whew what a week (s)

I’ve been trying very hard to get it all together. We are into our third week of school (second full week) and I still feel as if I’m running in slow motion trying to get everything done I need to. This past week we started our first week full time. It was a long and tiring week for first graders and teacher alike. But we made it through and are back again this week!

I started my graduate class at OSU last week as well. It is 45 minutes away, and at 7:20 at night until 10:00. I am usually in bed at “dark-thirty” as my hubby likes to say, so this is a struggle for me. I found myself in a classroom full of young smart not- yet- hired- so I’ll go to graduate school- teachers and I felt like a million years old. I must have had some strange looks on my face because after class the professor (thankfully we’re a little closer in age) laid her hand on my arm and asked if I “was ok.” I think so….it’s just very different from first grade. 🙂

Last week was also the first week for my NEW student teacher. She is from our town and very sweet. The kids and I are both very excited to have her in our classroom. I told her I felt I owed her an apology because she was “stuck” with me as her cooperating teacher, because things have been C-R-A-Z-Y these first few weeks, but she says she feels right at home. Yay for the crazies! My student teacher from last year was hired to teach third grade in our building. I am very excited. She had to hurry and get her room ready in about three days’ time, so she is a bit frazzled as well. It is nice to have her in our school, and hopefully she and I both can help Lindsay through her student teacher days!

I have decided to make a schedule for slicing, and blogging so that I don’t miss out like I have the last two weeks. That is my goal for the LOOOOOONNNGGG weekend! I have packed a few slices in one here but I hope I’m all caught up now and can make that schedule and stick to it. That is my hope….this week.


That’s my story and I’m sticking to it…

first day of school 2010

My daughter starts her senior year in high school tomorrow. As she pulls out of the drive in a cloud of dust I will have my hand in the air and a smile on my face. Not a tear will fall.

Before she goes I will give her a hug take our “first day of school” photo, and tell her to have a great day. Not a tear will fall.

I’m not going to picture her so many years before (that seem like yesterday) bouncing down the hall ready to start her school years in the “big school” her brother went to. I won’t see her
smiling and waving me away, when I tell her to have a great day. Not a tear will fall.

I’m not going to find myself-after she’s gone- looking through her pictures on the shelf. There, as her one year old self, dressed in the dress my grandma made me when I was that age. Not a tear will fall.

I’m not going to stand there on senior night for her swim team thinking back to her first lessons, seeing her as she begs me to let her jump off the high dive. I finally relented and walked her out to the edge. She jumped off-laughing all the way. I turned and climbed down. Not a tear will fall on that day.

I won’t see her all dressed up eager to cross the stage in her paper-made hat on her Kindergarten graduation day; as she steps across the stage again in May. I will only see the lovely amazing young woman she has become, and feel the pride and anticipation of what is still to come. Not a tear will fall.

I will not think about her leaving this time next year, and going excitedly into the world on her own. I won’t warn the world to watch out- Hadley is on her way. She will accomplish amazing things, be an amazing women, a beautiful girl inside and out. She already is. Not a tear will fall.

I will not think about the days gone by, or miss the times we’ve shared. I will not picture her in my
arms, or at age eleven standing taller than me. I won’t see the way she’d grab her grandpa’s hand at two and lead him along (sometimes into doors, he was blind) saying “come on papa, cookie.”  won’t picture her trailing after her brother determined to do everything he could do. Not a tear will fall.

I’ll only see our girl on her way to start of her senior year, full of hope and determination to make this a great year. Not a tear will fall.

As the song goes-that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Not a tear will fall…..

Yeah, probably not.


age 1

16 years

Recipe Party

Grab your favorite recipe and come and join my first ever “linky party” at my other blog.


I hope you can make it!



The PBR’s Coming

His name is Henry James

Hank to his friends and such

He does his job well

With the quickest touch.


He lines them up fast and secures them just so

First one then another

till it’s their time to go.


He’s knows their strength and what they can do

knows the build-up is the best

but if it wasn’t for him,

They could forget all the rest.


The crowd settles down

just waiting to see

a nod from a head

And Hank sets them free.


He scrambles up high so not in the way

The crowd goes wild

hoping the cowboy makes his pay.


Hank waits for the dust and the muck  to clear

The bull squares off, full of spit and steam

the clowns work hard in spite of the fear.


The cowby holds tight on a prayer and some fate.

but Hank knows none of this would be

if HE didn’t open the gate!

Dot Dot Dot

“Seriously?”“You’re watching that again?” “How many times have you seen it… like 80?” My
daughter grumbles as she meanders through the living room on her way to the
kitchen (the only time she seems to venture from her room these days).  “It’s a great movie.” I tell her. “Whatever,” she grumbles. I hear her open the refrigerator and stand in front willing it to
produce something appetizing.

