificence of those animals.  Before the show, the whales are all swimming around the pool, warming up or something, and the moment I see them I just start bawling.  When the necklace-wearing trainer points across the water and Shamu leaps up, I am genuinely moved, despite the cheesiness.  They are amazing to watch, and Princess and I were very happy, though I think Princess was a bit embarrassed by my enthusiasm.

"Mommy, stop it," she said to me as I sobbed into my souvenir Shamu bath towel, a bargain at $10.

"Did you see that?" I asked her, tears streaming down my face.  "Did you see the whale give him a kiss?"

"I want to sit with Daddy," she replied, edging away from me.  

After I had sufficiently recovered from Believe! we went to Viva!, billed as an amazing interaction between acrobats, dolphins, and beluga whales.  This, I could have heckled.  Unfortunately, Sven Jr. was so emotionally drained from Believe! that he was asleep in the stroller, making it necessary for me to stand at the back of the theater and only glimpse the show between the heads of children who were standing on the seats to better see the show.  However, I think I caught the gist...several vaguely fish-costumed acrobats fall in the water, and they bring out the dolphins/whales every ten minutes or so.  I won't mention that the fish costumes were skintight and very unforgiving, particularly on some of the auxiliary fishes.

Princess was soon bored with Viva!.  I wanted to go and see the Penguin Encounter!, so we did.  We stepped on an automatic walkway, the kind you see in major airports, and very slowly went by a room full of penguins.  It made you say, "Wow.  Look at the penguins."  I bet they think we're idiots.  In fact, I bet the penguins think that walkway is there for their amusement, and if we could understand their language, we would here snarky comments from them about fashion choices and hairstyles.  

After the Penguin Encounter! we went to Dolphin Cove! where we can feed and pet real live dolphins.  Except it was so crowded they had cut off the food, and the dolphins were not interested in being petted by Sven Jr., much to his dismay.

"Hoo dey?" he demanded, pointing imperiously at the dolphins.  "Eee ta."  Translation: Bring me a dolphin to pet, and I shall reward you with a moist kiss and pull your hair for an hour.

"Honey, they just want to swim," I answered.

"Oooo," he answered disapprovingly.  Translation: Those rude dolphins.  Don't they know they exist, as does everything else, for my amusement.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," I said, wincing as he grabbed my hair.

"Pa bo," he replied.  Translation: You're all right.  I may kiss you later.

After Dolphin Cove! and the Coral Reef! Princess demanded to go back and see the Sea Lion Exhibit! and fell asleep before the sentence was out of her mouth.  Sven and I raced to the car as quickly as we could while Sven Jr. poked princess with impunity, and we headed home, exhausted.

I can't wait to go back.

Spring Break Adventures: We Go To The Zoo

Since Sven and I are both teachers, we have a lovely "bonus" week of vacation every year: Spring Break.  We pull the kids out of day care for the week and spend every waking moment together, reminding me why I work outside the home.

Kidding!  Really, I am.  I love my husband and my children and the time I spend with them is very precious.  The kids are growing so fast, sometimes I'm afraid I'm missing so much by having to leave them in day care, so any chance I have to spend time with them I take.

Today, Sven and I packed up bright and early (10:00-ish) and took the kids to the zoo.  This is an outing we rarely tire of, and since we purchased a zoo membership this year, we can visit as many times as we like for "free."  (The zoo's definition of "free" is, of course, free admission, which is wonderful, but food, drink, souvenirs, parking, and miscellanea usually put us in the $500-$600 dollar range for a three-hour visit.  Yes, I am exaggerating, but only slightly.)

Among other highlights: we saw a 46-day-old baby giraffe, and Sven Jr. snacked nonstop for almost 5 hours.  I'd like to think it's due to teething...

Mindful that I am the keeper of my family's memories, I took the camera.  Here is our visit, as it will live in the annals of my increasingly demented mind:

Princess, at the duckpond shortly after arrival.

"Mama, there was a duck!  I saw it!"

"I don't trust that bear."

"That bear is definitely up to something."

Sven and Princess look for the baby elephant.

Princess shows her love...

...and Sven Jr. goes in for a kiss.

Maybe it's time to go...

We out.

To Francesca, With Love...

Recently, I was given some blog love from one of my favorite online gal pals, Francesca of Three Bay B Chicks. Francesca listed me as one of her 10 favorite blogs. I looked at her recommendations, and now most of them are listed on my sidebar. (Go ahead, check them out, they are awesome.)

I am new to blogging, so I don't have many blogs that I read, so instead, I'd like to honor Francesca's honoring of me by honoring a request she made in the comments section of my "Inside the Actor's Studio" blog. (I know, I've used the word "Honor" too much, but it makes me giggle.) Here, now, are my answers to James Lipton's Ten Questions:

1) What is your favorite word? Kerfuffle. I use it a lot.

2) What is your least favorite word? Any explicit anatomical term makes me cringe a little. I was raised to believe that was vulgar; of course, I now have a three-year-old daughter who strips naked and runs through the house shrieking, "Look at my butt!"

3) What turns you on? Really well-prepared, semi-complicated food.

4) What turns you off? Flabby hands.

5) What is your favorite curse word? It's too filthy to print, and I only use it on occasion. Tom Cruise said it in Tropic Thunder, but I've been using it for years.

6) What sound or noise do you love? Silence.

7) What sound or noise do you hate? The wheezes as my son struggles to breathe.

8) What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? I would love to be a professional writer. I'm working on a novel, it's up to 50,000 words, but I'm stuck...

9) What profession would you not like to attempt? I would not like to do anything where I have to be dishonest, or compromise on really important things. So, no future for me in politics or school administration!

10) If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? I answered this in my blog post earlier, but here's a new one:
Welcome to Heaven. Your mansion is three doors down, to the right. Brad Pitt is cleaning the pool.

Imagine the rest of the staff...

I've been Cited!

I ran into my mentor the other night (yes, I have a mentor, doesn't everyone?) and she told me some amazing news.

I don't like to toot my own horn, as a rule, but if you can't toot through your blog, where can you?

I love to write.  If I could be anything I wanted, I would be a professional student.  I would change majors every time I earned a degree, as log as it was in something fairly useless and academic.  I'd get degrees in history, literature, psychology, sociology, humanities, and anything else I could use to put pen to paper.  Then, by night, I would be a crime-fighting vampire novelist, but that's another entry.

As a music major, I had the opportunity to write several extremely useless research papers.  Several of these were presented at conferences, including one at a national conference of vocal teachers.  (Toot!)  During my presentation, I was introduced to a famous voice teacher and pedagogue.  This teacher has recently updated one of her most famous books.

The updated version cites my paper as a source!!  Me!!  Toot!!

I'm ordering the book from Amazon, so shortly I should be able to give more details, but I was too excited to wait.  If you happen to read this, send out a toot for me.