Bailey the Puppy.

Vann Christmas this year was highlighted by two events:
1. The most snow Winston-Salem has ever seen for a white Christmas
2. The arrival of Bailey the puppy

Bailey is my brother's (Herb) new golden retriever pup. She's a cutie and I loved playing with her.


Bailey playing in the snow.



Here is my nephew (Harriss) and Bailey.




And me with Bailey... I still love Skip to death, don't worry. Though, I think if I could have a puppy and a rabbit coexisting in my home I'd try to pull it off. But let's be realistic, Skip would die of a heart attack if a puppy moved in. He's even afraid of the twinkle lights, for goodness sake.

Thanks to Herb, Mary Beth, Harriss, Charles, and little Jake for letting Aunt Ruth have some puppy time!

(Lapine) Kindred Spirits.

So, today I was in Petsmart buying Skip some new rabbit litter when an older gentlemen walked through the sliding doors.

I knew he was a rabbit owner the minute I laid eyes on him. He had that lapine way about him. I ended up in line behind him at the check out register.

"Do you have a rabbit, sir?"
"Why yes! I have 4 house rabbits, in fact."
Note: This explains the large cartload of hay, pellets, and litter.
"What kind?"
"Three Holland lops (not the mini kind but the full sized ones) and a Fuzzy lop."
Note: I've never heard of a "fuzzy lop" but I didn't ask.
He went on... "They're couples... the four of them, I mean."
Note: I wanted to ask if they were fixed but that was obvious. Otherwise he would have reported owning 20 rabbits.
I say "I have just one. His name is Skip and he's a Netherland Dwarf."
"You must have spent some time with him to make him a good house rabbit. That breed tends to get pretty skittish" he says.
"Yes. We've been working on that." I'm wondering what to say next... not because I'm at a loss of questions but because there is so much to say and chat about. And now he's finished his purchase... and now he's leaving... oh no! Do I ask for his phone number? That's weird. He's married and might think I'm trying to pick up an old man! He turns and says, "Have a Merry Christmas with Skip!" I wish him the same. He leaves. oh well.

Rabbit owners are hard to come by, at least house rabbit owners. I am sure that if circumstances had been different, we could have talked for hours. Lapine lovers are rare and special.

Mean Reds.

A little bit of some mean reds (not blues) have descended on me. Mournful and not sure what I'm mourning. Reading Jane Eyre and feeling sorry for her (and me?). Silliness. There's a battle in my mind and I hope I'm winning.

A meal of shapes is in order. Dinosaur chicken nuggets. Rabbit mac n cheese.

Pride before the fall... my life may serve as a warning to others

Some people can hide their pride fairly well. This has never been possible for me. Reality always lets me know that I'm not the person I've puffed myself up to be.

Examples:
1. In college I go on my first skiing trip and decide I'm too cool for the bunny slope. The result? 1.5 hours of skiing, falling, getting, up, skiing etc. and an incident involving a descent down into the forest going backwards.

2. Two years ago I decide that I'm really hard core and show off by climbing up a rock that I promptly fall off of and score an ACL severing, meniscus tear, and $6,000 in medical expenses. Awesome.

3. Today I listen to the radio detailing the school delays and say out loud, "School delay? Wimps. There's nothing dangerous about these roads." Within seconds Gus (my Jetta) decides to ice skate across the street and into someone's yard. All is well. But, lesson learned... for now.

Pride is not just ugly. It's dangerous. Humility is safety.

Snow Hope.

Tis the season of snow hope.

That lovely season when any day could be a snow day and we know what that means... the potential for no school. This is no small thing, mind you. Snow days are serious around my house. I watch the weather religiously... "What is the extended forecast?" "Ok. So bad news according to weather.com but what about the national weather service?" "What does the doplar radar show and what about the humidity?" "What is the ground situation... sticking a possibility?" "Outside temps below 32?"

Then, you check out WLOS like it's your new crush. The refresh button gets hit every ten minutes (or less?, must I confess?). If no news surfaces you pace from the couch to the window to check out the situation on the ground (and sky). Then, if hope still lives (and ahhh, it lives) you go to bed.

6AM. Window check. Laptop gets pulled into bed and the refresh button gets that one last refreshing... waiting, waiting "my internet is soooo slow!" "what is wrong with this thing?" "dear God, hear my plea...." and the most amazing message appears. My school - CLOSED. I smile so big you'd think I was the Grinch who stole Christmas. The laptop gets shoved to the other side of the bed. I sink into the blankets. I fall asleep with dreams of going to Sunny Point and eating huevos rancheros and a gigantic glass of orange juice when I awake and bundle up for the walk in the snow... in the happiness of frozen precipitation... in a day of hot chocolate and reading cozily.

6PM. The cycle continues... if hope still lives (and ahhh, it lives).

Did I mention Snow is my middle name? No, really. For real.

Lessons in Rabbit (and Human) Taming.

Tonight was a major breakthrough with Skip. I mean major.

This may not seem huge to you dog and cat owners but keep in mind I have a prey animal as a pet. Skip jumped up on the couch too many times to number while I was sitting on it, working on my grad work. One time, he speed ran down the hallway, took an abrupt turn to the right, jumped on the couch, and slid into my knee. Pretty awesome.

I think he likes me. He HAS to like me, right? I mean, what does a rabbit get out of jumping on the couch so much except to hang out with me? Bonding is happening... and what is funny is that I was reading up on childhood attachment while sitting on the couch this whole time. Skip is confirmed in a secure attachment to his caregiver (me).

And now, before I go to bed, my mind is swimming with a ton of thoughts about all of this. I'm remembering all the efforts I've gone through to help Skip feel safe with me...
1. over a year of tactics for litter box training, learning when to come to his cage training, and overcoming anxiety training
2. much more time than is healthy in forcing Skip to be near me so he can get used to humans (this included bunny attacks, growling, and the likes)
3. lots of reading on rabbit behavior and trying to act like a rabbit to communicate with Skip and become his rabbit friend

Was it worth it? You bet... and he's not even my child. I was so happy to see him conquer his fears because it allowed him to finally "feel" attached to me and this made me happy but mainly because I knew it made him happy.

