Railroad Tracks

          I don’t know when or why I came to be freaked out by railroad tracks.  I remember liking railroad ties when I was a kid – not that I ever got that close to one.  I don’t think I did.  Trains and tracks were usually seen from a distance.  Except for maybe crossing them.  I don’t recall being so quite bothered as a kid.

          I really don’t know when or why it bothers me to cross the tracks – but it does.  Perhaps not so much on foot as it does when I’m driving.  Not when I’m a passenger – but only when I’m the actual driver.  There is nothing devastating that happened in my lifetime to make me feel so uneasy – but I am.  Even if they’re tracks that haven’t had trains on them for decades.

          As a child I had been fascinated by trains.  I remember watching them sometimes while going on family vacation when the railroad tracks ran alongside the road we were driving.  I remember trying to count all the cars.  For a while trains kept me entertained.  Not so much now however.  Especially if I have to wait for one so I can cross the street.

          One time Roland was driving downtown and I was a passenger.  The route was quite unfamiliar.  We were driving northbound and had just crossed one set of railroad tracks and were approaching another when the arm came down and we had to stop for a rather long train going west  bound.  After just a few cars (from the train) has passed and there was still no end in sight, Roland considered a three point turn – only a police car was right behind him. 

          Finally the driver of the police car grew impatient and turned his car around.  Just as Roland started his started in with his turn, a train going east bound suddenly crossed the tracks behind us.  We were stuck.  There was nothing to do but wait.  We never did see the end car of the train ahead of us.  The east bound train crossed over first and we ended up turning around and driving toward the south.  That was before we had Jenna.

          Last summer I had enrolled Jenna in a theatre class. It was up at the high school near my sister’s house.  For the most part we would just park in her driveway and walk up to the high school.  In doing so, we would have to cross a set of railroad tracks on foot. In my mind they had been abandoned – as I don’t recall ever hearing trains in the entire time when I lived in the same city.  Trains just don’t seem to be so popular anymore.  At least in my neck of the woods.

          And actually so many of the abandoned tracks have been used and rebuilt in some places at becoming one form of our current public transportation.  They’ve been running for nearly twenty years now and there are still bugs to be worked out.  “High speed trains” is what they’re called at the crossing. I knew a bus driver who was literally freaked to have to drive one of those.  He declined from operating the train part and just stuck to the busses.  He’s probably retired now.

          Crossing railroad tracks seems almost unavoidable now.  Seems like I am crossing one set or another at least once a week.  And I am still uncomfortable with doing it.  Perhaps that’s a good thing. 

Chua Thien Duc

         Jenna had a hard time after we moved in – often crying as we were waiting for the bus that would take her to school.  I am so grateful to Angie who took the incentive to befriend Jenna – though it was only for a couple of months.  They were really hoping to have a play date together.

          Angie’s mom worked – and so the only time we could come over was after dinner.  The first time we had gone over to play with Angie, her mother looked at me and asked what kind of pizza I liked.  We visited a bit while the girls played and then Angie’s mom put on a video.  Cinderella III – in Spanish.

          Jenna watched that show all the time – but in English.  But I was certain she’d still understand what was being said.  But that’s not why Jenna was there. She was hurt when Angie started watching the movie and paid little or no attention to Jenna.  We left before the movie ended.

          Angie had given Jenna a penguin she had made in school.  That was the last we saw of her.  Her family had moved out during fall break.

          Like so many houses around the nation (our last one included) the house had gone to foreclosure.   It hadn’t been completely vacant as family members continued to come and go – taking whatever possessions they could.  Often leaving possessions on the curb for any passerby who might be interested.  I think it was the beginning of summer when the new homeowners moved in.

          Flags everywhere.  I didn’t know what kind of flags.  I just thought they were party people who must have had a large number of children who had birthdays quite close together.  For every Saturday there was a large number of cars parked all around the house.

          One day Roland commented that it was a Church.  A church?  Really? Someone had converted Angie’s house into a church? 

