In memory of the astronauts of Apollo 1, Challenger, and Columbia, and all those who have lost their lives in the name of exploration...

Tomorrow is the anniversary of one of those days when you remember exactly where you were when it happened. I was in sixth grade on January 28, 1986, in my science class. We had a TV wheeled into our classroom, and we were watching the launch of the Challenger. Because the launch had been delayed several hours that morning, we in California would actually get to watch it live.

So we spent the whole week before talking about space travel and stars and things of that nature. My teacher had actually applied for the Teacher in Space program, so she was very interested in the launch.

And then we sat, and watched. We saw footage taped from earlier that morning as the crew walked out and boarded the shuttle. We listened to them talk about what the Challenger's mission was, and what science projects they had on board. And we sat in stunned silence, staring at the puff of white smoke with the two trails leading away, as the unthinkable occurred.

The only sound that broke the silence was my teacher, crying. A few minutes later the principal made an announcement to the entire school, telling everyone what had happened.

I'm sure there were a lot of kids who didn't really care one way or the other about the accident. But to anyone who was interested in the shuttle flight, astronauts, space, or explorers, it was a horrible lesson in the consequences of mistakes and stubbornness. It was also one of the first times that kids my age learned that not all heroes have happy endings.

Seventeen years later, my husband woke me up on a Saturday morning to tell me that "something had gone wrong" with the Columbia shuttle as it entered the atmosphere for its landing after a successful week-long mission. I got out of bed, turned on CNN, and spent the next few hours glued to the television. Even though NASA had not yet conclusively determined what had happened to the shuttle, it was very clear as I watched the multiple trails of smoke traveling across the video of the southern sky that the shuttle had been lost. I called my parents in California, woke them out of their morning sleep to tell them the news, and cried.

I rejoiced in August 2005 when Discovery safely returned to earth, successfully returning us to manned space flight. But our shuttles are old, and the safety rate (when you consider the number of manned flights vs. the number of accidents) isn't great. So there will always be a fear, and a prayer for the safety of the astronauts, and thankfulness for their safe return, every time a shuttle goes up.

This week is full of these memorials, for the Apollo 1 accident (Jan. 27), the Challenger disaster (Jan. 28), and the Columbia disaster (Feb. 1). I offer my continued thanks to everyone who is brave enough to become an astronaut, prayers for their safety, and this poem by John Gillespie Magee, Jr., called "High Flight" (President Reagan quoted from this poem after the Challenger disaster):

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sunsplit clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of; wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence, hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

God speed.

Great roll practice last night.

In our Memphis Whitewater community we've actually got several opportunities for pool practices. There is a class that teaches new paddlers to roll at one pool, and then there's a pool practice for those who can already roll. But newbies and experienced paddlers are really welcome at either location. For a place with little to no whitewater in the area, we've got a strong paddling group.

Anyway, this was only my second time in a boat since October, and the first time I've tried to roll. When we went out on the Loosahatchie a few weeks ago, I felt wobbly and unstable (basically like I had lost 20 pounds and hadn't been in my boat for two months), so I didn't roll. Last night, I felt I had to. I'm down 25 pounds now (yay me!) so I was still apprehensive when I first slid into the pool, but after paddling around for a few minutes, I got down to it. My husband said it was the most rolls and the best rolls he's ever seen me do. I didn't miss a single one, or even come close to not making them. It went a long way to boosting my confidence. Now I need to start practicing rolling without being set up first; I need to flip myself over with my paddle in unusual positions, since that seems to be when I flip over on the river. I never seem to be conveniently set up when I flip. *hmm* I also need to get out on an easy river, probably the Loosa again or the Spring (after all, it isn't redneck season on the Spring yet), and just find a good spot in current to roll again and again.

I've hit a couple of combat rolls before, but I seem to have a mental block on them now. Now, when I flip, I'm either so pissed at myself for screwing up that I just bail and pop my skirt, or I overthink my roll. You know, "OK, I'm upside-down. Dang. Guess I need to set up. Are my hands high enough out of the water? OK, now I need to rotate my wrists. OK, now I need to sweep." Meanwhile, I've drifted into a heavier part of the rapid, and thus I miss my roll when I try, so I bail anyway. I need to get to the point where the roll is so second-nature that I don't even think about it. My husband says he has to consciously make himself wait on his roll until his boat has settled, because his roll was so second-nature he'd start trying to roll before he was completely flipped over, so he'd miss his first attempt. Now he waits (not long; no reason to brain yourself on a rock), and his rolls are almost always successful first attempts.

I just get so frustrated when I flip over, because I feel like a failure. I know everyone flips, and I know "everyone is just between swims," but it still makes me feel like I've messed up somehow. I just need to get that out of my head.

