Would You Die For a Lie?: A fat jolly man, Dolly's boobies, some flying reindeer, and a baby

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens, a big fat jolly man with a white beard, presents, food,  gingerbread houses, and snowmen.  It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...except...where is Jesus in all of this?  Before you get your panties in a twist (and I HATE the word panties) I am fully aware that our Christmas cards this year were Mr. and Mrs. Clause on the beach.  I LOVE the idea of Santa, and I am sure our kids will have just as much fun believing in Santa as I did as a kid.  At the same time, we must all remember the reason why we have this Holiday, the birth of Christ.

You may be someone who does not believe in the Truth of Christ, but celebrate Christmas as a time for families, laughter, and love.  This is a wonderful time for peace on earth, family traditions,  joy, and togetherness.  You may also find yourself in a "Holiday Slump" during this season, because you may have lost a loved one, are away from family and friends, or nostalgic for the days when Christmas felt a little more cheerful.  Whatever the case may be, I urge you all to remember the reason why this Holiday exists.  His birth is the true reason why we are able to celebrate at all; He is the reason why we will live eternally. 

Adam and I recently watched a History 2 show on "The Universe," and like many who watch shows about the infinite universe, my mind began to think of my own mortality.  After watching my Grandpa slip away into an eternal sleep a few short months ago, the image of him in pain still haunts my dreams.  I find myself reminiscing through our wedding photos to allow respite from the images which have been engrained in my mind.  Death is not something I have ever felt at peace with, and I suppose it is because the unknown scares the shit out of me.  The one truth that calms my soul is that I have solid faith that God is the ultimate creator of our Universe, and that Jesus Christ is who He claimed to be.  This brings me back to the fact that I need not worry.  "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." Luke 2:10-14

So this baby named Jesus grows up, performs miracles, is murdered for claiming to be God, and then raises from the dead???  Well as sure as I am that Dolly Parton has fake boobies, I know this to be true.
After all, many people were gruesomely murdered for preaching the Gospel of Jesus after he rose from death.  Any one of them could have lived if they decided to denounce their faith in Jesus, however they chose not to.  WHY??  The simple answer is because these people did not die for a lie - these people must have seen something that made them choose their cruel death over denouncing their faith.

Here are just a few that were murdered...did they die for a lie?  Would you?

1. Andrew - crucified
2. Bartholomew - beaten then crucified
3. James, son of Alphaeus - stoned to death
4. James, son of Zebedee - beheaded
5. John - exiled for his faith; died of old age
6. Judas (not Iscariot) - stoned to death
7. Matthew - speared to death
8. Peter - crucifed upside down
9. Philip - crucified
10. Simon - crucified
11. Thomas - speared to death
12. Matthias - stoned to death
(source: Fox's Book of Martyrs

Here is something else to nibble on...READY???

Good old James...brother of Jesus.

James, who was Jesus' half brother was notorious for denouncing Jesus' validity up until the day he was murdered.  John 7:5 "For His brothers did not believe in Him."  After Jesus rose from the dead,  James preached the Gospel until the day he was beheaded.  Why???  Because Jesus appeared to him after rising from the dead.

1Co 15:7 Afterward He was seen by James.... "

SO ummmm yeah about that whole I don't believe my brother thing...after seeing that his dead brother is now alive, that changes things a bit.

 On to my man PAUL...the Christian Hater. 

Paul, known previously as Saul,  persecuted Christians to the death.  In fact, he was dedicated to the persecution of the early disciples in the area of Jerusalem.   SO WHY THE CHANGE OF HEART?
According to his own words, Jesus appeared to Him on the way to Damascus (to round up Christians - see Acts, Chapter 9) and after seeing Jesus alive after death, his life was no longer the same.

Through his missionary activity and writings he eventually transformed religious belief and philosophy in many communities.  WOW... so let me get this straight...this dude devoted his life to persecute Christians, and then all of a sudden he became a missionary willing to give up his life in the name of the very man he despised??

The only explanation I believe is that Paul did see Jesus on that road to Damascus...


"Each of the 12 apostles left families and careers, often traveling alone to distant countries, declaring that Jesus died and came back to life. For proclaiming Jesus' resurrection, they were beaten, imprisoned, and many killed in torturous ways.
Did they have any basis for declaring this? Yes. It is undisputed that after the crucifixion of Jesus, the tomb was empty three days later, just as Jesus predicted. The controversy focuses on what became of Jesus' body? Some say that Jesus' disciples stole his body and concocted a story that he rose from the dead. However, if the disciples made it all up, each of them allowed himself to be executed -- for what they knew to be a lie. It doesn't make sense. Would you die for something you knew was a lie?


