Pickleball

I've had several people ask me, "What is pickleball?" Well, first of all, pickleball is a sport invented in 1965 by a couple of guys who were trying to find some entertainment for their families. They took an old badminton court, lowered the net, cut out some homemade wooden paddles, and found a wiffle ball. Put these things together, along with some basic rules and a ball-fetching cocker spaniel named "Pickles," and voila! Pickleball was born!

It's an interesting game, and unless you've played it, I can't give a better description than to say it's a combination of badminton, tennis, and a pinch of ping pong. The court is the same size as a badminton court, except that the net is only 36" high, the swings and placement of the ball is similar to tennis, and the paddles are like over-sized ping pong paddles.

The rules are fairly simple. However, like most sports, pickleball has a few strange rules--like no standing in the kitchen. What's the kitchen? It's the area directly in front of the net where players are not allowed to stand unless the ball bounces inside the kitchen. The serve is underhand and has to be kept under the waist, and the ball has to bounce once on each side before it can be volleyed (hit before it bounces on the ground).

The game is a lot of fun. In fact, I like it better than tennis. Because there's not the insane bounce in the ball, or the spring from the tennis racket strings, there's a lot more control, which makes it easier to keep the ball in the court. Also, the court is smaller, so there's less ground to cover to get to the ball. Don't let that be misleading--I've had just as much of a workout, if not more, playing pickleball as I have when playing tennis. The game is also good for people of all ages. I play with a group of ladies who are 10+ years older than me, and several of them can whip me good!

This year I've registered to play pickleball in the Utah Summer Games. The sport is still rather new around here, so there aren't a lot of people signed up. That could be good, but it's really not, because that means I'll be in the same bracket as some of the ladies who kick my behind every Tuesday and Thursday. But I don't care! I just love playing.

Mother's Day 2010

I remember being young and giving gifts to my mom on Mother's Day. My family grew up without a lot of money, and homemade gifts were the only thing we could ever afford. It didn't matter if it was a letter, a card, or flowers picked from her own garden, my mom would always say homemade gifts were the best.

This year, I totally agree with her. Not that I haven't appreciated what my kids have given me in years past, but this year was especially nice. Maybe it had something to do with my wrong-side-of-the-bed attitude I had when I woke up Saturday morning (Ben and the kids decided to celebrate Mother's Day a little bit early).

Melanie and I had a mother-daughter date for activity days on Saturday morning. I left the house not wanting to go, and being grumpy in general. Upon our return, I opened the door to find my living room floor all cleaned up and straightened, and the sweet, sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies sneaking out from the kitchen. That was my gift from Ben. Seriously, I think he puts an addictive chemical in his chocolate chip cookies. I even had one with breakfast this morning--it's Mother's Day! (Notice the glazed, slightly crazed look in my eyes? That's the cookies doing!)


After drooling for a minute over the cookies, Riley told me I had to find his gift. So he played "You're getting warmer/colder" with me until I found his gift, which I found terribly funny. He wrote me a letter that said, "To: Mom. From: Riley," and then Ben scribed a story dictated by Riley. It reads: "One day Riley was sitting on the couch. Precious came by. Precious got on Riley's lap. Then Precious got on the side of the couch. Then she got on Riley's lap again. Then she was tired and laid by Riley and then she purred. Then she really wanted to rub her face on Riley and then she did it. The End." Ben said he had to take out a few "ands." Personally, I would have done the same thing...and added in some commas, but I won't go there right now. I told Riley I loved his gift, and he jumped into my arms, wrapped his arms tightly around my neck and said, "I'm so glad you said that!" That boy has people-speaking, I swear!

Soon I heard Carter yelling at me to find his gift. He's yelling at me while his eyes were glued to the GameBoy screen, but at least he could still talk. I found his in his backpack, and it was a collection of really cute pictures his teacher had taken of him during the year. I wish I was more skilled in fiddling with my scanner, because I would have scanned some in and posted them. And granted, his teacher did most of the work, but it reminded me of things I would bring home for my mom from school. And he's so cute in the pictures!



Melanie was the last to give me her gift. Her teacher made some cute flowers out of gift tissue, and had the kids write something on the card. Melanie, being the thoughtful and creative kid she is, wrote me a haiku! It's really sweet: "We're chocolate fans!/We love English and writing/We love each other." How cute, huh? I love that Melanie and I enjoy reading, and enjoy the same books. Just the other day I stole five off of her shelf to add to my summer reading list!

(Carter and Riley both stood on a kitchen chair for their pictures, but Melanie was not. Let's not comment on the closeness in height between Melanie and me, okay? Thanks, I appreciate it.)

Grades Are In

This semester was definitely the most difficult by far. Not only was I challenged academically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Things just kept coming at me, but I survived! I did very well, in fact, and am glad to be done with this semester.

