I got alphabetized into this.

I never asked to be the line leader, but my last name began with "A". Evidently, your place in the alphabet can determine your path in life.

I remember it well. I show up for first grade* at Prattville Elementary School just like all the other kids. And I get put in the first desk on the first row. From there, the room fills up behind me with the kids whose faces I never really see, because you know, they are BEHIND me. The first chair of the 2nd row is the person with whom I become friends (albeit sideways.)

From there, I lead people. All my formative years, I am first (sometimes second if Jerry Adams is in my class). First in the lunchroom, first to get my school picture made, first in line for the bathroom. The heavy responsibility falls on me to lead the line, never knowing if those behind me are following or not. Thankfully, the teachers walk backwards, correcting my row of ducks, shushing, admonishing and encouraging me. I get along well with adults!

I need to know where I'm going because I've got to get us all there.

Being the line leader is not necessarily the privilege you might expect. It's a heavy burden, it means you can never let your guard down. It means you need eyes in the back of your head and that you might unknowingly leave the rest behind. It means you need eyes like a fly, that can see all directions at once. It's a burden.

I married, and basically got busted to the middle of the line, because I married into the middle of the alphabet...smack dab in the "m's". "M" and the next letter is "a". Think about it. Being an "M" means you can coast. Those ahead of you show you the way, those behind you keep you moving forward. But I'm an M in name only. My birthright is A.

When I'm tired, I go to the back of the line. I drop back like a Canadian goose to back of the line. I follow the person in front of me, but basically I'm still surveying the whole group and seeing how the line leader is doing. The line is crooked. There's gap somewhere between P and Q.

I miss the adults who looked backwards for me while I strode purposefully into the future. They are gone now.

The line leader never rests.

*There was no public kindergarten in 1962 in my home town.

Maybe you don't have A.D.D. Maybe you're a dancer.

With apologies to the teachers who reared my children, and to Pres. Bush's "No Child Left Behind" act, I must say that this video expresses my feelings about everything from attention deficit syndrome, to those awful "history hat" projects my children were subjected to in middle school.

What I remember from grade school was not lessons, learning math tables, etc. It was playing outside on the playground where we swept pine straw into neat borders and created elaborate cities where everyone had a purpose. My little "house" connected to my "bakery" where I made pretend bread and cakes. My friend was a doctor. When I played at home, I created an oven from a concrete block. On vacation, I opened the "door" of the window air conditioner, and stored "Sorry" game pawns in the "refrigerator." I wanted to cook.

So I married a man who loved to eat. :)

The thing that likely saved my kids from a life of crime, was marching band. Movement, music, the ability to put the two together and wire their brains to work with their feet, their lips, their breathing, their fingers, their eyes, their memory, periphereal vision, math, counting, mental patterns, posture. It is miraculous. And natural. One likes to cook, the other could care less. But they both play an instrument and their intelligence is like sparks flying across an electrical matrix. Marvelous, wonderful.

I loved that Sir Ken said there are people who must move to think. I must talk to think. Other people live in their heads and must think to talk. Some must draw to think. Some must see to draw.

To me, this is diversity. Not skin color.

Les Bicyclettes

Les Bicyclettes de Michelle

I dream I ride a turquoise blue bicycle,
And wear a straw hat with ribbons streaming behind me.
A red ribbon.
In one hand I hold the leash of Michelle,
A standard white poodle who knows sign language and has a sign that says "Don't pet me I'm working".
Michelle and I are taking a break from working.
She trots happily beside me as I pedal,
And we sing "Michelle ma belle sont les mots qui vont tre bien ensemble... "
And "Les Bicyclettes de Belsize".
Michelle, we will run away and join the circus.
Michelle, you can talk to the silent clowns.
Michelle, we will retire to the country and I will spend my pension on your extremely expensive grooming
Because you trotted beside me and I rode my bicycle and our ribbons flew in the wind.

Help! My Stove's on Fire! (or how the Fire Extinquisher Safety Course Came in Handy)

I recently took (make that suffered through) the required Fire Extinguisher Safety Course at work. I actually took notes, because I knew I was going to get quizzed on A,B ,C, D levels of extinguishers and which nasty fire to use them on. When I realized this, I actually started the course over and got out my pen and paper.

I was mocked for this.

"Abby actually took notes!" declared one coworker with amusement.

So last night, when I slid my potatoes au gratin into the preheated oven, little did I know that I should have brought that page of notes home.

I glanced over to the oven and noticed a marble-size white ball of fire slowly making its way along the coil of the bottom element. Weird, I thought. Must be some aluminum foil burning away (does aluminum foil actually do that?) As I watched, it grew to a ping pong ball size. Hmmm. Jenny came and observed. We yelled for Jim, who was upstairs.