What does make sense are the historical facts. Jesus had been humiliated, beaten, whipped, nailed to a cross, where he died on display before the public. A spear was thrust into his side just to make sure he was dead. He was buried in a stone tomb, with Roman soldiers to guard the tomb, assigned by the religious establishment who feared an attempt to steal the body. But on the third day, the guards had fled, the tomb was open, and the only remaining evidence were the burial clothes inside the tomb, laying there empty.
Starting that day, the disciples said they saw Jesus physically alive multiple times. So had hundreds of others. They had lengthy conversations with him and ate with him -- all after witnessing his death by beating, crucifixion and spearing. When ordered not to speak about Jesus' resurrection, they responded, "We cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard!"
These disciples risked their lives to speak out about what they had no doubts about -- that Jesus had risen from the dead, proving that he was everything he claimed to be...the Son of God" (http://www.everystudent.com/wires/apostles.html)

So while you are celebrating your CHRISTmas traditions this year, remember to include the guy who loves you more than any kind of fathomable love.  This in fact is the true meaning of Christmas. <3

Merry Christmas and I wish for you Peace, Love, Joy, Laughter, and Good Health for many years to come.  

<3 Love, Ashley 

 

The Land of The Boot

SO...The Italian Honeymoon.  I have honestly been putting this off, because I have not been able to figure out how to paint a picture of the way Italy made me feel.  I try and I try to explain, and as the days go by, I grasp on to every last moment before admitting it is over.  As my writer's block continues to kick in, I finally decided that I am going to do something that makes me a bit vulnerable.  I am going to share with you the journal entry I wrote before our trip.  As I read through it, the writing does not flow AT ALL, and I am completely fine with that.  I am choosing to share this journal entry with you because Italy to me is more than just a place.  It is home.  It is Love.  It is who I feel I am in my core.  Italy is a place I have dreamed of my entire life, and that dream finally came true with the man I have dreamed of my entire life. So here is a little bit if me:

July 22, 2011  (on the airplane)
 And so we begin on our Journey to Italy...our Honeymoon.  Although most Honeymoons occur immediately following the wedding, I enjoy the fact that ours is four months after.  We have had the chance to be married for a few months, and now we can celebrate with a good foundation...This is the trip I have waited my entire life to travel.  Ever since I was a young child, I have dreamed of someday going to the "Land of the Boot."  There was a map of this place in my Grandparents' kitchen.  The map was on a plate that hung on the wall.  It was black with a gold trim, if I can remember correctly.  Or wait, perhaps that plate had gold flowers on it, and there was a map next to it.  Anyway, I see it in the back of my mind.  One of those distant memories that you try so hard to hold on to.  Why do they have to slip away?  Well, regardless of whether or not the map was on the plate, I remember my Grandma telling me all about this boot shaped country where my maternal ancestors lived, where my Grandpa lived. 

Grandpa did not speak of his previous life, however I was always told that Italy was the greatest country in the world.  The kitchen smelled of an aroma that I could never duplicate.  All of the letters of every language in the entire world would not be able to explain the scent.  It was in fact not merely a scent alone, but rather a "being" that wrapped it's ever loving arms around my entire body and made everything okay with the world.  Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, and Gentleness.  Father. Son. Holy. Spirit. Amen. Grandma taught me the sign of the cross.  I cherish her.  She just had a way about her that made you know you were loved.  Grandma was everything that encompassed the fruits of the spirit, and she was the aroma in the kitchen.
 