          I actually hadn’t noticed the letters over the car port: Chua Thien Duc.  I remember looking it up.  I was told it is the name of a Vietmese temple.  Wow.  Angie’s family’s house had/has been converted into a temple?  Interesting. 

          I don’t have a problem with it.  I would rather have a religious organizational structure in my neighborhood than a crack house.  People are being fed. Uplifted.  They are growing in their faith and spreading their devotion.  And that’s cool.  It’s just kind of different to think I have been in the house when it was used as a house.  I’m certain that I would not even recognize whatever new makeover that’s been created.

I wish we had had the copy and paste when I was a youth

What a great feature – this copy and paste.  Being able to sort your thoughts and move entire paragraphs and transfer information without retyping and having the ability to store information into tiny places and just hit a print button. 

No more messy carbon paper.  No more perfect line up of the typewriter ribbon.  I think my favorite feature though is the copy and paste.  It is SO AWESOME!  Wish it had existed during my high school years.  That would have been sweet.

I also like having spell check.  So often I hit the wrong key - or I really just don't know how to spell the word.  There's dictionary, thesaurus - such wonderful features that make typing up reports and blogging so much easier.

Another feature that I really like on the computer itself is the search.  To be able to type in the name of your document or picture and have the search go through and find it for you.  That is very awesome.

I'm grateful to have access to these great features.

Education in the Pod

          The elementary school that I attended opened the year before I started kindergarten.  At the time the school was designed with rooms that catered to entire grades – not just class sizes. 

          Three modular walls separated each group of students as there were four instructors assigned to each grade.  Each student was assigned a homeroom teacher.  But the homeroom teacher was not necessarily the same teacher assigned for math or reading or science, etc.  All of the students were taught by all of the teachers for that grade. It was actually a very good system.

          I did not appreciate it then.  Nor did I realize that it wasn’t the normal procedure for an elementary school to function in that manner.  Most every person that I know has had only one teacher per grade during his or her years at elementary school.  As I look back on it now, I appreciate having had the opportunities that I did for having been exposed to a variety of teachers and not just one.

          I have never thought it fair to either teacher or student to have to teach all subjects at every level.  Although Dick, Jane, Sally and Michael may be in the same grade does not mean that they are on the same level.  Dick may be exceptionally smart in math while Michael excels in reading.  Sally may struggle with science and Jane may struggle with spelling.

          The four teachers would teach the same subjects, but at different levels.  Mrs. Cleaver may have taught the gifted students math and taught the no so gifted Science and the average students reading. And Mr. Jones may have also taught an average reading class but taught a math class for students who were struggling.  Therefore Dick would have been in Mrs. Cleaver’s math class but may have had Mr. Jones for another subject.

          I was always in the “less gifted” class- sometimes average.  I was never put in with the gifted students.  For the most part I struggled.

          Backpacks were for camping back then.  The idea of taking one to school was unheard of. Each student had a tote tray with his or her name on it.  At the indicated time we would move our tote trays from one desk to another – walking passed the modular walls from one classroom to another.  We didn’t have to walk through the halls to get from one room to another.  The group of classes was called a pod and all our transitions were made inside of the pod.

          I know that some of the charter schools use the method of sending students to different teachers according to that level.  I would like to see it done in the public schools.  It makes more sense to me.

          I am grateful for having had the opportunity to learn from a variety of teachers. I’m grateful that Jenna has the opportunity for having at least two instructors per grade level while she is elementary school.  I am also grateful that she has a better grasp on education than I did.  I pray that she will continue to endure.

A much needed miracle: continuing education

         We were on the waiting list with a couple of charter schools.  I had even looked into homeschooling – which is probably what I would have ended up doing if someone hadn’t pointed out the dual immersion program.

          The dual immersion program allows students to learn a language in addition to English.  Students have two teachers, one who teaches in English for half of the day. The other will teach in a foreign language with math as the prime subject and will touch on the other subjects.

