Please keep your dead skin off me.

It was a perfect Friday evening, and I was enjoying the gentle breeze that was starting to cool off what had been for me, a native to Philly, a blistering hot day. The sun was shining as we started our slow drive down into the city. You see, my aunt and uncle had decided that my Philly experience would not be complete without a Phillies baseball game. Now, unlike our sad Toronto Blue Jays team, people in Philly are completely passionate about the Phillies. This passion for their team and baseball results in almost every game being completely sold out, including pre-season games. We are talking over 42,000 fans come out to Citizens Bank Park to root on their team. There are no $1.00 tickets and free hot dogs here, it is serious business.

To avoid a heart attack induced by stadium food, we stopped for supper at a fantastic Mediterranean place in South Philly before heading over to the game. I need to tell you that Citizens Bank Park is incredible; not only is it beautifully laid out, and very new, but they also have real grass on their field that is perfectly maintained.

Amidst a sea of red shirts and crazy Phillies fans we made our way to our seats only to find out that we were 25 rows from home plate and directly across from the jumbo screen. Just to give you an idea of how good these seats actually were, the pitcher's brother, wife, and baby, along with a chick who had been on survivor 3 times and is now dating another one of the pitchers were all sitting across the aisle from us.

We settled in for what turned out to be a fantastic game. The Phillies were beating the Boston Red Sox, the seats were amazing, and the weather was great; it was a perfect night. That was until, our new seat mate arrived. We were a couple of innings into the game before Ron appeared. I don’t know his real name, but Ron seems to fit. We were in the midst of enthusiastically cheering for our team when a shadow loomed over us. We looked up to see Ron standing there; all 400 + pounds of him. I think at that moment Erin was wishing she had picked a different ticket number and hadn’t ended up in the seat at the end. Ron lumbered past us with his coke bottle and hand-held radio before he plopped down next to Erin almost suffocating her. After her polite requests to remove his coat from across her seat, she adjusted her seating pattern to include an upper body twist and lean as far as possible over my way so as not to be smothered by Ron.

Completely oblivious to the obvious discomfort he was causing, Ron sprawled himself out over the two seats on either side of him, and started to personally coach the team by using signals and hand gestures, along with yelling of course. Now, I’m not the most brilliant person who ever lived, but I am pretty sure that the team (even though they were 25 rows away) couldn’t hear his instructions on when to run, when to stay, how to hit, and when to steal a base. Then again, maybe I am just naive and they were depending on Ron’s coaching to win the game. Whatever the case, he felt it was completely appropriate to yell these instructions loudly while holding his radio up to his ear.

Now I get that the whole baseball experience includes the entertainment of various fans. I understand that people are passionate and enjoy being armchair players, but I do think there should be some consideration for the people next to you, especially when you are 400 + pounds. I know you aren’t going to fit nicely in your seat, but there is a difference between trying to make yourself as small as possible, and just sprawling all over like you own the place. Or maybe I’m too Canadian.

Well I was ready to chalk it up to an unfortunate addition to our seating plan, and continued enjoying the game. That was until in the last 15 minutes of the game I heard a small gasp from Erin. As I turned towards Erin I noticed that we seemed to be caught in a sudden snow storm that was descending on our section of the stadium. Puzzled, I looked closer only to see that Ron had decided that scratching his arm like a maniac for a solid minute would be the most socially friendly thing he could do in a crowded stadium. It wasn’t snow; it was Ron’s dead skin floating through the air and landing all over Erin, and partly on me. I am not even joking. It was all over the seats in front of us, and all up the side of Erin and partly on me.

Even as I write that, I think I threw up in my mouth. Disgusting is the understatement of the century.

Despite our less than desirable company, I enjoyed the game and my first Phillies experience. Hopefully any future games will exclude Ron from being our seat mate.

A cold and rainy Tuesday...

Today is the perfect day to curl up under a blanket and read a good book. After the high heat and humidity that I have experienced here so far, I am not complaining. There are few things worse, in my opinion, then the constant feeling of being soggy. Although it is the perfect day for book reading, and napping, I am doing neither of those things. Instead I am trying to deal with my ridiculous old gym membership from London (Words of advice: never join Premier Fitness), accomplish some school work, and work on the new curriculum that I am starting this week on the Ten Commandments.

This past weekend I wrapped up our study on the days of creation. We had a fun class of celebrating what had been created with blue jello with candy fish, fruit with whip cream, making small chicks that pin on one's jacket, and playing some games. It was a great success, and the kids were pretty excited by it. On Sunday I taught the kids about Jesus miracle of feeding the five thousand. They thought it was pretty cool.