 "Quanto sei bella, Quanto sei bella..." The song Great-Grandma (Grandma's mother) used to sing to me as I sat on her lap.  Great-Grandma lived above Grandma and Grandpa in the other part of the duplex in the seemingly quiet town of Midland Park, New Jersey.  Anyone from Midland Park will tell you that it was anything BUT quiet, seeing as the town consisted of 6,500 people, 6,499 of which who were white, and 8,000 of which who considered gossip as a hobby (some count for 2 or 3).   Great-Grandma wore black lace-up boots that rose just below her calves, she sported an apron daily, always had a rosary nearby, and used to make me recite the “Hail Mary” while balancing a book on my head.  I vividly remember her black boots as she would walk backward down the stairs; always backward.  She sat in the same spot on the plastic covered couch in my Grandparents' living room, and although she spoke very little English, I always understood her.  Side note:  Grandma always kept a plastic cover on her couch in order to preserve the couch for when she had "company."  Not sure who she was waiting for, but needless to say, the plastic never came off, but when we sat on the couch, our skin always did.  Okay, back to Great-Grandma.  Great-Grandma used to cook in her kitchen all while sitting at the kitchen table.  This was done by leaning back on her chair to reach the oven and stove, while preparing the food at the table.  As the story goes, one day, as she was leaning back to cook her food, her chair slipped out from under her, and she hit her head on the stove.  She was found on the floor with a bloody head...alive of course.  And so it has been said time and time again when my brother Benjamin and I leaned back in our chairs, "Remember the story of Great Grandma."  To this day, I tell that story to my students, and one day I will tell my own children.  This story is right up there with Santa Clause; a completely fabricated story, knowingly passed down from generation to generation.

Great Grandma died many years later from old age, just a short time before her daughter (my sweet Grandma) was taken from us at too young of an age, after losing her battle with cancer.  When Grandma left, this world became a different place...a colder place.  For a while, I could still smell her in the kitchen.  Grandpa kept the clock set to the time she went away...time no longer existed to him. 
As I sit here in an airplane high above the clouds, I feel closer to Grandma.  Year after year, the house grew lonely.  I missed her.  We all missed her.  My mom yearned for her her mother, and she always will.  I was too young to comfort mom.  I didn't know how.  Oh how I wish I was a better daughter.  The world without Grandma continued to grow colder.  We needed warmth.  We would move to Arizona. 

My mom and dad were still married then.  We were driving along the streets of our small town in New York, with the remains of the long winter plowed to the side of the roads.  Our parents in the front seats, us in the back.  "We are either moving to North Carolina or Arizona," they said.  Not sure how they came up with two distinctively different places, but Grandma always wanted to live in a warm place.  Perhaps we would feel closer to her there.  Arizona brought us much happiness.  Although Mom and Dad divorced, I found strength in the Lord, and had all of the love I ever wanted from both of my parents.  I had a good life (still do).  Every summer we would travel back to the east coast.  My Grandparents' kitchen was never the same.  My distant memories remained, and as I sat at the kitchen table, I could smell my Grandma's warmth.  I could hear the dozens of people who always seemed to fit in there during the holidays.  "Mongia Mongia, wipe your Faccia.”

As I look at today’s date, I realize something.  17 is the number of years ago to this very day, that we moved to Arizona.  15 is the number of years ago to this very day that I asked Jesus to be a part of my life.  88 is the age Grandpa will be tomorrow.  Life is a full circle, and nothing is coincidence; that’s for damn sure.  

Love, ash

OK, so that was part of my first journal entry from our Italian journey.  There are about 500 more pages with which I will choose not to bore you, however, I will add this:  Grandpa lives in Arizona now, and resides in an independent living facility.  He was so happy on our wedding day in March, and he danced the night away.  Since the wedding, he has suffered two strokes, and is holding onto life as tight as the memories I hold of my childhood. 

After our Honeymoon, my incredible Husband, Adam, made a photo book of our travels, and we will show Grandpa when we visit him in Arizona next month.  Part of me is anxious to see Grandpa, because I do not want to believe he is suffering.  I have convinced myself that he is okay, and as long as I am far away, I will not have to face the truth.  My psychologist friend, Stefanie Platt, would call this denial.  I call it keeping my sanity.  Whatever the case may be, I am having a hard time.  There, I said it.   By the grace of God, we were able to visit the magical country where my heritage began, and I can reminisce with my sweet grandfather about “The Land of The Boot.”

So how was our trip?  I will leave you with this:  Visiting the country of Italy made me feel as close to heaven as I have ever known.  We traveled to Venice, Murano, Pisa, Tuscany, Florence, Assisi, and Rome.  As our plane landed in our first stop of Venice, I felt the presence of all who have come an gone before me; my past, present, and future.  I smelled Grandma’s kitchen, I heard Great Grandma’s singing in the cool breeze, and I felt Grandpa’s love. Cheesy? Yes.  True? Completely.  I have never had such a strong peace come over me in my entire life.   Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, and Gentleness.  Father. Son. Holy. Spirit. Amen. 

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things...