At the time there were only eight schools within this district that offered this dual immersion program.  Two offered Chinese, two offered French and four offered Spanish.  The school closest to where we are living teaches Spanish – which seemed to be the most logical of the three languages as we have contact with almost as many Spanish speaking people as English speaking.  Roland’s family members also speak Spanish – well, some of them anyway.

          I applied two months after the deadline and was put on yet another waiting list.  Within a week we received an acceptance letter.  We were in!  There is no question in my mind that it wasn’t meant to be.

          She may not have wanted to learn Spanish, but I figured she’d at least be learning.  So much seems to just come to her naturally that she needed a challenge.  She no longer takes the bus.  I have to drive her the two miles south each morning.

          So when Jenna started first grade, she had been in three different schools.  She is now in second grade at the same school. The grading system used in this district rates from 1-5 – 5 being the highest.  Thus far all of Jenna’s subjects have received 4s and 5s except for being able to spell words in Spanish.  She only received a 2.  It is something to strive for – which is a good thing.

          I still do volunteer work at the school.  I LOVE the opportunities that Jenna has – though she may not fully understand or appreciate them now.  She is still doing well – though she doesn’t love it near as much as her first school.  Her current school is actually my favorite of the three.

         

second school: another kindergarten

          After the economy started getting bad, we lost our house.  We were forced to move to a much smaller house in a quite low income neighborhood. We spent the first night in our small house the last day in November. But I kept Jenna at her first school until after Christmas break.  Realistically it wasn’t a very practical commute.

If the economy hadn’t forced us to downsize – I don’t think I would have questioned Jenna’s opportunity for even just being considered for another school.  We were in the same district, but the boundaries were for another school.

          I had tried to transfer Jenna into the school nearest to our house – one we could actually walk to if we needed to.  But they were “filled up” and we lived “on the wrong side of the street”.  My main objective for wanting her over there was to keep her on year round.  There are four track systems for that particular school – and they were all full.  Or so I was told.

          I had made three attempts to get her in.  The faculty had always been unpleasant.  I had talked to three different people and each had responded as though she had used too much starch in her underwear and wasn’t allowed to smile. As I exited the building for the last time, I wondered why I would want to have my Jenna around all these uptight people anyway.

          So after four months of full day kindergarten and homework packets, Jenna started another kindergarten class going only half day and bringing home three assignments to be turned in at the end of the week.  We could seriously complete all three assignments in less than 10 minutes. 

          When the school called to let me know that a full day had opened, I jumped at the opportunity assuming the program would be the same as in her first school.  Not even close.  She was put in a class in which most of her classmates couldn't tell their elbows from their knees. Her homework dropped from three sheets a week to just one.  It was pathetic!

          Jenna no longer got up on her own.  She would ask if she could stay home.  Often she would fake illness.  I had lost my morning nightingale.  She had become a teenager shortly after our move in.  The saddest part was that she really did try to fit in, to be happy, and to present herself in a positive way.  It only backfired. 

          She had to be bused to the school that was part of the school boundaries where we currently live.  Same district.  But NOT a first rated school.  The faculty was really nice and friendly and welcoming.  But the academics were so far beneath us.

          I don’t mean to sound like a snob.  And I appreciate that there are schools that can cater to the educationally challenged – but Jenna is advanced.  She did circles around her classmates.  She had known things before preschool that her classmates still didn’t understand in kindergarten – such as rhymes, letters, shapes and so forth.

          If it wasn’t for the backpack program that her teacher had created for her more “gifted” students, her last four months of kindergarten would have been a total waste.  Roland and I were teaching her and creating homework sometimes on a first or second grade level.

Jenna would cry in the morning each time she boarded the bus, and I would cry as the bus drove away.  I just couldn’t have her continue at that school.  It wasn’t fair to mess up her education because our finances didn’t allow us to live near a more prestige upper class school.  But she just wasn’t learning anything.  And I didn’t foresee that education would become any better if she were to remain at that school.

First school: p & k

          When Jenna was three, we would walk hand in hand over to the public school twice a week for a preschool class that was offered.  At age four she went for four days.  At age five we enrolled her in kindergarten.  All day kindergarten to be exact. We were also in year round school.

