Sandra Rose Hughes

Some of you may recall a few months ago when my laptop bit the dust and I had to go on a brief hiatus. Well, the replacement computer which someone gave us...is now no longer working. Very frustrating. Anyway, I do not know when I will update again. Hopefully in a few weeks we will get a new computer. Thanks- Sandy

Is there a limit to the amount of sadness a school can absorb? We had another attempted suicide last night. Thank God she didn't succeed. They found her in time and she is in the hospital right now, recuperating. The first two students succeeded. That makes three attempts in the past 1 1/2 months. It's unreal. Everybody is kind of freaking out, including me. I have always heard that these things come in threes. Dear God, let this be the last.

Yesterday, I had two real-live, non-family people who actually know me face-to-face tell me they have read this blog and like it! That made my day. So, thank you Denise (one of my favorite students ever) and Brandon (local photographer for the Kern Valley Sun! Also, I found $10 and .10 on the ground. That was also very nice. As you know, I have been coping with the death of my grandfather this year. Writing poetry helps immeasurably. This is one of the more uplifting poems I have written about his death. 112. Final Gift. 11/7/10- 7 months after he died. When your body shriveled into grasshopper legs and gaunt face- When your mind wandered to places none of us could follow- You were reduced to the core of what makes up a man. You never complained, even when dying hurt. You did not lash out, you did not whimper. You died the way you had lived- Quietly, with strength, and forbearance. You who had already given me so much love, such a powerful past- You gave me one last blessin

A few months ago, I told you all the story of Sippy, the tiny black kitten in our SIPS Panels. Sippy was around 3 or 4 weeks old when we found him, and he had been living in our construction materials, where it stays relatively warm. Unfortunately, there is very little to eat over there, and so Sippy was quickly starving to death. He cried piteously until we captured and fed him. We soon discovered that he was very personable and, once we put some weight on him, a cat with a very nice personality. Within a week, we found a forever home for him with a fellow animal lover, Nancy. Well, some of the SIPS panels are still out there, and they are still a deliciously warm haven for cats in the middle of this cold spell. For the past few days, a new mystery cat has appeared in the panels. She (I think) stayed mainly in the panels, frightened of people, but occasionally we caught a little vision or her tail or face. This morning, her hunger and loneliness drove her right to the steps of our tra

I just had an article published in the Kern Valley Sun. It's not anything particularly exciting, but it is nice to get paid for writing. http://www.kvsun.com/articles/2010/11/23/kv_life/education/doc4cebfd21d744d095524260.txt

At a Thanksgiving Service last night, I thought back on this year, with all its ups and downs and asked myself, “What am I most thankful for?” I surprised myself with my response. 2010 was in many ways a successful year for me and my husband. We put up the walls and roof of our new house this year. We paid off thousands of dollars worth of student loan debt, and put ourselves in position to get all our loans paid off in six months. I directed my first musical with high schoolers and followed the Lord in leading my church on the first mission trip this church family has ever taken. The children’s ministries we’ve been working on for the past five years are finally growing, and I’ve continued to meet and befriend many interesting and even influential people in our community. Grant and Meghan moved up here this year to begin their ministry at Kernville Baptist Church and we’ve greatly enjoyed them. Anthony and I are both well-respected in our careers and it seems like everything we’ve tr

We wander side by side Trudging through the sand There are no monsters to slay out here. There is no treasure to find. The only food and water we have is what carry on our backs. There was a time before the desert When our quest was exciting and new When we slept under green trees and bright stars When we fought small battles and won. Now it seems as if that time never existed. All there is is sand and sun. Our horses ran away a long time ago. All we do is step, step, and step forward. Every step is a step closer to the end of our desert. Sometimes I forget just what it is we are questing for. My legs ache. My eyes are gritty with sand and tears. I cannot help but think about what home used to be. Sometimes we talk. Mostly, we just trudge. When we leave the desert, There will be more monsters to fight. There will be new aches and pains But nothing will be as difficult as getting through this damn desert.

