Yet Another Reason That Barney Sucketh

Do you remember that song that Barney used to sing, "The Song That Never Ends?" No? Well, allow me to refresh your memory:

This is the song that never ends.
Yes, it goes on and on my friends.
Some people started singing it not knowing what it was,
And they'll continue singing it forever just because this the song that never ends..."

Now before you get all hatin' on me for getting that catchy tune lodged in your cranium, I will tell you a story.

The other day, my hubby finally finished editing all the pics on our digital camera. I thought to myself, "What a relief! Now we can check this suckuh off of the "To Do" list and move on with our lives!"

But, when I went to cross it off, I realized that I couldn't actually check it off. I could only modify it to "Order the pictures."

And after we ordered the pictures, somebody had to pick them up, and then sort them chronologically, and put them in the scrapbook, but we ran out of glue, so I had to buy a glue stick, and then we ran out of room in the scrapbook, so I had to buy a new scrapbook and then...

Doesn't it ever seem like the more you do, the more you have to do?

I once read that the "To Do" list is a modern day rendition of the story of Sisyphus. To refresh your memory from your 7th grade studies of Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a king whose punishment was to roll a boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and be forced to repeat this task for eternity. Today, the word Sisyphean is used to describe doing something that is unending, repetitive, or unfulfilling.

And now for the question: What tasks in your life are unending, repetitive, unfulfilling, and just plain Sisyphean?

Now, before you get all Greek tragedy on me, here is a ray-of-light.

Unlike Sisyphus, you have a choice.

You don't have to roll that boulder up the hill if you don't want to. Is this a task that you actually have to do, like paying your power bill, or something that you feel you should do, like maintaining a scrap book? If it's not necessary, and it's not bringing you fulfillment, stop doing it!

Also, as with "The Song That Never Ends," there was a point where some people started singing it. So, before you roll that boulder, think about the consequences.

Do you really want to start singing that song?

Dishin' out the dirt

I teach kids about dirt.

It's true. I teach 1st and 3rd graders about soil. They get to touch 4 different types of soil with their hands, look at them with their eyes, sniff them with their noses, and listen to them with their ears. They even get to learn all about the four ingredients that make the perfect soil, and then right there before their very eyes, we actually make the perfect soil.

And the kids cheer.

Loudly.

Every time.

I'm not gonna lie to you - it's pretty magical.

A couple of weeks ago, I took my show on the road. I drove an hour and a half away to teach 100 kids about soil. When I got there, I realized I had forgotten something.

My dirt.

Did I mention I was over an hour away from my museum?

Now, before you get so sweaty palmed that we could grow rice in your hands, I was able to improvise with some sand and clay I just happened to have on me.

But here is the question: How could this have happened to a seasoned professional like myself?

Let's get all Nancy Drew and investigate the evidence at the scene of the crime.

You see, that same weekend my honey and I were co-hosting a party, so I had to remember to borrow the card tables from the museum, and then the following Monday I was scheduled to teach a new program on the constellations of the ecliptic, and so I needed to remember to bring home the lesson plan, card stock, laminating sheets, and laminating machine. And then "this shark chased us, and we tried to, but we couldn't, and he 'Grrr!' and we 'Whoa!' and then we were safe. But then this seagull came and it was, 'This is this and that is that...'"

I had too much going on.

And it's in those times that I often forget about the most important things, like being nice to my husband, calling to say I will be late for an important appointment, spending time with my God, and even packing a ginormous orange tote full of soil.

And I know you. You're busy, too.

So I'd challenge you to pause a moment and ask yourself: Got dirt?

The Best Laid Plans OR Spontaneous Combustion

The first science day camp I ever ran was well-planned. And by God we stuck to that plan. And at the end of camp the kids were...well...completely exhausted. And so was I.

Since that first camp, I have learned that sometimes...most times...fine, nearly all the time things are not going to go according to my plans. Especially when one is trying to herd twenty excited 7-9 year olds who are hyped up on Yogos and Capri Suns. Things are inevitably gonna happen that I could NEVER have planned for. And then I have to do something I was not originally wired to do: Be "spontaneous" and "flexible."

That being said, we recently had a snow day here in Downtown Asheville aka the driest region in the entire state of North Carolina (scientifically speaking). My plans for the day - doing my usual educational stand-up comedy shtick for elementary school children - were completely kaput. So what's a Connecticut Yankee living at the top of an icy hill to do?

I'll tell you what.

I found me some long johns, a cookie sheet, and a friend just crazy enough to join me and proceeded to tear up my corduroy pants, give myself road burn on my belly, and scream with laughter as I flew all the way down that icy hill.

That's what.

And it was so worth it.

Tongue

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

HA!

Whoever came up with that pile o' poo must have a clothing budget dedicated solely to trousers, because they be a lyin' and their pants be a burnin'.

Words are powerful.

And here is where it gets scary. We all have tongues.

All of us.

So, it's really up to us, isn't it?

Please check out this short film, Validation.

Because free parking really can change your life.

My DUI

Earlier this month, I decided to celebrate return your shopping cart to the supermarket month.

Not on purpose. And yes, this is a bona fide hollerday. Don't believe me? Well, take it up with brownielocks, you doubting Thomas.

Anywho, upon a recent visit to the market of super, I decided that instead of procuring a wagon from inside, I would retrieve one from the parking lot, or more specifically, the curb. The resulting injury may be explained according to the following equation:

Rotator Cuff + Shopping Cart = Sling-a-Ding-Ding

In order to expedite the healing of my injured cuff, my doctor recommended that I get a massage. And really, who am I to argue with a medical professional?

The night before my massage, my body, which was traveling from Downtown Asheville toward the West Side at a speed of 55 mph, was struck by a freight train traveling from Mucus Membrane to Nasal Passageway at speed of 90 mph. Suffice to say, I did not survive the impact of the word problem.

The day of my massage, I lay face down on the table and attempted to breath through my mouth as the therapist, a former baker, kneaded me like a loaf of Jewish Rye.

I arose from the massage to discover a solid string of snot that began at the tip of my nose ended...when it hit the floor. If that were not enough, I felt crazier than Vince Clortho Keymaster of Gozer. I was keenly aware of my own inability to operate heavy machinery, but lacking a designated driver, I climbed into my zippy little Civic and swerved homeward.

Although I arrived home reasonably intact, as I stumbled up the stairs of mi casa pequena and stared at my front door, a simple thought managed to permeate my drunkin' sailor stupor: I, Little Miss Naturally Organized Home, had lost my house keys. I lay down upon my front porch, wondering if this is what pregnancy brain would be like, and called the Gatekeeper, aka my husband.

What have I learned from all of this? Two things: 1. There is a very fine line that separates those who have a place for everything from those who throw everything all over the place, and on that fateful Friday, mine hung from my schnoz to the linoleum. And 2. Frig brownielocks and get your shopping cart from inside the grocery store like a normal person! Selah.