The Bull, Gardening, and Whatnot

To blog perchance to dream...

I don't really have much to blog about just now, but I feel like my poor blog has been neglected. I just keep throwing up quotes and music. Well, here are some non-interesting updates:

Mrs. Jones went outta town again and took Bobby with her. She farmed out the rest of the kids (I think she was thinking how worn around the edges I looked when she returned from Thailand), but was having a hard time placing the Bull, so I offered to take him. For four or five days there was a Bull was among the Foxes. Little tot wasn't so cocky off his own turf, in fact, he was quite easy to deal with practically a lamb (with horns). He and our cat Zed spent most of the time seeing who could invade the others personal space the most. I think Bull won, but not by much.

A few days later we went to the store and bought plant starts, dirt, seed, and planters in an effort to enjoy a bit of garden therapy this summer (difficult to do in apartment that has a deck the size of a large deck of cards). I figure we spent a hundred or so dollars on what will amount to maybe ten bucks worth of vegetables. ::shrugs:: Meh. Whatta gonna do? Upside: my deck looks fabulous... very green and leafy.

Work has kept me hopping. I have discovered the truth of what Holly told me a year or so ago: it takes just as much, if not more, time for me to prepare work for volunteers as it does for me to do the thing myself. The problem of doing everything myself of course (besides the INSANITY that would result) is that I cannot be in 5 places at once. I can't teach EVERY Sunday school class myself, though don't think I haven't tried (it wasn't pretty) and really I have no knack for the preks (preschool-kindergarten, ages 3-5).

I have discovered I can prepare prek curriculum and ready the classroom, but interact with the age group? It only takes one snotty three year old in frilly dress who likes to pout and or screech and I'm lost. The stink eye doesn't work on them 'cause somehow they know you're not going to crush them (perhaps because Mommy and Dadums can't bring themselves to punish their little darling). I can scare or joke most kids into line, but with preks I got nothing. And what's worse, they know it. They can practically smell me coming... like blood in the water.

Here comes Mrs. Fox! Hee-hee! Let's torture her! Let's not listen to anything she says and yell and shout and screech at the top of our lungs- maybe do that while standing on top of a table! If she scolds us we can pout and be horrible and when Mommy shows up we can cry! Hee-hee!

And the rest of the rug rats leer and cheer and so the Sunday goes. Seriously, this has happened to me before.

Soooo, I've been prepping curriculum for our summer volunteers, trying to figure out the summer events calendar for the junior high, work on VBS, and camp, and make it to all the meetings, teaching gigs, and extra curricular activities that go along with the job. So while I left the busy-ness that was catering busy-ness in general hasn't left me. I'd like to write more about that and whatnot, but it is time to go home. Somehow, someway I'd like to figure out where Jesus fits in among all that as I'm supposed to be a youth minister not a babysitter or activities director. You all got any epiphanies? Send 'em forth por favor.

I'm off. Gotta get home to water the plants and let my cat invade my personal space.