We had another student commit suicide from my school. Two in one month? It seems like too much to bear- and yet, here we are- bearing it- because there is simply no other choice. I am mad, sad, and confused. Sometimes I forget how fragile my students are. Jesus, how do I help these babies you've put in my care? I don't understand this world.

I have a Bachelor of Arts with a minor in Drama and a Major in English. I have an English-teaching Clear credential. I have been teaching now for five years. I did a lot of studying in school and worked as hard as I could...but I still don't know the really important things I need to know to be a successful teacher. Here are some classes I wish I had taken. 1. Fundraising 101, 202, and 303. This series of classes would cover how to succesfully run an effective, lucrative fundraiser without stepping on any other club's territory at an already fundraiser-saturated, state-controlled school. 2. Cardboard 235 This class would cover how to make stuff out of refrigerator boxes, like set pieces, props, book-shelves, etc. It would also cover basic tool usage, such as box cutters, packing tape, spray paint, and electric drills. 3. Motivation 504 This class would teach you how to get 100 surly high school students to not only WANT to work hard on a project, but also how to make them actua

Voluntary poverty is a great way to get ahead financially. Basically, the idea is that you and your household purposefully limit the amount of income you live on and save the rest. This works extremely well when you're trying to get out debt, save for a large purchase, or accumulate wealth. The idea is not to try to make more money- try to spend less. My husband and I have been living in voluntary poverty for the past few years. We tithe 10% of our income, live on 30%, pay off debt with 20%, and save for our house with 40%. Most of the time, it's really exciting and fun to see the progress we've made in building our house (sans building loan or mortgage), and paying off debt (the students loans will be gone by next August!) Sometimes, though, it really bites. Trailer Love I can feel the ball of my shoe wearing thin. I thought that when I married you, My handsome young husband, That we’d arrived. I thought I’d have new shoes from then on, New shoes, nice bras, nice haircut.

It's been a while since my last post. Any yearbook advisors out there? Maybe you can feel my pain. I am a first year yearbook advisor. We have a huge deadline coming up and I've been pulling my hair out. I have been eating, sleeping, and drinking yearbook. In two weeks we have to submit 40 pages. I have personally completed about 12 pages. The other 28 pages are the students' responsibility and they are in various states of incompleteness. Is it poor teaching to create so many of the pages myself? Definitely. Do I know how to get the kids to do it? Nope. How can I teach them something I have no idea how to do myself? Plus, 20 kids are sharing 5 computers and one camera. Anyway, here is how I have been feeling about myself and my hyperactive hobbies lately. Jill of All Trades. I am Carol Ann’s daughter, A sub-par potter. I’m a slow-jogging-runner And a never-would’ve been swimmer. I’m a don’t-like-to-fighter, And an undeveloped writer. The child of a preacher, I’m

110.Our Nest In our nest- it’s safe and warm and dry. Outside, it’s cold and rainy grey. Stay with me, my love. Don’t walk out that door to face the world. I’ll find a way to stay- if you will. Here, there is no one who can hurt you. Or me. Safe and dry and warm and sleepy- Let’s stay this way. Don’t leave to fight those dragons. They’ll wait- believe me. They’ll still be there tomorrow. But for today- let’s stay here. Safe in our nest where no one can hurt us. Photo Link The picture at the top of the page is actually a really neat piece of installation art by artist Nils-Udo during the 1970's.

A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. -The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet , by William Shakespeare. I do not think I will teach Romeo and Juliet to my students this year. Last night we got word that one of the students at my school committed suicide. She was a senior. I'd never taught her, but I'd seen her around. She was very involved in ASB and part of a fun group of friends. Her boyfriend, a boy who'd graduated a few years ago, had been deployed and, for some reason, broke up with her recently. She didn't come to school yesterday, and when her parents came home in the late afternoon, they found her. My students are in deep shock and mourning. I found out about it last night-after my husband and I had gone out to celebrate the new baby my brother and his wife are having. It will be the first baby on our side of the family- My pare

