68 or 70?

"I know that I did well on that paper", I tell myself as I jaunt towards my classroom on the first floor near the door. I have nothing to worry about. I worked hard and I have always been told that hard work pays off. I take a deep breath before opening the door to room 1006. Why am I so nervous? It is just an assignment.
I step forward and make the move. I am in. With clammy hands and a racing heart, I make my way to my seat in the second row overlooking where my teacher stands. Seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. "What is taking her so long," I ask myself. The way that I am feeling right now, you would think this is the first time I have ever waited to recieve a marked paper.
After an hour and fifteen minutes of gritting my teeth, playing with my hair and wiping my sweaty hands, the teacher begins to call out names. She is finally returning our papers, after holding them for a month.
"Jessie Anderson. Marcus French. Marty Goddard..... Marquita Stewart."
I slowly approach the front of the room and reach my hand out to hold my paper. I look down shyly, as I pull it out of her hands. I glance down at my paper, as I quickly walk out the door.
"It can't be too bad, the first page isn't marked up too bad." I turn the pages curiously as I make my way to the final page. At the bottom I see a big 68% written in red ink. I am so disappointed. I don't get anything below 70% on any English paper. "Where did I go wrong,"I question myself as I read the comments written so boldly in red ink. "What? I don't have a clear arguement? This is bologne!"
All of a sudden my anxiety about recieving my paper has turned to anger. I scuff my feet and pick up the pace. I am not even sure where I am going, but, I am going fast. Unknowingly, my feet take me to the Braun Building, which is fairly close by. I stamp up 3 flights of stairs sputtering foulities about my marker. I am out of breath and can't wait to beat on my instructors door.
Knock. Knock.
"Hi Marquita. You aren't looking very happy."
"You've nailed that one right on the head. What is with TAs? They mark way too critically and never have anything nice to say. They are so self rightious and I'm sure thier marking is all a power trip."
"Slow down, what is the problem?"
"68% and many 3 o'clock in the mornings leading to this stupid assignment is my problem! I have never got below a 70 on a paper and I want you to remark it. She was just being harsh and unfair."
The teacher eaches out to grab my paper. I pull my hand back.
"She says I do not have a clear arguement; I have anarguement for her! Do you remember when I came to see you and you helped me make my thesis statement? Well, that is what I used. So, I guess she is saying that you can't make a clear arguement. Nice."
I pass her the paper and walk out the door.

