Came across some of my old poetry tonight and thought I’d change things up and bit and post some! Enjoy!
Originally published at blogger, here was my moment of moving on:
Eleven months ago when I was packing up my office after being laid off, I threw my box of business cards into stuff I was taking home with me. I sat the rolling case full of the detritus of my career in a corner of my home office and ignored it for close to a year. A good friend, former supervisor and mentor asked me for some material from a presentation I delivered at a conference a couple of years ago, so I went digging through it, finally. Found those business cards, stared at them for awhile, wondering for what purpose I had kept them, decided I kept them because, at that time, I had not yet let go, not processed that particular loss fully. I then surprised myself by realizing that it doesn’t hurt anymore to think about it. Threw them in the trash, it felt good, cathartic. It was at that very moment that I truly let the last of it go, the vestiges of outrage, pain and loss garnered from not just the loss of a job or even a career trajectory, but my sense of purpose in my work life and all the people who truly made up a second family to me, the coworkers, clients, community and contacts, the relationships forged in that time. It was a relief to feel the weight lift completely and realize that it had been getting lighter and lighter all along. Now I finally feel fully invested in my new job, no longer holding a piece of myself back from it for some vague reasons I couldn’t even articulate. At the same time I was not fully invested in the new job, I also did not let myself look for or think about other options, like graduate school or another job entirely. Probably for those same vague reasons. Now I feel like I can truly move forward again, after a year of feeling like I slid backwards then got stuck. It feels good to be unstuck!
We all get busy. With career, family, kids and other obligations going on , who has time for drama? With that in mind, I present Angela’s rules for cell phone ettiquette:
- Don’t get upset when I don’t answer or return your call or text during work hours. It is unreasonable for you to expect I will. When I’m at work, I’m working and do not even check my personal cell phone until after work hours. I’m busy, it’s not personal.
- Please do not put me in the awkward position of telling you no by asking for my work number. My work phone is owned and paid for by the agency I work for and is for work calls. If there is a true emergency, please contact my husband or mother who have my work number (and no they won’t give it to you.)
- Please do not call and/or text me multiple times in a short time frame. This in no way increases the likelihood of me answering or returning your call/text during work hours. In fact, it decreases them as I get annoyed by it and am passive aggressive.
- I appreciate and love most of my family and friends so when I do not return your calls/texts in what YOU deem a timely manner, please do not go all drama queen on me, I am not mad at you, ignoring you or avoiding your calls. Unless you do any of the things on this list frequently, then I might be.
- Outside of work hours, there is a high probability that I am in class, doing homework, working on work stuff at home, writing an article for my column, shopping, paying bills, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, playing with my kids, bathing my kids, reading to my kids, feeding my kids, putting my kids to bed, fixing problems my kids come to me with, homeschooling my kids…(you get the idea), spending time with my husband, and occasionally eating and sleeping. Sometimes I even (gasp) leave the phone inside while I’m outside with the kids and/or animals. While these, and many more, are all valid reasons for not answering my phone (see number four, it’s not all about you), I don’t actual owe you an explanation of what I’m doing with my time or have to justify that it was important enough to ignore phone calls for. Please remember that YOUR priorities are not necessarily MY priorities.
- When you call me, if you would like a return call, please DO leave me a voice message or a text message that ACTUALLY STATES what you are calling about. I return calls and texts by priority so just saying or texting “call me” tells me nothing and I will assume it wasn’t important and move it to the bottom of the list.
- When you text me, please, please, please do NOT use all caps. I don’t know why you are screaming at me and it’s rude. When you consistently use all caps to convey urgency yet it turns out it was nothing urgent at all, using all caps ceases to get your call returned quicker and will in fact have the opposite effect because it annoys me.
Ankloglossia, commonly known as tongue tied, is when the frenulum (the little piece of skin that connects your tongue to the bottom of your mouth) is too short. While it’s not wildly common, it’s not an uncommon childhood occurrence either. Ankloglossia is usually caught in the first few years of life.
Clipping it is called a frenulectomy and is very quick, outpatient procedure performed by an ENT. This procedure would only need to be done if the frenulum is short enough to be causing problems.
If it’s really short it can interfere not only with speech but with eating (because the tongue is used to move food around in the mouth). Another professional to consult on the subject would be a speech therapist; a speech therapist can tell if the tongue tie is affecting the ability to speak. The tongue moves around quite a bit in order to speak. Think about how to produce the “L” sound if the tongue can’t reach the roof of the mouth.
If parents suspect their child has a short frenulum, then the sooner they get to an ENT, the better. The longer it takes to address this issue, the more therapy the child will need because he or she is learning wrong ways of articulating.