Since we have now lived in three states within the last three years, I have been hesitant about decorating our home, because I know we will most likely move within a year or two anyway.  Although this is the case, I have recently been tapping into various projects around the house that have made me SUPER excited about the day we will finally have a bigger and more permanent place to call "home."

I am not sure what triggered my sudden inspiration with interior decor.  Perhaps I am feeling restless with my employment situation (or lack there of).  I am a Teacher.  That has been my identity for my entire adult career.  Since Hawaii is a temporary thing, my Husband and I originally felt it would be more practical for me to be a Substitute Teacher while living here instead of going through the drilling steps of obtaining re-certification in another state.  Additionally, if the time came where we were being sent to another state...or God willingly HOME to AZ, I would not have to break a teaching contract.  SO, we decided that I would be a Sub, and get a part time job on the side to meet people and make some extra cash.  I went through all of the necessary steps to be a Sub, and now I am just waiting on the paperwork to go through.  In the meantime, I have been pursuing the "job on the side" part.  Over 35 applications later, and still nothing.  Yes, living on an island has encouraged me to not want to brush my hair as much, but have I gone too far??? Do I have an odor?  Is there something I am not seeing???  Never in my life has it been this difficult to find a job...especially a little part-time job.  I used to think that people who could not find jobs were just not trying hard enough. Now that I am in the dark reality of it, that is surely not the case. As I sit at my computer day in and day out searching for something, I begin to regret our decision of not becoming a certified teacher out here. Now, as the school year is quickly approaching, even if I did get certified, there is no possible way to do it before school starts (I've checked).  

If the world was my way, I would have my life planned out with intricate little boxes color-coded and labeled according to the issue at hand.  Wouldn't it be wonderful for me to take out the "What-to-do if-you-thought-something-was-a-good-idea-and-now-you-are-realizing-it-was-not" box, and read a tutorial on how to fix the problem?  Hmmmm...yeah...life sure does not work that way.  So here I am, a 27 year old woman (which I just found out today from my friend Carrie Woldeab...all this time I was thinking I was 28, so it totally made my day to discover that I am in fact one year younger).  Anyway...back to what I was saying.  So here I am, a 27 year old woman who is newly married to the love of her live with whom she lives in paradise, and I am complaining???  You are probably thinking I need to get a reality check, right?  Please do not mistake my restless thoughts with being unhappy.  I LOVE my life, and I am SO happy.  In fact, I am currently writing this blog from my front porch that faces the ocean (jealous?  I would be too).

However, with that being said, somewhere in between the sand and the kayak, I feel like a part of me is missing.  I desperately want to be back home in a community of friends and family.  I want a job that I can keep for longer than a year...one I can build on top of a foundation, instead of leaving before the hammer and nails even come out.  I want to be able to have a home that we can grow into, and eventually start a family.  At the moment, although we are living in a tropical fairytale land, I feel like our life is sort of on hold. Everything else is still going on around us, but we are missing out on it all.  Friends are making memories, babies are growing up without knowing us, and family is getting older.  Am I that delusional in thinking everyone was going to put their lives on hold until we move back home?? HAHAHAHA...of course not.  I am just talking...like I told you in my first post, I am not holding back, so what you read is what is currently flowing out of my mind....crazy or not.   I know that everything is going to work out wonderfully.  We are about to go on our Honeymoon to ITALY (so freaking excited), and after we get back, I am going to be so busy as a Sub that it will feel like I am a full time teacher.  I am also going to get the best side job at some awesome restaurant that faces the ocean, and I will meet a ton of friends. I just need to be patient, and allow God to work in his timing, and not mine. :)  Honestly, just writing it all out out helped a TON...as usual.  

So, I guess I should get back to the reason behind this blog post.  All I originally set out to do was post some pics of some of my favorite things...interior decor wise.  HAHA..I really do get off the trail sometimes.  OK, so when we move back home to AZ, here are some ideas/inspiration I have for our home.  I do realize that much of this will take years to do (many many years).  BTW...After saving and uploading all of the pics, I realized I forgot to label the sources.  I apologize, and promise to do it next time. Also, everything is out of order, and I am not about to go back and try to fix it. :)  (I'm new at this).  Anyway...hope you enjoy the eye candy.

Many of my girlfriends DESPISE white cabinets...I, on the other hand, am obsessed with a light cottage kitchen.  Come to think of it...I love everything airy and white with pops of color here and there.  Luckily, Adam and I agree.

 I heart this room, but would do a fun chandelier somewhere...and a different fan.