108. San Francisco After a vast, lifeless desert I find myself sitting in a green park in Washington Square Listening to an Italian accordion A friendly aging dog waddles past With a stiff labored gait I read some beat poetry Glorious in its required tired anti-establishment vibe Venerable Asians sit stretch Tai Chi A tour bus drives by I am desperately grateful to find an oasis in my pen After passing through the wasteland

The Kern Valley Sun ran my article about Cheesy Bowls this week! I haven't gotten any feedback from readers yet, but I hope to soon. I promised I would post it after the Kern Valley Sun had used it, so here it is. Consider it a spoof on recipe blogs, such as my sister-in-law's excellent food blog, "Green Megs and Ham." Unlike the recipe below, you might actually want to try one of hers at home. How to Make a Cheesy Bowl in the Trailer. Approximate time: 15 minutes Nutritional info: Figure it out yourself. 1. Come home from work at 6PM and notice that there is no food in your tiny pantry except for a half used jar of spaghetti sauce, some cheese, a can of beans, and a stack of corn tortillas. 2. Look in the sink full of dirty dishes for the two bowls you own. Evaluate whether they actually need to be washed. For example, if you ate something reddish last night, like spaghetti sauce, or watermelon, or sherbet, you might not actually need to wash the bowls. Give them

You may not know this about me- but over the past few years, I have become a tightwad. Yes, I am a plastic-bag washing, thrift-store shopping, aluminum-foil-hoarding, toilet-paper-roll-crushing cheapskate. I wasn’t always this way. Sure, I always had saving tendencies. I enjoyed saving money as a child, and was raised in a family where, though we always had plenty to eat, money was tight. My father was a Southern Baptist minister and my mother stayed at home for most of my childhood. With three children, this put us at the poverty level for most of my childhood. But we didn’t need new clothes, lots of toys, or nice cars- we had a mom who stayed at home, and that mattered much more than anything money could buy. Once we were old enough to go to high school, my mother started working full time and we almost forgot that there was time when we couldn’t buy new clothes or have a nice car. Through a combination of student loans, parent loans, scholarships, and working, I went to a private Ch

106. Real Estate God made us women with plenty of curb appeal With windows and angles in all the right places. So Adam would say, “Yowza! I want this one!” But God didn’t stop there. God gave us women more than just curb appeal, Nice closet space and an amazing view. He poured us a deep foundation with plenty of steel, And extra insulation so we could keep our men and babies warm. God gave us rooms within rooms of moods and questions and thoughts. He gave us the power to nurture, to protect, to guard our families, and even civilization as we know it against the cold. The Master Architect created us in his image to have function, form, and much, much more. Here is why I wrote this poem: Respect is extremely important to me. I may be a cute young woman, but I don't want people to think that about me first and foremost. I have been teaching high school for five years now, and during my college years, I travelled extensively. I may not be a mother yet, so I don't claim to know any

1. The editor of the Kern Valley Sun, Cathy Perfect, emailed me yesterday to say that the humorous article, "How to Make a Cheesy Bowl in a 30 Foot Travel Trailer," I sent her will probably appear in the Oct.20th edition of the KVSUN. I wrote it on a whim last week as a parody on recipe articles. I liked it so well that I sent it off to her before posting it on my blog. My husband thought it wouldn't make a good newspaper article, and that almost stopped me- but I decided to go with my first instinct on this one. I respect his opinion, but sometimes I have to be strong enough to follow my own judgement, especially when it comes to writing and submissions. I haven't submitted many articles to the Sun lately, and I was afraid the editor would be like, "we haven't heard from you in a year- why should we publish your stupid article?" But she didn't say that at all! I think she liked it. I wish I could churn the funny articles out once a week or even once

