Stretching My Wings

Good Morning Sunshine

2012-01-29T11:13:00.000-05:00

Does "Red sky in morning, Sailors take warning" count if you are on land or if the sky is more pink then red?

Sometimes, I wish my backyard had a few less trees in it so I could have captured more of the sunrise. Be that as it may, it was a beautiful scene to wake up to.

Project: Waiting For The Apocalypse

2012-01-28T12:20:00.001-05:00

On a whim, as I was strolling through Hobby Lobby back in November, I got the idea for a new scrapbook. I call it: Waiting For The Apocalypse. Essentially, I will be scrapbooking all of our activities from holidays to birthdays, from travels to quiet nights at home.

I'm a firm believer that nothing is going to happen on December 21, 2012. The Mayans were a smart bunch of people, but I do not think they had magically powers of prediction any more than I believe in ghosts. Despite that, I am a "prepper." I do think something will happen eventually be it the total collapse of the economy, a natural disaster, or some kind of attack.

The original plan was to do twelve 8x8 bound books, one per month starting on December 21, 2011. But after taking cost into consideration I decided to use a single spiral bound album. Organized chronologically through the year, the album starts on December 21, 2011 and will end December 22, 2012. I've got a few ideas for the last page...depending on which way the apocalypse goes.

Oh how my dining room suffers when I scrapbook!

The spiral bound book showing Christmas Baking and Gingerbread house making.

How are you going to be chronically the end of the world?

Friday Photo

2012-01-27T10:00:00.002-05:00

It is no secret that the girls and I love camping. Lately, because of budget constraints, we haven't been able to go much so I jumped at the chance for Cyra and I to go on the yearly service unit camp out with our Girl Scout troop. By the end of the weekend, I remembered why I don't often go on Girl Scout campouts: too structured, too crafty, too many people. But aside from that, the weather was amazing for January and the camp itself is nice.

On Saturday evening, the girls peer pressured me into rolling down a grassy hill. I spent the rest of the weekend recovering.

Each "camp site" had it's own name. Lonestar was about a half mile (give or take) from the main lodge. Of course, neither Bill Pullman or his Winnebago were no where to be found.

Our camp site had platform tents, cots and indoor plumbing. Not exactly "primitive" camping but it worked out well.

This live oak was at the back of our site. Just behind it is a fire circle. I had the girls climb up so I could get some nice photos of them (I won't post them since they show children other than my own). In terms of Girl Scout rules, it was a big "no-no."

Looking up through the branches of the live oak.

I'm not sure the name of this lake but it was very quiet and peaceful. The girls and I found deer and raccoon tracks along the water's edge.

Sad, lonely boat. I wanted to take it and give it a nice home...but Cyra said stealing is not the Girl Scout way. I tried to counter that the Girl Scouts weren't "using their resources wisely" but she didn't believe me.

More water craft stored for the winter in the boat house. I could have easily fit one on my car.

The pond by the main lodge. Directly behind me is the dreaded hill I was forced to roll down!

Letter Box

2012-01-26T15:32:00.000-05:00

I did some much needed early Spring cleaning this week and came across a tattered and worn cardboard box, you know the kind you store your income taxes in. Tucked into the bottom of my closet, covered with a stack of extra blankets this box has seen the inside of many master bedroom closets. With each move and unpacking, this box has followed me for nearly two decades. Of course, two decades ago it was just a small shoe box. Somewhere around 30 I adopted a larger, sturdier box.

Knowing that with the tight quarters our new house has, I decided to transfer the contents of the old box into an even sturdier plastic storage container. I had an extra one left over from Christmas (I repacked all of our Christmas decorations in new boxes this year since we have to store them outside) so while I was cleaning I took an hour to go through the old box before moving the contents to a new home.

I opened the cover of the box and smiled at all the greeting cards and letters that date back from the time when I was in middle school. Graduation cards, birth announcements, Christmas cards and letters from friends I’ve not seen or heard of in years all stacked in messy piles within the box.

Memories. Tangible memories from years past.

So many cards from family members I can’t even list them all! Hundreds of cards I imagine, though I have never counted them and only three birthday cards bare my grandmother’s signature. I’m sure I got more from her, she saw fifteen of my birthdays, but for some reason only those three made it into the box.

I worked for a semester before I started college and I have letters from Bridget telling me what a strange new world college was. Cards and letters from Cindy, a friend that I regret not keeping in touch with, telling me about her wild dating adventures. Birthday cards from Heather, hand made on her computer. I still have a Bob Ross inspired painted she made me hanging in my bedroom.

Each year new cards get reverently placed on top of the pile, birthday and Christmas cards mostly, but occasionally a letter or a “Thinking of you” card.

As I was going through, I remembered another box filled with just letters. This one though is just a small cardboard photo storage box – like a shoebox, that sits on a shelf in my Craftway. This one too has been through a number of moves and always gets placed where I have easy access to it. A few precious letters from my husband, a handful from a high school friend, and all the letters from my very oldest friend, Ericka, and my closest friend, Sara, all tied together with ribbons, each bundle from a different person.

Sara wrote to me while she was in Japan. Although she was not about to write everyday to mimic our daily conversations, she wrote long, detailed letters. Every time a thick letter was shoved though my mail slot, I would start tearing up even before I opened it because I missed her so much. Her letters are precise, thoughtful and insightful observations about Japanese culture, her loves and complaints about work and the new foods she was discovering. She writes so much like she talks and thinks, that it was easy to imagine her sitting next to me telling me about her experiences. Little details that I’m sure I would forget she spins into vibrant vivid descriptions like the story-teller she is.

Ericka’s letters have come at random intervals since just before high school graduation. Each time I get a letter from her I let out a “squee” of joy. Envelopes are decorated with stickers and drawings or pictures that she cut out of magazines and glued on. Her letters are short and poignant detailing her life and asking about the girls. Occasionally a mention of some silly thing we did as kids gets tossed in: concoctions, secret codes, Cabbage Patch Kids, so many shared memories. I can hear her voice in each letter and each one brings with it a bevy of happy memories.

My new 27 quart plastic box for letters gives me some extra space. At 75% capacity, I think I have another five or ten years to fill it up. I look forward to the day when I will need to move up to a bigger box. Letters are a tangible, permanent connection. I might not keep in touch with people like I should but trust me when I say, each card, each postcard, each letter means something and gets tucked away. Writing letters is so personal you can’t help but feel special when you get one. An unexpected letter from a friend is like sunshine, rainbows and unicorns exploding out of the mailbox.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a letter to write.

Friday Photo

2012-01-23T16:18:00.000-05:00

While family is in town it is a good opportunity to sight-see at places we don't normally go. Florida has no shortage of wacky places to visit and while my nephew was in town we took a tour of one of my favorite old haunts: Ripley's Believe It Or Not.

Hey! What's David doing in Florida??

Oh. Well, that explains it.

Very...

...Nice!

African Judgement Chair

Creepy!

Everyone is pirate crazy now-a-days!

On Being Naive.

2012-01-14T10:19:00.016-05:00

A few days ago, a comment was made about my eldest daughter that really bothered me. Not so much that it was said or said unfairly or was even a negative comment – it certainly wasn’t intended as such although I perceived it as so. But it bothered me because it made me question how I am raising my children.

“She’s so naïve,” the person said.

“Just because she doesn’t talk about stuff, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know about it,” I replied.

The conversation essentially ended with that as merry-making was pursued but in the back of my mind my thoughts have since been lingering on this icicle of doubt slowly drip drip dripping into a bucket of concern.

I don’t want her to be naïve, I thought. Being naïve is like being ignorant or stupid. She’s certainly not stupid, I grumbled to myself. But the more I thought about it the more I wondered if I had done a disservice to my children by keeping what I deemed inappropriate topics at bay, by letting them stay children for as long as they could. Finally, I worked myself into such an angsty panic that I looked up the actual definition of naïve.

na•ive (adj.)

1. having or showing unaffected simplicity of nature or absence of artificiality; unsophisticated; ingenuous.
2. having or showing a lack of experience, judgment, or information; credulous: She's so naive she believes everything she reads. He has a very naive attitude toward politics.
3. having or marked by a simple, unaffectedly direct style reflecting little or no formal training or technique: valuable naive 19th-century American portrait paintings.
4. not having previously been the subject of a scientific experiment, as an animal.

Source: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/naive

I read through it a couple times and eliminated the 3rd and 4th definitions as having no connection to the answer I was looking for. The other two, however, can and do apply. Here’s what I get out of this definition: all naïve means is that a person is not “worldly” or that they haven’t gone through a lot of experiences. Also, look at that phrase, absence of artificiality, and really think about it. We are overrun with artificiality. Reality TV that is nowhere near “real,” political pundits spinning a story to suit their purpose, celebrities! Is artificiality more valuable than honesty now? Is weaving a lie a better skill to learn than speaking the truth? Is being artificial what we should strive for?

