I scared the guts out of my pumpkin. I'm eating them right now.





Too bad I can't have this affect on my sixth period students.





He's just so cute, isn't he?


Looking at him now...he looks a little happier than I thought. Maybe he's laughing and not gasping in fright. Hmm.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.



O Divine Master, grant that I may not so

much seek to be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is giving that we receive,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

And it is in dying that we are born

to eternal life.

-St. Francis of Assisi

Yeah. I am this immature.

It being October and all, I figured I'd pay the month o' fright a little tribute of my own. I was thinking tonight and came to the conclusion that if I ever make a horror film I will call it "The Side of the Road," a title at least as creative as the title of recent fright films that give away the entire plot in the title. Yeah, you know what I mean.

There are, of course, the normal scary things on the side of the road: the straggly hitchhiker/killer, dismembered animals, and so on. But those won't make an appearance in my film. No, I will focus on the truly frightening.

Have you ever been driving along when all of a sudden--there, in the road ahead of you--is a single shoe? I have always wondered how that happens. Does someone hold it out the window and accidentally let go? Or is the shoe thrown out the window in anger? Does it fall off of the owner's foot that for some reason is hanging out the window as the car zips down the freeway at 80 mph? It seems just as likely that the shoes have appeared for some far less innocent purpose, far more frightening for being unrevealed.

The other day I was driving to work and noticed along the side of the road 10-15 brightly colored stuffed gorillas. There was a cobalt blue one with red ears, a magenta gorilla with orange ears, and so on. Not one was the same as the other, and there they lay in a single file line against the median. Creepy, right?

They reminded me of The Wigs. Last year, on three seperate ocassions, my car found itself haunted by a wig. How the same wig managed to track me down three times still baffles me, but there it was. If I ever make a horror film, it may just be staring The Wig.

And if it's not overkill, the horror film would also involve The Baby Shoes. A few years back enroute to Sacramento from So Cal, I drove through a quarter mile stretch of freeway littered with hundreds and hundreds of identical baby shoes. I'm sure there's a logical explanation behind them, but they definitely would make for a good clip in a horror film of the caliber of the Shining. Just thinking about it now makes my skin crawl.

Finally, and perhaps the scariest of them all, the representation of all that is wrong with suburbia and the folks who care more about their perfectly manicured lawns and the wax job on their Lexus than the status of their souls: the sign-twirler. Seriously. Driving through my over-grown suburban town on a Saturday afternoon, I find myself wondering where these people come from. I can understand the teenage boys rocking out with the Mr. Pickles' Sandwich Shop signs...but the middle-aged women salsa dancing on the corner of the major intersection nearest my house? Down-right terrifying. Or the man who bears his midriff each time he raises the sign for the smoothie shop: definitely shudder-worthy. What if it turns out that these sign-twirlers are capable of reproducing like rabbits?

Oh, man. I'm freaking myself out. It looks like my film will never grow beyond infancy--it's way too frightening for me to stomach.

One of the fellow teachers at my school blogs. She is funny, irreverent and makes me realize I'm not alone!

You can check her out at A Yarning to Write. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You may be a little shocked. But it's definitely worth the looksy.

Disclaimer: My teacher friend is definitely not a Christian. She is definitely not a Republican. She definitely likes swear words. And did I mention that she writes vampire novels chock full of erotic sex scenes? Her blog is not for the easily offended or the faint of heart.

And so do high school students.

This Monday one of my 10th grade students walked in and said rather proudly, "Guess what I did this weekend, Ms. D?"

He said it with such pride and such a sense of relevancy that I assumed it was something related to my class, or at least to school or academics.

I responded, "What did you do this weekend?"

His response--still proud and confident--left me speechless and completely baffled.

"I shaved my stomach."

"I have never let my schooling interfer with my education." --Mark Twain

I spent about 20 hours in meetings last week learning about a new program my district is instituting to attempt to reach our lowest performing kids. It's actually a promising program, one that appears to be fairly research-based and full of promise. One huge piece of this program is that students meet one-on-one with a mentor several times a week--the more contact these kids have with an adult who cares about them, the better they do. That seems self-evident to me, but now hundreds of thousands of dollars have provided the research needed to confirm it.

As I was sitting in these meetings, one of the women who holds a very high position in the district came to deliver data about our students' performance. First, she made the point that our students with low socioeconomic histories were performing the lowest--this group including most minorities. She then told us our white and asian students were performing better--at less than a 50% pass rate on all standardized tests!