I am catching my breath a bit today after a bit of a whirlwind these past few days. Between the excitement of becoming an aunt and meeting Logan through photos, two girls from my church in London coming to visit from Thursday - Monday, and a busy weekend teaching at the church, I was kept occupied. Last night I spent the evening with some of my coolest family members (my Aunt Diana and Uncle Larry), who happen to live about 10 minutes from where I am staying. We had a great supper and some good chats until well into the evening. It’s nice having family so close, especially the kind of family that you actually want to spend time with. :)

I am an aunt.

My phone rang at 6:28 am on Friday morning. It was my sister letting me know that just a few hours earlier she had given birth to my new nephew: Logan Levi. He made his grand entrance into the world weighing 8 pounds and 6 ounces. My sister, being secretly a super hero, had this little bundle of joy at home. Although she jokingly claimed on the phone to me that this is her last child, she was a total trooper and made the entire process look almost easy.

Of course I am totally thrilled to be an aunt for the first time. Being in Philly, and what seems like a million miles away, is making me people-sick (my version of homesick). It is incredible to me that my little sister, who I grew up trying to protect from the world, is now a mother. I’ll admit there were tears in my eyes when I saw the first pictures. I know she is going to be an amazing mother to little Logan, but to me she is still the little sister that I tried to keep the boys away from (Steve is lucky I had moved out by the time he came around :).

I can’t wait to meet Logan. Of course I’ll be his favourite aunt :).

Funny moment brought to you by Faith...

I have mentioned Faith in previous posts. She is the little 5-year-old girl that keeps me well supplied with hugs and encouragement. Last week in Saturday’s class she became upset and started crying. When I asked her what was wrong she told me, "Miss Mary, you are ignoring me today." I tried to explain that I wasn't ignoring her but was trying to teach the class. If you haven't figured out already, Faith likes to be the center of attention.

After the class with the kids on Sunday, I wanted to make sure she still felt important so Faith and I sat in the classroom and had some "girl talks." At one point in the conversation she turned to me and said, "Miss Mary, are you married?" When I told her I wasn't she asked, "Well are you trying to get married?" When I told her I had a boyfriend back home named Justin, she asked me if I was dating Justin Bieber, the child wanna-be-singer that all the little girls are swooning over. Although I told her I wasn't, she still thinks I am dating a 16-year-old "singer" from Canada.

Over five weeks later...

As I sit here on the back deck enjoying a cool breeze, I cannot believe that I have already been in Philly for five weeks. Time is flying by. I have survived yet another busy weekend, and I am starting to sense some sort of alternating pattern. It seems that when a Saturday class with the kid's goes well, then the Sunday class with the kids will involve more discipline than teaching, or vice versa. I suppose this is God's way of keeping me humble. This past weekend went relatively well, despite starting 40 minutes late on Saturday (I don't know why this surprises me anymore), trying to juggle 12 children all trying to use one hot glue gun at once and succeeding in gluing everything except for their mother's day craft, and trying to keep the girl's from beating up the boys during the very competitive review game on the days of creation.

We have wrapped up the seven days of creation, and I am planning on focusing this next week on review of the unit before we move on to the Ten Commandments. Sometimes it amazes me that I am down here in Philly teaching children. I was never one of those children who while growing up people said should be a teacher. I'm not particularly crafty at all; I'd probably do a better job running drills in the army then cuddling children and wiping away their tears, and if a child (or anyone for that matter) vomits, needs help going to the bathroom, or any other gross bodily function. I can be found vomiting right beside them.

Yet, despite all this I find myself pouring over crafts on the internet, learning to discipline and teach at the same time, finding creative ways to engage the children in the lesson, and pouring over parenting advice on how to deal with difficult children, learning disabilities, and the list goes on.

This entire experience in Philly has given me a new-found respect for those who dedicate their lives to teaching and being a mother. After just three hours on a Saturday afternoon with approximately 9-15 children, I am ready to go straight home and take a nap. It amazes me that people can teach 30 children at once all day, and then get up the next morning and do it all again, or parent multiple children day in and day out. My hat goes off to them.

In which mama tries to make me girly.

Mama decided to treat me to my first facial this week. I know I know the life of ministry is so tough :)

Now, I grew up as a tomboy, refused to wear the colours pink and purple, arm wrestled and beat 9 of the 10 boys in youth group at 13, and when I try to wear big-girl make-up it ends up generally looking like I am trying out to be a clown at the local circus. All that to say; I am not really used to these spa type treatments.