I remember in Jeep 101, my first off-roading course, that slower is better. Why is it that today I feel like a turtle, yet my mind is racing with excitement and undying desire to get my rig dirty? We need to hurry up this lesson! I need to kick up some mud, clip some trees and climb some hills or be wenched between some boulders to satisfy my urge. I am about to have my first chance to be behind the wheel, in control of it all! The instructor can't seem to stop talking about safety and ettiquettte towards fellow drivers. How hard can it be? We, a bunch of Jeep enthusiaists, travelling together down a worn path with with experienced trail guides to pull us out, if we get stuck or buried in mud over our heads....or wheels.
At last, the words I anticipate! "Are you ready to go out and be in the middle of the action?"
My heart is beating fast and my palms are sweaty. My leg is quickly swinging back and forth and my mind is out of control. This is actually happening. I am going to take Black Beautiful (my rig), to see new heights, allowing her to run to her full potential and show me what she can do. I am too excited!
I wait in the line up with the rest of the Jeep Jamboree attendees to be handed my lunch. Most of these guys have done this a thousand times. My lunch is as much of a surprise as my day ahead. All of a sudden, my confidence is declining. I can see all of the other Jeeps, lifted six inches or more equipped with winches, on-board air and 35+ inch tires. All of a sudden, I am not feeling like such a hot shot. I wanted to hurry from my lesson, but now that it is happening, I am acting like a girl. I am being intimidated by boys, boys with big Jeeps! In the line up, I look ahead to see the rigs in front of me. A lime green Jeep sponsered by Chrysler Jeep Dodge, a black Rubicon and an over-sized red jeep with tires taller than my mother. Within my eyes scope, all I can see are Jeeps! I feel like Vanna White should be here to turn over the next tile and send me home!
The Okanogan weather is breath-taking. It is hot and dry. The sky is a majestic blue. The only heat I have ever felt this perfectly hot was from standing over a wood stove, stoked with cedar from the west coast. I put my bandana over my face to protect my breathing from the flying dust on course and proceed to the line up.
Driving to the trail, I feel my body starting to relax. My muscles are once again at ease and my breathing is normal. All of the beginners are with me in the same line up, heading to The Panoramic Trail. Approaching my first obstacle, I look around at the other Jeeps in front of me. No Problem! No one is having trouble. It should be easy.
"Are you ready?"
"I am feeling a little scared."
"Don't worry, you are good. Giv'er a little gas going up and release at the top. Once you are at the top, just let yourself go down."
I know that I can do this! I push the gas and make my way up. No problems. For some reason it looks harder to go down. The Jeep is almost rocking and I am stuck up here. What the hell, I have to get down somehow!
"Wow, that was awesome!" I want to do it again, but better. I want something more challenging!
The day goes by and I see many "panoramic views". I have a few new scratches on my rig, but nothing impressive! I want some real action! Now, I know that I can do this shit!
"What is the hold up?" I hear from a distance, as I patiently wait to move along. I know that my instuctor said slow, but we haven't moved in an hour. It is hot out here. I have already taken pictures of cows who have just happened to cross our path and my brows are drenched in sweat. You can only pee outside so many times before you want a real bathroom with real soap and water! Now, I just want to get the hell outta here.
"Holy Shit, that is a heck of a puddle!"
"Oh my!" It is my turn, what the..., o.kay, here I go! This is unexpected but looks like fun! "
I give Black Beautiful a little gas. I have landed smack in the middle of a mud bog.
I hear from the left, "Give'r more gas!"
I put my foot on the excellerator. All I can hear is the sound of my tires rotating and fighting to get out of this hole. I am not going anywhere, yet I am not embarressed! I can't be stuck! I put my foot on the gas some more. Mud hits me in the face. I am starting to like this, yet I feel a bit frustrated. My foot is on the gas, but I am not going anywhere. Do I need help out? No, I can do it. I put my foot to the petal. It is like I am stuck in snow. No one is going to dig me outta here! I have been waiting all day for this. I have to try a little harder! With a little more gas, I feel my body leaning into the move, until I can feel myself rocking to get out.... I'm not on a dirt bike, my rocking isn't going to help!
"Do you want to be winched out?"
"Are you kidding? I can get out of here!"
The mud splurts up and out. My rig is covered in mud and so is my face, but I am still sure that I can do it. The trail guides are only here for reassurance! I could never use them for that purpose. Then I might be labled a girl!
"Come on, Black Beautiful! You are capable. Don't make me look uncapable!"
I turn my wheel to the left and give'er slight gas and, I am out!

