Wednesday, June 28, 2006
The fracture should heal just fine. She will need another opperation in six weeks to remove some of the hardware. She had severed her ulnal nerve, and it had retracted too far to be repaired, so she will probably have some paralysis in her toes, but nothing she can't adapt to.
I'm so happy that she is going to be okay.
Thanks, everyone, for your well-wishes.
Monday, June 26, 2006
As some of you know, Moxie fell 30 feet from my balcony in Mexico on Thursday Morning, breaking one leg and injuring another pretty badly.
We made the thirty two hour drive without incident and ended up at the North Texas Emergency pet clinic at about 8:30 Saturday night. She had exrays, got her bones set and splinted and pain meds and she is home now waiting for sugery.
She is scheduled to go in for surgery to repair her broken leg tomorrow morning at 8:30 am. Prayers and positive thoughts are welcome.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Well, the very first LAM International Prom was a smashing success. A fantastic time had by all. I was voted "Coolest teacher" until I slipped during the "Cotton Eyed Joe" and slid into the snack table. :)
All and all, I had way more fun at this prom than I ever thought about having at my own.
It was a Luau theme, everyone in swimsuits, grass skirts and flip flops. Teresa should be an event planner. She had our humble school looking like a Hawaiian beach party in under eight hours.
Coconuts, pineapples, palm trees, sand, even a tiki hut where we served virgin margaritas. Michael started out as DJ, then gave up and handed the task over to me. Everyone danced, laughed and had a great time. The great thing about a small school is there are no cliques, no bully's and no divas. Everyone likes everyone. Makes for a great party.
Here are some pictuers
Michael as DJ
Heather and Taban dancing with Michael's parents (in for graduation)
Taking a break
Pato and Celia show us how it's done.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
He is only sixteen years old, and we cried as we hugged each other. Spoken promises, to see you soon, and I'll be back in two months, but the tears tell the truth behind the lie. We both know we may never see each other again.
He dried his tears and bravely climbed into the truck with his uncle, leaving total devestation in his wake. His teachers, his classmates, his friends, his sisters, his mother, enough tears to floor all of south Mexico, all for the life of this sixteen year old boy, so brave, going out to do the work to feed his family.
All I can think of is all the nasty things I have heard, and seen in my country these past few months. All the hatred pointed at people like this sixteen year old boy, convenient scapegoats for all that ails our country. He will hear spic, wetback or worse, but who will call him sofltly by his name, Jeffrey? Who will dry his tears, hear his frustrations, bear his burden, too heavy for a boy?All you, judgemental, hate-filled Americans, what will you say to this boy? Will you meet him at the border with your guns drawn? Will you sick the dogs on him? Build the walls higher, make the barbed wire sharper? What has he done to you? You don't even know him!! This is a human being, a precious young life we are talking about here! He is sweet and tender, he is a hopeless romantic, a talented artist, he loves to learn about science, he has a girlfriend named Laura and a dog named Taco. His Father is gone, he is the only hope of his sisters and mother.
And for this, for this his only crime, to be born a poor boy in a poor country, he must endure so much, too much, and certainly nothing he deserves.
He's been gone an hour now, and I can't seem to stop crying. Immigration goes much deeper than any of you realize. I had to tell him, over and over, before he left, "No matter what happens, no matter what anyone else tells you, no matter what they do to you, YOU ARE A VALUABLE PERSON! You are a wonderful person! And you have people in this world who love you!"
I felt I couldn't tell him those things enough to make up for the months of torment he is facing.
Why can't we just treat this problem like actual human beings are involved in it, caught up in it, and not by their own choice. Why can't the United States just admit they have a hand in the economic state of Mexico, and that maybe SOME of the responsibility of helping this neighboring country lies in the U.S. Maybe the answer isn't more guns, and higher walls.
Lets pretend there is a giant statue holding a torch in this country. lets pretend she is shining a beacon for the "Tired, the poor, the huddled masses, yearning to be free." Poverty is bondage. Try living in it if you disagree. Lets pretend there is a God, and he is watching, as your neighbors come to your door, hungry, cold, homeless, and we great them guns, and cursing, and legislation prisons.
He is only sixteen years old.
Monday, June 12, 2006
I realized today that my heart is an active, living thing
My blood swooshes through it
The chambers churn the hot read fluid that thumps through my veins
Pinking my lips
Feeding my brain
It does not hold my blood like a lump of cold jello in my chest
I can feel it beating
If I am very still, I can hear it
I saw God in the clouds today
He smiled at me and said, “I sent you a sign”
Now I just have to find it
Some may say it was just smog, fog, a haze in the sky
Some might say it’s schitzophrenia
But is doesn’t matter
Because my heart swooshes and churns the blood
That thumps through my veins
I solved all the problems of the world once
As sunset, while I was drunk, and high on top of a mountain
Looking down on the clouds and the trees and the tiny farms below
And shivering from the cold
I can’t remember the answer now
I try, but it is just out my reach
Like a waking dream
It had something to do with mirrors
I should have written it down
Written it on my heart
Written it with blood
With the blood that thumps through my veins
I remembered that I was in love today
The memory shocked me to tears
Something had numbed me from the pain
The pain of loving him, too much
Something stilled my heart
Allowing my blood to congeal into a cold lump in my chest
Something almost saved me
Something almost killed me
It’s hard to say which
It was a song, a scent
It was a sign from God that woke my heart
My heart, that sleeps like a dead thing
The memory of love brought heat to my face and longing to my stomach
Choking sobs rose in my throat
And tears clouded my eyes
I saw God in those clouds
He told me he sent me a sign
And my heart began to beat again
Like an active, living thing
My blood swooshing and churning and thumping
Burning my lips, stirring my brain to a frenzy
I remembered I was in love
I realized that I was alive
I found out where it hurt
And I know, now, why first I died.-River Flower