Theological implications? more than I can think of at 10:17pm. But one comes to mind. God works painstakingly, lovingly, and mercifully to bring me out of my isolated fear state where I fight, defend, and run away from all the lovely things I should be nearing. One day, I will lay down arms and come near what all along was my security, though I didn't believe it. And God, well, he is indeed happy over the nearness of me but also happy that (the anxiety battle being over) I am happy being near him. For a girl whose major life struggles almost entirely revolve around fear, it was a pleasant evening being happy to be near the rabbit who is most happy being near me. I felt proud of him. And I felt satisfied in the work I'd done.

Let's congratulate Skip on moving towards all things good and trusting that what is trustworthy is trustworthy.

Bunny snacks.

Last week a colleague gave me an incredible gift. I pulled out a box of Annie's Bunny Graham Friends from my box in the office. The cuteness of this product reaches illegal levels. Annie is now my friend. I love her, her bunny (named Bernie), and her products. I perused the website and also discovered that I loved the company. There's info for kids on how to grow a garden (program called "Root for Kids"), free "loot," and free recycling stickers with 2 proofs of purchase (I'm working on sending that off.) I've already sent off for the free rabbit lunchbox.

Highlights of the cuteness explosion just on the box itself:
1. We are committed to reducing our bunny footprint.
2. Gently tug on ears to open (there is a bunny printed at the top of the box.)
3. Push tail to open (there is a bunny printed on the side of the mac and cheese box.)
4. No icky additives or pesky preservatives.
5. Share bunnies with friends.
6. Hop Hop Hooray! I'm organic!
7. A rabbit of approval (instead of seal of approval)
8. The crackers and mac n cheese are in the shape of bunnies (or carrots)
9. Watch out! They go really fast!

And you can see pictures and info about all the farmers who grow crops for Annie's food on their website.

Awesome. And, yes, I am a sucker for marketing. I drink Horizon milk because there is a cute cow on the front. But, bunny food? I'm sold for life. And now I'm going to stalk Annie... I'm already signed up for the newsletter (Rabbit Tales).

www.annies.com

The Oreck.

Today I brought home (thanks to mom and dad) a new vacuum cleaner. I am giddy with excitement. This is no ordinary vacuum cleaner. This is the Oreck XL Gold series powerful, lightweight, upright vacuum with HEPA hypo-allergenic filtering system. She's a beauty. I've already vacuumed a bit, just for fun.

She's self propelled, has a mean light in the front, and makes less noise than other machines... vacuuming is truly a privilege.

And it's yellow!!!

Ode (of sorts) to my Singer.

You started smelling funny.
You made clinkity clink clink noises.
You suffered from lapine attacks on your power cord.
And you died. Right there. In the middle of an applique project.
The quilt lies in silence... no warmth this winter.
Mr. Ketch says "not for 7 weeks."
And, though you are in good hands, I mourn your absence.

One day, you will be happy again.
For the first time since 1975.
Sewing will reign in the yellow house.
And I will become craft queen.

It's that time of the year...

The moment I've been waiting for since last November. The pure delight of the sugary, waxy, orangey loveliness.

This morning I ate candy corn.

And I feel happy.

the blues...

In Breakfast at Tiffany's Holly Golightly explains the difference between the "mean reds" and the blues. The mean reds are when "suddenly you are afraid and you don't know what you are afraid of." I've had the mean reds before, more than I'd have liked to. But, tonight I had the blues and found three perfectly sound sources of yellow. So, now, I guess I feel green, whatever that means.



Yellow sources:
1. A dear friend
2. A cheeseburger
3. An Eskimo kiss from Skip

Biking on Haywood Road.

I hit a car... a moving car... with a person in it.

He looked at me.

I mouthed "Your car is ok."

He nodded.

We parted.

I had a helmet on, if you're wondering.

And yes, I was embarrassed because it was rush hour and well... I'm insecure.

Insecure Persons Anonymous.

Hello. My name is Ruth and I am an insecure person. That's right, folks, and I'll even blog about it which kinda makes me feel pretty secure about my insecurity but maybe it just means I'm really insecure because I have to talk about it. Like, right now, I'm questioning whether I should post this blog because I feel insecure about my secure announcement of my insecurity.

Just from today:
1. I dropped my Fresca can on my foot and then remembered that people at work make fun of my drinking Fresca every day for lunch... cool people don't drink Fresca.
2. My students noticed 4 terms I left off the test... eeek. Ms. Vann does not have her act together.
3. My button fell off my shirt today. Then I sewed it back on while I kept on teaching.
4. No one told me today that the back of my head had major cow licks from sleeping on it funny.
5. I ranted to the 8th grade about how hard it is to discipline them instead of just doing it.
6. I tried to teach a girl in my craft class how to knit a hat and totally went blank.
7. I had a meeting with my boss where I suddenly became aware of how often I was using the word "like" and then was so stuck on my unprofessional, un-classical education language that I just ceased being able to communicate altogether.
8. Dang it! I ran out of soy sauce. I forget things like that because I drink Fresca.
9. The 6th graders didn't really like the snack I brought them. Apparently, no one likes raisins anymore.
10. I forgot the verb in a sentence on the overhead. By now, I'm having trouble laughing it off.

Too insecure to admit the worst of it... just take my word for it...

My diagnosis: Insecurity
My treatment program: A large dose of reminding myself not to take myself so seriously, internal exercises on the value of me, commitment to ending the cycle of insecurity, cleansing of the silliness of the lies I love to hold and pet lovingly, ... and no more Fresca.

Weight Problem?

Someone told me recently that Skip looked like he'd put on some weight. Is Skip getting overweight? I looked at pictures of him about 6 months ago and confirmed. Skip IS gaining weight. Maybe a bit too pudgy. Too many banana chips or maybe it's the summer kale. How do you know you have a rabbit weight problem? What IS his ideal weight? Can Rabbits get heart disease?