          I would volunteer in the class room once a week. We were both happy. She loved learning.  I loved her teachers. I never had any reason to look into another school.

          Her preschool teacher was great.  She loved those she taught.  And Jenna was forever learning – and socializing.  Jenna was quite popular in her class. Holding hands with Paul the first day of school.  Soaking things in like a sponge.

          Her kindergarten teacher was amazing.  She could teach every child at his or her own level without taking away from another.  Jenna was assigned to a group with two other girls; they were the top three students in the class. 

          She would bring home a packet each day and we would work on the assignments and she would get credit each day for each assignment.  Jenna LOVED school.  To her, there wasn’t much that was more important than school. 

          Having Jenna love school was so awesome.  It was never a struggle having to get her up.  She was always up and ready and eager to go.  The few times I kept her home due to illness, she cried.  I would still continue to educate her and we would have a session at home.

I love that Jenna loves to learn.

The start of education

          I’m not saying that Jenna has it easier than I did.  But I certainly didn’t have the modern conveniences that she doesn’t yet appreciate.  After all most (if not all) of them are older than she is.  Take computers, for example.

          Back in the dark ages when I went to school, number 2 pencils were required for taking tests.  We were to pick a letter from A-E and fill in the circle COMPLETELY.  If any student was just one answer off (and had marked “C” for answer 4 instead of answer 3) every answer which followed was also marked incorrectly – and so even if I did know many of the answers – I didn’t get the credit for it.

          Today (at least in her current situation) questions are given one at a time.  I suppose there is room for error with hitting the wrong button – but I don’t think that would throw off all other questions which followed.  I think she has it easier in that aspect.

          We didn’t have I-pads and Smart boards.  The teachers had black boards and chalk.  The students did at least have paper and text books.  I’m not so old that I remember the slate.

          We didn’t have the option of dual immersion programs or charter schools like we have today.  There was no email to keep in touch with parents or to go online to view your child’s grades.  It was like a different world.

          I’m grateful for the opportunities that we have to educate ourselves and for the variety of learning methods that are offered.  I am grateful for this opportunity to Blog my thoughts.

A week of education

Often times I will come up with ideas for posts and write down words and toy around with sentences and structure until I am satisfied enough to post them to my Blog. 

          I had a thought about education – Jenna’s to be specific.  I suppose I had a complete short Blog post but thought I might add to it later on.  I did add to it.  I added a lot – making for a very long post.

          Posts don’t always need to be long.  Often short posts just seem more inviting.  And so I have decided to split up my post on education.  I will dedicate the entire week to educational themed posts.  Enjoy.

53, Ageless and Never Gains a Pound

I have saved many things over the years due to sentimental reasons: “my friend gave me this” or “my cousin gave me that” or “this was sent to me from Germany”  I apparently did not build up any sentimental attachment to the Barbie doll, any of her friends or the doll clothes that mom must have spent hours making.

          I was never into Barbie as much as my friend, Julie, for example.  She had the Barbie dream house and the lush convertible, and all the latest accessories.  Not all of my friends were into Barbie as much as Julie was, but a lot of girls were.  Barbie, Barbie, Barbie. 

          Even back then Barbie just seemed too high maintenance for me.  I had a Francie doll.  Francine fell somewhere between Barbie and Barbie’s little sister, Skipper.  Francie’s hair was shorter than I liked.  She wasn’t near as popular as Barbie – or even Skipper for that matter.  And that is why I had asked for her.  She wasn’t popular enough to be high maintenance.

          My aunt had collected Barbie dolls – hers were much older.  Back when she was a girl, Barbie had a sister named Pepper who appeared to be the same size as Barbie but undeveloped.  Short ‘froed hair.  I thought she was kind of homely looking. Kind of awkward looking next to Barbie. 

I hadn’t considered having Barbies just for collecting. They were something to be played with and enjoyed. Dolls got old for me.  I preferred playing with the boys and doing “boy things” which didn’t include playing with dolls.  And certainly not collecting them.