As I turned this definition over and over I kept coming back to one really important fact: Ashleigh is 15. She is naïve in the strictest sense of the word as she is has not experienced worldly things. She is just 15. By the very nature of being 15 she can not help not knowing things. She hasn’t been alive long enough to experience all the world has to offer. I am 35 and I can’t say that I consider myself “worldly and experienced.”

At 15 my world view was extremely narrow. I saw school and I saw home. At 15, like most 15 year olds, I just knew that I knew all there was in the world worth knowing. I didn’t start following politics until I was 18 when I had a reason to understand them. I didn’t start following world events until they affected me. I didn’t start really looking at the world and having “worldly” experiences until college. At 35, I am content to say I am still learning. I have a lifetime of knowledge ahead of me because there are still a lot of things I am, by definition, naïve about.

Ashleigh is an honest kid; there is nothing artificial about her. She isn’t deceptive or demeaning to others. She wants to believe the best of everyone, but knows that people will disappoint and hurt her. She doesn’t like unfairness and thinks that everyone should have the same rights but knows that rights aren’t always equal. She questions things she doesn’t understand and refuses to follow a crowd. She is playful. She knows to stay out of a dark alley but she knows how to protect herself if she’s in a jam. She understands that there are monsters in the world and they look just like the neighbor down the street or the smiling checkout person at the store. She makes mistakes and owns up to the consequences of her actions. She’s more concerned with school than with sex. She doesn’t follow politics or religion but she watches the news and reads articles so I know she’s learning. She does the right thing because it is the right thing to do.

And I taught her all that. Not a preacher or a book, not a movie or game. Me. I’m the overprotective parent who still previews movies before she watches them, who questions her on all the books she reads, and who wants to meet her friends before she hangs out with them. I’m the one who insists on family dinners and wholesome TV and game night. Not because I have my head in the clouds and want to live in the past, but because children are only children for a fraction of a second. Do they really need sex and murder and crime shoved into their lives? They know it exists, they’ve seen it on the news. We don’t pretend the bad doesn’t exist, but we spend our time looking for the good.

If all that adds up to her being naïve, then I am all for it.

Call me protective. I am. Call me naïve. I am. Call my children naïve and I’ll nod my head and agree, because they are.

At 15 there is plenty of time for her to grow and gain knowledge and experience. Before long, Ashleigh will be off to college, traveling the world and living her own life. I get her for 20 years give or take a few. She’ll be alive for another 60 to 80 years. Maybe one day, she’ll consider herself worldly but for now, let her be naïve. Let her be a kid.

Friday Photos

2012-01-13T12:00:00.001-05:00

One of the best Christmas presents I received this year was The Pioneer Woman Cooks by Ree Drummond. I've followed her blog for a while and longed over her book when it came out. But being on a budget, I could only gaze at it longingly while reconciling myself to just visiting her blog.

While I was drooling over the book, I fixated on her recipe for BBQ Jalapeno Poppers. I've not always been a fan of spicy foods. It has only been in the last few years that I have developed a taste for a little spicy kick in the jaw. So when I read this recipe I knew I wanted to make it for my Gamers. Now, never having worked with jalapenos before, I was a little zealous with removing the seeds and membranes so my poppers turned out sweet rather than spicy.

My hands were all juicy from working with the jalapenos so I didn't take many pictures of the prep. But the finished product is so beautiful, I think you'll forgive me.

Poppers drenched with Baby Ray's Honey BBQ sauce getting ready to go in the oven.

Just out from the oven sizzling with bacon-y bbq-y goodness.

I wrapped the bacon a bit too tight, something the Pioneer Woman warns about, but I was still new to the bacon wrapping while wearing gloves game.

Gamer Tom decided that I was spending far too much time taking pictures of his snack and photo bombed my plated poppers.

Seriously, are these not oozing with loveliness? So sweet and divine!

Clean This Craft Up!

2012-01-12T16:58:00.000-05:00

I was spoiled in the old house with a large dining room that could double as my craft area. And would you believe that these are the only photos that I could find of the area.

Both of these photos are actually from Ashleigh experimenting with her new camera last year. The craft area always looked messy and cluttered, but everything did have a place and as far as I was concerned it was quite well organized.

Fast forward a few months. In the new house we "lost" about 500 square feet. It didn't seem like a big deal at the time, but we are definitely feeling a bit tight, especially in my craft area.

In an effort to "contain" my crafts I chose to utilize the front hallway that we decided wouldn't get used all that much since there is a door right off of the the dining room that opens out to the carport. In fact, it was also the only place that I had to put the cat litter so the dog would get into it since we could gate it off. Since we've moved in it has been a struggle to keep the area clean and organized. It feels claustrophobic trying to get supplies so often instead of putting things away I just pile them on a shelf and call it a day.

Most of the time it looks something like this:

Its cluttered and unkempt. Also, there as there is a nice pass through that opens into the living room all that clutter is like a blinking "Look at this mess" neon sign! Notice the cat box and the front door. Ugg! What a pain in the butt to keep up with! All the disorganization makes me less than excited to get into any project.

So today, in a fit of boredom sprinkled with the start of a head cold, I decided to clean and organize the "Craftway" as I have taken to calling it. A good three and a half hours later, I have two and a half plastic boxes ready to out to the the storage shed full of crafts that I rarely use. I reorganized a few baskets and boxes and although it doesn't look like too much has changed the results are very satisfying and I am ready to pull out a box and get working on another scrapbook.

These Are Not The Macaroons You Are Looking For

2012-01-11T15:33:00.000-05:00

Recently, I felt the sudden irrepressible urge to bake. It happens occasionally. I was low on supplies so flipping through my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, I settled on making coconut macaroons. Four ingredients: sugar, egg whites, vanilla extract and coconut all hung out in my kitchen, lazing around with bored expressions.

Macaroons are simple I thought, easy and won’t take up the whole afternoon. Oh how little did I realize that apparently macaroons are the high maintenance snobs of the cookie world!

The recipe read a bit like meringues but without the cream of tarter. Add sugar slowly and beat egg whites until stiff peaks form the recipe said. But it should actually have read: Add sugar if you want to and beat the egg whites forever until your arm loses feeling and falls off. Then get pissed off at the egg whites and add a teaspoon of cream of tarter to see if that helps any.

It didn’t help. The cream of tarter? Nope. Nothing. No stiff peaks at all. After about 40 minutes of beating, I finally walked away from the bowl afraid that my little hand held electric beater was going to resign. I came back a few minutes later, dumped in the coconut and told the batter to “get over it.”

The egg whites took their revenge on me though and while I was folding in the coconut, they fizzled, deflated and sunk.

“I am cooking you, stupid cookies!” I yelled at the bowl. This was personal now. The batter was just taunting me now. “I will bake you and eat you! I don’t care how you taste!”

These are macaroons.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macaroon

I don’t know what I made, but macaroons they are not.

Getting ready to go in the oven.

They came out more like a meringue stuffed with coconut then anything else. They might not have looked like macaroons, but, man were they tasty!

Crafty Conversations

2012-01-07T11:48:00.000-05:00

I come from a family of crafters. Crafting ideas surge through my blood thudding and pounding every time I drive by Michael’s or JoAnn’s or Hobby Lobby. At this point in my life I mostly crochet or scrapbook but I can and do: paint, cross stitch, make soap and occasionally candles, weave, quilt and sew. Admittedly of the listed crafts, I just learned how to weave and while I can quilt and sew, they are not my favorite of activities – they are too “fussy” for me. Of course, one might argue that scrapbooking is far fussier.

During a recent shopping trip with Ashleigh after she had tried on her bajillionth pair of jeans it came as no surprise when she shouted from the dressing room, “That’s it! We are going to make our own clothes from now on! These don’t fit! And,” she was so indignant, “They are way too expensive! Forty dollars and that's the SALE PRICE?!?!”

I smiled listening to her tirade. In December, unable to find the girls Christmas pajamas that were cute but not cutesy and fit them, I too had myself a little clothes shopping breakdown and decided that I would make them pajamas this year. While they turned out okay in the end, I struggled through the entire process and the easy “sew in an hour” turned out to be a nearly two week long event and I just barely finished them in time for Christmas Eve.

Ashleigh’s blood also carries through her a burning desire to craft. She makes paper projects, dream catchers, yarn creations…her interests are as varied as mine and now, she is determined to learn how to sew.

“Well,” I tell her as she comes out of the changing room, “You heard me complaining about your pajamas, right?”

“Yeah.” She nods placing a stack of jeans on the rack just outside the dressing room.

“And really, cost wise, I only saved maybe five dollars per pajama and that was with the fabric on sale.”

“I don’t need expensive fabric.”

“I’ve never made pants before except for doll clothes.”

“I like skirts. Skirts are just, you know, round.” She said. “And dresses. I bet those are easier.”