Then she said something really interesting.

"The longer students stay in our school system, the worse they do."

How true and how sad!

One day earlier this week, I spent an hour by myself at lunch, enjoying Panera Bread, savoring the sun and digesting good poetry. Compared to the boring meetings I’d been stuck in all week, this hour alone was like a small taste of heaven. For some reason this morning on the way out the door, I grabbed a small collection of poems by T.S. Eliot for reading if the occasion arose. I had to read T.S. Eliot a few years back, and found myself entranced with the beauty of the language that he used—but completely lost as to what he meant. I would catch these glimpses of images, but they were transient and ethereal images, fading away as quickly as they materialized in my mind. At the time, I was in class with people a year ahead of me, people who seemed to be such experts at understanding all things lofty, who left me feeling ignorant and inadequate.

Perhaps it was because I was feeling lethargic and a bit trapped because of the meetings I’d been in all day or perhaps it was the romantic notion of eating lunch by myself in front of a book of poetry, but for some reason, I found myself caught up in Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”

The copy of T.S. Eliot poems that I have is an older edition, one that I bought at a used bookstore (Beers of Sacramento—best used bookstore in town). I love used books, especially ones that were previously owned by intelligent people, people who took note of their intelligent thoughts in the margins!

It’s a long poem, one that most of you do not want to read. But let me share just a few pieces.

He begins with this image:

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming questions…
Oh, do not ask, ‘What is it?’
Let us go and make our visit.

I am from bookcases overflowing with old musty hard covers, from David Sunflower seeds with Daddy and homemade lizard food with Mom.

I am from a small house holding too much, its corners bursting with junk mail but always willing to hold more people—family or strangers; from living room tables damaged by nail polish remover.

I am from sun ripened tomato plants whose fruit I would eat still warm from the vine, the cherry tree at the very back of the kiwi orchard where the cousins and I held secret club meetings.

I am from political discussions over turkey and ham, and big noses and dark eyelashes, from Foo, Kennedy, LaWanda and Geraldyne.

I am from insatiable curiousity and I-am-always-right;

From You Can Do Anything You Put Your Mind To and You’re a Teenager and We Can Tell.

I am from cold folding chairs and warm gray heads serving potluck dinners, from stained-glass windows and floor vents made for twirling in Sunday dresses, from the Lord’s Supper in small wooden chalices and sharing Awana bucks with friends.

I'm from Southern California and Ireland; the Mayflower and Alabama, freshly picked peaches and so many cherries it makes your stomach hurt.

From the daughter of a murdering Blackfoot Indian, the woman who wrote letters to a sailor and fell in love, the little girl who won a photo contest by posing nude, and the woman paid to model exercise equipment despite her age.

I am from grandmother’s cupboards stuffed full of photos my parents couldn’t afford, from love and faithfulness far more tightly bound than any photo album.

Greetings, yet again from around the globe!
After a short five (??) days at home, I jumped back on a jet plane to Bucharest, Romania.

This will be a very brief update, as I have a very very small amount of time to email.

The first few days here were very relaxed. We did little more than hang out, sleep and go to church. It still amazes me when I realize that God doesn't only speak English! (Yes, at times I can be that dense.)

Monday and today were ministry days. My team is here primarily as support for what is already happening at these orphanages in Romania, so we do whatever the CTL staff tells us. We have been to three orphanages so far, and I've actually been surprised at how easy it is to play with the kids! They are loving and eager to have fun. I have a hard time putting what I see into what I know of the over all picture: these happy, playful children as products of Communism, left in some form or other parentless and rejected by society.

The thing that has most excited me about this trip was completely unexpected--I made new friends! There are several girls who are here for several weeks to a couple of months as interns. It's their job to show us around and hang out with us and the kids. And I am IN LOVE with them. I was truly delighted to meet them and do hope that we are able to maintain correspondence once we're back in the states.

Please continue to pray for HEALTH! I did get sick on the plane ride here and was miserable all day Sunday and most of MOnday. I'm definitely on the mend now, but we had a late night (one I'm making later by doing this, though I have little choice--I'm last in line for the showers, which can only handle one person at a time for water pressure). And my left eye lid is itching like crazy! I can't figure out what is wrong with it...it looks fine, but man-oh-man does it itch! One of our students broke a tooth and had to have it fixed by a Romanian dentist, but it looks like it is healing fine.