On my recent trip to San Francisco, I got to visit the world famous home of Beat Poetry- the City Lights Bookstore. This bookstore is famous (or infamous)for being the place where Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and all those other beat poets first got their start. I am a pretty conservative person, but I do have a special place in my heart for poetry that deals with pain, idealism, and disgust with greed and arrogance. I bought a little book called City Lights Pocket Poets Anthology . One poem in particular spoke to me. I wish I had written it. #25- by Larwrence Ferlinghetti The world is a beautiful place to be born into if you don't mind happiness not always being so very much fun if you don't mind a touch of hell now and then just when everything is fine because even in heaven they don't si

Today is the anniversary of my birth. As luck would have it, it is also the anniversary of Carolyn's birth! Carolyn is my identical twin sister, and she also has a blog. Her blog is all about the struggles of being a young marriage and family therapist. She is a poet, just like me, and she often posts her beautiful, funny, and thought provoking poetry on her blog. Check out La Therapista.

104. The Break-Up 9/29/10 Poetry and I haven’t been on speaking terms for a while now. Some ugly things were said, feelings were hurt, and She stopped returning my calls a few months ago. First, I tried to pretend I didn’t care. I told myself she would call me back when we were both ready. Then, I started to panic, and tried to call more often. She answered the phone a few times, but I could tell her heart wasn’t really in it, And all our conversations were glum, uninspired, nothing like they were before. I spoke to a few people who know her, And they all said she was fine, that she’d been returning their calls. It’s very uncomfortable to need a friend who doesn’t need you. Why should poetry speak to me when she has so many other, better friends? I knew all I could do was wait. I waited by the electric glow of the computer, The threateningly blank page, And I waited on walks, talking to myself in the hopes that she might chime in. After many months of wondering when I would talk w

I am currently enrolled in a class at my church called "Financial Peace University" by Dave Ramsey. In one of the sessions, he challenged us with the question, "What would you do or what would you become if I didn’t have to work for money. If you could have any job in the world, regardless of money or education, what would it be?" I thought about this, and I wondered if perhaps I should say, “I would be a writer.” But I didn’t feel like that was really true. It took me a few days to realize that this was because I already am a writer. Sure, I don’t make much money at it and my books have yet to appear in any bookstores, but I am a writer, simply because I write. My other job as a high school English teacher is extremely rewarding. I wouldn’t change it. In fact, writing and teacher compliment each other well. I really enjoy my kids at school, and although they don’t always enjoy me- they have a grudging respect for me. It gives me a chance to get into someone else’s

On the advice of my mother, I just finished re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird , by Harper Lee. I had read it in high school of course, and I remembered enjoying it then, but at the time I wasn't really sure what all the hype was about. Anyway- It is an incredible book, an important book. It was written by a woman, but yet there is no hidden feminist agenda, proving that women can write books without constantly referring to the bitterness of our gender. It's a commentary on society, a love story, a coming of age story- so many things all rolled into one. I enjoyed it greatly. I laughed, I cried- I could hardly put it down. I definitely understand why we consider this book to be a great example of American Literature. It got me to thinking- in forty years, which books will we be forcing our high schoolers to read from this era? I am well-read when it comes to the classics, but I am practically illiterate when it comes to anything written in the past ten years (except for Harry Pot

I was just perusing my duotrope submissions tracker. About two years ago I started really seriously sending out my books, poems and short stories for publication. Since that time, I've had my fair share of rejections and no responses. In the past two years, I've had my poems rejected or not responded to at least 40 times, my short stories have been rejected or not responded to about 20 times, and The Cavey Journey has been rejected or not responded to at least 20 times. I feel like I should win an award or something. Of course, there are probably writers out there who've been rejected much more than I have. In all that time, I have had some successes, which keeps the bitterness of defeat away. My work has appeared in The Kern Valley Sun , Concise Delight , Midnight Screaming , and the Blinking Cursor . In addition, one of my poems won first place in a valley-wide poetry competition . 4 out of 80...not the highest ratio in the world, but it's a really good start. Now i