Nice to spend some quality time in my boat, in a nice warm pool, with people who enjoy the same hobby we do. Good way to spend the evening...even if I did get to bed late because of it (damn my 4 a.m. wake-up time!).

The gym where I work out is very entertaining.

I finally witnessed one of those "America's Funniest Videos" moments at the gym the other day. Someone actually fell off the treadmill. It was one of the Ole Miss sorority girl types I've mentioned before. For some reason peculiar to her type, she was working out in a t-shirt, athletic shoes, and a denim miniskirt. I don't know if this is a new gym fashion trend or if she just forgot her shorts, but that alone was pretty funny. She started the treadmill, so it was running at around 4 miles per hour, but she had her feet on either side of the moving part so she could stretch. Another entertaining part was that she really couldn't reach her feet on either side of the treadmill very well because her skirt was so tight. So she stood on one foot, ostensibly so she could pull her other foot up behind her to stretch, but she lost her balance. Her foot came down on the moving treadmill and shot off behind her, spinning her around. She managed to keep her balance enough to not fall down, but she spun around the little rail on the one side of the treadmill and tipped off the side, knocking over a big oscillating fan that was standing next to the treadmill. It was hilarious. She was so embarrassed that she left the treadmill running, went and got a drink of water at the water fountain, and then picked out another treadmill at the other end of the room. I don't think she was blaming the treadmill; I think she was moving away from those of us who had been working out around her, since we were all snickering about the whole thing. There's a reason I don't run on the treadmill; I have a fear of doing exactly the same thing. Not the skirt part, but the falling off part. I don't run in a straight line, and I'm afraid I'll put a foot down too far to one side, and zippppp...

Then yesterday, my husband witnessed another interesting event at the gym. A fight broke out. Not on the basketball court or in the racquetball court, or anywhere you'd think there would be competition. No, it broke out on the track! There were a number of people jogging around the track. No one really noticed what started the fight, but everyone looked up to see a middle-aged gentleman, graying, possible mid-forties, and a much bigger, much younger guy, probably mid-twenties, duking it out in the middle of the track. Their shirts were torn, they had lacerations on their faces and were bleeding everywhere, and they didn't break it up until a few other gym patrons and the trainers got up there and separated them. Who knows what started it? It's possible that they knew each other outside the gym, and had some personal or family grudge to settle. But I'd like to think it was simple competition that drove them to it. One guy probably ran faster than the other guy. Maybe some comments were exchanged as they circled the track, things like "Hey, move out of the way pops, make way for the faster guy" or "Whoa, gettin' lapped by the old guy, huh?" Anyway, it's lucky they were on the track and not on the main floor where they could have heaved weights at each other. Or in the pool where one could have held the other one down until the bubbles stopped coming up. Eek. I know there's a lot of testosterone at the gym, but really.

Had a lovely Martin Luther King, Jr./Robert E. Lee holiday yesterday...

Yeah, that's right, you read it correctly. In at least Mississippi and Arkansas, the January holiday actually was first designated for Robert E. Lee, everyone's favorite Confederate. When the government created MLK Day, the South just tacked it onto the holiday they already had.

DOES ANYONE SMELL THE IRONY!?

It seems a bit bizarre to have a holiday jointly assigned to a Confederate general whose goal was obviously everything that King was trying to change. I bet somebody's rolling over in a grave about now.

At least in Tennessee they don't count the Lee holiday anymore. I think they are trying to atone for being the state that King was assassinated in. Gotta love Memphis. King died there, Elvis died there, but Jerry Lee Lewis is still around...

I'm just so tired of all the Confederate hype in this part of the country. Where else do people spend so much time fussing about the fact that they lost? (other than maybe France) I actually saw a bumper sticker that read, "Union 1, Conferedates 0, HALFTIME." Dude, if you are that in love with the Confederacy, why don't you move there? Oh wait, that's because they LOST! So why don't you just find a river, build a bridge, and GET OVER IT. I saw a bumper sticker for sale in Memphis that had the Confederate flag in a circle with a line through it, and it said, "You lost. Get over it." I'd buy it and put it on my car except someone would slash my tires.

They actually sell bumper stickers that read, "I ride with Forrest." Meaning Nathan Bedford Forrest, the guy who founded the KKK. Who are these idiots, and why are there so many of them? Are they like cockroaches and they breed quickly or something? I mean, good grief. Maybe we need to start loading those reenacters' guns with real bullets. You know, thin the population a little bit...jk.

Anyway, I have a dream too, just like King did. Only mine is that all these racist idiots will stop putting stupid bumper stickers on their cars and start educating themselves in the real world.