Please also pray that we are able to set aside time as a team to process things and talk about what we're seeing. It's been so busy that there has been very little of that, at least as a whole team. Also pray that we're making what should be the big issues the big issues in our lives, and that we don't get consumed by insignificant details.

Thanks, all.
Love,
Danielle

As soon as we stepped off the train in Paris, we knew we were in for it (whatever that phrase means...). Everything was in FRENCH! It was my first real taste of what an English language learner must feel like--everything was intimidating and loud and frustrating. We waited in several of the wrong lines before we found the right one to purchase metro tickets and get a map. We could see the street where our hotel was on the map, and found the right Metro exit (by this point, we were gaining confidence in our Underground abilities--we even figured out how to do it French!). We were wearing those 20 pound packs again and started hiking down the street toward the street our hotel was on. And we walked. And we walked. I kept saying I thought we went too far, but none of the other streets we saw were on our map. Finally, we found someone to ask. I used my little French phrase book to say 'where?' and pointed to the street's name. The kind woman rattled off to us in French but pointed energetically behind us: we had to walk all the way back. Finally, we found the street--directly across from our Metro station!

We walked through the Latin Quarter, finding a shop called Shakespeare's Corner that has been the home to poor expatriate writers for decades. The owner seems a bit of a hippy, who houses struggling writers for free or very cheap. Hemingway and others have found refuge in this English bookstore. We were invited to a poetry reading...I felt the call of the muse, but V felt the call of Bertillions. Berthillons (I can't remember how to spell the name!) is famous for it's ice cream, and it seemed far more pressing than listening to a reading of Yeats.

We saw the Louvre (it was HOT and there were and impossible number of stairs. And, yes, I believe that's what I'll forever remember most about it.). We took a terrible tourist boat ride (stinky!) with a bunch of high school kids (loud!) and a couple that couldn't keep their tongues off each others' necks (gross!).

We saw Notre Dame and a few other museums...but I am out of time. (But don't let me forget to tell you about the World Cup!) For now... th-th-th-that's all folks!

Ciao from Rome! I have been without internet for nearly two weeks, and not because of viruses as father supposes, but because I am staying in cheap hotels with no available internet! Here in Rome is the first time we have had internet IN our hotel (and it costs 2.50 per hour to use!). And as far as my spelling, I did figure that I would fix it up when time allowed, as at Oxford there was usually a line of people waiting behind me to use the comptuer so I had to type Speedy Gonzalez style. In addition, the keyboards here are WEIRD to my American fingers and the words do not come out quite the way I expect (for instance, I cannot find the apostrophe, so I am typing much more formally now than I typically would--no contractions!)

We are into the last week of our trip; just a few short (long?) days left. I'll (found the apostrophe key!) go back, though, and tell you a bit about Salisbury, Wincester and London, first, though my most eager audience is on an adventure of their own currently!

In Salisbury, V and I stayed in a most delightful bed and breakfast. It was disgustingly cute, with roses everywhere and cute tea cups in our rooms. In Salisbury, we took a tower tour of their cathedral. It was slendid! The cathedral was massively huge, bigger than most buildings found in American, and had been built entirely without our modern machinery. One neat thing that we got to see was how the people reuse their supplies. There was a fire that destroyed part of the building, but as much of the wood as possible was salvaged and reused, leaving the burnt parts visible. When the arches began to bend inward, the people took an old ship's mast, cut it in half, and used it to support the roof.

In Wincester, V and I saw Jane Austen's house. It was nice...but I was preoccupied with my dreadful shoes. Blisters and cramps, oh my! And we had to hurry half an hour there, rush through the house, then hurry back a half hour walk to make our bus...with our 20 pound packs on our back!! CRAZY!!

We finally made it to London that evening, where we stayed with some of V's quasi-relatives, Ann, Mae and Robert (and baby Francine Batina). They're all Filipino, trying to gain UK citizenship. They took good care of us, feeding us way TOO much (so much for this trip being a time for me to start eating healthy!) and driving us to and from the station. V's 2nd cousin Jun Jun was staying with them, too. We had many fun conversations with them in the evenings about the differences between America, the UK and the Phillipines.

London, London, London. It's a big city, probably the biggest city I had ever navigated on my own. V and I took the metro everywhere. The Tube runs fast, efficiently and reliably, but is often so crowded that we'd spend our whole ride standing rather than trying to scavenge a seat when people stood to leave. We saw so much in London, that it would be impossible for me to recount it all here, in the time I have, so a few highlights...