“Okay.” I sigh and shake my head. “We’ll make some clothes.” I tell her as we walk out of the store. “You know, I think that I still have some doll patterns and fabric left over from before…how about you start with that? You know, like the Mythbusters.”

She looks at me and frowns.

“Small scale trial run first to see what might explode,” I tell her. “Then the full size experiment.”

You know what else runs in the family?

Eye rolling.

Friday Photo

2012-01-06T12:58:00.000-05:00

Many bloggers do a Wordless Wednesday, so I'm going to try a Friday Photo(s). I'm not sure how often I'll do this but let's give it a whirl!

One of my favorite places to go is the zoo. Any zoo will do. While on one hand it is sad to see animals cooped up in cages, the little kid in me squees with delight at getting the chance to see animals that otherwise I’d only ever see in a book or on TV. The girls and I go to the zoo often enough to justify getting a zoo membership every year.

Some of my favorite memories are of the Catskill Game Farm in upstate New York. The Game Farm closed its doors in 2006 (you can find a couple articles here and here and here if you are interested). At least once a year, my dad would bring me to the Game Farm. My favorite part was the petting zoo area. In one section herds of deer roamed around anxiously waiting for an unsuspecting child to start handing out deer crackers. The Deer would swarm like piranhas. In the nursery, goats and sheep and little pot belly pigs crowded around to get small bottles of milk.

The Game Farm was unique in how close you could get to the animals. Now to get close to the exhibits you either have to pay for a “behind the scenes” tour or invest in a really good camera. I certainly don’t have the money for a personal tour, nor do I have a really good camera, but occasionally I capture some really good pictures at the zoo.

"Awesome! One more flash from that stupid camera and I am coming right through that glass!"

My favorite "people" exhibit! The zookeeper was very nice to play along when Ashleigh got excited about seeing a "real people on display!"

"You know I'm about to peck your eyeball out, right?"

Practicing his GQ poses.

We love this bird. He is so photogenic. Ashleigh named him Dexter.

By far one of the best pictures I have taken at the zoo, this little guy looks stunning in black and white!

One of the very few times I have ever seen the lion move. He strutted all over the enclosure like he was all that! Well, I guess he was from the size of the crowd that "oohed" and "ahhed" over him.

The zoo has a lovely lorikeet exhibit where you can feed them. Some days they flock all over you. Others, like this day, they are very stand-offish.

I felt a bit uncomfortable snapping this photo as it appeared to me that they needed a private moment...

"Feed me." Such a demanding man! This one wouldn't let any of the other giraffes anywhere near the feeding station.

Enrichment day at the zoo means toys and puzzles for the animals. This jaguar loved his bucket of frozen fishicles!

"Ommm... Ommm"

She looks so fierce...too bad she was just yawning.

Not A Statistic

2012-01-04T12:41:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I don’t know what to say. I am supposed to be a writer, a teacher, an English Major for goodness sake! Yet words often fail me. They get lost on the highways and byways of my brain. Somewhere between the thought and my mouth the words I want vanish. Or worse, they come out and are absolutely no good. They don’t fit the situation, they are mispronounced, or they are non sequiturs. And sometimes there are situations, where no matter what words I carefully choose, they will never be enough, mean enough, help enough.

Just over three months ago, on September 26th my best friend’s mom called me. At first, when I saw her name pop up on caller id, I was excited. She’s two weeks early, I thought, but Sara must be in labor. But Joyce’s voice quivered over the line and she asked me softly if I had heard from Sara that day. My stomach dropped. I shook my head and tears welled in my eyes because I knew something had gone wrong.

Wrong. What a deceptively small word, like she had chosen the wrong answer on a test.

“They lost the baby,” Joyce’s voice cracked and became muffled as if she were speaking through her hands. “Her heart just stopped. They are going to induce labor.”

On September 26th I knew that stillbirth didn’t happen. Not today. Not in a world that prides itself on medical technology.

On September 28th Sara delivered her daughter, Lauren Joy, stillborn.

That day I learned that stillbirth does happen and more frequently then one can imagine.

For three months, I’ve been helpless to help Sara. I haven’t known what to say, what to do. I still don’t know.

As short as this post is, I have been working on it for three months. Each time I sat down to write I struggled with the topic. One thing that I kept going back to was the fact that stillbirth is not discussed. It is swept up and tossed out. Since that day, I have read baby loss blogs where far too many moms were told to “get over it” and “move on.” Moms who thought they couldn't talk about their baby...or felt pressured not to. And blogs where doctors were indifferent and never discussed the possibility of stillbirth with the moms.

Sara is a writer and blogger. Her post today helped me to figure out what I can do. I can help to keep Lauren’s name heard by sharing Sara’s story with as many people as I can.

After three months, I still grieve with Sara and her family. Not a day has gone by that I do not think about Lauren and miss her despite never having met her.

This is Lauren’s Story.

She is not a statistic. She is real. She is loved. She is missed.

Twelve for Twenty-Twelve

2011-12-31T02:42:00.000-05:00

I’ve said it before but it bears some repeating: I suck at blogging. I’m not disciplined enough. Not dedicated enough. Too easily distracted by shiny objects. Or dull objects. Or things that make noise. Or smell nice. Or…well, I’m sure you get the picture.

I’m not good at it, but I’d like to get better. I’d like to blog more without feeling obligated to do so and without feeling guilty when I don’t. Hmmm… That sounds an awful lot like a resolution. Of course, it’s that time of year again, when people under the glamour of one too many champagne shots holler out a New Year’s Resolution when the clock strikes midnight. Statistically most resolutions are thrown on the backburner after the haze of alcohol dissipates or by the end of the month. Me? I think about my resolutions well in advance. There’s certainly no alcohol influencing these much needed improvements.

Right before Christmas I read an article in Parents Magazine that gave suggestions on making and sticking to New Year’s Resolutions. Instead of making large lofty goals, setting smaller monthly goals makes it easier to accomplish each goal. So while I have listed twelve (dare I say lofty?) goals, aside from the first one, they are listed in no particular order nor am I planning on cramming every single one of them into January. I can spread them out and take my time with them. I have, after all a whole year to fill!

1. Write every day. No excuses. With me out of a job right now, there isn’t any reason why I shouldn’t be writing daily, but I always seem to put other activities ahead of writing, especially chores. That needs to stop. I have always wanted to be a writer and it is time for me to start acting like one!

2. Post to my blog at least once per week. And as much as I lurk on other people’s blogs, I am going to start commenting too. I don’t expect to gather a following, but it would be nice and maybe, if more people came to my blog, the more I might blog.

3. Resume my daily exercise routine. Once upon a time, I walked four to five miles a day. It was the justification for getting a dog! I also did free weights. Once upon a time I lost a good bit of weight and then gained it all back because I fell out of my good habits. I started daily walking again this past August when the girls went back to school, but then holidays and company put me into a lazy frame of mind and I put off what I should have stuck to.

4. Get back to better eating habits. It don’t have bad eating habits per se. I eat lots of fruits and veggies (especially oranges as I have no desire to get scurvy). BUT, I could do a lot better with portion control. Maybe cut back on cooking and baking with so much butter. And maybe…just maybe take a step back from my love of dairy – do I really need four pounds of cheese in the house at all times?? Now as far as sweets go? I’ll eat them if they are in the house, but I don’t often have them because I know I’ll eat them. Same thing with soda. I don’t have it in the house, because if it is here, I’ll drink it. I maybe should cut back on my caffeine intake as well…but that’s debatable.

5. If I stick with Numbers 3 and 4, then number 5 should happen as a by-product: lose at least 50 pounds. I should lose much more than that, but 50 seems like a reasonable goal that I can meet without getting discourage. At just a little more than 4 pounds a month 50 pounds is reasonable and attainable. Along with that, I will go back to weighing myself daily. Now, I know that all the weight-loss gurus say you shouldn’t do a daily weigh in, but I find that I am more honest with my eating habits if I know that every morning I step on the scale. It makes me rethink that second cup of coffee or an extra helping.

6. Organize my photographs chronologically. I have a giant plastic tub of pictures, plus a number of smaller photo boxes AND a gazillion empty photo albums. This is the year that I get them organized. And if I enlist the girls (which I plan on doing) then hopefully the task won’t seem so daunting.

7. Along with Number 6, I want to scrapbook more. It’s a hobby I really enjoy and have tons of supplies for. While I organize the photos, I will also plan different scrapbooks. I got interested in scrapbooking with my best friend and one thing I’ve discovered is that it is more fun to scrapbook with someone. Both the girls are interested in scrapbooking as well and it is time for them to create their own books too!