By golly, I was wrong.

Chicago simply did not play good enough football to hold off Carolina. I guess a really good defense can only do so much. Chicago just didn't have enough offense. So next week it's Carolina at Seattle (bet it'll rain) and Pittsburgh at Denver. Should be interesting. I still stand by my final prediction: Seattle vs. Denver.

Now I'm in the middle of watching 24. This is one of the greatest shows ever. Nothing like a cliffhanger every single episode. The only downside is you just can't miss an episode, or come in in the middle of the show. You've gotta see every minute. And Keifer Sutherland is just awesome. He just said one of the best lines of the show: "The only reason you are still conscious is because I don't want to carry you." This show is so cool...

Poor Indianapolis.

What a terrible end to their season. They were arguably the best team in the league through 90% of the season. Then San Diego proves they are mortal after all. Suddenly other teams have been given the key to the pantry, so to speak. They play less than stellar football the last few games of the season. They are dealt a horrific blow with the sudden suicide of coach Tony Dungy's son. They get their bye week, sit back to relax and regroup, and then come in and play uninspired football at the moment they need their abilities the most. At the end, just when it seemed there was a light at the end of the tunnel and they had a shot to tie the game and go to overtime, Vanderjagt, the most accurate kicker in the NFL, shanks one from a totally makeable distance. And with that, the season is over.

I guess in the AFC championship game, I've gotta root for Denver. Sure, they are a division rival for my Chargers, but I was also born in Denver, and if the Chargers aren't going to the dance, at least their neighbors can. Only one game left to set up the championship games; let's see if the Bears can resurrect the '85 shufflers to do some work. My prediction: Bears 28, Panthers 17.

On to Detroit...(Seattle vs. Denver)

Have you ever watched children trying to play nicely with each other?

It's really funny. My niece loves to have people play with her, but they have to play her way. She dictates the rules and directs the scenario. If she gets too bossy and you quit playing with her, she tries to act extra sweet to convince you to play again.

You'd think it was just a small kid thing, and that they'd learn to play well with others later in life. But no. Our girls at school are preparing for their "Spirit Week", a competition between the grades to show how much class and school spirit they all have. They are required to make a class t-shirt and banner, they must decorate their lockers, and they must write and perform a skit and songs. This means every member of each class must participate and help out. They are all on committees, and each committee handles a part of the requirements. So far, in the 9th graders' efforts, we've had some conflict on the skit committee, and the banner and locker committees are panicking. You see, several of the girls took it upon themselves to write part of the script for the skit. But another girl didn't think it was funny. She wanted to rewrite some of the parts with the help of another girl, who actually thought the skit was funny and didn't want to tell this other girl because she thought the other girl would get mad. So she told her she'd help rewrite it, but then she didn't, and now all the girls are mad at each other. And that's just the skit! The banner committee has a 10x17 foot banner to make. They have about an acre of different colors of butcher paper spread out over the floor in my classroom, and they are frantically creating and recreating their design. Gradually, as students give up and go home for the day, those who are left behind become more and more desperate, and are snappish with each other. Meanwhile, the girls responsible for the locker decorations have taken over the hallway outside my room, and are measuring, cutting, sketching, and trying not to glue themselves to the floor. The only committee not freaking out right now is the song committee, which tells me that they haven't done anything, and therefore haven't started panicking yet.

Anyway, it's amazing how these girls work. They all talk about each other behind each other's backs. When they are talking to the person they don't like, they are as sweet as pie, but as soon as she walks away...mrow ftt ftt! (cat fight) Sometimes I'm glad I don't teach boys, but at least when boys are mad, they punch each other, get it over with, and make up. The hormones in my classroom would kill a normal human being, someone who isn't usually exposed to such levels.

Spirit Week is next week. I have to survive until Friday. Pray for me...

Went kayaking today...

Seems odd to be in a boat on a river in January, especially since I was just skiing two weeks ago in Wyoming. My general rule is that if it is cold enough for water to freeze then you should be involved with a sport ON TOP of said water, not IN it. And if the weather today had been unpleasant at all, I would have been the first to back out. But in one of the more unusual winter twists in the South, it was 70 degrees today. Windy, but the river (and I use the term loosely) was down in a little ravine, so most of the wind just blew over the top of us.