Rabbits are certainly cuter when they are pudgy. But, then again, Bugs Bunny was always such a fit rabbit and he was really skinny...

Following the Great Captain... an evening of reunion.

Today Amazon helped resolve a sad longing of mine. You see, I lost my beloved, worn out, and written in copy of Lewis' The Weight of Glory about 6 months ago. No telling what happened, though I suspect a student "borrowed" it to prepare for declamation and never brought it back. After hoping for months that my Ruth worn copy would magically appear, I decided that my separation from this piece had to end. So, I went on Amazon and ordered a new one.

It came today all crisp and pretty. And, predictably, I read through the text of the sermon immediately. I was home again.

Skip enjoyed it too. He was on the couch staring at my reading of it with a knowing expression. I think he understood... in his lapine way.

And now, back to the seemingly mundane world of packing my lunch, grading a bit, and preparing for my Pilgrim's Progress lecture... "Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside. The following Him is, of course, the essential point."

For now (at least) the glory is hidden. But (at least) I know it's real.

Molting.

Skip is molting. This happens about twice a year. Basically, it means he's constantly grooming and he looks a little rough. I'm brushing him but he's still patchy and rabbit fur is in the air I'm breathing. I'm pretty sure I've ingested or inhaled a good bit of Skip fur but if you read my blog on fur, you know I don't mind that so much. The predicament is that Skip is ingesting a TON of the fur he's trying to groom off so he could end up having digestive problems (rabbits can't throw up like cats).

Tips on caring for a molting rabbit:
1. Give them lots of fiber.
2. Brush their fur daily.
3. Don't kiss your rabbit, especially if you just put chap stick on.
4. Pet the rabbit with a wet wash cloth so that the fur catches and pulls out.
5. Do not show on your face that your rabbit looks weird. It may hurt his feelings. Rabbits are self conscious about their fur and like looking well groomed and clean at all times.
6. Tell your rabbit you think he's handsome even when he's disheveled.

Respectful Request.

Dear spiders in room 101,
During the last two months you have decided to make my classroom your home. This, while understandable given your small brain, the hot and humid environment, and lack of human activity, is completely unacceptable behavior. I demand an immediate evacuation of the premises. Should you decide to defy my orders, I will have to annihilate you and all your friends by tomorrow afternoon. I strongly advise you to relocate as I do not enjoy the termination process for 8 legged crawly creatures.
Sincerely,
Ruth Vann, Teacher of young minds and room 101 occupant

All great summers must end...

Today is officially my last day of summer break. It's been a grand summer, I'd say. I took a vacation in my own neighborhood. And I loved every minute of it. West Asheville makes me so happy and I live in a city and region that feels as comfortable and beautiful as an old friend.

Highlights from Summer 2010 in West Asheville:
1. The 15 foot unicyle-er... the bike was 15 feet tall, not the man
2. A sighting of the nun on the really tall bike (no estimate on height here)
3. All kinds of exciting clothing choices for West Ashevillians... tutus, kilts, cows... the "no shoes or shirt" style
4. Two guys out walking their goats one afternoon
5. Pierce Ruch saying on his way to church "If I need something to do during the sermon, I can look at the mushroom calendar on the wall." (We meet at the Appalachian School of Holistic Herbalism.)
6. Becoming a regular at the Westville Pub for quiz night, spirituality discussion groups, and even bible study
7. Walks at dusk when it's cool and folks are still lingering on Haywood Road getting ice cream, eating dinner, or just plain strolling... and feeling the happiness of belonging
8. Moving friends out and moving friends in (that one especially)
9. The 4th Annual Summer Soiree... my backyard turned into a memory waiting to happen
10. Quilting... blog on that later
11. Contra dancing... the best way to enjoy yourself even when strangers are sweating on you
12. Friends - serving and loving and being served and loved... tis sweet
13. Food. Yep. Ate a ton, which is good because...
14. Ruth's got her knee back! So, see Ruth run. See Ruth bike. See Ruth hike. Even, See Ruth hop... which brings me to
15. Good times with the bunny. Skip learned a thing or two about friendship this summer too. Don't run away!


And now, back to the previously scheduled vocation of educating young minds for our future...

Burrowing attempts.

Today I was in the shower when I heard a noise outside the curtain... Sounds like metal. I call out for Skip and hear nothing... this means he's either hurt or in trouble. I pull back the shower curtain. Skip has pulled out the air vent on the floor and is looking into the vent hole longingly. It's as if after a year of burrowing attempts that lead nowhere through pillows, blankets, and floors that don't give, he's finally discovered the burrow he's always dreamed of. I yell, running towards Skip and informing him that this is not a safe burrow. I return the air vent to it's original location. Skip and I have a very serious chat. He moved his nose back and forth.

And now I'm off to Lowes to find some kind of meshy stuff to block the vent for real.

Watership Down...

About a month ago I finished reading Watership Down by Richard Adams. In case you haven't read it, it is a story about rabbits who break away from a warren and experience intense trials to establish a new rabbit society where rabbits are free and happy. It is a beautiful story, really. And while I'm sure my love for Skip made the reading more interesting, I think everyone would benefit from reading this book. Richard Adams did a lot of research on rabbits before writing the book so I identified with many of the nuances in which he described the rabbits, their nature, and what makes them tick.

Adams created an entire religion, culture, and language for these creatures.

The language, Lapine, has been expanded by others and the hope is to have a full blown rabbit language at some point. You think I'm kidding. Nope. Check out this website..
www.loganberry.furtopia.org/bnb/index.html

So, as you might guess, I want to learn Lapine. I'm trying out "Frithice, Skip, Frithice!" (meaning "greetings!") and "Lung lay mi?" (meaning "How are you?") and "I lay tring flay" (meaning "Do you want to eat?"). So far, I've not made much progress on communication with Skip.