8. Write actual letters to friends and family. I keep meaning to and then never follow through with it. Getting mail is so…nice. It makes you feel loved and remembered. In this age of instant messaging and Facebook and Google+ we think we are so connected, but really…I don’t think we are. I don’t post anything important to my Facebook, not really. A little blurb of information on a social network is not sharing your life with someone. It’s not making a connection. Letters and cards are a lost art that need to be revitalized! With that in mind I am also going to make a concentrated effort on sending birthday cards to family and friends.

9. Reinstitute Family Game Night. For awhile we had a game night every Tuesday. I’m not sure when or why we fell out of doing this, but I miss it. We are a family of gamers: RPG, board games, Wii, and cards… we love games! And conveniently we have a virtual treasure trove of available games to play.

10. Living in a house with a big yard, I would like to commit to getting a backyard homestead going. A nice big vegetable garden, a smaller but equally important herb garden. I have a garden layout in mind based on the French intensive method and I’ve already started a compost pile. Add to that a small flock of chickens, and I think I’ll be well set. We have the space, I think, to add some other small farm animals, maybe a goat or a sheep…or better yet a llama!! But that will need to wait until I am comfortable with raising chickens and veggies.

11. Another thing I’d like to accomplish this year is getting my favorite recipes organized. For Christmas I received a Moleskin Recipe Journal from the girls. Not only is it a perfect way to organize the multitude of recipes that I have printed or ripped out of magazines over the years, but it will be something for the girls to have as well. A collection of all our family favorites in one place. Maybe (and this is ambitious) I’ll pick up two more and make on for each of the girls! With me not working, I have more time to think about, plan and execute nice dinners. Often while I was working I resorted to box dinners: Mac and Cheese, chicken nuggets, easy and quick fixes that would only take a few minutes to prepare. We got stuck in a routine of old standbys and never strayed too far from the familiar. As I am organizing my recipes, I will try to add one brand new recipe or food once per week.

12. Finally, I want to get back to traveling. The last part of 2011 was financially tight and the few trips I had planned I had to cancel. I imagine that 2012, unless I find a job, will be equally tight. However, I want to get back out there in the world and show the girls how amazing our country is. Camping trips will be the least expensive way to go again, but I want to go other places too. North Dakota, Arizona, DC. I know I can’t afford oversea travel in 2012, but someday, I’d also like to go back to England, explore Germany and Sweden, and visit Egypt.

Jumping In

2011-08-04T12:24:00.000-04:00

Back in 5th grade we had an end of the year field trip to Moriello Pool. Moriello Pool, like any other community pool, had concession stand, a slide, a kiddie pool, two diving boards and a playground. The highlight of the end of year celebrations, we always looked forward to the trip.

Clear blue skies, soaring temperatures made the day seem perfect and endless. A group of us gathered along the edge of the pool near the deep end and set up our towels and our boom box (yes, it was that long ago). The lifeguards made us swim a lap across the deep end in order to test our swimming ability. Anyone who couldn’t make a lap had to stay in the shallow end.

My friends and I easily pass the exam and spent the next hour splashing and jumping, playing Marco Polo, giggling. There was a lot of giggling. After a while we all got out to lie on our towels and watch the other kids still in the pool. Many kids more adventurous than I were taking turns on the high dive. We laugh as they plough into the water more often than not flat on their stomachs.

Not to be outdone by our classmates we make the choice to each take a turn diving. One by one, we file over to the high dive. Soaring twenty feet above the surface of the water I stare up at it as the line slowly moves forward. I’ve always been nervous about heights. Not so much the being off the ground part, but the falling to my death part.

I count the kids in front of me. Ten more until my turn, five, four, three, Oh my God two, Jeez what the hell was I thinking one… Crap, my turn.

I place my hands on the ladder.
One foot on a rung.
Two feet on the rung.
Hands moving up.
Climbing.
Gulping.
Breathing.
Looking down.
Five feet off the ground.
Hand, hand.
Foot, foot.
Up and up.
Breath.
Ten feet.
Fifteen feet.
Breath.
Hand, hand.
Oh My God, the top.

I’m on the top. My hands clench the railing and turn white. I look down again. Big mistake. I back up a little my heel skims the edge of the board. I know the rungs are right there. I can just climb back down. Back to the ground and I’ll be fine. I look down. Three of my friends still wait below. Two of my friends cling to the side of the pool watching.

I feel like I’m in a movie when everything slows down. Seconds feel like minutes and each thud of my heart rattles my ribcage. Chlorine stings my nose and shrieks, giggles and squeals of laughter are drawn out and echo across the pool.

I look down again and my best friend smiles up at me and nods. She knows how scared I am. She knows that I want to climb back down. And I know that if I do climb back down she won’t think anything less of me.

I move to put my foot back on the top ladder rung, but stop a mere inch before my toes touch. My best friend might not think any less of me. The other kids might tease me about being scared. And that isn’t a big deal.

My mom raised me to not worry about what others think. It’s what I think that matters to me. And I know that if I climb back down the ladder, I would disappoint myself.

I put my foot back on the board. I took a shuffling step forward. One foot after the other, my hands edging along the railing until there was no more railing. I slide my feet along, letting go of the railing. As I make my way to the end of the board each step the board flexes and bows beneath my feet. I reach the end of the board. Bouncing gently, both feet on the board, arms outstretched for balance.

I push down a bit with my feet and come up on my toes. Push down. Come up. Push down. Jump out. The board disappears. Wind whistles across my face. My eyes screw shut. My stomach drops — No. I drop. Feet first. Arms out and up. I gulp in air. I scream. I suck in a lungful of air. My feet hit the water and then I’m under. I slow down, pause, my feet start scissor kicking, propelling me up, my arms pulling through the water.

I break the surface, gasp and shake the hair and water from my face. I look up at the board. My best friend stands on the end and with only the slightest of hesitation plunges in.

She surfaces near me and we swim to the edge of the pool.

“I didn’t think you were going to do it,” she says. “You looked like you were going to throw up.”

“I felt like I was going to throw up.” I tell her.

“But you did it.” She smiles at me and hoists herself out of the water onto the concrete. “Want to go again?”

“Nope,” I tell her. “One risk a day is plenty for me.”

Back then jumping off the high dive at the community pool seemed daring and life altering. I was a risk-taker, Damn it! And I could do anything!

Now, risk taking seems more weighted, more intense and important. Taking a risk must be weighed against what is best for my family. And despite all assurances, taking a risk is more than just jumping off a diving board.

I want to take the risk. I want to jump in fully committed with my eyes open and no hesitations this time.

But if I screw up…

If I can’t make it work…

Two tiny letters. One HUGE concept.

If.

Sailor Talk

2011-07-30T15:54:00.000-04:00

Having an outdoor space that we can actually move around in is one of the reasons why Scott and I liked this house so much. The girls have a great place to play and run around and actually get to be kids. Towering trees, a pond and a gazebo make it an excellent place for young explorers.

The only draw back we’ve discovered is that despite all of our camping trips, the girls, mostly Cyra, are not 100% sure which bugs, spiders and snakes to avoid. So I found a friendly blog about snakes that live in Florida that had some amazing pictures.

“Look, Cyra,” I say pointing at the screen, “this one is an Eastern Diamondback Rattler. Stay the Hell away from this one.”

“Do they live here?”

“Yes. But you probably won’t see on in the yard. Besides, you’ll hear it before you see it anyway.” I click on the next picture. “See this one?”

“Yes.” Cyra says. “What is it?”

“It is a Southern Copperhead. Stay the Hell away from this one.”

“Okay, Mommy.” She pulls her feet up onto the couch and looks anxiously at the floor.

“Okay.” I tell her clicking on the next picture. “This is a Coral Snake. Really stay the Hell away from this one.”

“Mom, but the Scarlett King snake is okay.” Ashleigh pipes in.

“Yeah, but to be safe, stay the Hell away from both of them,” I reply.

“Mommy, I know that if the red and yellow touch it’s venomous,” Cyra states.

I nod and click on another picture.

“Look, this one is a Cottonmouth. Stay the Hell away from it.”

“I get it, Mommy.” Cyra says.

“Good.”

“Mom? Shouldn't you just tell her to stay away from all the snakes?” Ashleigh asks.

“Well, yeah, but like this one?” I click to another photo. “Eastern Indigo. Good snake to have around. And they’re pretty.” I look at the picture for a minute. “This is the one you saw, Cyra that made you jump 12 feet into the air shrieking like a banshee!” I pause, “You should probably just stay away from snakes.”

I swivel the desk chair around to face the girls. Cyra’s feet are tucked up tight beneath her.

“I am never going outside again,” she says.

“That’s silly,” I tell her, “What are you going to do when you see a snake in the yard?”

“Stay the Hell away from it!” she exclaims.

Cramped For Space

2011-07-29T22:08:00.000-04:00

1300 square feet is actually not all that much space, especially coming from 1700 square feet and an attic. I am discovering just how attached I am to certain things (like books and crafts) and how completely unattached I am to other things (please explain to me why I have four queen-sized comforters/quilts).

