HELP!

I never want to see another number, chart, graph, Excel document, SPSS document, or anything similar ever again in my whole entire life. I don't even want to see a white sheet of paper or a computer screen with a suspicious-looking black lined grid on it, even if the grid is empty of any data. I don't even want to use the words data or bar graph or pie chart or variables or frequencies or anything similar! I don't want to see the words printed in something I did not write. I don't even want to THINK about these words or the concepts related to them. Never! Ever! EVER! And if anybody says, whispers, infers, hints at, or even THINKS the words MATH EXAM or MATH PROJECT or GROUP PROJECT, I will...I will...hmm, what will I do?

This reminds me of that scene in Pirates of the Caribbean where Will is threatening Barbossa's crew with a pistol and Barbossa just laughs at him. "We can't die!" Barbossa says, grinning. Will thinks for a minute. "You can't," he replies, holding the pistol up to his own neck, "but I can!"

OK, I'm not that desperate. I'm not going to kill myself. But...it surely would be tempting if I could rest assured that God wasn't going to require any math in heaven! Ha ha, no, I'm kidding. But I was serious about the beginning part.

Speaking of Pirates of the Caribbean...and speaking of Will...and speaking of Orlando Bloom...though no one really was...

*sighs happily* I love...











a good segue.

Ha ha, gotcha! You probably thought I was going to say I loved Orlando Bloom. Well, I do not. In fact, I've never really been a big fan. However, my friend Lea and I watched Kingdom of Heaven the other day and I have to say I was really impressed with the way that boy handles a broadsword. Very nice indeed.

*claps appreciatively*

I can hear my readers' -- er, I mean, my reader's -- gasp of disapproval. "Kingdom of Heaven! Wasn't that, like, R-rated?"

Yes, actually. But only for the violence. It was about the same as Gladiator in terms of content. Nothing risque, really, just...ehm...blood and all that sort of thing. Which doesn't really bother me. OK, I must be honest, it doesn't bother me at all. Which, in fact, DOES bother me -- the fact that it doesn't bother me. Do you know what I mean?

I'm not sure even I understood that sentence.

All right...I was going to post more but I have to go to class now. Two minutes ago, actually. Oh, well. Ta ta for now! :)

My grandma

Well, it's been a while. I'm very sorry to have neglected the blogosphere, as SFL called it once. This is going to be a serious blog, I'm afraid. No joking round today.

Just a word of explanation as to why I haven't been posting; my grandma was admitted to the hospital a while back (can't even remember the exact day). She has been having trouble breathing for years, and it has only gotten worse lately.

A while after she was taken to the hospital, she was put in intensive care because she had stopped breathing. The hospital staff put her on a ventilator without knowing that she had not wanted that.

They took her off the ventilator a few days later and she appeared to be doing OK...however, with all the pain medication they were giving her for various things, she was pretty much out of it and at one point didn't even know who my father was. Most of the time she would just lie there without responding to anyone. It was pretty bad.

My sister from Iowa, Debi, drove up here with her husband and youngest son just so they could be there with her. Grandma would rally now and then, recognising people and nodding her head at them, but it looked pretty bad by then; we all knew she didn't have long and my sister wanted to say goodbye.

Yesterday my grandma finally passed on. It was a sad time for everyone, but I'm glad her earthly struggles are over.

The worst part of all this is that when anyone tried to witness to her to bring her to Jesus, she didn't want to hear it. My other sister Shari got the farthest with her, telling her that we loved her and that Jesus loved her too and that we wanted to see her in heaven. But when others tried to share with her and ask her if they could tell her more, she would just shake her head.

I don't know what happened with her mind in the last few days; maybe she could understand what we were saying and could make the decisions she needed to make, I don't know. But she was on so much medication that I doubt she could fully understand it.

We'd been trying to win her to Christ for years and years, basically ever since my parents were saved in 1969. But she was a stubborn lady. I even remember when I was little making a comment to her about her pear tree in the front yard -- she'd been complaining that it didn't look as if it were going to make it and I piped up, "You never know, Grandma; God can work miracles!"

Heh. That reminds me of one time when I was REALLY little -- my grandfather brought out a beer to drink while he watched his favourite horror movies, and little upstart that I was, I barreled across the room, got in his face, and said, "You know, Grandpa, God wouldn't like to see you drinking that." Without a word he got up and put the beer back in the fridge. My mum gave me the thumbs-up sign from the dining room, where she had been watching the whole exchange.

Funny how when you're young (or young in Christ) you can witness more easily, but when you get older, sometimes it gets harder and harder to have the courage to say what you know you need to say. Fear of rejection, maybe? Self-consciousness?

Well, before I start to ramble more, I will sign off. I just wanted you all to know that that is why I haven't been posting. I've missed exchanging barbs with you, SFL, and will be back to it shortly. Jess, sweetie, I'm going to call you very soon, I promise.

Hugs to everyone.

:)