Maybe domesticated rabbits have lost their language or something...

But, I'm committed to working on this. Who knows? Maybe I'll become the next Jane Goodall to the lagomorpha.

Announcement.

Today is my half birthday.
It's ok if you forgot.

32 and 1/2 if you're wondering.

Emily Bradford, one groovy gal.

***Note: the Skip and Hazel video of their 2nd meeting has been experiencing technical difficulties... details later.

Last weekend I went to York, SC to attend the engagement party of my pal Emily Bradford and her fiance Aaron. Emily moved to Alaska 3 years ago, leaving all of us in a state of sadness and despair. So, we were pretty happy to see each other Saturday.


Emily is one of the most unique people I have ever encountered. And I've learned a lot from her. In fact, I'll list a few.
1. It makes people feel happy when you refer to them as "friends."
2. Take risks with your wardrobe... really, Emily, this has made my students very happy... you were the inspiration for the crazy tights.
3. Push yourself to do things outside your comfort zone.
4. Life takes detours and you'll end up where you'll end up.
5. Real snail mail is far more fun when you create your own envelope.
6. Choose to be impressed with each person you meet.
7. When in doubt, stretch.

Three cheers for a great friend, a far away land, and the very lucky groom!

Skip and Hazel... a love story?

Last December I got Swine Flu and sat on my couch moaning with a fever for over a week. With roommates gone for the month and the intense need to be quarantined from outside community, Skip became my only companion. In feverish dream-like moments, I believed we were talking. I worried about him contracting the swine flu... can a rabbit get pig flu?

I called the vet. Rabbits cannot get swine flu and no one at the office made me feel ashamed for asking, thank you very much.

Anyway, I thought a lot about Skip during the illness. I wondered if he was lonely. What would it be like to live my whole life with another species? A colleague later noted that the worst case scenario would be to live among another species AND an annoying creature of your own species... this is true, I thought.

Now, it's important to keep in mind that Skip doesn't like girls like normal boy rabbits. He's been "fixed." I still wondered about him feeling lonely, though. Skip needs a girlfriend.

Enter Hazel...


My roommate, Tonia, adopted this cute Holland Mini-Lop back in March. I was excited... and worried. What if Skip liked Hazel more than he liked me? Skip very infrequently expressed affection towards me as it was. Hazel was cute, and furry, and lapine. She was every male rabbit's dream companion.

We kept them separated for a while so Hazel could get comfy... Hazel living downstairs, Skip living upstairs. Then, the introductions were initiated. Skip and Hazel were placed in a pin in the backyard. (Rabbits are very territorial so we had them meet in a neutral environment... trust me, Tonia and I did our research.)

The result... carnage. Skip and Hazel tried mostly to pretend the other wasn't there. I thought they were playing the whole hard-to-get strategy. I was wrong. Intermittently, Skip chased Hazel, pounced, and ripped her fur out. He was angry and he wanted her to know that he was the dominant rabbit. Hazel cowered and tried to run away. Tonia and I panicked. Skip gave Tonia "the eye." It was scary. Chunks of Hazel's fur were floating in the breeze. I removed Skip from the scene.

And we never put them together again.

Since this encounter, Hazel has... ummm... how do I say this delicately... gotten big. Basically, she eats everything. You'd think she's a goat. And Tonia is pretty sure she's not a "mini" lop.

Tomorrow, the two will meet again. Will Skip attack? Will Hazel assume dominance due to her tremendous largeness? Will they fall in love? Only the next blog will tell...

Food Stamps and Healthy Food... Everyone wins!

I just found this organization while watching the news. Apparently, they work through private donors, local organizations, and federal grants to make fresh, local food available more affordable for people on food stamps. Essentially, participating farmers' markets provide double value for food stamps if they are used to purchase local, fresh food. Communities win, food stamp recipients get healthier, local economies prosper, and federal money is spent on keeping folks healthy and out of hospitals. Wish I had thought of it first!

The website is www.wholesomewave.org... the program isn't currently active in NC... sad.

The interview with the founder is found here...
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032619/vp/38248701#38248701

He articulates well how the program works and addresses the potential criticisms of it. Three cheers for people with creative and brilliant ideas to fix real problems!

Paul the Octopus.

I'm baffled.

Last night at the Lucky Otter, my friend Bob was informing us of Paul the Octopus' 100% accuracy in predicting the outcome of each World Cup game Germany has played in this year.

Bob was much more animated than I can relay on a blog but basically they lower two boxes into his tank and fill each with some sort of mussel or something. The flag of the countries playing the upcoming game are displayed on the outside of each box. The team Paul picks to win is the one he decides to eat the food from first.

There exists video footage on this if you want to look it up. Paul really does seem to be deliberating as he hovers over the boxes to make his choice.

Apparently, being a famous octopus has some disadvantages. When Argentina lost, an Argentine chef made a threat to kill and serve him for dinner. The officials at the aquarium stood their ground, however...

"There are always people who want to eat our octopus but he is not shy and we are here to protect him as well. He will survive."

—Oliver Walenciak (Paul's keeper)

And... Paul's prediction of the World Cup final between the Netherlands and Spain?
Spain.

Cow Appreciation Day.

Today was Cow Appreciation Day and Chick-fil-a had a celebration. Anyone dressed as a cow (head to hoof) would be given a FREE meal. This cannot be passed up.

So, April, Allison, and I (with the help of Tonia) created our cow uniforms decked out with special features. Cow April had a nose ring. Cow Allison was an exotic breed with black, white, and brown spots and floppy ears. Cow Ruth had a red tag on her ear. Cow April and Cow Ruth had udders, as I'm demonstrating in the photo above. I also decided to go with the brown cow look. It reminded me of a cow my family used to have named Mrs. Mooly.

We got our free meal. Perhaps my favorite part of Cow Appreciation Day was driving on Haywood Road in West Asheville and stopping for a guy to cross the street. He waved without the slightest indication that he thought we were weird... and we weren't weird because in West Asheville, it's normal to dress like a cow.

MOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Holiday of DANGER!

Skip doesn't understand fireworks. For all he knows those sounds could be gunshots targeted at his burrow. He's officially freaking out.

I spent the same amount of time driving home from my Independence Day party as I would have biking. Crazy drivers... lots of 'em.

Our miniature fireworks got a little out of hand this year as one lit and fired towards the crowd.

Water balloon fights were getting out of control and children were being told, "don't do what the grown ups are doing... it's dangerous."

Americans, why do we do this to ourselves? Being patriotic means watching fire propel into the air, eating hot dogs, and general chaos.

Yep. Sounds like the way we like to celebrate, all right.

And this year I survived just fine.

Happy Independence Day... night night.

Mission Rehab Center.

My recommendation:

Go on a hike. Tear your ACL and rip out an inch or so of that meniscus in your knee. Get surgery at Mission Hospital. Go to physical therapy until your insurance runs out and then join the Mission Rehab Center.

This place is for employees of Mission Hospital (though oddly few of them come), folks who are receiving physical therapy, and broken people who are finished with PT but need the equipment and optional support. I fit in the last of the three categories. And... if you had orthopedic surgery at the hospital (roughly $32,000), you can join the Rehab Center for only $20 a month.

What I love about this place is that I will always feel good about myself when I leave. The YMCA and other fitness venues are intimidating sometimes. I end up feeling really un-fit and sometimes (at the Y) I run into students who either pretend they didn't see me or stand in shock that Miss Vann is sweating and wearing shorts, coming to grips with the fact that I'm real. Plus, who wants to lift puny 5 pound weights beside some big-shot-show-off-22-year-old-athlete who could crush my head with his pinky finger? The possibilities for sociological research on fitness center dynamics are incalculable.

So, thankfully, I tore my ACL. Now I get to run on the treadmill beside one of two categories of people for the most part... broken people and old people. The camaraderie is such that everyone feels encouraged. This morning, for instance, I hear from an older woman on the bike, "Way to go! That was awesome!" (referring to my measly 15 minute run) People strike up conversations with one another frequently but no one is scamming or showing off... they just want to swap war stories... "Wow. That must have been a tough surgery to recover from..." "Have you been able to get back to work?..." "Yeah, I had that injury too and my shoulder took forever to get back to normal..." "Have you tried this stretch? It helps before you use that machine."

So, if you want to feel really good about yourself, take my advice. I've found the paradise of fitness centers and I'm letting the secret out.

The ACHE as a leash.

I should have seen it coming.

Most every summer begins with relief, then subtle anxiety, and then just an ache. Sometimes I catch on to what's happening. Sometimes it just makes me miserable. I just caught on to my Summer 2010 ache this morning and I'm thankful for the revelation.

Teaching theology seems (and is at times) extremely rewarding. You would think that chatting about God for 5 hours a day would make me holier or really spiritually aware or feeling particularly connected to my Savior. Sometimes that's true. Often, though, it is vastly more draining than satisfying. I find myself personally weary of ... God. It's like I've talked about him for so long as an academic pursuit that I've disconnected myself from knowing him.

By June, when the kids leave, I've had it... with God, revelation, prayer, church... you name it. And then I just ache.

Usually I am semiconscious of this feeling and attempt to embark on a grand adventure. This remedy comes close but in itself is ineffective in the treatment of ache. This summer my adventure was a no go. So, I've spent the last few weeks frightened. I even started plotting impulsively to find other ache remedies. I'll read incessantly. I'll run and lift weights and hike and bike until I become the strongest woman in the world (note: this attempt did not last long.) I'll surround myself with people until I'm so socially busy that I don't notice the ache. I even toyed with the idea of visiting my friend Jane in Johannesburg. I could catch the World Cup craziness and fall in love with my imaginary South African soccer superstar. Then I'd be cool and the ache would stop.

This morning I woke up and then I woke up. I was reading in the book of Daniel where Nebuchadnezzar has a dream he wants interpreted. He brings all the seers in and tells them that if they can correctly guess what he dreamed about, then he would trust their interpretation. He also promised that any seer who could not accurately relay his dream "shall be torn limb from limb, and your houses shall be laid in ruins." These guys get justifiably scared. They argue that no one can do this thing except the gods "whose dwelling is not with flesh."

This struck me. I have many blind spots due to inordinate focus on the particulars of the faith and one of them is forgetting what makes this faith so beautiful. The seers were Chaldeans who didn't know Yahweh. The thing is I do have a God who dwells in flesh. And not only does he dwell as Jesus in flesh, but also as the Holy Spirit in me. He dwells in my flesh. So, when I feel the ache, he's just calling me home... to himself... to the real me. I'm not the strongest woman in the world or the most adventurous or the most sought after. Praise God that I'm something far better... someone God sends an ache to in order to call her home and call her blessed.

He's a good Savior and a gentle shepherd.

And I'm thankful he keeps me on a short leash.

How France gave me my patriotism back.

(WARNING: Please do not read this blog entry if you have affections for France.)

I strongly dislike France. I know this is a strong statement but when you consider that I was going to use the word "hate," you will know that I'm actually trying to be civilized and polite by comparison.

Back in March I visited Europe with my students for a week and France was (unfortunately) one of the destinations. I have been to Europe several times and each trip I have intentionally avoided entering that country. This time, I had no choice. It was my job, for goodness sake. I had to go. Notice my expression at my first sighting of the Eiffel Tower.


Now before you lose your hold on those imaginary horses, please hear me out. I think the country is beautiful and I'm sure there are some people there who are nice, decent sort of folks. I watch the Tour de France. I eat French fries. I like crepes. I dig wine. I'm even thinking of buying one of those berets. The language is the prettiest sounding in the world.

So, what's my problem? France makes no sense to me. (Prepare for written ranting...)