Before we moved, I did a lot of dejunking. A lot. Bags and bags of books donated to the library, boxes of miscellaneous mismatched dishes, old linens and clothes. As much as I thought I could get rid of, I did.

But I am finding that it wasn’t enough.

We have a great deal of storage space but it is all outside storage. And right now, I am a bit concerned for my many boxes of Christmas decorations, teaching supplies, crafts and books that are in a hostile environment.

Oh! The humidity. The blazing heat. And let’s not get started on the bugs.

I went to Barnes and Noble today to browse because I have a gift card (yes this is related). I picked up nearly a dozen books throughout my leisurely stroll around the store. Yet every book I picked up went back on the shelf. I can wait until the library has it, I thought. I’ve got a ton of books that I just checked out from the library. And then, a most horrific thought: Where exactly would I put this book? On what shelf?

Ugh.

Ready to leave, I walked to the front door empty handed right past the shiny display of Nooks and the delightful saleslady making an exuberant pitch to a little old lady.

I paused. I picked up a display Nook secured tightly to the counter with a white springy wire. I pressed a few buttons and the screen whizzed into action: menus, demos, apps. I sighed quietly at the price and put the Nook back on its display shelf.

I turned to leave and the saleslady caught my eye for just a second. Her glance clearly screamed, “No! Don’t walk away! I know you want this and I will be right with you! Please!”

I smiled and walked out of the store.

Sigh.

1300 square feet is just almost enough motivation and justification for buying an e-reader.

But then I think to myself, there is just something so nice about flipping the pages in a book, the smell of the paper, the stiffness of the spine.

I am sure one day, I’ll get an e-reader or the next Great Thing, but it will be the day when books are no longer published on paper. A day when paper maybe too costly to use or too rare.
And that day, my Friends, that day makes me sad.

Potting and Plotting

2011-07-28T13:06:00.000-04:00

In the old house, I had a bunch of flower pots left over from the previous woman who lived there. One pot, had a bunch of amaryllis bulbs in it that every year bloomed faithfully even though I didn’t ever do anything for them except occasionally pulling a few weeds out. The other pots pretty much just had weeds.

I kept them around because even though I do not consider myself a gardener or a person who can actually keep a plant alive, I know how much large ceramic garden pots can cost.

I always figured that someday, I might just be ambitious enough to start a container garden.

Someday.

If scientists ever create genetically modified flowers that are indestructible.

In any case, when we got ready to move back to the St. A. I decided to take the empty pots with me. The house we found to rent has nearly 2 acres with it and the Girls were excited to have space to plant a vegetable garden.

Knowing my propensity to kill green things, I opted to wait before digging into a garden and do research. (It is one of the things I miss most about being a slacker college kid)

While I research the girls bounce around me begging for a garden.

“Okay,” I tell them, “but we will start small with what we have.”

While Ashleigh was off frolicking on a GS trip, Cyra and I wandered around Home Depot picking flowers solely on prettiness factor and color. Luckily, most of them turned out to like sunshine (we get a lot here!) and I eventually figured out the difference between a perennial and an annual (remember, black thumb over here!).

And people, I totally have a garden!

Red one.

It's a pink one! We also got the same kind in a dark pink and white!

It's a purple one!

Firecracker Flower

Some type of Daisy

Balloon Flower - Cyra's Favorite

All planted and ready for the Sun!

The ease of which these plants went into the pots makes me almost confident about a larger garden down the line. Now let's see if we can keep them alive...

Dreaming Big

2011-07-28T09:50:00.000-04:00

I only discovered Miss Britt a few short weeks ago and I’ve been lurking ever since. She’s totally living my life! Well, the life I totally want to live.

Liquidate the assets.
Buy an RV.
Home school the Small Fries.
Travel the continent.
Blog about it.

Totally. Want. This. Life.

But for now, the best I can do is to vicariously live through her spectacular blog.

Back And Better Than Before. Probably.

2011-07-20T21:49:00.002-04:00

I’ve been in dark places before. Back in high school I went through a stupid dark place.

I haven’t posted here in a while because I was once again in a dark place and I had no interest in blogging about it. I still don’t, so don’t look for me to go into the details now.

But I am coming back to myself, I think, with a new location, a new attitude and a new purpose. I’m ready to talk again, ready to write here again.

I hope you’ll come along for the ride it is sure to be exciting…at the very least quirky and maybe even entertaining. There’ll be adventures in parenting, writing, teaching, crafting, gardening and maybe some chickens.

Cheers,
Heather

Still.

2010-12-08T18:00:00.002-05:00

I am alive and well.

Still.

I haven't gone anywhere...except in my mind. There has been a lot on my mind, none of which can safely be posted here. So while I am still checked in, I am holding my tongue. For the time being, assume my posts here will be sporadic.

Some updates:

I won NaNoWriMo again this year, and again my story by the end sucked. It started off well, but I did not put as much planning into it as I have in the past and as a result, the ending (if one can call it an ending) fizzled.

I am up to my eyeballs in Christmas cheer! I am crafty, decorating and baking. Essentially doing all the things I totally love to do.

I am overwhelmed with work (not much of an update as I am always overwhelmed with work) and I feel like I am being drawn and quartered...except with less limbs ripping off.

I am working on a story. And that alone makes me beyond happy.

In essence, my very dear friends and family, I am plucking along and I am okay with that.

In Good Cheer,

~Heather~

No Scurvy For Me

2010-11-08T20:50:00.002-05:00

Cyra's job in the mornings, aside from getting dressed, is to help make the lunches. Every morning without fail, after reminding her a couple dozen times, she trots out into the kitchen and starts pulling snacks out of the pantry.

This morning while we were working, I started slicing an orange for my lunch.

Cyra: Mommy?

Me: Yes?

Cyra: When we go camping this weekend, I want to bring lemons and limes.

Me: Umm...Okay. Sure. Why?

Cyra: (with the utmost serious expression) I don't want to get scurvy.

Me: (serious nod) Makes sense. I'll add them to the camping grocery list.

When It Isn't, It Really Is.

2010-09-21T23:00:00.003-04:00

I have had a lot on my mind lately and for that reason I have taken a break from blogging here. No worries though, because when I have something to say I'll say it loud and clear.

Keep tuned.

All Of A Sudden

2010-08-25T19:50:00.001-04:00

School has started and my Summer of Bumdom has come to a sudden halt.

All of a sudden, I have to do things again…Make lunches, iron clothes, do laundry in a timely manner, make sure the children are clean, check homework, sign planners, write lesson plans…my days have gone back to unending.

All of a sudden, there aren’t enough hours in the day and every little thing seems to manifest into a much larger problem than one would image. Minor insignificant things like food consumption become monumentous*.

All of a sudden, getting out of bed and eating breakfast, once a leisurely activity involving giggles and morning tickles, has morphed into a bleary-eyed stumble down stairs and into walls kind of affair. Making lunches demands forethought and planning at an hour far too early for either. Let us not even discuss the chaos that is dinner!

All of a sudden time becomes important and I am once again telling time by PBS morning cartoons. Between the Lions becomes “Please do not take 30 minutes to eat half a cup of cereal” time. Maya & Miguel becomes “go get dressed right now or else” time. Arthur becomes “Do you have everything together cause we’ve got to go right now” time.

All of a sudden, everything is a big rush.

All of a sudden, I realize once again how precious every little moment is…reading Cyra a story at bedtime, tucking Ashleigh in after she’s already asleep because she is “too grown-up” for tucking in, playing a card game after dinner…

It is these moments, of course, that all of a sudden, I remember mean more than what they are.

*Yeah, I made up a word, but that’s okay because I have a degree.

Birthday Thoughts

2010-08-01T01:56:00.002-04:00

I was working on a post about the Birthday Fiesta O’ Fun, but everything I wrote seemed insignificant or overly sappy, neither of which were very helpful at expressing what I was feeling.

So in a succinct explanation: Sara’s birthday is ten days away, mine eleven. This will be the first year in seven years that Sara and I will not be celebrating our birthdays together.

It feels…wrong.

I knew that Sara wouldn’t be able to come back to Florida this summer, so I knew that a BFOF was unlikely, but I didn’t really consider the consequences. And so now my birthday is nearly here and I’m just not digging it.

Forays into Sushi-ville

2010-07-03T21:04:00.004-04:00

I'm not a big fan of trying new things. I like the tried and true. I am a creature of habit. For example, regardless of how many new flavors are offered at Mochi, I always get the same thing: Strawberry and Coconilla with coconut, strawberries and strawberry mochi - even when I taste the other flavors and like them.

So on Wednesday, I decided that since I was going to a party and didn't feel all that great I'd stop somewhere to get dinner for the girls. I didn't want fast food, nor did I want to make multiple stops and I had already promised the girls that we could go to Mochi's, I decided to try out Bento Cafe which is right next door to Mochi's - pretty convenient.