“It’s iconic,” I tell her from the living room.  I can feel the eye roll from here (I told you the brother got it from her). “It’s a historic movie about mothers and daughters, relationships, growing up, love, commitment and second chances; what could be better?”

She perches on the arm of the loveseat as she pauses on the way back to her room, looking at me but glancing toward the movie. She hur- umphs, but her eyes stay focused on the screen. I wonder if she doesn’t secretly like it…just a bit.

“It has that girl in it you like, the one from Robin Hood, and that cute boy.” I coax.

Silence, but she stays a little longer as I quietly hum along.

“Iconic huh, how do you figure?” She challenges. “It’s just a dumb movie.”  She looks my way. “A musical no less,” and scowls as I start wiggling and singing along. I try to contain my cadence and
need to dance!

“It’s the only movie EVER written solely from songs of a rock group, one of your uncles’ favorite in the 70’s.” (I was too young lol) I explain. “It was a Broadway musical AND it has Meryl Streep and Pierce Bronson in it…DOT,DOT,DOT!”   I can’t hold back any longer as I join in with- “Mamma Mia here I go again. My, my how can I resist it…”

She gets up and leaves. “It’s the best movie EVER” I yell at her closed door.

I grin and wonder if she’s dancing on the other side. I think she is.

“Mamma mia, here I go again
My my, how can I resist you?
Mamma mia, does it show again
My My, just how much I’ve missed you?
Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted
Blue since the day we parted
Why, why did I ever let you go?
Mamma mia, now I really know
My my, I should not have let you go-”

The Best moive EVER! DOT DOT DOT




A Clip of Yesterday

I ran my hand across the top of his head, just like I do every time before I start to cut. But this time, this morning, the feel- the texture of his baby soft hair transfers my thoughts to another place… another time. “Your hair feels the same as it did when you were just barely two.” From his perch on the chair I hear a hump and see a slight eye roll (much like his younger sisters’) when I glance down. “You used to love to love to come to the shop and have your hair washed in my shampoo bowl.” I didn’t add- like all the little old ladies that frequented the shop. “Do you remember?”

It was before I was a teacher. Long before he sat on this chair in this kitchen- before he became a young man on the brink of adulthood, most of the way there, with his own ways, his own views, yet still somewhat grounded in the familiarities’ of his youth.

I placed the booster seat in the chair for him to climb into. “Close your eyes,” I coax “and stretch way back, like you’re great big.” He leaned back as far as he could and scrunched his eyes tight, as if waiting for a blow. I grinned down at him as I tested the temperature of the water. “Okay?”
I ask as I lay the nozzle against his scalp. His head nods, but his eyes stay tightly shut. “Hold still” I warn. He settles in and I begin to softly scrub with the tips of my fingers. His little face relaxes as I peer down at him.

I start the cascade of water again and he raises up. “All done?” he asks. “Noooo” I laugh as the water hose goes wild like the water wiggle in our backyard. Me, the mirror, his back, the floor, and almost- the lady beside us- are soaked. “You have to wait until I say ok.” He stretches back once again.

“Ok” I say after we rinse. I wrap his little head in a towel and do my best to dry us all off.

I turn him so he sees himself in the mirror. He grins at the reflection of his towel covered head. “Ready for your cut?” I ask. He grins and nods some more. I trim the feathery soft wisps from around his ears and away from his eyes, then comb it with a part and away from his face, like my mom used to do my brother’s years before. I gaze at his reflection; he looks so big, so grown up. Where has the time gone?

“Do you like it?” I ask. He nods and says “tank you” and just as quickly hops down in search of his sucker that was promised.

The ladies in the shop ohhh and ahhh over his “new do” and he climbs up on my lap; suddenly shy.

He comes back with me the next day. After a while he comes up beside my chair and asks; “we do dat uhgin?” I laugh and say; “ok, but you have to hold still.” 

His dad walks through the kitchen. “Do you remember how he used to like to have his hair washed in the shampoo bowl at my shop, and how all the ladies thought it was so sweet and cute?” His dad
chuckles and says, “yeah I’d forgotten all about that.”

A breath of exasperation his heard below the clippers. “Will you just cut my hair please?” But I see him smother a grin.

“You don’t want to hear about how cute you were? The eye-roll again. “Fine” I say, “I’ll just write about it on my blog.” Now a groan.

He may be a young man on the brink of adulthood ready to graduate college and begin his own life, in his own way, making his own path. But when my hand touches the downy softness of his hair-
he will always be my little boy. I bet if I still had that shampoo bowl he’d still lay back, eyes shut tight, not moving at all.

Where has the time gone?

Kanten Zayne 1991


fall 2010


Door Prize!

Sorry this is for teachers only 🙂 Hop on over to my teaching blog Klinger Cafe’ to grab your chance at my door prize!  http://www.klingercafe.com/2011/07/wooo-hooo-and-door-prize.html