So now you get the regularly scheduled review of my semester. In order from least favorite to favorite:

Educational Psychology
Seriously, this class pushed my limits on trying not to rip my hair out because I was so bored. I'm sure the teacher is a nice man, but he started off the year by making a sexist remark, which I can't exactly recall at the moment. Every day he taught, it was the same thing. He'd give a power point presentation, read it virtually verbatim, and then pass out hard copies of his power point to us. It. Was. So. Boring. My friend usually drew pictures while I worked on my poetry. Did I mention it was boring? However, my perseverance through the boredom paid off.
Final grade: A

Introduction to Critical Literature & Theory
A mouthful, isn't it. You should see the book for this class--it's the one I posted on facebook about the page numbers that begin to look like dates. It's something I don't think I'll ever pick up again. Scratch that, I know I won't ever pick it up again. And lugging that thing around in my backpack was no picnic either. But enough about that blasted book. The class really had some interesting points. I learned a lot about theory, but there is so much to learn. Some people spend their entire lives studying philosophers like Kant, Longinus, and Hegel. I didn't say those people were normal, I just said they were people. The professor ran the class well; she was always open for class discussion rather than lecture, and she never made me feel like I had a stupid question or comment. For me, that earns her big bonus points. All in all, not bad.
Final grade: A

Advanced Poetry
Because this semester was so full of stuff, I felt like I didn't have time to write any good poetry. I also felt like I peaked last semester with my poetry skills. Those two things combined made for an overall disappointment for the class. I've worked with this professor the two semesters prior to this one, and I really enjoy her teaching. I just could not get things on paper like I wanted them. I had less trouble writing essays for my literature classes. Not good for a creative writer! This is also the class where there were issues with a project for the class. Long story short, because of an inept designer, the book made and illustrated with my poetry in it is not something I want to buy. How sad is that?
Final grade: A

Woodwind Ensemble
A lovely friend of mine, who happens to be in Hawaii right now, the little twerp, told me to come and join woodwind ensemble. I did, and loved it. I love playing the flute, and this was a good way to ease myself back into playing. The professor for this class is firm in what she wants, but at the same time she can be absolutely hilarious. Frighteningly so. It was a wonderful experience.
Final Grade: A

Young Adult Literature
This class was the best of the semester, and it's also the class that helped me to grow the most as a person. I've known the professor for a while, we played in OSU for one season together and he's infamous among band geeks at Cedar High. He is a brilliant professor. His teaching style forced me to do my best, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. He told me what I was doing well, but also gave me pointers on what I could improve.

This is also the class that tested my resolve on some moral issues--mainly the content of some of the books in the class. It's where I learned that I don't want to be in a place, or a major for that matter, where I know my morals will be put to the test, and if I hold myself up to what I believe, my grades will suffer for it. I learned so much more that what the course description stated!
Final grade: A

I was really surprised at the 4.0 this semester. I reiterate, this semester pushed me in ways I wasn't prepared for. But thankfully I'm in good hands. My Heavenly Father, my sweet and supportive husband, and my amazing kids all look out for me. I am very blessed. And lucky. ;)

I Despise Being Sick

Two nights ago, I started to get a sore throat. I went to bed and woke up the next morning feeling horrible. Not only did my throat hurt when I swallowed, but my ears hurt as well. I didn't sleep last night because of the pain each time I swallowed, and this morning I felt much the same as yesterday.

I know, wah wah. But Ben and I were talking this morning and I figured out why I hate being sick so much. Besides the fact that I just feel lousy, the entire house is out of whack until I feel better. When Ben gets sick, it doesn't mess with anyone's schedule here. At work, sure, but that doesn't affect our family. When Melanie, Carter, or Riley gets sick, it doesn't affect Ben as much because I'm the one who is home with them anyway. He's great to pitch in and help with extra stuff, but it still doesn't make any problems. But when I get sick, it disrupts the entire household.

Like this morning. I really did not want to go out in the cold and wet (dang you, snow!) to take the kids to school. So I spent a good 20 minutes seeing if Melanie could get a ride (thank you, Shanna) and Carter could get a ride (thank you, Tonia). Then Ben has extra work with helping the kids get ready while he's trying to get out the door (thank you, Ben). It was mass chaos, mayhem, and confusion this morning. No wonder I was grumpy.

And to top it off, the woodwind ensemble is performing tomorrow night for the graduate reception. We have a practice session today, but there is no way I can go blow in my flute for an hour today and two hours tomorrow. I made an appointment with the doctor, but he's not in today, so I have to wait until tomorrow afternoon. It wouldn't be a big deal, but I worry it will damage my grade. And I worry that the professor will think I'm just trying to get out of playing.

I worry too much. I need to stop.

Thank goodness for good family and friends who take care of me when I'm sick. I'd really like to stay well for longer than a month at a time. It's just hard with four of us at four different school locales. And next semester Riley will be in preschool, so that means each one of us will be at a different school. Endless opportunities for germs to party at our house. Bring on the hand sanitizer, hot water, and soap!