The girls stuck with familiar shrimp tempura, but I was feeling adventurous and opted to try a sushi roll. After looking over the menu, and knowing that I needed to go with something "safe," I went with the Bali Hai Mango roll - tempura shrimp, cream cheese, eel, and mango. I cannot express how delightful this was!

After the chaos of Thursday, I felt the need on Friday for some good company and good food, so I met a friend and some of her family members at Bento. They had never been and when I was asked for a suggestion, I had to sheepishly admit I'd only been there once before. I once again got the Bali Hai Mango. I wanted to try something different, but as I was ordering I asked what masago was and low and behold, changed my order when I learned that it was fish eggs. I didn't think I was brave enough for that yet.

Well as of today at 1:30pm, I am brave!! I not only tried the Red Dragon with the masago, but it also had tuna (raw) and something called tabiko which I don't know what it is, but it was spicy! It was also packed with tempura shrimp, cream cheese, avocado and krab. It was quite good, though a bit too spicy for my taste and the masago I was so worried about wasn't all that bad. It was more of a texture than a taste and I didn't even blink at the tuna.

I also ordered the Bali Hai Mango for the girls to try. Both girls tried the Bali Hai, neither liked it, but only Ashleigh was brave enough to try the Red Dragon. And she willingly asked to try it. Of course, I didn't tell Ashleigh there was tuna on it, but she did know what the masago was. Cyra was not thrilled with the sushi but Ashleigh seemed open to try it again. I am hopeful that she will be willing to explore and develop her taste buds.

How does this mesh with my attempt to go vegetarian? I'm not sure. But I have cut red meat out of my diet and that's a start. And from what little knowledge I have of Japan and their diet, it is probably one of the healthiest on the planet.

Seven Hours and Four Days Later

2010-07-02T17:22:00.002-04:00

Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with Pulmonary Embolisms (PE). Turned out that what I thought was a back ache was my lung slowly dying. Turned out that the excruciating pain I was having when breathing was my body screaming for oxygen, not walking pneumonia.

I spent a lovely week in ICU. I survived and went on a regiment of blood thinners and a diet sans most green things (although occasionally, I just cannot resist a good Caesar salad or tender asparagus). In the back of my mind, I am constantly scanning my body for any odd quirks or twinges that might signal something serious.

On Monday, after a weekend of intense deep cleaning of the house (we had a buggy issue) I woke up with a slight twinge in my back. While annoying, I attributed it to the weekend work and a possible muscle strain. I went on with my day. I brought the girls to zoo camp. I spent a quiet child-free day puttering around the house.

On Tuesday, I woke up feeling yucky. My back hurt a little more, I was still tired and groggy. And that was after I had actually gone to bed at a decent hour. I brought the girls to zoo camp and spent the day running errands. That night, still feeling gross and now mildly concerned about my back I vowed that I would get back into good habits and back into a healthier lifestyle. That night I blogged about my goals and promised myself to make changes in my life.

On Wednesday morning, around 3:30 am I woke up, still in pain and unable to get comfortable in bed. A warning sign flashed behind my eyes as I lay in the bed trying to go back to sleep. “Danger! Danger!” it flashed. You remember this kind of pain, my brain told me. I wanted to ignore my brain. I really did. But dutifully, I filed a Post-It note right in my cerebral cortex with big bold words in red: IF Deep breath=Pain THEN Go to Doctor ASAP!! Proud of my mental filing system, I got out of bed (there wasn’t anyway I was going back to sleep) and walked the dog.

After that, I felt ok. Not great, but not…panicked. Until…

My friend from work was hosting a Tastefully Simple party and as it sounded fun and as it involved food and being child-free, and as it was good company, I went. About halfway through, my early morning wake-up call caught up with me and I yawned. Big. Deep breathe in = Sharp stabbing pain.

My mind ripped through my mental Post-Its and landed on the one I wrote that morning. Refusing to panic, I acknowledged the symptoms that were so reminiscent of what I went through seven years ago. I went home. Told Scott and made arrangements to go the ER the following day.

On Thursday morning, I brought the girls to zoo camp and made the decision that I would wait until after I picked Cyra up to go to the ER. I was afraid of how long the testing would take and that Cyra and Ashleigh would be stranded. Obviously, I had people I could call, but I did not want anyone to panic. (I’m considerate.)

So Cyra and I headed to the ER. Scott met us there. And after seven hours of testing I left with a clean CT scan, a clean chest x-ray, a bruise from the I.V. line, and a diagnosis of “undetermined back/chest pain.” The doctor felt that it is most likely muscle strain, but that it was good that I came in because my Coumadin levels were too high. And as he said, “Pulmonary Embolisms aren’t something to play around with. And while there isn’t anything wrong with you, it is good to know that you are listening to what your body is telling you.”

Today I woke up after very few hours sleep, comforted in the knowledge that I woke up at all, pleased in my desired lifestyle changes and motivated to get started!

Back into the Routine

2010-06-29T21:58:00.002-04:00

A couple of years ago I lost a good amount a weight. This past year, I have regained every single pound I lost. I feel disgusting and tired all the time. A recent blood test revealed a possible problem with my thyroid that I didn't have two years ago!

It is time for me to get serious again about getting healthy. So to that end, I announce publicly to the world, I will get into better shape! I have set a goal to lose 100 pounds. I realize that a goal of such caliber is daunting, but I know that it will take time. Obviously, the healthiest way to go about this is to be responsible and safe. A goal therefore of 2 pounds a week, according to research, is manageable and will be my aim. I know that at some point I will plateau as I did before. Hopefully, I will be able at that point to push through it and continue on to meet my end goal.

Dieting doesn't work for me. I've tried it. Blech! And truly, my problem is not with food (although I do overindulge in sweets about once a month). However, I will start counting calories again. And most importantly watch my portions. Counting calories and following protion guidelines worked really well last time. As before, I will not deny myself the craving, but I will make sure I take only a small portion as I have found that when I deny myself what I crave I end up binging on it later.

Also, as I did before, I will step on the scale every morning. I know that it isn't recommended, but it worked for me. It was motivational and made me confront my weight every day.

The biggest problem, though, is exercise. I don't. All of the activities I enjoy, reading, crafting, writing, involve sitting. I've never really be they outdoorsy, exercise girl. So making myself get up and get out is where the real challenge will be. It is really about motivation. I almost feel like I should make a reward chart for myself...if I do one hour of exercise, then I get...something. Not sure what, but something.

Anyway, I figure putting this out there keeps me more accountable then I was before. So on to tomorrow and a healthier life!

Cheers,
Heather

Penis in the Sky

2010-06-28T17:47:00.001-04:00

I was driving to the zoo today to pick up the girls from their first day of zoo camp when I saw the most fantastic cloud formation ever: a circumcised penis. I only wish I had my camera so I could have snapped a shot and submitted it Accidentaldong.blogspot.com.

This lofty formation made me laugh and I grabbed my cell phone wanting to call someone and tell them about it. Then suddenly, in a moment of odd, quiet reflection, as I stared at my phone, I realized that I didn’t have anyone I could call with that tidbit of hilarity.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of friends. Friends that would get a kick out of a cloud shaped penis, but friends who would shake their heads and roll their eyes at my immaturity.

And then I remembered a thought I had as I was driving home from dropping the kids off this morning: I don’t have anyone to go play with. A whole day sans kids and I didn’t have anyone to share it with. So I went home and did laundry and other respectable grown-up things.

Putting the two thoughts together drove me to a third and final thought: being an adult sucks which is why, I think, that I shall never act my age.

Cheers,
Heather

It's Like Tom Petty Said

2010-06-24T10:37:00.002-04:00

This month marks the tenth anniversary of my move to Florida.

When I first moved down here in 2000 with Ashleigh and Amanda, I told my family that it was not a permanent move. I was going to finish college and return. I didn’t want Ashleigh growing up without my family around and I certainly knew that I was not going to like living in Florida long term- I’m a small town, north-eastern girl at heart and besides, Florida is just too damn hot!

But a strange thing happened. My mom and my sister followed me down. And on the one hand it was good. It was nice to have family around when I was in a pitch. They offered a solid rock I could ground myself to in a jam. But on the other hand, I felt almost obligated to stay. They followed me down here, I thought, and that’s not nothing. So I stayed too.

I took a full-time, permanent job teaching 8th grade. I sunk roots into a house that I thought would be a home. I tried to be a member of a community. I became a Girl Scout leader.

But five years later, the job is still just a job. I’m certainly not passionate about it and it is not something that I see myself doing for the rest of my life. I can teach. I’ve no problem with that. But I’m apathetic about it. I’ve never really cared about it. For me, it’s a paycheck. And if it were any other job I don’t think it would matter as much. But as a teacher? I should be passionate and excited about it. That’s the kind of teacher kids need.