Now, this was no mighty river, because if it was, I wouldn't have been on it. I have really only been kayaking for about a year and a half, and I am still definitely a beginner. The biggest river I've done is the Nantahala in North Carolina, and that's only class II (with a class III rapid at the end). I've got a great Eskimo roll (in the pool--I've only got two combat rolls to my name), but I am a chicken and I do not like the thought of lingering pain and death so I am slow to move up in difficulty. Anyway, this was on the Loosahatchie River in Fayette County, TN. Not a bad drive from our neck of the woods (better than driving over into Arkansas in search of a creek to run, or to eastern Tennessee in search of real rivers). The locals have taken and piled rocks in the river underneath a bridge, forming a narrow, deep channel with little waves. My husband and one of our fellow paddlers spent their time playing in the waves and the little eddies on either side of the channel, doing stern squirts and rolling with abandon despite the chilly water (I said the air was 70, not the river). I paddled around below the channel, where the current had mostly dissipated, ferrying back and forth across the river and waiting until I felt comfortable enough to move up into the current and try some peel outs and ferrying in the faster water. I don't know why I was so reluctant; this was barely class I water and, like I said, I have done one class III before (although I did it outside my boat; I swam just above Nanty Falls and went though the indignity of having all those spectators on the boardwalk watch me float on by). To my credit, I haven't been in my boat in three months, and since the last time I've lost 20 lbs so my boat is now handling very differently than before. I'm just low on confidence right now, for some reason. I need to go to a few nice, easy rivers to work on my roll in the river; maybe that will help my confidence. We'll see.

Anyway, it did feel nice to get back in my boat. My goal as far as my weight is concerned is to be within the weight range for my boat (a LL Lil Joe) by May. I've only got 15 more pounds; hopefully if I get that by March (when I'll be free of my swim coaching obligation for the school year) I'll be able to go hit some local spots and get used to my boat again before summer.

The real downside to kayaking in the South is that you have few options. The only reliable rivers are those that are fed by dams or springs. Everything else is rain dependent. We haven't had much rain recently, so nothing this winter is up. All the other stuff is a long drive from home, so we have to have a long vacation to take such a trip. That doesn't happen much. We'd love to live somewhere with more kayaking options, but of course then we'd have to get used to colder weather paddling; that's the sort of stuff that runs year round in Colorado and places like that. Oh well.

Well, at least I've gotten some river in my system. Hopefully I can get in the water a little more soon. Someday you'll see me bombing down Double Trouble on the Ocoee. Not someday anytime soon, but someday...

My pirate name is:

Black Bess Kidd

Like anyone confronted with the harshness of robbery on the high seas, you can be pessimistic at times. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

I've just gotta post the lyrics to this song. It's on The Essential Johnny Cash, and I have to admit, I wept unashamedly when I heard it in the car. It's called "Ragged Old Flag".

I walked through a county courthouse square,
On a park bench an old man was sitting there.
I said, "Your old courthouse is kinda run down."
He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town."
I said, "Your old flagpole has leaned a little bit,
And that's a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it."

He said, "Have a seat," and I sat down.
"Is this the first time you've been to our little town?"
I said, "I think it is." He said, "I don't like to brag,
But we're kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag.

"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there when
Washington took it across the Delaware.
And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it writing 'Say Can You See'.
And it got a bad rip in New Orleans
With Packingham and Jackson tuggin' at its seams.

"And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on though.
She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag.

"On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha gun.
She turned blood red in World War II.
She hung limp and low by the time it was through.
She was in Korea and Vietnam.
She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam.

"She waved from our ships upon the briny foam,
And now they've about quit waving her back here at home.
In her own good land here she's been abused --
She's been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused.

"And the government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land.
And she's getting threadbare and wearing thin,
But she's in good shape for the shape she's in.
'Cause she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more.

"So we raise her up every morning, take her
down every night.
We don't let her touch the ground and we fold
her up right.
On second thought, I do like to brag,
'Cause I'm mighty proud of the Ragged Old Flag."

Something there is that doesn't love a sick person...

Especially a teacher. It sucks being sick, but when you have a normal job you can be sick and call in to stay home. When you are a teacher, it is actually more work to stay home than it is to go in and teach. When you realize you are sick, you have some phonecalls to make. First, you have to call your supervisor (in our case, the dean of our upper school) and tell that person why you can't come in. Then, you must call the substitute list or the service that provides the subs for the school. You must tell them who you are, what you teach, how many classes you teach, where your classroom is, where to park, where to find all the materials to take care of your classes, how many students are in each class, and what your classroom policies are. And then you must give them the details about what they should do for 50 minutes for each one of your classes. Heck, it's easier for me to drag my sorry self out of bed, dose myself with medication, and come in. If I'm so desperately sick that I can't teach, I can give them a nice, long, time-killing assignment to do while I sit and meditate on how miserable my life has become.