The Day Just Keeps Getting Better

Well, I think this one is going to need a stitch or two.
Walking into the emergency room at the Thunder Bay Regional Hospital, I quickly realize that the entire city is freaking out over the H1N1 virus.
I am greeted immediately at the Emergency doors, by people wearing masks, standing behind a table which is blockading the waiting area and reception desk. There is hand sanitizer sitting on every station and pamphlets outlining the symptoms of the "killer flu", which is bombarding our nation and city, to say the least. I guess I have been underestimating the seriousness of the swine flu.
"Have you had a cough in the past week, have you had a fever? Any flu-like symptoms in the past week?" she asks without pausing for my answer after each question. She gazes up at me from behind the table with her masked face, as the last question comes out. Oh, she is waiting for my answer to all three questions. Do I group the questions together and give one answer or do I answer each one individually? She is looking irritated and frustrated at me. I better hurry and answer her, either way.
"No," I say.
With a sigh of relief, she directs me to the line up which awaits the reception nurse.
" Please, use this hand sanitizer and wait for reception to let you know it is your turn"
"No problem."
Wow, I cannot even take my place in the line up. I have to wait here in fear that I might be getting to close to people? This is scary!
The waiting room is divided into two separate areas. One for people like me, who have had no flu symptoms and one area for all of the people wearing masks, who I assume must have the symptoms.
Has everyone forgotten that it is regular flu season, too? Why necessarily does every cough, sore throat or fever have to be swine flu? More people died last year from the seasonal flu than swine flu victims this year. Maybe, I am too calm. Of course, nothing can happen to me. I am invincible. As long as I wash my hands often and eat broccoli, yogurt, green vegetables, and squash to go along with plenty of rest, I should be o.kay, right?
"Next."
"These are scary times we are living in!"
"It is just a precaution, ma'am."
I look around and see that all of the staff are wearing protective masks and gloves. Two thirds of the patients are wearing masks and keeping their distance from fellow patients. This really is a cautious time, maybe even a bit paranoid. The room is quiet, in spite of the fact that the waiting room is overflowing with people.
I give her my story as to why I am here. She, too seems bothered that I am taking up their valuable time. Perhaps, I am using up time which should be made available to more deserving or more serious patients, suffering from H1N1 symptoms. Who knows!
I have a right to be here!
"How long do you figure until I can expect to be seen, I know that you can't tell me exactly, but approx...."
"Hurry up, Ma'am, we have people waiting. I can't tell you that"
"I know that you are busy, but I have a class starting in just over an hour, perhaps you can tell me about how..."
"I told you I do not know!
"I am sorry Miss, but I have a right to be here."
" And there are patients waiting to be signed in."
My face is burning up. I can feel the anxiety filling my body and I am about to explode. How rude, she will not even let me finish my thoughts! Besides the fact that I am in pain and bleeding all over the sleeve of my coat, I am staring at a bunch of blank, partial faces covered in protective wear, and that is starting to freak me out even more. I refuse! I am not going to get paranoid about this, so called pandemic, and I am surly not going to lose it on this woman!
"Is being a bitch a qualification that must be met before being hired to work in emergency? People here are sick or injured and do not need to be brushed off by an overpaid, lack of knowledge person like you with zero compassion and zero people skills!"
Opps. I think that I just lost it!
I am in shock that I just said that! She glances over to her co-worker and says, "This one is a real prize."
I just need to ignore this comment. I am a big person. I see no evil, hear no evil and will not take any further action in this conversation.
I came into this place with an owy that needs to be looked at and now, I am falling in to the fear that has been spread all over this room from what they call precautions. To me they are instilling fear in people about a virus that may or may not be as serious as they are predicting. Like with any virus, we need to be careful, wash hands, not touch our faces, gargle listerine, drink a few hot beverages everyday, and keep our nosrils clean. It is one thing to take precautions and it is another thing to spread fear through over-reaction! Dammit, I am just going to take my seat and hope for the best!
I have been called in. That was so fast!
"Wow, I am done already and 20 minutes to spare! I'm not going to be late. Maybe this wasn't such a bad visit!" If nothing else, it has been effective. Jaunting along, replaying my whole visit, I can tell myself that atleast I am not going to be late for school. Something going right. Where are my keys? "Oh," digging into my pocket, "here they are."
Oh no, are those my lights on? Um-Hmm!
I am so cold! That helicopter needs to fly away. It is so windy. The key unlocks the door and I jump into my jeep, barely being able to hear a thing from the noise of the chopper. I put the key in the ignition... and guess what, it is dead! I killed the battery. I hope this is not an indication as to what the swine flu really means!