Just Four More Days

Of school, that is. This semester has been the longest, most difficult, and definitely the most trying. There are four days of school this week and then the following week is finals. I only have one final, and its open-book/open-note, so I don't really consider it a final. And once I turn in my paper for Critical Lit & Theory (which I have yet to write, and it's supposed to be 8-10 pages) I will be officially done and free and sane. Well, not completely sane, but partially sane. I can't fight genetics, you know.

A Lesson in Assertiveness

As part of the requirements for my poetry class, our class collaborated with graphic design and art students to put together books of poetry. I was so excited when I found out what we would be doing. A book of my very own poetry!

It started out fine. I met with my designer and illustrator at the beginning/middle of the semester to give them some poems. We talked about book size, how many poems/pages, etc. Just basic formality stuff. My illustrator said his artwork would reflect his interpretation of my poetry, and that was fine because I knew I didn't have a say in what was illustrated, just as he didn't have a say in what my poetry was. It seemed like things would be great.

Then my designer and illustrator dropped off the face of the earth. I didn't hear from either of them for weeks. I finally contacted my designer to ask if I could send him a revision of one poem, which I told him at the first meeting I would be doing as the semester progressed. The initial poems I gave him were just as much for the illustrator to get a sense of my writing as they were for the designer to know how many poems there would be. Other classmates talked about how they were meeting with their designers once a week to make sure things were going in the right direction. One classmate even had her illustrator draw a picture and she wrote a poem to go with it. "How neat," I thought. And so I waited.

And waited, and waited. And heard nothing. Until this Monday, when my designer contacted me to ask if I wanted hardcover or paperback for the book. I thought, "It's done? How can that be? I still have a revision to one of my poems. I haven't edited anything." I sent him a text and told him I had one more revision, and it would not change the feel of the poem at all, just some stanza changes and better wording. He told me he had already submitted the book and finalized it online. That means he did that without me editing and giving the okay to print. Big no-no.

And here's the kicker. One of my poems is missing the last line. The last line. You can't do that to a poem. Sure, you might be able to pull one out of the middle, but not the last line. It's the most important one!

Needless to say when I previewed the book online, I was furious. But once I calmed down, I was even more upset at myself. I know my designer should have contacted me. If I were a real client, he would have had major issues with sending something out to print without the author's okay. Legal trouble. But I should have contacted him to see what was going on. Only I didn't know the deadline for the project.

I'm just frustrated. This could have been a great experience, but it wasn't. I know I didn't have a say in the artwork, but one of the illustrations shows the backside of a nude woman. It isn't really in your face, it's kind of out-of-focus. I think he used pastels, but I'm no artist and I can't be sure. The point is, I never would have put my poetry in a book with a girl's naked bum in it. That's just not me.

And my professor said I should contact my designer to let him know that I am not okay with all of this. But I'm so mad I feel like I can't say or write anything or it will be too mean. Help!

Self-Grounding

The semester is winding down. Only three weeks of school left, then finals week, and then this semester is over! I am so anxious for a break. With Ben taking 9 credits of masters' classes, and me taking 14 credits for my BA, our house and family has been a little crazy this semester! We are all looking forward to summer and a little bit of laziness.

Because it's down to the wire time at school, I really have to stay focused. I have one 8-10 page paper that I haven't even started yet, one 2 1/4 page paper that needs some serious revision and needs to be turned into a 6-8 page paper. I have to finish my poetry sequence, which means writing 3-6 quality poems before the semester is over. I have a resource binder to finish (to start, for that matter) for educational psychology. Needless to say, I've got my work cut out for me.

And that is good and bad. Good, because I know what needs to get done, and it's not really difficult-no studying all hours of the night for finals or anything-just more time consuming than I'd like. Bad, because I have this problem. It's called recreational reading...and I can't stop!

I've always enjoyed reading, but my enjoyment has blossomed since Melanie and Ben have become just as avid of readers as I am. We've started buying books, which is great, but now I have these shelves filled with books that are calling my name, reaching out to me, and I can't help them right now!

I just thought I'd share with you the books on my "to read" list. In no particular order (feel free to suggest an order so I know where to start) they are:

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne
The Great and the Terrible Series by Chris Stewart (six books)
Gregor the Overlander (same author as Hunger Games and Catching Fire, five books)
The Neverending Story by Michael Ende
River Secrets by Shannon Hale
Forest Born by Shannon Hale
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin
Fablehaven: Keys to the Demon Prison by Brandon Mull
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner
Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George
Fairest Gail Carson Levine
Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis
The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Beauty by Robin McKinley

The following books are not on my shelf, but on my list:
The Professor's House by Willa Cather
This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Call It Sleep by Henry Roth
The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
The House of Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Sister Carie by Theodore Drieser

So, do you think I'll make it? Do you think I'll ever see the lovely rays of the summer sun? I really don't think I'll make it through all of them...unless I turn into a hermit and live in the forest without talking to anyone, and that just isn't me. I know I'll kick myself for asking this one, but do you have anything you'd add to the list?