We saw Westminster Abbey, which was a beautiful, ornate cathedral, but one that rather depressed me with it's focus on the state and not on God. We did see the tombs of many kings and queens, including Henry V (gotta love that Kenneth Branagh ;) ). Geoffrey Chaucer's grave was there, as was a memorial to many other poets and writers.

We spent a good amount of time wandering through parks. It's amazing that a city has such massive parks built right in (of course, most of them were originally intended as royal grounds of some sort!). And the PIGEONS! (Feed the birds, tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag...).

Perhaps my favorite event was seeing the Globe theater and watching a Shakespeare play. V and I were groundlings, so we had to stand for the entirety of the three plus hour _Antony and Cleopatra_. Neither of us had read the play, so we little knew what to expect. I've also never seen Shakespeare performed live professionally. I was BLOWN AWAY! Antony and Cleopatra, as people, were a bit annoying--so caught up in their love affairs that the neglated their countries. And Cleopatra was a big-time whiner! The story was far more crude than I think I would have understood if I'd read it, and far more emotional. We watched the first half standing with our backs against the seating area behind us and the second have pressed against the stage, resting our chins and elbows on the stage, just inches from where the players would walk. The play with its silly too-passionate characters had me in tears many times! It was easy for me to imagine how often I would be drawn to the theater if I were a true English peasant in Shakespeare's day. During the three hours of the play, I nearly forgot everything else, including the fact that the people next to me were quite stinky! (I did say nearly...I sprayed my orange body spray on my arm to cover up the smell of sweet sweat! I felt at one with the original groundlings, who would buy oranges to smell instead of their neighbors.)

As a side note, I think I asked directions from Prince William in disguise as a policeman, watched guards on horses, saw some of Jane Austen's original manuscripts and the earliest complete edition of the New Testament and saw more naked people than I've ever wished to see (don't worry, they were all paintings or sculptures!).

From there, we took a train to Paris. On the train, while I was sleeping, the lady next to me swatted me awake with her magazine. Hmm. She only spoke French and was trying not to laugh with her husband across the way. I'm thinking maybe I was snoring?

My time is nearly up here...I'll see if I can get in a quick post about Paris, though!

Hello!
I finally figured out how to bring back post titles...haha. Looks like I'll have to go back through my other posts and adjust 'em all!

Valerie and I will be leaving Oxford in the morning, but as Valerie said, it seems our IQs have gained several points just by being IN Oxford!

First, a bit about our hostel. Valerie booked us for a six bed all female dorm. When we arrived yesterday, we found that though they had our reservation, they had put us in a mixed dorm. They didn't mention that fact, but showed us into a room where a guy was sleeping! Valerie explained what we had requested, and they completely understood, but the all female dorm was full. They ended up moving two of the permanent males from their room that held six other female staff and letting us take those beds. Needless to say, it was a very awkward start! We were so uncomfortable here. Fortunately, tonight is much better. We have our correct room and we are able to interact with others who are just passing through and don't feel like we're invading someone else's bedroom. The people here are very friendly and it feels very safe. (That's for you, Mom--but it's true!) There's a kitchen and common area to share, which is why I'm able to do some posting here.

This morning, Valerie and I took a self-guided C.S. Lewis tour. We were able to see places that Lewis frequented, many of them with Tolkien or Dryson. Magdalen (say: Maudlin) was closed, so we wandered through a lovely park and played a bit on a fun carousel. We stopped in a cememtery that was beautiful for its history and wonderful blend of nature and graves. Many of the headstones were leaning erratically, others had already toppled and most were nearly covered by ivy, moss or weeds. At this cemetery we saw the graves of Charles Williams and Kenneth Graham (Wind in the Willows!). After lunching on food bought from a local supermarket, we ran into Lisa (the girl I sat next to on the plane), and we did some souvenir shopping with her before we headed back to Magdalen College, where Lewis was a fellow. It was amazing! Valerie and I took lots of pictures, though I'm worried that I won't remember what all of them are. We saw the windows of Lewis' room (He lived in the New Building. The one that was completed in 1733. Holy crap!) and walked along the path that he walked during the conversation he had with Dryson and Tolkien the day before his conversion. Along this path we were chased by ducks--a very scary experience!