So I arrived at the salon with Mama, who was giddy with excitement over the experience (she is much more of a lady then I am). The massage therapist got me ready in the room, and then turned on some nice ocean music. Now I suppose the sound of the ocean should make you relax. It just makes me have to go pee. After an hour of listening to the waves hit the shore, I thought I was going to have an accident.

I'm not really sure if others do this, but the entire time the massage therapist was spreading mixtures that smelt like paint thinner on to my face, I kept wondering what she was thinking. I mean, is she making comments about me in her head, is she sleeping (hence the paint thinner instead of lotion), or is she counting down the minutes because she is so sick of touching people's faces. I always wonder. There is also the awkwardness of not knowing whether you should talk to the person, or just close your eyes and pretend to sleep. After about five minutes of trying to have a conversation with her, I took the "pretend I'm sleeping" route.

The facial was quite nice, other than the toxic smells of the ointment. When I came out from having my facial and my hair cut, Mama almost started crying as she said, "Oh my, you look so beautiful." I think she was trying to say I should actually do my hair more than once a week...but then again, I'm not really sure. I hope she's not disappointed that my hair is up in a pony tail today. I think this is where the comment "Can't teach an old dog new tricks" goes.

Oh dear...what did I get myself into.

I went to my first step aerobics class tonight. For those of you who have been to one, or tried to follow a Richard Simmons workout on TV, I can hear you laughing already. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

When I first arrived the room had about 70 women in perfectly coordinated workout outfits, hair nicely done and toned bodies. I immediately regretted the six miniature Kit Kat chocolate bars I had eaten on the way to the class. I thought to myself, either this class really works, or this is a class for models. I decided to position myself at the back, and as far away from the mirrors as possible; just to be safe. As the class started, the instructor walked in, perfectly tanned, perfectly toned, and ready for action.

5 minutes into the class I am drenched in sweat, my hair is plastered to my head, my blue NYC t-shirt is soggy, and my shoes that don't match my “outfit” are pinching my feet. The fun had just begun.

All around me perfectly sculpted women are bopping around, up and down and all over the place; all while barely breaking a sweat. There I am, sounding like a train-wreck coming through town as I thunder up, down and all around my step. When the class went right, I went left, when they were up, I was down. There was no disguising that I was new to the class. Not to mention, my sweat was in the process of creating the Mississippi River. All this while I huffed and puffed like the wolf trying to blow down the brick home of the third little piggy.

I managed to finish the hour long class. I think finish might be too strong of a word. More like I managed to stagger through the last 45 minutes of the class only to collapse on the ground wishing I had enough strength to grab my water bottle. And that my friends, was my introduction to modern torture; also known as step aerobics.

The Art of Slowing Down

I am learning a lot of things about life and myself here in Philly. One of the big things is to slow down and enjoy the little moments in life. This is a lot harder than it sounds. The Morton’s are some of the busiest people that I know, yet they have this way of not letting time rule their lives. For instance, after finishing a meal we will sit and talk about whatever is going on during the day, our thoughts on different subjects, etc. In my head I want to get up, do the dishes, and keep my day moving.

The same thing happens when we visit people, like Miss Betty Lou-Who. If it were me running the schedule I would slot a certain amount of time to visit Miss Betty and then move on with my day. However, when we go to visit Miss Betty, there is no time limit. If we get there and she needs to go to the pharmacy, we will take her. The visit could be 30 minutes, or it could be an 8 hour shoe shopping trip. It all depends on what the needs are.

I find this type of mentality fascinating, and maddening at the same time. I am the type of person that thrives on schedules. I try to fit the most amounts of things that I can into the smallest amount of time possible. I think through doing this I have missed a valuable point that the Morton’s have learned. When we visit Miss Betty without a time limit on our stay, we are truly being open to ministering to her. When we sit after a meal and talk for 20 minutes about various topics, we are learning to enjoy each other’s company and not rushing through the opportunity.

The crazy thing about it all is that the dishes still get done. We still pack more into a day then I would have ever thought possible without a strict schedule, and along the way we have an opportunity to truly enjoy each moment instead of trying to rush and cram a few extra things into our day. I call it the Art of Slowing Down. The Morton’s seemed to have mastered it, I am slowly learning to let go of time constraints and the frustration of not having a tight schedule.