          My mom and the neighbor across the street had worked hard at making a huge wardrobe of clothing which included a wedding dress made from the same fabric as my neighbor’s wedding dress had been., an orange and pink plaid poncho that matched a poncho that mom had made for me, and a yellow quilted jacket – just to name a few.  When I outgrew Barbie I gave the clothes to my neighbor’s daughter.

          Mom was upset about it.  She thought that I should be saving them for my own daughter.  I didn’t appreciate the hard work that had gone into them.  When I look back on it now, I’m sure that mom spent more time making them than I did removing them and clothing my naked dolls.  But I did keep it in the family.  And the neighbor’s girl probably took care of them and passed them on to her daughter – or so I’d like to believe.

          Certainly it would have been nice to have those really special (not to mention modest) clothes the two weeks that Jenna had played with Barbies – but as I had had Jenna late in life I realistically wouldn’t have saved the clothes for all that time anyway.  Who would have thought I would give birth to my first (and only bioloical) child at the age of 41?

          I had tried crocheting some outfits for Jenna’s dolls.  I even had a model – one the dog had chewed and Jenna didn’t want to play with anymore.  I didn’t really care for the yarn clothes when I was younger – especially swim wear which would never be made out of yarn for human people.  But as an adult, I realized that yarn would stretch and would be easier to get on and take off.  My problem was in using the right sized crochet hook.  My eyes wouldn’t allow me to go any smaller than a G hook – I think most of the patterns I had called for a C.   Too small.

Barbie ended up with a purple cape, a pink pant outfit, and sad looking mint green swimwear.  And oh, yes, an oversized poncho. Jenna had three dolls all claiming to be Barbie – they were all different sizes though.  Jenna has never truly loved Barbies though.  She would rather play dress ups and have tea parties and play with her stuffed animals.

From 1970-1973 Topper (don’t even remember that name on a toy company) introduced a line of dolls maybe half the size of Barbies leg. I actually preferred them to the Barbie dolls as I could strap them (along with my feet) to the old time roller skates that I would often wear in our then unfinished basement and pretend that they were riding cars.

I had Dawn, Longett and Angie.  I kept their accessories in the kitchen carrousel that was designed for Barbie.  The top cabinets were actually too high for the dolls to reach.  But as I was just pretending anyway, it really didn’t matter. It’s not as though the dolls would have lifted the the doors and retrieved the items out themselves either way.

Earlier this month Jenna’s paternal grandmother and aunt sent her a Barbie for “the day of the three kings” which is something that Jenna’s class had just learned about in school.  It is the first Barbie doll I have truly seen her get excited about.  But not because it was a Barbie.  It is an awesome Mermaid doll.

Jenna had received Ariel for Christmas, but the Mermaid Barbie is so much better.  Her tail is bigger. Her hair’s not so heavy that it pulls her underwater.  And she comes with a bunch of accessories.  Mostly Jenna plays with her dolls in the water – and so Barbie clothes really don’t matter.  I don’t think it would excite me at all to watch the wedding dress end up in the bath water alongside the sponge and mop.

So there is a brief encounter into my world of dolls. 

I do have a doll collection – nothing like my aunts or cousins have.  My collection consists of 40 or so identical looking dolls in different (non removable) costumes. 

Western Airline had done a promotion over three decades ago.  My grandfather purchased them for me.  I don’t know if they are worth anything.  Right now they are in a box.  I suppose I ought to dig them out.  Give them to Jenna if/when we finally have the room for display.

What makes Dr. Laura so high and mighty anyway?

Many people see the world as black and white.  No shades of grey.  Definitely no color.  Everything is absolutely wrong or absolutely right – there is no room for individualism.  We all need to be these perfect cookie cutter molds that would never dare venture out of the box.

          Dr. Laura – to me- sounds like a very black and white person.  And of course her way is the correct way.  No ifs, ands or buts.  Why is it that folks even call into her program?  Is it their wish to be humiliated on the air and given a “duh” speech and still not understand that they’ve been slammed?