There is a huge difference in how my juniors and seniors handle my illnesses compared to my freshmen. When I dragged myself in to school with a fever, the juniors and seniors said, "You look like you aren't feeling very good. Is there anything we can do for you? You should go home." The freshmen looked at me and said, "You look terrible. I don't understand last night's homework. What was I supposed to do again? Can I turn it in after class because I don't have it done?" The freshmen are still a bit centered on themselves (much like my dog) and therefore my illness does not pose them any immediate concerns.

If I left the freshmen with a sub, they would learn to appreciate me more. My juniors and seniors have been left with subs before, and they understand that we have no way of predicting who will come to sub their class, what those person's qualifications will be, and how they will handle the class. I had one sub who ignored my carefully designed lesson plans and read children's books to the girls (they were 9th graders at the time, and the sub read them If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and other such books). Another asked a student to braid her (the sub's) hair for her. A third informed the students that they should meet her son, who was about their age and had (no lie; direct quote) "luscious lips". OK, if my parents had ever told anyone that about me, I would have DIED. The girls were horrified. When I came back, they greeted me at the door with hugs and the exhortation that I would never leave them with a sub again.

Thankfully, this morning my temperature was normal, and so I came to work. All the older girls solicitously asked me if I was feeling better. Only one freshman even bothered. I guess I was still alive, and that's all they needed to know...

Loved my vacation but glad to be home...

Whew. My husband and I got home this afternoon after a very long drive (from Wyoming to Mississippi). I had a wonderful time in Wyoming for Christmas, but someone needs to invent a quick, reliable, and inexpensive method of travel, because driving just is not it. Our poor dog. During the first day of driving, he'd get excited every time we'd decelerate, thinking that we were "there" (he had no idea where "there" was, but he wanted to be "there" anyway). He'd get up, stand on the center console, and survey the scene, and then disappointedly return to his blanket to lay back down until the next change in velocity. By the end of the second day of driving, he didn't even bother to get up. Even when I asked him, "Where are we? Are we home?" he clearly didn't believe me until I actually hooked his leash to his harness. He was SO happy to be home. We were too.

It was a nice vacation. My parents and brother came out from California to Wyoming, where my in-laws live. My husband and I drove out from here in the Mid South, and my brother-in-law came home from his freshman year of college. We were only missing my sister-in-law's family to make it complete, but it was their turn to go to her in-laws' house instead. We ate and ate and ate and ate and...well, I'm sure you get the idea; let's just say the 21 lbs I had lost prior to the trip is somewhat diminished. At least when I go back to the gym all the sorority girls will be gone!

The only downsides to the trip were the duration of the drive to get there, the lack of snow (there was barely any on the ground anywhere; we saw some higher up in the mountains and at the ski resort, but they are having unusually warm weather and most of it had melted off), and the behavior of my dog.



I have a six-year-old neutered male Shiba Inu (if you've never heard of them, look 'em up; they are incredibly cute as puppies, very attractive as adults, and complete pains in the butt as far as their behavior is concerned) and his behavior over the week was, shall we say, undesirable. He escaped the house three days in a row. The first two days he had to be tricked back into the house with food (leave a trail of breadcrumbs or, more truthfully, tuna, and he'll eventually give in to greed and come in). The third day I think he had decided all the fun was gone (none of us would go out and chase him; we just ignored him the whole time) and so he just came in after about a hour of his own accord.

He also tormented my brother-in-law's Sheltie. Every time there was a treat or some food involved, my dog would jump on the Sheltie, snarling and growling. The poor Sheltie was a victim of an attack by several dogs in their neighborhood when he was younger, and he has back problems so he's a bit gimpy, and the result of the attacks by my dog (no biting, just snarling and wrestling) was that the Sheltie would go hide behind a chair and quiver in fear while my dog got what he wanted (he also got scolded, but unfortunately he could give a rat's butt if we scold him--his temperament is very much like a Siamese cat: worship me from afar and I may deign to pay attention to you if I feel like it).

If that wasn't enough, he also got snappy with my brother and my husband. My brother reached down to pet the dog while he had a treat on the floor between his feet, and apparently the dog felt that this was a threat. He responded the same way he did with the Sheltie: he lashed his head towards my brother's hand (but never actually bit or made contact) and snarled. He did the same thing to my husband on the drive home. He was in the back seat, scratching at a raw spot on his cheek (I'm sure it will mean a vet visit if he doesn't leave it alone). My husband reached around the seat to poke at the dog and get him to stop scratching, and the dog snapped and snarled again. We are now looking at shock collars and other possibilities to correct these behaviors; if you have any suggestions I'd be happy to hear them.

Well, time to unpack. Guess I'll be spending a lot of time at the gym this week...