I mean, what kind of country changes their minds on forms of government that often? They've had FIVE constitutions... FIVE. I mean, did they lose one? Are they perpetually discontent people? Are they so hostile towards other countries that they provoke getting invaded and reestablishing governments? Do they just always second guess the previous generation? What is the deal?

While roaming around Paris for the first time in my life I was hoping to see some awesome inspirations of liberty. Nope. I feel like all that was pointed out to me were monuments, mausoleums, and statues to honor Napoleon. I truly expected the French sentiments on this man in retrospect (they've had a great deal of time to gain perspective) to be somewhat embarrassed or even rather shy. He was, after all, certifiably crazy, right? I mean, how can you take him seriously? Apparently the French can. And this annoyed me.

This kind of thing just highlights how quickly they change their mind about things. They seem to disdain the United States (many have valid reasons at times) but then we get this Statue of Liberty thing from them as a gift. Is this a mind game? Are you messing with our heads?

Can anyone explain why Vichy France was remotely tolerated by the people? Who lets a Nazi friendly regime to just hang out during a war in which nice people are trying to free you from the Nazis who just took over your country by force? I don't understand.

And often they like to point out that we have so much in common. Commitment to democracy and liberty and equality. But, did anyone notice how crazy their revolutionary war was? Moderation, even in warfare, seems to elude them... and rationality... which leads me to mention...

For a discussion to be had with anyone who wants to inquire of me face to face I am also highly annoyed by French philosophers, most of whom brought just about the silliest ideas that any people in the history of humanity have actually taken seriously.

Now, all that to say, I have at least one recent appreciation for France. While touring the Louvre with my students, I saw (as expected) painting after painting of Napoleon and all the insane revolutionaries. What I did not expect was the overwhelming feeling of patriotism that came over me. It was as if I was at my friend's house for a sleepover and suddenly realized that I missed my home. I longed to see a painting of one of my founding fathers. I missed my homeland. And after almost a decade of feeling fairly blah about my country, I felt proud... thankful for my country's collective story (all of it)... and patriotism returned after a long, almost unnoticeable absence. I wanted to sing the national anthem. I could have hugged Mr. Washington had he been right there. I even told a student that I wished there was at least one portrait of an American nearby to gaze at and be reminded of how fond I am of these people... my people.

Who knew how helpful this gift from France would be until I ventured on the Washington, DC trip with the 8th graders several weeks later? I was driving the rented minivan feeling giddy about sharing this patriotic sentiment with my kids. I wanted them to be moved by Lincoln, Washington, Jefferson, and Martin Luther King Jr. I wanted them to believe that good things can come from flawed people like us. I was on a mission of anti-cynicism. And I had France to thank for it.

So, thank you France!

Yes. That's me with a "fanny pack." I prefer "lumbar pack."
Ms. Vann made her poor kids stand in the rain by the Washington Monument and listen to her DC orientation talk! She's so mean!


Yep. That's right folks. If you look in the back, you can see Heath Shuler, Congressman for Western North Carolina. He talked to the kids for a long while and they asked awesome, thought-provoking questions. I was so proud of them!

And no DC trip would be complete without Ms. Vann's incessant chats. Not sure if I'm really inspiring them very effectively here... they look a little weary or ... inattentive. Thanks to Travis for the photos!

My Feelings about Fur

Since the entrance of Skip into my life I've been interested in the idea of fur. Skip's fur floats like little grey tumble weeds in my house all the time. Given that I am potentially diagnosable for OCD with regard to my house cleaning, you would think these fluffy fur balls would annoy me. On the contrary, I find Skip fur everywhere and it makes me happy... I don't even want to vacuum sometimes. Skip fur ends up on my clothes too and I don't even look for a lint roller... I feel proud of rabbit fur.

Why? Well, I've discovered 2 reasons (and I'm working on more):
1. I love Skip. When we love something, we tend to love everything that reminds us of them. Those of you who love something and have similar experiences can help deny or confirm this if need be.

2. I believe in fur. ... Let me explain. Rabbit fur is maybe the softest and most delightful thing I can imagine (ok... maybe exaggerating.) I propose that humans would benefit greatly if we naturally grew rabbit fur. (I want to make clear, I would NEVER suggest wearing rabbit pelts! We are not barbarians.)

Why rabbit fur would be great for humans:
a. We would be cuter creatures. Without fur, rabbits would not be nearly as cute and (believe me) naked rabbits at birth are pretty scary looking. In Out of the Silent Planet, the hrossa on Mars have fur and Ransom realizes in the course of his dealings with them that he must look really ugly to them because he lacks fur... my sentiments exactly.
b. Warmth. I feel cold most of the time so I would love rabbit fur. Those of you who are not cold-natured can refer to "a." and just deal with being ugly.
c. We would be cozier. For this idea I credit Where the Wild Things Are (or really the movie). All the creature things liked sleeping in a pile. This can only be fun because they had fur. Can you imagine what it might be like to be hugged by a human sized rabbit?

Photo courtesy of Chris, pet photographer.

Peculiar evidence of higher intelligence in the lagomorpha

While talking with my roommate in Skip's room the other day, my beloved rabbit began behaving oddly. He's usually a bit odd but this time I noticed that he was actually trying to use higher reasoning skills. Skip repeated this behavior so frequently that I was able to catch it on video. So, here you have it.



If you notice, the lagopmorpha uses tools (straws of hay) to attempt an escape from human captivity. Also take note of the vigorous head movement indicating determination and trial-error strategy processing. The lagomorpha recognizes the opening to the entrapment and imitates human movement towards the latch. After a genuine attempt is made, the lagomorpha becomes distracted by the deliciousness of this "hay" tool and begins eating the former tool. Remarkable new discovery.

UPDATE: My Pavlovian experiment with Skip is WORKING! The other day I jingled the bells and he ran straight into his cage without the appearance of food. Smart Bunny. Successful Rabbit Owner. I might make a ribbon and put it on his cage, even if he's not show quality.