The story of Sippy- the malnourished, dehydrated cat we found in our building materials- has a happy ending! I would have kept him if I had to, so that he could stay out of the shelters and off the streets, but I was concerned because I already have way too much on my plate already. Anyway, our architect, Nancy Shebesta, dropped by this week and when we told her about the cat, she got very excited. She asked to meet him and was thrilled when we asked if she might want to take him home. Nancy is a very sweet lady with a good heart, and she loves animals deeply. She will probably be a better owner than I can be right now. I won't say I didn't cry when Sippy left me, but I couldn't have asked for a better owner for him, and for a happier ending. Another cat rescued! Hooray! Here is a poem I wrote way back in 2003 when I was in the middle of falling in love with my then-boyfriend, now husband, Anthony. "Holding Hands" As we hold hands in the crowd, In theatres, at par

I went to a women's meeting last night that meets in our community. A few of the women there know that I am an aspiring writer, and it was fun to talk about the projects I'm working on. Unfortunately, I didn't have much to report because my writing has been such a dead end lately. Fortunately, they were very encouraging, and I'm ready to try again. Plot development seems to be my weakness. I love character development and exposition, but I can never seem to get the plot off the ground satisfactorily. That is why I'm only halfway through Marilyn Marlin. It doesn't help that several of the people who have read it hate the main character's name and personality. Well, I like her, and I like how dismal she is, and I'd rather have people hate her than be bored by her- so she stays the way she is. I am going to try, try again. Here is the second half of chapter one. So instead of quitting, she simply nodded and muttered under her breath, “I will take care of he

Last Christmas, I began a new writing project. I kept thinking about some of the students in my classroom who are extremely undersized because of malnutrition or their mother's drug use while they were pregnant. These kids go through their days with their heads down, trying to stay out of trouble, trying not to attract attention. That is when I thought of the opening line of the book and wrote the first chapter in one sitting. Since then, my pace has slowed down, but I am still excited about the premise. I have written 6 chapters, and the book should turn out to be about 12 chapters. I feel solid about exposition, but when it comes to plot development...I hit this horrible wall. Anyway, here is the first half of the first chapter of Marilyn Marlin . Chapter 1 Marilyn Marlin was unusually small for her age. She had spent the past eight years of her life trying to blend into the background, and it seemed as if she had succeeded. If she had had her way, no one would ever have taken a

Sippy has started playing! The first few days he was in too much shock to be interested in playing, but last night and this morning, he has been pouncing at anything that moves! Also, when I gave him a bath the first day, he hung there limply, not resisting, but when I gave him one yesterday, he was a force to be reckoned with. These are sure signs that he is feeling much, much better. I can still feel his bones quite a bit, but not as much, and his belly is very round. He has also been pooping consistenly since yesterday. Unfortunately, he is nowhere near litter-box trained. We have shown him the litter box, helped him scratch in the litter, made sure he can come in and out of the box easily...and he still poops in the dark corner under the desk. We have put the litter box in the dark corner under the desk...he pooped behind it this morning. Our other two kittens understood the litter box concept almost immediately, but they were raised with big litters and humans caring for them. Who

As I drove home from school on Friday, I thought to myself, "I am so relieved that all my pets have been fixed and vaccinated. We shouldn't have to pay another vet bill for a long time." My 5 month old kitten got fixed a few weeks ago, and she has healed beautifully. It's worth the minimal cost to know that she won't get pregnant, and can run around at night without adding to the pet over-population problem. Everyone should spay and neuter their animals unless you are a breeder, and then maybe you might need to re-think that. It's not like we have a lack of animals in the world- do you really need to contribute to it by adding more pure-bred, bug-eyed $200 chihuahua puppies that will someday sit in a shelter? Anyway- I'll get off my soapbox now. I felt very satified as I drove home. When I walked over to the construction site to greet my husband, he said, "Sandy...there is a tiny black kitten hiding in the SIPS panels. See if you can get it out. It

