It's early Saturday morning. The campers and staff are asleep, dreaming of great battles in space and carnivorous black holes. I'm about to leave the school, unsheathe the Battlestar from its moorings and set course for WalMart. There's a shopping cart with my name waiting for me by the front door and a friendly greeting from Bonnie, the nicely dressed door greeter (unusual for Walmart) who always has her scriptures open in the doorway to occupy her time during the long hours of the night. I'll pick up the donuts for the overnight camp (Sego Lily Elementary School) and an ice cold Diet Dew for myself (a Saturday morning Treat that get's my long day off to a good start). Funny, but I've never seen anyone from the Space Center at WalMart at 6:00 A.M. on a Saturday morning. I wonder why?
Before leaving, how about a few things from the Imaginarium?
A nice application of a bit of free unoccupied time....
This is a glimpse into the mind of a Flight Director on hour four of a five hour mission.
Typical for university isn't it? Over analysis of something quite simple.
My kind of band aid! Doesn't it sum it up well. It's a lesson our little ones at Central need to learn. You should see them after a slight injury. The sobbing injured party is usually escorted by one friend on each arm. I've learned not to ask the cause of the injury. It always leads to an amplification of weeping and wailing. The secretary is forced to listen to the gruesome details of the bruise. Afterwords an iced sponge is given which miraculously heals the injury.
A chart to contemplate.
Don't ask why. It is just the way we are all wired.
This is what we need to give to the campers instead of M and M's. They won't like playing injured quite so much!
See you in the Trenches!
Mr. W.
This is a glimpse into the mind of a Flight Director on hour four of a five hour mission.
Typical for university isn't it? Over analysis of something quite simple.
My kind of band aid! Doesn't it sum it up well. It's a lesson our little ones at Central need to learn. You should see them after a slight injury. The sobbing injured party is usually escorted by one friend on each arm. I've learned not to ask the cause of the injury. It always leads to an amplification of weeping and wailing. The secretary is forced to listen to the gruesome details of the bruise. Afterwords an iced sponge is given which miraculously heals the injury.
A chart to contemplate.
Don't ask why. It is just the way we are all wired.
This is what we need to give to the campers instead of M and M's. They won't like playing injured quite so much!
See you in the Trenches!
Mr. W.