Saturday, April 16, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Free FCAT breakfast
FYI:
More than 800 McDonald’s restaurants in Florida will serve students taking Florida’s Comprehensive Assessment Test (FCAT) a free breakfast. The free breakfast includes an Egg McMuffin, choice of a 1% low fat white Milk Jug milk or a small orange juice, and a package of Apple Dippers. The free breakfasts will be available on Monday, April 11 — the first day of FCAT testing. The offer will run from 6 a.m. to 8:30 a.m.
Click the link below to see what will be tested each day.
Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test® Spring 2011 FCAT Schedule
On a personal note, this will be Cory's first year taking the test. I can't help but be a little nervous for her. She's definitely got herself all wound up and stressed out.
Wishing her and the rest of the students across the state best of luck!
More than 800 McDonald’s restaurants in Florida will serve students taking Florida’s Comprehensive Assessment Test (FCAT) a free breakfast. The free breakfast includes an Egg McMuffin, choice of a 1% low fat white Milk Jug milk or a small orange juice, and a package of Apple Dippers. The free breakfasts will be available on Monday, April 11 — the first day of FCAT testing. The offer will run from 6 a.m. to 8:30 a.m.
Click the link below to see what will be tested each day.
Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test® Spring 2011 FCAT Schedule
On a personal note, this will be Cory's first year taking the test. I can't help but be a little nervous for her. She's definitely got herself all wound up and stressed out.
Wishing her and the rest of the students across the state best of luck!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
I'm around Stage III
Funny stuff from Birgit:
Stage I: Fall off pony. Bounce. Laugh. Climb back on. Repeat.
Stage II: Fall off horse. Run after horse, cussing. Climb back on by shimmying up horse’s neck. Ride until sundown.
Stage III: Fall off horse. Use sleeve of shirt to stanch bleeding. Have friend help you get back on horse. Take two Advil and apply ice packs when you get home. Ride next day.
State IV: Fall off horse. Refuse advice to call ambulance; drive self to urgent care clinic. Entertain nursing staff with tales of previous daredevil stunts on horseback. Back to riding before cast comes off.
Stage V: Fall off horse. Temporarily forget name of horse and name of husband. Flirt shamelessly with paramedics when they arrive. Spend week in hospital while titanium pins are screwed in place. Start riding again before doctor gives official okay.
Stage VI: Fall off horse. Fail to see any humor when hunky paramedic says, “You again?” Gain firsthand knowledge of advances in medical technology thanks to stint in ICU. Convince self that permanent limp isn’t that noticeable. Promise husband you’ll give up riding. One week later purchase older, slower, shorter horse.
Stage VII: Slip off horse. Relieved when artificial joints and implanted medical devices seem unaffected. Tell husband that scrapes and bruises are due to gardening accident. Pretend you don’t see husband roll his eyes and mutter as he walks away. Give apple to horse.
Trust me. Despite a lack of bounce-ability, aging on horseback isn’t so bad, as long as you know what lies ahead. And as long as you keep your sense of humor.
 |
| My view from a recent land purchase of Ranger |
Stage I: Fall off pony. Bounce. Laugh. Climb back on. Repeat.
Stage II: Fall off horse. Run after horse, cussing. Climb back on by shimmying up horse’s neck. Ride until sundown.
Stage III: Fall off horse. Use sleeve of shirt to stanch bleeding. Have friend help you get back on horse. Take two Advil and apply ice packs when you get home. Ride next day.
State IV: Fall off horse. Refuse advice to call ambulance; drive self to urgent care clinic. Entertain nursing staff with tales of previous daredevil stunts on horseback. Back to riding before cast comes off.
Stage V: Fall off horse. Temporarily forget name of horse and name of husband. Flirt shamelessly with paramedics when they arrive. Spend week in hospital while titanium pins are screwed in place. Start riding again before doctor gives official okay.
Stage VI: Fall off horse. Fail to see any humor when hunky paramedic says, “You again?” Gain firsthand knowledge of advances in medical technology thanks to stint in ICU. Convince self that permanent limp isn’t that noticeable. Promise husband you’ll give up riding. One week later purchase older, slower, shorter horse.
Stage VII: Slip off horse. Relieved when artificial joints and implanted medical devices seem unaffected. Tell husband that scrapes and bruises are due to gardening accident. Pretend you don’t see husband roll his eyes and mutter as he walks away. Give apple to horse.
Trust me. Despite a lack of bounce-ability, aging on horseback isn’t so bad, as long as you know what lies ahead. And as long as you keep your sense of humor.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)