Hope Boosters

Several years ago I decided to place a banner spelling "HOPE" in my classroom. I did this because I needed a tangible reminder that "my kids" will receive some sort of benefit from being stuck in my room for 45 minutes a day. When you work with 12-17 year old human beings you are guaranteed:
1. to get pretty discouraged when they make poor decisions
2. to become disillusioned when you wonder if there is a point to communicating (with as much enthusiasm as one can muster) on substitutionary atonement, Moses in Egypt, the Sermon on the Mount, or Eastern Pantheistic Monism
3. to grow weary of questions that lack any apparent use of independent reasoning skills
4. to evaluate whether you should be paid more for picking up used snot rags off the floor
5. to try one more time to address the issue of pets in heaven without the 12 year olds crying
6. to pull your hair out when the middle school girls are fighting again and burst into my planning period with a nonsensical story about how intolerable the other one has become

No one teaches in order to receive immediate gratification. When you really think of it, the whole profession requires a bit of madness in order to persevere. Often I reorient myself around the truth that "my kids" are works in progress at the messiest time of life and that digging my heels in is honorable even if there is no evidence of fruit. This kind of thing requires faith... lots and lots of it. I don't have much of that, even though I teach it.

I've been thinking a lot recently about the relationship between faith and hope. It seems like they are so tied together that they are almost synonymous. My friend, Rachel, described faith recently as "not the clinging to an idea but the clinging." I completely agree. It doesn't take much faith to believe when we are out of the clouds of cynicism and entering the clearing of beauty and goodness. No, faith is when the clouds are thick and I choose to set my life on something that seems ridiculous. The kind of faith that shows itself in the "clinging" creates its own beauty and I think that is where hope likes to appear. Hope is not the hap-hazard throwing up of the hands that perhaps things will fall the way we want. It must be in the profound longing we have in a Good we haven't seen and even feel silly believing. It takes courage to exhibit faith and hope because it requires that we actually face the disappointment of the present condition of ourselves, others, and the world. We cannot stay in the dreamworld of what seems presently real and this is uncomfortable.

Anyway, all of this was floating through my mind when I arrived at school this week and discovered the class of 2010's senior prank. On my chalkboard was written the following.

Dear Miss Vann,

“If we offend, it is with good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, but with good will!” Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

To our Christian Theology and Doctrine teacher, Miss Vann; we wish to express our deepest thanks and love for teaching us God’s word. Like many teachers here at Veritas, you know how to help us look on the BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE when (sometimes) we just can’t see the truth, the light and the goodness of the Lord, or when our spiritual lives might be stuck in the mud or when we are scared to walk forward because we can’t see through the THICKEST fog before our eyes. We LOVE you, Miss Vann, and you will be missed dearly! (Also, we will miss your wonderful antics during chapel!) To all of our teachers who have taught us over the 12 years this class has been at our school: We thank you for all the hard work you have done for us! You love and care about us, you honestly want us to know and understand the truth, and each of you have your own way of encouraging us to do better and reach our full potential. Thanks for touching our lives!

With much love,

The class of 2010

So, perhaps to aid me in not taking myself too seriously after this message, the seniors conducted their "Senior Chapel" skit parodying their teachers and a colleague emailed me these photos for your enjoyment. Apparently I look like this while I'm teaching.

Scary, huh?

So, I'm going to keep looking at that banner and believing and longing and clinging to the silliness of the teaching and the teachings. ... and I suppose I'll keep picking up those snot rags too.

Why "Y"? The case for the advancement of an overlooked letter.

The other daY I was texting and the letter "Y" would not tYpe out no matter how hard I tried. Now, LG has some explaining to do but in the meantime I've reallY missed mY "Y." How can You communicate without it? I'm verY thankful for this technological failure because it has reminded me to appreciate the letter "Y" as a verY important letter in our alphabet.

It's gotten a bad rap for a long time for the whole "sometimes Y" designation...as if it's some sort of 2nd class vowel. How dare people place such a beloved letter in a subcategorY, creating divisions and hierarchies of competing values among our letters! I'm outraged that no one has stood up for this great one among the other 25.

First of all, the letter "Y" is much more beautiful looking than "i." Plus, the letter "i" requires extra work... picking up that pencil and creating that dot... so much fuss. "I" is needy... it's about "us." "Y" seems so much more inviting... and this is "whY" the letter "Y" ends so many words. It makes things more the waY they should be... stickY, lovelY, funnY. What would the world be like if things were sticki, loveli, or funni?

AdditionallY, I've decided I like a lot of words that start with the letter "Y." Yellow, Yippee, Yikes, Yodeling, Yes, Y'all, Yosemite... aren't theY nice?

So, here's to the letter "Y." WhY? Well, I suppose because I need mY letter back on mY cell phone, You emploYees of LG.

In the meantime, mY text messages might read a little weird. Miss "Y" with me and grieve.

Hellos and Goodbyes

Today I said goodbye to a good friend, Pearl. She was my Honda Accord. We had some good times together during our 127,000 mile run. I was thinking today that I've probably spent more time with Pearl than any human, if you really add it up. I will miss her a lot but I will still get to visit because my brother bought her and took her back to Winston-Salem. Here she will happily reside with some Vanns who also love her. It was a bitter sweet parting.



So, everyone, welcome Gus. Gus is my new VW Jetta auto-friend. I will most likely be spending lots of time with him too though we are still getting to know each other. If Gus was a real boy I think I'd like to marry him. He's foreign, cute, intelligent, Skip accommodating, mountain-loving, and environmentally friendly. However, if we're thinking practically, he's much more useful as a car. Here's to great memories with Gus!

The Goblin House

For years now I have lived two doors down from a house inhabited by goblins. I am not entirely sure I have proof of this assertion but here are the clues that have helped me arrive at this conclusion.
1. The house smells bad... like rotten beings live there
2. It's actually condemned... so the sounds I hear can't be from humans
3. There is a toilet in the side yard because goblins don't need toilets
4. A car sat in front of the house for a year or so and slowly had pieces go missing and goblins like eating metal
5. Strange humans lurk nearby... goblin helpers

The Panda Lady is apparently friends with the goblins... or maybe they steal her pandas at night while they do their gobliny tricks.