My Thoughts for the Day, Today

What is a military wife? Well, I am understanding and patient. I run the house and pay the bills. I cry a lot in private (I am crying right now) and wipe the tears of another. I miss my little soldier! I am often underestimated as a person who is not paying attention, but I hear every word spoken, loud and clear. I am trained to do so. It is crucial to survival. It is not about me, but is about the humble person who is willing to give up his life to save many; the person who can fight as ordered and love more than any other can. He is my warrior. He will stand tall when I am a coward. He will raise his arms in defense of our country, when I am only capable of raising my arms to ask questions. I do have a lot of questions!
I am brave because I can manage a family and a household, but ask me what I would do if I was to ever be taken hostage? I would melt. I would die! I am scared! I am clostrophobic! I am closed in right now! I can't breathe! He is brave because he has no fear; no fear of being hurt, no fear of failure and no fear of death.
I could never shoot someone, neither from hate nor love. I could never put a bullet into the heart of someone who only thinks that what he is doing is right. I am not so brave afterall. As I listen to the news, I hear, "Another Canadian soldier down....". My heart feels heavy. I am aching all over. Tears fill my eyes for the loss. I quiver everytime I hear those words. Heaven forbid it could ever be my story! I cannot imagine what it would be like to be the person who just lost her best friend, her life, her everything. I am so lucky! I thank God daily because I still have my best friend, my life, my everything.
What would I do if that was ever lost? Would I live on and continue as a military widow wife or would I die? Would I run the house, pay the bills, cry a lot in private and wipe the tears of another and deem myself an idiot, or would I carry on because I know that is what he would want. Thank God, I still have my warrior and lots of time! I do not have to decide today. My question is, what if it all gets taken away? Please, just put me in the front line so I do not have to decide! In the mean time I am telling you, a military wife is a person with the nerves of steal, a heavy heart and many prayers! She also runs a hell of a household!

I Am Not Sure Who is Going Faster!

The room is hot and humid and the viewing stands are crowded. There are swarms of people everywhere to watch the swimmers below. The pool is glistening. There is a wake of white caps following behind each swimmer as they speed by. Every person in this room wants someone to win, but I want my kid to win and my kid only! My heart is racing and my hands are sweaty, as my little girl is gaining control of her race. It's going to be close --- within a hundredth of a second, or maybe even a thumb nail. Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have cut her nails!
"Swim Isabelle! Swim!"
"Kick your feet!"
"Kick, kick, kick!"
"Let's go!"
"Your almost there!"
Lane 2 is gaining on her. Her stroke is powerful and the competition is gaining momentum.
"Come on, Isabelle,"
"Kick, you little crapper!"
"Kick, kick, kick!"
I can't sit still. I'm getting edgy. I need to jump down there, but I don't want to be escorted out! "Come on, Baby Girl!"
"Kick harder! Almost home, Baby. Almost home!"
Five more meters to go. I am on the edge of my seat. I'm breathing heavy. My voice is cracking and I am trembling. My heart is racing faster than the swimmers who are swimming. I can not handle this. I glance up at the score board.... and she's.... she's.... she's---- third. Damn it, another bronze metal!

Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall, Humpty Dumpty had a Great Fall

As a child, once per week, I was always able to go to the candy store. Every time, my first stop was at the chip rack. You may call me an eat-o-holic if you wish, but that is how it was! Still until this day, it remains the same.
It was a hot and humid day in Moncton, N.B ( where I grew up) this summer when I entered a corner store ( very much a different experience because a corner store now carries milk, bread, eggs and other staples... not like the candy store). My thought process had not changed and the first thing that I did was go straight to the chip rack. Perhaps I was naive in thinking that nothing had changed! Being in Eastern Canada, where Humpty Dumpty Potato Chips had originated, I thought that my favorite chips would be available. As a young person, these chips were a staple in our house like apples, potatoes, and a side of beef.
Our family spent many evenings snacking on this potato chip sensation. The taste of vinegar would tickle our throat, as we waited for the dill to kick in and make our cheeks pucker. All of the while, we were just waiting for the salt to burn our tongues! There was never a use for napkins because I saved the flavor on my fingertips to lick when I was finished eating my favorite snack! Disgusting, I know, but how irresistible!

Today I met a man, a sales rep for potato chips. I asked him, "Where are my chips, Humpty Dumpty, of course." He answered with , "Well, Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall (of many stores) Humpty Dumpty had a great fall because the representatives were unkind and not accommodating. Old Dutch saw the potential andbought out the company." Currently Old Dutch is selling only the barbeque flavour from Humpty Dumpty. I was told that the recipes sit in storage for now. I am told that with a few e-mails and a little bother that they may very well bring back my flavor.... dill pickle. I can hardly wait!
Humpty Dumpty definitely had a great fall because someone is bringing them back. I can hardly wait for winter!