A simple test to have the child stick his or her tongue out and attempt to move it up and down and from side to side as far as it will go.
The Early Childhood Intervention program of LifePath Systems provides free developmental assessments to children between birth and age 3 in Collin County. Be sure to let them know the issue when referring so that they can send out the appropriate professionals.
Here is a video sample of a tongue protrustion test, get your child to stick his tongue out and move it up, down and to each side. If verbal instructions don’t suffice, try putting some powdered candy on the outside of the mouth and have him lick it off.
Well, its winter in Texas and that always means at least one or two days of freezing weather. Read freezing weather as chaos and mass pandemonium. Yes my friends, we in Texas are not prepared for the frozen tundra. I know our Northern neighbors poke fun at us for shutting down over a half inch of snow or panicking at the first snowflake but let me explain.
First of all, it’s true that we are not prepared to survive any extended amount of time in the snow and ice and that’s because we seldom have to. It just wouldn’t make sense to invest in things like snow tires and street plows when they would be used a handful of times over a several year span.
Secondly, let’s get one thing clear. We almost NEVER get snow. No, what we get is nasty, wet, freezing rain and sleet that melts into slushy, muddy, yucky crud. This is no picture of a winter wonderland with soft, fluffy snow for building snowmen and starting snow ball fights. No, you can’t throw ice balls at your neighbors. Well, you could, but it would likely result in an assault charge.
Have you ever seen Texas snowmen? When we do get a modicum of snow mixed with the ice, it takes your entire yard worth of snow to build one pitifully little snowman and it’s mixed with dirt and twigs and leaves. Think Frosty’s less fortunate, vagrant brother.
The reason we are locked in our homes for the duration of the ice, not snow, days is simple. We can’t drive on sheets of solid ice. Hell, we can’t even walk on them! I once fell 34 times traversing about 60 feet over a frozen solid parking lot. Seriously, do you think anyone in Texas, outside of hockey players, own ice skates?
So I know we may look silly freaking out over some freezing rain with a temperature dip to 31 degrees overnight, but we also have not lost the wonder of waking up to find ourselves frozen inside a snow globe.
I have a screened in back porch, looking out my sliding glass door at the ice sheets clinging to that screen and seeing the icicles gracing everything in sight is an awe inspiring moment. Watching my dogs skid across the frozen backyard is hilarious. Hearing my children shriek with delight as their father pulls them in a big plastic tub across the frozen driveway is heartwarming. Most of all, the silence is amazing and being frozen in with my family with all obligations suspended, nowhere to go and nothing much to accomplish is a wonderful, unexpected gift, every time.
Yes, I realize I’m not black. I know I’m white. Over twenty years ago I struggled with how to explain racism to my then only child because I didn’t want to introduce such a horrible thing to him. Then my best friend, who just happens to be black, gently explained to me that being white is the only reason I had the privilege of shielding him from racism. She had to explain it to her children early,because they were already victims of it. No, I may not be black, but I love people who are. My best friend, her children who call me “Aunt”, my own nephews who are biracial. Yes, I love people who are black and so I probably have a much closer seat than most of you. Yes, I’m talking to you white people. I’m talking about the things I’ve seen up close and personal, standing there beside the people I love. It’s the little things, a million tiny cuts over the course of a lifetime. A million insults and hurts. You get offended when black people point out your racism, many of you truly don’t see it in yourself, but I do. It’s there. I invite you to just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like. I understand that it may be hard for you to understand what it’s like to live with discrimination every day of your life when you haven’t had to. To be ignored by a waiter or thrown out of club because someone was selling drugs and it must be the black girl. To be the only kid in class, or in school, who is black and to get your fake baby in home ec and told that yours was born addicted to crack. To have people call you names for no reason. To have some stranger glare at your sweet, precious young child and declare they are getting out of the pool because it’s too dark in here for them. To have a cashier not want to touch your hand. To have women in grocery stores run from you. If these were facts of your daily life, you would see why it’s easy to think that Trayvon was judged for being black, because that was just a fact of his life, a normal everyday occurrence. Imagine someone looking at your newborn baby then exclaiming that “At least I have pure Aryan kids” then not understanding why you can’t take a joke. Imagine having to teach your child at age four why some people hate him. Just try to imagine.
I’d like to say a word about expectations and how they influence our lives, probably more than you even realize.
Expectations. We all have them. Of ourselves, of others. Of our children, our friends, our coworkers, our jobs, our lives. And how those expectations are, or are not, fulfilled, affect our attitudes and our actions.