What I don't understand is - who actually owns this house? I mean, this property has to be in the possession of someone... or some goblin. How can a house just sit there in a major busy section of West Asheville and not be noticed by the authorities? Maybe the police are afraid of goblins too.

As for me, I'm staying away. I must walk by it in order to get to Haywood Road so I just walk quickly and silently repeat anti-goblin chants to myself to ward them off like vampires. I need to do research on what food products scare them away.

And if a goblin is reading this, please be careful not to approach or attack me. I'm not someone you want to mess with. Really, I'm scrappy.

A Word to City of Asheville Public Works

Dear City of Asheville Public Works folks,
Bravo on these new signs. They are not only attractive but also practical. I'm not sure if your decision to create and install these signs was a preemptive move to impress Mr. and Mrs. Obama or if you just wanted to please your citizens... either way, I'm very excited. I tip my hat to all of you involved in this effort and am appreciative of how my city taxes are handled... with one exception.


This makes me sad. West Asheville has a lack of or a need for repairs on our sidewalks. We need some nice concrete so we can walk without stumbling or putting ourselves in great danger from passing traffic. Sidewalks are one more step in neighborly togetherness and I humbly request a review of funding for public sidewalks in my neighborhood.

Thank you for your consideration,
Ruth Vann

European Evaluations

A few weeks ago I traveled to Rome, Florence, and Paris with 23 high school seniors, 3 other teachers, and a tour guide named Romeo (pronounced "Romayo"... not of the Juliet set). Now, Europe with 23 students is a very different Europe without 23 students but there were some reminders during the trip of my previous European excursions and the things I always love about that continent.

Things I love about Europe (in no particular order):
1. Those great "Exit" signs! In the United States they count on you being literate to survive great danger. In Europe they take no chances. Who could misinterpret this sign? I love their commitment to clear communication... especially in highly dangerous situations.

2. Automobile license plates. License plates actually mean something in Europe. It is so nice to find out where a person actually lives and the thin and long shape idea should have been snagged by us a long time ago.

3. Food. While I shook my head in utter disapproval when my students ate at McDonalds, I took full advantage of my European adventure staples... bread, cheese, chocolate and wine (the alcoholic beverages had to take a break on this trip... something about being professional when you work or something like that). I think if I were trapped on an island for a long time or forced to be on Survivor I'd eat only these items and I feel perfectly satisfied.

4. Cloth towels in the bathroom! This idea is so outstanding that I'm tempted to donate these things to local West Asheville restaurants just for the fun of it. A really long connected-like cloth is wound around a roll and when you dry your hands you just pull down the next clean section. When the clean cloth runs out, you simply wash it and put it back. Save the trees! It is also saving our anxieties when we push those scary buttons in the States that make that horrifying noise and supposedly dry the water off your hands.

5. Speaking of bathrooms, how about that nifty button way up high to flush the toilet? No need to kick a lever with you left foot on the way out of the stall. Buttons make so much more sense than levers in almost every other plumbing and electrical situation.

6. Big fluffy beds... they love those poofy duvet comforters and I do too.

7. Public transportation (especially in Switzerland). It's on time. It's affordable. It's way clean.

8. Mostly no air conditioning. Americans are really silly about air conditioning. I never feel cold inside buildings in Europe unless I'm in a cathedral and then I don't really notice because I'm in a cathedral.

9. Little grocery stores. I love shopping when I don't have football fields of space to cover, when the food is fresh, and when I don't see lawn equipment near the food I'm wanting to eat.

Things I prefer about my homeland:
1. Water. Good water and lots of it. I always feel so privileged to have free and tasty water available to me in America. This was worth a revolutionary war, really. Who wants to live in a place where water tastes more like anti-water?

2. Ice. I have to admit that I like ice. Ice makes all things more refreshing.

3. Public restrooms. We also fought the British to have the right to FREE public restrooms, apparently.

4. Space. I know, this is a Ruth thing but I really need my space and I'm grateful that we expanded westward. Manifest Destiny may have had some sad consequences but I'm really loving how much room we have here to spread out.

5. Europe doesn't have Asheville or the Appalachian mountains. This is why I'm not moving.

That's all I can think of for now. Travel is great but I do love home. It's so fascinating to me how attached we can become to geographical locations and I count myself lucky to have home in the very spot that is my favorite!

Pavlov and rabbits.

I have excel on my computer now and I've been aching to have some time to record some data. I don't collect data in my normal life but recently I decided to conduct a Pavlov-ian experiment with Skip.

Some house rabbits are better at house-living than others. I love Skip but he's not one of those easy house rabbits. I hate to be negative about his inability to cope with being in human world so I usually try to think about what an amazing, savage bunny I have living in my home and how he'd survive forever in the wilderness... unlike those "other" delicate bunnies, ah... such wimps.

So, anyway, I found some random jingle bells around the house and in my craft closet at school and wrapped them around some pipe cleaners. For approximately 30 seconds prior to displaying food in front of Skip I jingle the bells. Skip loves bells so his ears always perk up when I get the pipe-cleaner-jingle-bell loop out. The idea is not to have Skip salivate at the sound of the bell (who wants rabbit saliva on your floor anyway?) but that he'll come to me when the bell rings. Being the fast, snarling rabbit he is, I'm hoping this will increase the ease of catching and corralling that is necessary in training a bunny to be well behaved.

If you are a dog owner, please appreciate that Skip's brain is significantly smaller so success here will be a tremendous achievement. There are no books on rabbit training so I'm really reaching here into any kind of classical conditioning measures available to me.

I'm also working on the game "bonk." Skip and I made it up. Basically it is a rabbit version of throw and catch except it involves a good nose bonk. He seems to get it for a little while but then loses interest. Without thumbs or a big mouth, catching is tough, especially when your instincts are to run from all things moving toward you.