The house is still just a house – one that I wish I could get rid of as it is taking everything we have to keep us afloat. Caught in that stupid bubble, I now have a house worth 60K less than what we purchased it for, so there is not hope of selling it right now. Plus, it takes my entire salary to pay for it, so we have no extra money for anything. Honestly, if I hadn’t been raised with the morals I was, I would have already walked away from it.

I’ve learned, not without some help, that a home isn’t a place. You can’t put “home” on a map. The family is what makes wherever you are a home, be that a mansion, an apartment, an RV, or a cardboard box. It’s the “who” that counts, not the where or what.

I think what it comes down to really is this: A decade is a long time to be in one place. I’ve got this itchiness in my feet. This feeling that I have overstayed my welcome in Florida. What was meant to be a three or four year stint tops, has stretched into this, long inescapable road with no exits. Well, I will not be corralled into a future that isn’t where I want to be. And if I can’t find an exit, well, I guess it is time for me to forge one myself.

And so as Tom Petty sang, “Under my feet, baby, the grass is growing, yeah, its time to move on, time to get going.”

Blogging Without a Doubt

2010-06-22T19:34:00.002-04:00

Why I am not blogging right now?

I could blame my lack of blogging on an extreme schedule of international intrigue or volunteering for the Peace Corp, but after a good few seconds of contemplation, I realized that no one would buy those reasons, so it makes sense to stick with the truth. Except for the fact that I’m not really sure what that is.

I have been busy. That’s true enough. The end of the school year is always packed with craziness that makes it hard for me to focus on anything but the end of the year, but honestly, I didn’t really feel that this year. If anything, I moseyed through it, not even worrying about packing my room, or cleaning. I did it methodically, mechanically. It just was.

Girls Scouts has been taking a huge chunk of my time. Yeah, that’s true as well. But that isn’t something I mind carving time for. I might not “love” being so involved with the Scouts all the time, but the girls love it and therefore I love being a part of that. And if that includes worrying over troop finance and why parents aren’t paying their dues, well, it’s part and parcel.

I’ve been crafty. Hoo Boy is that true!! I was determined to finish a scrapbook about last summer and I did. Of course, I sacrificed sleep and time from other things, but it was totally worth it. I finished a HUGE project! And it turned out really nice, if I say so myself. And scrapbooking is something I really enjoy. But I’ve also been crocheting like mad and working on other minor projects. It’s in my blood, I think, the craftiness I mean. I don’t feel right in my “free” time unless I am working on something (free time here is defined by anytime I am not spending with the girls or at work).

I’ve been reading. And honestly, re-reading. As I’ve gotten older and approaching another birthday I’ve been thinking about more philosophical things…living a good life, being just…the nature of zombies…that sort of thing, so I’ve been indulging in my philosophy books. Currently on my bedside table, The Republic, Brave New World, Sophie’s World, and The Undead and Philosophy.

I want to be able to say that I have been writing, but I can’t. I mean really, I haven’t even blogged (obviously). I haven’t looked at a story since god knows when. I’ve had ideas that I’ve jotted down, snippets of a conversation that some of my characters could have, descriptions of locations and people. But I haven’t written. Not like I should. Not like I need to be doing if I am ever, EVER going to get something published. Not a paragraph…a sentence…a word. I think that upsets me the most. I have these words and don’t use them as I should.

So that brings me to why I really haven’t been blogging. While all of the above keeps me pretty busy, not a single reason given is what keeps my fingers from the keys. So what is?

Fear.

Fear that my words won’t be interesting. Fear that what I have to say is stupid. Fear that what I write about will apply only to me and not matter anywhere else. Fear that I won’t be witty enough. Fear that what I do say might offend someone I care about.

Fear. Old-fashioned, predictable fear. It keeps me doing what I’ve always done because I fear what might happen if I do what I really want to do. And now that I’ve owned up and admitted it loud and clear not just to myself, but to the world, I need to do something about it. So, I will remind myself of my senior quote in my yearbook:

“Why then, the world’s mine oyster, which I with sword will open.” ~ Shakespeare

Granted, today’s meaning has been perverted from the original utterance proclaimed boldly and with a good deal of menace by Pistol to Falstaff in The Merry Wives of Windsor. Either meaning, I would think, serves me well here.

I will boldly go out and hack my way through the world, taking as needed, with steely eyes and a will forged in the bowels of a volcano OR I’ll wander out into a world that is just waiting to reveal its glorious riches to one who seeks them.

But remember, I’m non-confrontational, so if you see me coming, just step to the side a bit. If you don’t mind.

Untitled - March 22

2010-03-22T19:39:00.003-04:00

Death is never an easy thing to deal with, but I imagine that it is easier to accept when a person has lived a full life or spent a long time fighting an illness. But the death of a young person…I can’t even imagine it. And yet today, I faced it.

One of my former students was shot in a drive-by on Saturday. Out for a drive with her sister and cousin…In the wrong place at the wrong time…

She was 16.

She was one of the truly nice students I have had the pleasure of teaching over the years. She was a sweet girl, friendly and outgoing.

To her family, my heart and thoughts go out to you.

Weekly Wrap Up

2010-03-21T19:21:00.003-04:00

I had great intentions for this weekend. Then again, don't I always have "big" intentions on the weekends? There was a birthday party. The library. Cleaning. OMG! Laundry! But between picking up whatever Cyra had last week and feeling "yicky" on top of that, I accomplished just about nothing! But that's okay, because as Zoe demonstrated when you nap, you really don't care what's going on around you.

I did manage the library yesterday, but only because our books were due and then because I was in a rush to get out and get home, I ended up grabbing books that I had already read.

The weather today certainly didn't encourage me to do anything either. I couldn't send the girls out to play and so all throughout the day I heard a chorus of "I'm bored!" and "There's nothing to do!" Ahh! Such familiar phrases and after a while when Scott got sick of me and told me to stop whining, I settled in on the couch with some crochet and Firefly. I got through six episodes (including the pilot) and I almost finished a dall scarf for Cyra's American Girl. When this one is finished, I'll work one for Ashleigh's doll.

The girls on the other hand slunk upstairs and played. Except that really, Ashleigh played on her computer and Cyra, a girl after my own heart, napped her boredom away. Exactly what one always wants to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

The sun finally makes its appearance at the end of the day.

Weekly Wrap-Up

2010-03-14T11:07:00.004-04:00

This week has been one of the busiest so far this year. Between Girl Scouts, FCAT, cookie booths, a broken car and hours in a walk-in clinic on Saturday, I've barely had time to breathe, let alone post anything. That being said, I did manage to capture a photo that sums up the week nicely. I call it: Girl with Puke Bowl.

Cheers,

Heather

First Ever Weekly Wrap-Up

2010-03-07T09:39:00.004-05:00

I wanted to do a “photo-finish Friday” bit where I wrap up my week; but quite honestly, that is being too ambitious even for me…so instead, I’ll try a Sunday Photo Wrap-Up.

Enjoy.

Florida panthers, catnapping in the sunshine...

...What I wanted to be doing all week--especially with the chilly temperatures!

Cheers,

Heather

Open Letter to My BFFs (who like ninjas)

2010-03-06T07:28:00.002-05:00

Dear BFFs,

How are you? I hope that everything is going well for you.

Pleasantries aside, I have a very important message and request for you.

Please reproduce. Please!

You are denying the world of your DNA. More importantly, I thought up an awesome idea for a baby gift while I was in the shower the other day. It is a brilliant idea. I could potentially make millions (well, at least hundreds). But in order for my idea to be realized, someone needs to have a baby.

It's a contest. The first BFF to reproduce gets the results of my brilliant idea. Not only will you love it, but your baby will have the coolest baby gift on the face of the planet.

Let me repeat that: THE COOLEST!!!

Your baby will be the envy of all other babies. The parents of those other babies will be all like, “OMG! Where did you get that? It is the coolest ever!” (Note that all those other parents are silly nitwits who insist on twirling their hair and naming their children things like Bitsy and Milford while you, my awesome BFFs, will name your kids things like Bloodaxe and Artemis.)

So, my dear BFFs, I implore you to not wait another year. I have already started making the gift. So act now! Don't wait another day! Reproduce! First baby out wins big!!

Cheers,
Heather

A Sign of Spring

2010-02-27T08:08:00.006-05:00

In my backyard — I mean on my patio — I have a small patch of dirt. Every spring Ashleigh and my mom attempt to get something to grow there. Key word here: attempt. Nothing ever grows! The soil is poor and the area is flooded almost daily with a sprinkler that has a mind of its own. So imagine my surprise, when I went out to fill the bird feeder today, at what I found:

My little bit of earth. Notice anything interesting?

A grape hyicinth. (I had to look up what it was--I didn't even know those got planted!)

Almost ready to bloom.

A new bud.

Good growing little flowers! I hope that I don't inadvertently kill you all by acknowledging your existence.