 I like certain things about this room, such as the wall, fireplace, and chandelier. I do not particularly enjoy the gold-ish brassy look though.

 This couch would be FAB pre-kids :)

 BLISS....... <3

 Would like to incorporate this green somewhere in the kitchen, but not the entire kitchen. 

 <3 <3 <3

 Hearts this breakfast nook.

 This made me smile.

           LOVE these blues.

 What a great idea...especially for people lacking in space.  A fold out office in a closet....Genius!

 The shutters are such a cute touch.

 A little clean cut, but like the sitting area.

 This porch makes me want to make some tea and read a good book. mmmmmm...heaven.

The reason behind my blog name, "Airplane Chats With Ash"

I will preface story by first stating that on airplanes,  I try to use anything I can find as a way to NOT have to talk to the person next to me.  If you know me, this may come as a surprise to you, since I may appear comfortable and outgoing in social situations with people I don't know.   However, this could not be farther from the truth!   I am a train wreck when it comes to meeting new people...sweaty palms, racing heart, trouble breathing, you name it (weird, I know).   When I studied Communication (a million years ago),  I read about a thing called the "Stranger on the Plane" phenomenon.  This basically explains that some people feel the need to unburden themselves, but don't feel comfortable revealing certain personal information to their close friends or relatives, so they disclose this personal info to a person they will never see again, on an airplane. I can understand why this could be applicable to many people, however, I personally seek guidance from my loved ones, and not some person I just met on a plane with pepperoni sausage and tomato juice breath.

With all of that being said, it may seem odd now that one of the most influential times in my life was during a conversation I had a few years ago on an airplane.  That is SO my life...it seems like God continually reveals himself during times when I least expect it.  So here is the story:  I was on my way to... I don't remember were I was going come to think of it.  Anyway, I was on a plane, and although I was not excited about being in the middle seat, the aisle seat was currently open, and the doors were about to close.   YES...I get to sprawl out...SO happy.   Oh, but just when I think I am free and clear, this person comes trekking through the aisle with a HUGE bag of McDonald's, a biggie sized soda, stains all over her shirt, and ENORMOUS sized neck pillow.  My immediate thought was pretty typical of someone on a cramped airplane please don't sit by me, please don't sit by me.   

Well as sure as a huge poop after three cups of coffee, she plops right down next to me, and proceeds to invade my space.  I see her put a book in the chair pocket in front of her, which is a good sign for me, since she will most likely be reading and not trying to talk to me.  As she continues to unload her stuff, she turns to me and says the typical airplane line, "Hello, are you traveling home, or are you visiting?"  UGH, do you really care, I thought.  Now, I do not remember what my response was, because like I said before, I do not recall where I was headed.  I DO vividly remember the conversation to follow.  She begins to ask me what I did for a living, and I remember being hesitant to disclose that information.  I was currently in my first year of teaching, and I was having a tremendously difficult time.  In fact, I had just dealt with a situation with a problematic student, where I felt like I wanted to give up.  I ended up telling her I was a teacher, but left off the part about being a Special Ed Teacher.  Whenever I tell people I am a Special Education Teacher." I usually hear something like, "Wow...it takes a very special person to do that," or, "You must have a lot of patience."  These two statements are the funniest things in the world to me, and must be in some book titled, "What To Say To A Person Who Tells You They Are A Special Education Teacher."  I usually state some generic response such as, "well I do not have any patience in life, just in my classroom."  However, at this point, all of the patience in my classroom had run out, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it to this woman (let's call her "Cathy," by the way, so I don't have to keep writing this woman).

Well of course, Cathy asked me what type of teacher I was, and I told her.  What followed was not the response I was expecting (thank goodness).  In fact, by the end of our conversation, we were BOTH in tears, and to this day, I can honestly tell you that Cathy will have forever made an impact on my life.  She brought out the book she was reading, and proceeded to tell me that she was in a Special Education program growing up.  She was teased as a child because of her weight, and because of that fact that she could not read.  When she reached Junior High, she contemplated ending her life, and had a specific plan to do it at the end of her 7th grade year.   That was the year that she met a very special teacher.  At the time, she despised the teacher, and it is safe to say that she probably made this teacher's life a living hell.  (Just as one of my current students was doing to me).  Never fail, the teacher would try every way she could to get Cathy motivated about reading.  The teacher would see her in the halls, and give her books that were inspiring to her; she was genuinely interested in Cathy's life.  The year came and went, as did her 8th grade year, and Cathy learned how to read, but she never told that teacher how much of an impact she made on her life.  She told me that she owes her life to this teacher. Now she does not have a way to contact her, and does not feel this teacher knew how much of an impact she had on her life.  Because of this, Cathy said that every time she meets someone who is a teacher, she tells them that story to remind them of the impact they are making in people's lives; whether they know it or not.