Here is the link for the picture on the left. It advertises a book I should probably check out: Help For Writer's Block by Donna Kakonge. Here is the last section of chapter 2. I finished my rough draft about 3 years ago, and the book is now in its third stage of re-writes. It takes a lot of effort for me to work on it because I'm not sure the premise is even remotely marketable, however, as my first full-length endeavor, it's been really good for my writing ability. So far, my queries have been rejected 10 times,and I've recieved no response about 10 times- really not much in the grand scheme of things. Soon, I will post a few chapters from my new endeavor, a book called Marilyn Marlin . I feel better about this book, but it also has many, many rough edges, and my plot is currently stalled due to writer's block and a faulty computer. Without further ado...the end of chapter 2! Suddenly, there was a loud cracking noise coming from somewhere in the big house and a f

Chapter 2 What the cavies did not know was that a terrible thing had happened. Donner, Macie, and their humans lived in a little town called Lake Isabella. Lake Isabella was in a valley called the Kern River Valley, which had a beautiful blue lake in the middle of it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a natural lake. It used to be a river, and about fifty years before this story (which for cavies would be during their grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grandparent’s time) some people had decided it would be a good idea to dam up the river and turn it into a lake so the nearby city of Bakersfield could have drinking water and so that there would be lots of tourists who could come for boating and fishing on the lake. Pretty soon, the humans got so used to the river being dammed up, that they started building houses and shops and businesses where the river used to be. They even planted crops there, because the soil was so rich and fertile. They did all these things believing that the dam wo

I will post more Guinea Pig adventures next time. I thought we needed a little break from all the treacle. My New Year's resolution this year was to write a page a day. Have I achieved that so far? Absolutely not. I did get a lot of writing done this year, but not as much as I had hoped. One of the things that happened was my grandfather's death. Since his illness and death, I have been pre-occupied with grief and feelings of loss. Anytime I try to write...that's all that will come out. I'd rather not look at it, so I just put the pen down instead. It's time to break out of this, but I'm just not sure how. I don't like writing dark things so often- it makes me feel morbid. It's just not my style or my personality. I haven't chosen to share very many of my sad writings on the blog because they are so dark, and also because my family supports me by checking on the blog regularly, and they are also dealing with so much grief that I don't want to fur

Here is the end of chapter one. Can you guess how many agents/publishing houses rejected my query letter and first two chapters? I will tell you at the end of chapter 2. When the humans at the rescue found him in her cage that day, they were very surprised, but they figured it must mean that the two guinea pigs wanted to be bonded. So from that time on, they had lived together at the rescue until their new family had come to adopt them. Donner had often daydreamed about adventures, but had never really had any reason to try and get out of his cage in their new home, until now. Their home was roof-less, and the walls were not very tall. Slowly, cautiously, their hearts beating fast, and their tiny legs trembling, Donner and Macie peered up at the edge of the cage wall. Macie watched, as Donner finished pushing their purple-plastic house up against the wall, shoved his favorite log tunnel against the side of the house with his nose and began climbing up the tunnel to scramble to the to

A few years ago, I began writing my first children's book. I have revised it a few times since, and have gotten a lot of good feedback from my family and friends. I am happy with it as my first endeavor. Here is the first half of the first chapter. Chapter 1 “The humans are not coming back, Macie,” squeaked Donner as he pushed his plastic house up against the wall of their cage, “We might have to--” “Don’t say it! Don’t say it!” Squealed Macie, “No, no, no, no, no!” Her big black eyes started to tear up and she curled up sadly on the floor of their cage. Donner and Macie were two glossy, sweet-smelling guinea pigs, or as they thought of themselves, “Cavies.” 1 They lived together in a large cage with a spacious purple plastic house and lots of wood shavings. They had been a bonded pair for almost two years. 2 Donner and Macie loved each other very much. The guinea pigs were used to getting everything they needed from their humans, and they were very happy. In fact, they were a

The sunflowers I planted after you left us are now taller than I am. Three months have passed. Yesterday, I thought of the too-long walk I put you through- I didn't really understand how close you were to slipping away- And for the first time, I didn't feel quite so much of that deep, embarassed guilty pain. It was more like a throb than a stab. The sunflowers will bloom soon. Their roots are deep, their stalks are thick. They hardly even need the stakes anymore. You have been gone longer than I realized.