What a fabulous legacy…

Yesterday was Miss Sparkle’s last day of ninth grade.  It left her a little melancholy.  It left me a little melancholy as well.  A whole year passed so quickly.  I never cease to be amazed at how quickly the time goes.

I confess that I was happy to be relieved of the additional time burden that driving back and forth to Sheyenne High School imposed on my schedule.  Next year, Cheyenne will be at West Fargo High School – a mere handful of minutes away from our house.  I am almost gleeful about this.  I am not gleeful that Cheyenne has to change schools again, but this is what West Fargo School District came up with as a short-term fix – all the 9th graders were at Sheyenne High School this past school year.

Now Cheyenne will be in a new high school as a sophomore.  I am sure she will be fine.  A good chunk of her STEM friends (her 6th-8th grade academic home) will go with her to West Fargo High School, but not all of them.  That was concerning me for a bit, but I realized today that those STEM bonds will never leave her.

Yesterday, Cheyenne and a group of former STEMers attended a gathering they instigated at the field behind their old school.  A number of their former teachers and their former principal attended as well.  It seemed like a simple little gathering, but it sure did mean an awful lot to Cheyenne and her friends.  The STEM program always had a heart of its own and it beats on even though the kids are in high school and the teachers have been distributed to different sites around the district.  Once a STEMer, always a STEMer.

What a fabulous legacy for the West Fargo School District’s STEM Program. ;-)

A mini-STEM reunion on the last day of ninth grade.

Day one thousand four hundred and twenty-three of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

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Rest in peace Maya…

The world lost a beautiful spirit yesterday.  Maya Angelou passed away at her home today.  It makes me sad to know she is gone, but I am happy that her strength, character, and message will live on for decades to come.  I hope that young women around the world will find empowerment in Maya’s words and wisdom…I hope they too will be phenomenal women.

Rest in peace Maya, may your laugh be as ready, knowing, and rich in heaven as it was on earth.  I know you will continue to educate folks on the other side. ;-)

Day one thousand four hundred and twenty-two of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

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The butt of jokes…

Well, it did not take long for the mosquitoes to settle in.  The transition from winter to mosquito season seemed pretty quick.  Is it too soon to ask when West Fargo is going to spray for mosquitoes?

Mosquitoes are the type of creature that I imagine no one likes – especially if you happen to be one of the folks that mosquitoes find irresistible.  I am one of those folks, and to add insult to injury I have no self-control when it comes to scratching. And I mean – NO SELF CONTROL.

Scratching is problematic as it makes the bites look an awful lot worse and only provides temporary relief.  I try and put the no itch cream on when I have it handy, but if it wears off once I am out and about I look like a dog with a flea infestation – scratching here, there, and everywhere frantically.  It is not attractive.

But I am here to tell you that there are levels of unattractiveness my friends.  Evidencing a lack of self-control while you scratch off the top three layers of skin on your arm is one thing, but all body parts are not equal.  I say this because the other day while bending over in my garden trying to extract some of the pesky weeds, I had my fanny perched in the air and a couple of mosquitoes (or one incredibly hungry one) saw that moment as a full meal deal waiting to happen.  I walked away with two mosquito bites on my butt.  Sure you can joke – I know it is ripe for comments – but note that what is not funny is seeing a woman in the new forty vigorously scratching her fanny.  And note, it is not attractive.

So, I am just saying – this is my current state West Fargo, perhaps you should think about spraying sooner rather than later.  If not then know what you may encounter – you have been warned.  There are things you cannot un-see you know – scarring things – things that could ruin your entire summer. Spray soon – spray often.    ;-)

Day one thousand four hundred and twenty-one of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

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Help me with this mystery please…

I am not the consummate gardener.  I just enjoy flowers and do my best to tend them well and not kill them.  I have decent success.  I don’t win them all, but I hold my own.

I am presently disappointed though as my Persian buttercups are seriously waning.  I had them in big pots in the front yard and they seemed to be doing only so-so.  I thought they would probably do better if I planted them in the garden.  That does not seem to be helping, indeed they seem even more despaired.  This irritates me to no end as I do not like failure times five right at the start of the growing season. I cannot figure out where I went wrong.

But that is not what is driving this post today.  Today, I am curious about the mystery of the ease with which weeds grow and flourish despite concerted efforts to kill them, while plants that you do everything to keep alive seem to be an exercise in fragility.  Why are my weeds so much sturdier than my plants? And what can I learn from weeds that can help my plants?

I feel there is a life lesson here somewhere – something about tenacity and perseverance.  Does the universe favor weeds?  Perhaps it is about the food chain…are they part of the circle of life?  There certainly is something, weeds are made of tougher stuff that allows them to persist and endure.

I guess I don’t have too much against weeds, as long as they are not in my garden.  I typically do a weeding blitz in the front end of the season and then put down Preen and enjoy a relatively weed free garden the rest of the summer.  But something has gone terribly awry this season.  There are weeds everywhere and they are not willing to come out with a friendly tug.  I have to plant my feet and sturdy myself to emerge victorious, and sometimes I have to dig them out with the spade.  I do not enjoy that.

I have so many weeds right now – already – that I am going to have to do my weeding and Preen applications in sections.  There is no conceivable way that I can get it all done in one, or even two, days.  And this is after I have been consistently pulling weeds here and there for the past week.  What the heck?  Why don’t they bear the same fragility plants do?  Why don’t they stay gone after I pull up a half dozen of their friends?  Many years ago, I had a sign in my garden that read, “The Garden of Weedin’”  – I think I am going to need to get another sign like that.  That is, unless you can help with this mystery – how can I get my plants to have the tenacity of weeds and weeds to wither upon my touch?  If you can help me out with this there is a Persian buttercup in it for you. ;-)

Day one thousand four hundred and twenty of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

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True patriotism isn’t cheap.

Today, I will share with you what I posted on my Facebook in commemoration of Memorial Day.  I know many a veteran, my son Noah being one of them, and I feel the disconnect between their service and legislators’ respect of that service via deeds.  There are always plenty platitudes about military service and what we own veterans when out amongst the masses, but not enough evidence of it the country’s budget and legislation.  As the mother of a veteran and as a tax-paying citizen, I am tired of empty promises – to legislators I say, put your money where your mouth is or move and let someone else into your house or senate seat who will do the right thing.

“True patriotism isn’t cheap. It’s about taking on a fair share of the burden of keeping America going.” ~ Robert Reich

I honor those who have served and died for their country and those who serve today. Let there be no mistake, freedom is not free. Support improved veteran services and funding for military personnel – let’s make support of veterans and military members an every day mission.

Day one thousand four hundred and nineteen of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

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