After that trip, I went back to work with a whole new philosophy.  Since then, I have loved every minute of being a Special Education Teacher (even when I want to rip my hair out).  So... I guess the name "Airplane Chats With Ash" is a way for me to remember that the most influential times in our lives usually happen when we least expect it.  I still don't talk to people on airplanes though. :)

The Big "D"

The other day I got to thinking about the big "D."  No, not the big "D" as in diarrhea, the big "D" as in death.  The inevitable thing none of us wants to think about that will eventually happen to us all.  After asking my dad about it, he said it excited him.  Of course my father does not want to die, but he has a strong faith in God, so he knows that when the time comes, although he will be sad to leave loved ones behind, he will rejoice in being in Heaven.  Although I too have a strong faith in God, I have always struggled with the concept of death.  Perhaps I need to spend more time with God.  With that being said, I find myself closest to God, and closest to my inner being when I am writing.  With a fresh journal page, and a crisp pencil, I feel at ease with my thoughts as I let them run freely.  There is no rhyme or reason to my writing, and I am not sure if it ever really makes sense.  In fact, on the contrary, if anyone ever got a hold of my journal entries, they may assume I was a crazy person.  Well if so, my journal is the best therapist.

So why blogging?  Well, I am not quite sure what to expect with this.  My journals are the best way for me to express myself in my own world.  With a blog, my thoughts are left for the whole world to see...or anyone who knows how to view these things.  I am also not sure about the whole typing thing, because I adore a sharp pencil.  Ehh that sounded gross.  Okay, back to what I was saying.  SO why am I blogging you ask?  I am going to try this out for this reason:  my journals have made an impact on my life in ways you could not imagine.  I am not a poet, nor am I some empowering motivational guru.  I just write what I am thinking, and let it flow.  I guess I am going to start this whole blogging thing, because I want to share my thoughts with you.  Yes, I will die some day, but my thoughts and my words will not.  I want to leave more than just my decorative pillows behind (I tried to think of a worldly possession I am obsessed with, and that came to mind.  My Husband (Adam) says I have too many decorative pillows, and he doesn't understand why I do not want his sweaty head on them.  "They are pillows...they are supposed to be used for my head," he says.  He just doesn't get it).  Anyway, sorry for the rabbit trail, you will see a lot of those.  That is how I think.  Maybe that is why I am a terrible driver, an awful test taker, an even worse speller, and a fabulous Special Ed Teacher.  Anyway...as I was saying,  I want to leave more than my decorative pillows behind. I want to leave memories.   I want to leave words.   I want to leave stories.  I want to leave thoughts, answers...and then the correct answers if they ever reveal themselves.  

So this is a "blog," huh?  I know I am behind the times, but this is all new to me.  I see people posting blogs about everything from travel and design, to cooking and baby-making.  I always thought it would be fun to have a blog, but never had any one thing that I was super passionate about. For those of you who know me, I do love kids with special needs, but I do not think my students' parents would be happy with pictures of them all over my blog.  So what the heck should I blog about?  Today it hit me...who cares.  I will not blog about anything.  I will just write.

With that being said, if you are a person who feels compelled to critique grammar, syntax, and spelling, this is not the blog for you.  Yes, I am a teacher, and I know and use all of the rules of the "book" in my professional life...whatever the "book" is anyway.  However, this is not the "book,"  and this type of writing is a compilation of my thoughts (which do not always flow together in a nice little river with happy colorful fish).  E.E Cummings once said " To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."  For those of you who are familiar with the work of E.E. Cummings, you know that he was anything but by the "book."  E.E. Cummings wrote many poems with unconventional punctuation and capitalization, and unusual line, word, and even letter placement.  No, I am not comparing myself to E.E. Cummings, but what I am doing is preparing you for A.D. Plenge.  The world according to me has no real structure, yet it is packaged up nicely with plastic paper covers (which I adore) and color-coded post-its corresponding to a matching colored highlighter.  My crazy and confused mind needs to pretend like it is organized, or it will in fact shows it's true colors (which are not coded).  With that being said, this is me.  Take it or leave it...but if you choose to take it, get ready for a ride!