The element is burning up, was his diagnosis. So we turned off the power. This did not stop the white ball of fire. As a matter of fact, something on the bottom of the oven flared up and we suddenly had a Christmas-morning-worthy fireplace scene going on.

We got the extinguisher (dusty and stuck in the back of the pantry) and suddenly I thought: you can't use this on a metal fire. Which is a class D fire. This extinguisher is ABC. Uh oh.

Understand: My ACTUAL STOVE was on fire, not what was cooking in it.

Here's something I learned. When you call the Fire Department, they respond with all they have. If you expect an SUV with some lights on top to come check it out for you FORGET that. Your entire neighborhood will be treated to the full power of the Henrico County Fire Department on display. Engines from two stations came. EMS showed up. All in all, our faulty stove merited 4 engines, an EMS vehicle, an SUV and I don't know what else, because it stretched as far down the block as I could see.

Men suited up with enough gear to go to the moon lept into action. Waves of them. By this time, the element had fizzled out and left only a blackened, charred cavern where my oven used to be. They fanned out and secured the upstairs by closing the doors. I felt suddenly like stopping, dropping and rolling right on the spot.

They were great. They declared "We've got a moderate level of haze in here" and suddenly all the windows were open and a big fan was blowing out the smoke. They pulled the stove out and unplugged it. Wrote down some important information (??) on a pad of paper, and gave us a fire extinguisher lesson.

Tap the bottom of your extinguisher with a hammer to break up the powder, and your 15-year old equipment should work fine. An ABC (check the label) rated extinguisher CAN be used on electrical fires. But when we cut the power and the fire kept going, we did indeed have a metal fire. Class D. We did the right thing in calling them.

I made 100% on the fire extinguisher safety course, and I am here to say I am mighty proud of that. But, let's hope State Farm is just as proud, because after the death of the washing machine, the truck, the dog and the furnace last fall, I need some back up. The life of appliances, dogs, and assorted other things seems to be about 10 years for us. Once I renew all the equipment, I should be good until age 61.

Remind me to retake the fire extinguisher safety course if I'm still working at Media General when I am 61. You just never know when you might need that information.

I've had it for today.

So I'm turning on my multipurpose, automated response system. If you don't find a response suited to your particular situation, please hang up and try again.

Gone Fishing! If you'd like to leave a message please hang up. For obsessive compulsive disorder press one repeatedly. The check is in the mail. I'll respect you in the morning. I didn't mean/say/do/inhale that. It just needs some oil. It looks fine in Firefox. That's one pixel off. Go to the Post Office and get that letter back. Just scrape the burned part off. I'm finished except for a few things. They're half your kids too. It was ok yesterday. It stopped making that noise now. She's got a bladder infection again. I'll put the mail on my back porch. I don't want any Amish Friendship Bread starter. I *swear* that door was locked. No, you can't have the car. I don't care if he/she's engaged to a loser/a bitch/sassing you/stupid/moody/uncooperative/having unnecessary surgery/living with the opposite sex without benefit of marriage/eating all the ice cream/peeing on the rug/coughing like a TB patient/shedding hair in the bathroom/leaving ice to melt on the floor after it shoots out of the ice maker/unable to find a ride. My cell phone is dead. This cell phone number is not a fax number. Maybe next payday. I don't do business with telemarketers/participate in surveys/want to save money. Yes it's very hot today. Yes this is a bad time. We're eating dinner right now. It will be done in 15 minutes.

Over Niagra Falls in A Barrel

I'm a certified scrum master.

No more waterfall method of software application development. No more going over Niagra Falls in a barrel. No, now we repel down the face of the falls, leaping from one ledge to the next, always pausing to look back up, look again at the goal, then focus on the next ledge.

They're there. The footholds do exist. Teams find them.

There's a lot of discipline to scrum teams. On the outside, gathering in a group, signing up for tasks and going away to work may seem like a pretty casual way of conducting business. No one says, here's your next assignment. Do it! Do it! Do it you moron! No, the scrum master may say how much time do you need to get this done, and "what's the obstacle to getting this done?" and if the team member responds honestly, the scrum master will go to work to remove the obstacle. I can't stress enough how valuable this is. It clears the way, opens up honest conversations and frankly clears the smoke and mirrors. No hiding behind "obstacles".

It's interesting the way we cling to our roadblocks. They give us excuses for not doing our best, we hide in their shadows, we sit down beside the road and we get the curious satisfaction of letting someone hold us back. We enjoy being held back, because, well that's safe. Right here is good enough. I'll get there eventually, but you gotta understand it's not me. It's him/her/it. If we're honest, we all keep a few get out jail free cards. That migraine that comes up, that car with the bad transmission, the wacko boss who can't communicate his wishes.

It takes a new way of thinking. Get out of your barrel, because it's no way to get things done.