          I don’t actually listen to her program intentionally.  Roland always tunes the car radio onto talk radio, and sometimes I just happen to be in the car when Dr. Laura gives common sense advice to her mostly pathetic callers.

For the most part I do agree with the advice she gives – but not necessarily the way she gives it.  Her tone often matches what I am thinking in my head – though I doubt I’d ever talk to a total stranger that way:  “why in the world are you even in this position when you are obviously too stupid to figure out what it was that even brought you here?”

Her answers are short, direct – never sweet.  Seriously.  Why are there callers who only encourage her to stay on the air?  After only three calls (if that) we are done.  If Roland and I have not arrived to our destination by then, I will change the station.  Please.

I copied this from a blog quite recently.  Love the message.  I wonder how many people get it though.

“Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God’s Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination… End of debate.
I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God’s Laws and how to follow them.
1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can’t I own Canadians?
2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness – Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord – Lev.1:9. The problem is, my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath.Exodus 35:2. clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?
6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination – Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don’t agree. Can you settle this? Are there ‘degrees’ of abomination?
7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle- room here?
8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev.24:10-16. Couldn’t we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God’s word is eternal and unchanging.
Your adoring fan.
James M. Kauffman, Ed.D. Professor Emeritus Dept. of Curriculum,
Instruction, and Special Education University of Virginia”

I did not get Mr. Kauffman’s permission to reprint.  Nor did I get Dr. Laura’s.  But I do think it is something that should be shared.  And has been (as it was not Dr. Kauffman’s blog where I first read it.) 

(Now at this point Dr. Laura would tell me that I shouldn’t even have a Blog – as I am too stupid to figure out the gadgets and insert here to refer to another post.  And I really shouldn’t just let my feet dangle in the water unless I can prove that I can swim)

Scriptures have been used to prove and disprove certain lifestyles.  Take slavery for example.  Both north and south used supposedly the same set of scripture to oppose or endorse slavery.  Why God was for it.  Why God was against it.  I don’t believe the Bible is black and white.  It’s not complete.  There are oodles of grey. 

Where are the actual writings of Moses or Joseph or Methuselah?  Do we really have all the epistles that were written by Paul?  And what about the Apocrypha?  I would gander a guess that it is not even included in most Bibles.  And the Songs of Solomon – really?  Grey. (Or is it in colour?)

Pharisees were so busy living to the letter of the law, they didn’t take time out to understand why the laws were even given.  A parent who has a variety of personalities among his/her children knows that one method of discipline that works on one child may not work on another.

For example grounding Patrick to his room was treacherous punishment. But Corey and I actually preferred our alone time.  Banishing us to our rooms was actually quite preferable.  Whereas forcing us to go outside was torture – or so we believed at the time.  Actually forcing me to go outdoors in reality contributed to my becoming a more well rounded person.

The point is that individualism isn’t black and white.  There are several shades of grey.  But more importantly there is color.  Lots of color.  And what a blessing it is for us to have those rainbows in our lives.  And for those who will accept the rainbows and appreciate that not everything is black and white.

Sense of Smell: or lack of it

My mother was raised in an apartment.  Both of her parents smoked.  As a result, my mother lost her sense of smell.  So it can’t be genetic.  Not that I’ve ever had the most spectacular smelling senses.  But now I don’t seem to have any.  And I actually feel blessed that I don’t. At least at the moment.

           

          I love the smell of fresh baked bread.  Gingerbread.  My husband’s cooking.  I sneeze at the very sight of a candle – although I have enjoyed many fragrances – I do have allergies.  Perfumes, plants . . . don’t even get me started. I wonder if my allergies have dulled my sense of smell over the years and have finally killed it.

          But there’s a lot of smells I don’t miss:  I understand the dog stinks.  I’ll bathe him today.  But I can’t smell him.  I can’t smell the blanket that we’ve washed more often than the dog.  I can’t smell the gross odors when I am cleaning them – and don’t know if I’ve succeeded in making them better or not.  So that’s not good.  But not having to smell bad odors is actually quite wonderful.