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Showing posts from October, 2009

Changes To The Blog

Due to a recent spat of unwanted visitors to the blog, Gretch and I have decided to turn on comment moderation. For the most part, this won't affect anyone. Only those who choose to spam or otherwise annoy either myself or my wife. We thought about making the blog private, but then it'd be hard for folks to find us. So as long as you don't say mean things about us or offend my wife, comments will be approved. Oh, and in case anyone cares, I have gone back and edited at least one post to correct some information, remove some other, more private, information, and clarify some ideas. Have fun figuring out which one I changed!

Birds

Gretchen has this thing for birds. And fish, it seems. Possibly for tiny little dogs, as well, although this is a somewhat recent addition to her list of animals she wants in our not-so-very-big home. When we got married, she had a bunch of bettas. The bettas were awesome, and really good sports about being used as centerpieces during our wedding reception. Shortly after we got married, Gretch got a lovebird, named it Maren, and she, the bird, took her place as queen of the living room. (The bettas, incidentally, are mostly on the counter that separates kitchen and living room.) Before getting married, she'd had a ridiculously stupid cockatiel named Jackie. (Or something like that. I still don't know how she spells this bird's name. Sad, I know.) Anyway, this cockatiel, along with being the dumbest bird alive, hates every male in the world, with the exception of Gretch's little brother. This bird had been given away, much to my delight. Then he came back and I was not h

More On Health Care

I received an e-newsletter from one of my US Senators, Roland W. Burris, today. In it he spoke of health care reform. The following is an email I sent to him. I have no expectations of a response, but I am interested to see if there are any thoughts on the issue from any of you dear readers. Dear Senator Burris, I have corresponded with you in the past and received a formulaic response that has led me to believe that you will never actually read this letter, but I am going to write anyway, hoping against hope that somehow you will hear of my concerns and take steps toward resolving them. I received your e-newsletter this afternoon, and read with interest your desire to establish a federally-run "public option" to provide competition within the health care insurance industry and to lower costs. I have a couple questions that I hope you will try to answer. First, how is it that a federally-run program, that is available to anyone in the United States who desires to participa

Always On The Clock

This afternoon as I was leaving the house to pick Gretch up from class, three girls came running down the sidewalk toward me, yelling out, "Hey! Aren't you a substitute teacher???" I paused and walked toward them and chatted with them briefly. One of them asked if I remembered Ms. Costello's class at Barkstall. Another asked me if I had ever taught at Kenwood, and the third (the youngest), said, "Yeah, he's taught at Kenwood! He taught Ms. Merkle's class!" They then chatted briefly about their classes and some of their fond memories about me substituting. "Hey, remember when Ollie asked where you got your hair?" The strange thing about all this is that I haven't been to Kenwood or Barkstall in nearly a year. And yet these girls saw me from a distance and recognised me as one of their substitute teachers. It reminded of something that is emphasised at the Illinois Teen Institute: as a role model for youth, you are always on the clock. Yo