By the end my very expensive sandals were KILLING my feet. Uh-oh. I'm not sure what I'll do about that; the problem is, I think, psychological. My left foot felt great, but I had difficulty not tensing my right big toe. I'm giving them a break tomorrow, for sure. I may end up shoe shopping in London!

Tomorrow we go to Salisbury to see a cathedral. Next day we'll be at Wincester, where we'll see many Jane Austen sites.

Thanks again for your prayers!

Happy Father's Day, Dad!!! I'm glad you're my daddy and I love you! I hope you enjoy your other daughter and your grandkiddos today!

Love, Danielle

Just a quick update from Oxford!

Hannah and Valerie met me at LAX. From there, we headed to Denny's for a long leisurely breakfast. It was so nice to be reunited with friends! Hannah was sad that she couldn't be going with us, but still excited for us to be able to go. After Denny's we tried to go the beach, but the traffic was terrible, so we hung out at Border's briefly. And of course, we got a cop to take a picture of us outside of the airport!

Valerie and I had an easy flight, though neither of us were able to get any significant sleep. We haven't slept (or brushed our teeth) for thirty hours! We met a young English teacher named Lisa who was traveling by herself. She was meeting up with a tour group in the morning. How scary!! I'm so glad that I have Valerie here to help find things with!

At Heathrow airport, we met some of Valerie's family to give them a suitcase full of gifts packed by her aunt...unfortunately British Airways misplaced it!! They promised it would be sent shortly to Val's relative's house. Keeping our fingers crossed!#

From there we took a train to Hayes...a pretty "ghetto" seeming part of London. We tried to help an Asian woman who spoke NO English find her train...but we had no idea what we were doing and I'm afraid we completely mislead her! We prayed that someone kind and more knowledgable than us would come quickly to guide her! As we waited on the train platform, Express trains would zoom passed us, making both Valerie and I jump and sending out hair and any loose papers flying everywhere. They are loud and VERY FAST! We finally found our train, boarded and sat next to a lovely father and daughter, John and Caroline, who were on their way to watch the girls rowing competition (regatta?). They were wonderful and gave us many fabulous tips and even better conversation for nearly forty minutes.

Once they left, it was just Val and I in our area...and I found myself falling asleep on accident!

That brings us to Oxford. Today we saw Christ's Church and ate dinner (Beer-battered fish and chips) in the Eagle and Child--the very pub that C.S. Lewis, Tolkien and the other Inklings used to gather at. So exciting (and yummy!).

I'll have to fill you in on the rest of Oxford later.

Keep praying for us please!

Kitties

We rescued some very cute kittens this weekend, and I wanted to throw some pictures of them on to the web.

This is Bonnie and Clyde.
(Actually...we don't have a name for the girl yet, and we've been calling the boy "Bruiser.")
Bruiser is a manly man, and lil' girl is still not at full health. Her eyes are full of disgusting gunk that makes me very sad.


And this is Josephine March. At least, that was her name until I found out my future roommate already has a cat named Jo and I decided that's just a bit too weird.


Any suggestions on kitty names?

I'm a gross person.

My guess is that most of you are.

But I'm going to parade my grossness on the internet, right now.

So, I was cleaning my room today. My normally messy room had gone so far beyond messy that it was starting to stress me out. The first thing I did was go through old clothes and bag up some things to take to the Goodwill. Then I went on to go through my shoes and see which ones I need to get rid of.

That's when I found this.





Yup. That's mold in the right shoe.

I thought you'd all enjoy...

The Meaning Behind the Title

Because I know you're all dying to know. :)

In "The Ethics of Elfland" in Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton says "Fairyland is nothing but the sunny country of common sense. It is not earth that judges heaven, but heaven that judges earth; so for me at least it was not earth that criticised elfland, but elfland that criticised the earth. I knew the magic beanstalk before I had tasted beans; I was sure of the Man in the Moon before I was certain of the moon. This was at one with all popular tradition. Modern minor poets are naturalists, and talk about the bush or the brook; but the singers of the old epics and fables were supernaturalists, and talked about the gods of brook and bush. That is what the moderns mean when they say that the ancients did not "appreciate Nature", because they said that Nature was divine. Old nurses do not tell children about the grass, but about the fairies that dance on the grass; and the old Greeks could not see the trees for the dryads."

A bit of the old magic is still in this world--and I love it when I spot it.

But really, I just chose the title because I like it. Elfland, here I come!