More Wonderous Discoveries

2010-02-23T19:04:00.003-05:00

Slowly, notebook by notebook, file by file, I am re-exploring the world Sara and I created, and I have stumbled upon a vast treasure trove of notes and information I had completely forgotten. It is a bit like going to your hometown: nothing has changed, yet everything is different. Is it me? Have I changed? I’m sure I have and now my older eyes are looking upon our creation with an appraiser’s eye, questioning every letter, doodle and rushed memo.

Take a look for example at the storyboard brainstorm for one of our stories. Sara and I got distracted at one point by a side story and we pondered and discussed how to get a character out of a certain situation. Sara, from what I recall, stared at me blankly while I explained my idea, a complicated and detailed shenanigan where the princess’s bodyguard rescues her and there were horses and a carriage (it made sense back then!) …when I realized she looked confused, I took the time to sketch out what I was talking about.

Clearly, this solved everything.

Some of the notes make no sense although at the time of writing, I’m sure that they made perfect sense. When Sara and I first started this project we were single-mindedly devoted to the world, the characters and the creation. Now, time and distance has tempered my enthusiasm. No, that’s not right; I am full of enthusiasm (although I am not sure where to start). Maybe I am more realistic? More reflective?

In any case, I have a lot of material to work with and I am ready to dive in! I am ready to focus on one storyline at a time and let the other stories Sara and I brainstormed bubble in the crock pot while I work with the Quads.

And trust me, Sara and I have more than enough material to fill up a couple of shelves at Barnes and Noble and Borders!

Back to the Story

2010-02-21T21:07:00.004-05:00

Way back in 2004, before we left Flagler, Sara and I came up with an awesome idea: a story that spanned an arc of at least five books. While I claim credit for the initial concept of a set of quadruplets (another brilliant shower idea), Sara and I were equal partners in the development of everything else. We spent a good year working solidly upon it. We made maps, religions, creatures and a royal genealogy spanning centuries. We (and by “we” I mean me) even created a song about the main character!

As time went on, we developed side stories to our main arc. We fell in love with some of the minor characters and ideas. We developed ideas for other books and story arcs. We talked, emailed and took notes but we never actually got around to writing anything solid.

We had cultures, back stories, political intrigue and wars, but no story.

Time passed. Our notes and ideas were filed away as we moved on with other projects. Four Nanos ago, I decided to try my hand at starting our story with Sara’s full support. I didn’t get very far and got frustrated that one character, the villain, began taking over the story and took me away from my main character. I put it away.

When Sara left for Japan, she gave me all of her story notes and files. I dutifully put them with mine and they have been floating around my house ever since, taking up space but not being used.

Last year when the computer incident occurred (Scott crashing my system and me not having anything backed up*) I thought I had lost everything that I wrote for the story I finally started. I was devastated. All the time spent, all those hours of typing…not just the story but all the notes that were saved on the computer – gone! I was thankful I had hard copies of some of the material, but at the time, I didn’t even look at the hard copies. Knowing I had something of the world Sara and I created was enough for right then.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about the story, the characters, and the world. I've had some more of my brilliant shower ideas: snippets of conversations, scenes and plot ideas. For the past three weeks or so, I’ve come home glanced at the files and thought to myself, “You’ve got to do something with those!” This world that we created, I thought, deserves to be more than just a bunch of notes. Sara and I invested so much into it, to have it all just sit and wait seems such a let down. Not just for me or Sara but for our characters that we poured so much of ourselves into.

But between work, the girls, and everything, I never picked them up…

…Until today.

Waiting for my gaming group to arrive, I took out my file folder of story notes and began to thumb through them. I couldn’t have been more surprised! Apparently, a while back, during a time I don’t remember at all, I printed out what I wrote for the Nano novel! I had tucked it away in the file and left it there, forgotten and alone!

After the gamers left, I sat at the dining room table and thumbed through all the files. What I thought I lost – the genealogies, the country backgrounds, character notes, one of us (probably Sara) had the foresight to make hard copies. While I am missing some of the original email discussion we had, I have so much material that I don’t know where to start!

So, what to do…

Well, with Sara’s blessing (which I have no doubt she’ll give) I am going to revisit our world. I am going to give voices to our heroes, to our villains and our world!

* I haven't figured out how to imbed a link to previous posts, but for the computer incident check out Silent Fury from Feb. 13, 2009 and Live and Learn from Feb. 14, 2009.

Attack of the Socks

2010-02-15T20:39:00.005-05:00

Without a doubt, as much as I love doing laundry, I hate folding socks. I hate it so much that 90% of the time socks sit around in baskets like this:

(Yes that is an entire basket of unmatched, unfolded, unloved socks.)

Putting the size of the basket in perspective... Cyra standing by the basket looking all punky.

They lurk in the basket, multiplying, just waiting for someone to come and pull a pair out. Most of the time, they are unmatched, but who cares? I say, if they are on your feet and in shoes, it doesn’t matter whether they match or not, right? Besides, genetics being what they are, the best you can hope for is a similar color.

I’d just as soon buy more socks then spend time folding them, but there comes a time when the socks must be put back in their place. So today, my super awesome last day of freedom until spring break, I spent doing laundry and sorting socks.

All matched, folded and ready to be put away. Left to right: Mine, Cyra's, Scott's and Ashleigh's socks!

The last few unmatched socks that I wanted to keep (I know they have mates somewhere!).

What a day. What a pile of socks to get rid of!

At least Junie enjoyed the Great Sock Disposal - she'll get new sock toys!

Iditarod Dreams Dashed

2010-02-14T12:12:00.003-05:00

Last year we went all winter without working heat. No real problem, I mean really it is Florida, and I'm from upstate New York - I know how to layer! But this year? We had it. We had it made! I got cold, I cranked the heat. Of course the warnings of my ancient heating guy went unheeded…

“This is only a temporary fix, you know,” he said his voice shaking as much as his hands were.

“Uh-huh,” I replied standing over his shoulder. “Temporary. Got it.” I’ve got a MacGyver for a AC/Heat repairman I thought to myself. MacGyver stopped a bomb with a hockey ticket, surely this man in front of me could easily get my heat operational again.

“You need a whole new system,” he said kneeing on the floor before the furnace.

“Sure. New system. How much is this going to cost?”

“I can patch it up for about four.”

“Four hundred? Ok. Not a problem.” I cheered inside knowing I was getting off cheap!

“But you really do need a new system. This one is original to the house…probably older than you.”

“Got it.”

I paid my bill, he ambled out the door and I revealed all summer in the frigid artic air blowing from my vents. Then came November…we turned the heat on a few times in the morning to take the chill out. Glorious. Luxurious.

December came and with is a cold snap that had us running the heat nearly non-stop. That eased into January. The cold snap became freeze warning after freeze warning and I took it all in stride. I had heat! No problems here!

Then, I got cocky about it.

Second week of January I was picking Cyra up from a sleep over and the topic of the cold snap came up. I bragged and crowed about my MacGyver repairman who gave me heat and how wonderful it was to just crank up the temperature.

The next morning I went to turn the heat up a bit to get the chill out of the air… there wasn’t any satisfying “click,” nor a delightful “whoosh” of warmth. There was just silence. Silence as vast and empty as I imagine Antarctica to be.

Scott and I fussed at the heater for a few minutes, we played with the fuses, we opened the door and glared at the unit...nothing seemed to work.

“It’s my fault,” I said pitifully, my breath puffing white while my nose, toes and fingers froze.

“How is it your fault?” He asked.

“I bragged about having heat this year!”

“Well,” he said.

Without further comment, we both walked into the bedroom and began pulling on more clothes, pulling out the electric blankets mom gave us last year and shaking our head at the cruel twist of Karma. With no money to invest in a new AC/Heat system, right now, we decided to just do as we did last year...only problem last year wasn't nearly as cold!

What does no heat have to do with my dreams of my Iditarod Team?

Junie will never survive being my lead dog.

February's Plan

2010-02-01T16:18:00.003-05:00

Four weekends + One vacation day = early spring cleaning!

My house is overflowing with too much stuff!! Now, while I am a big culprit of the stuff, it isn’t just my stuff! Ashleigh and Cyra have become “stuffers” too.

My biggest collection of stuff currently is of course my crafting stuff and books.

I have made a huge dent in the books category recently. I donated roughly 150 – 200 books to the library. Many of the books were Cyra’s and Ashleigh’s old books. Many were paperbacks that I read once and had no intention of ever revisiting. That was a good day. And I know I have plenty more to donate.

In the craft department…let’s just say that I have forbidden myself from going into a craft store for at least… a good long time at least! (Unless, of course, I hear that familiar whine, “Oh, Mom, I forgot to tell you about my project…”) I have made a concentrated effort to condense and organize my crafts. The problem is I really need a dedicated craft room. As that isn’t going to happen (since the girls keep fighting me on sharing a room again), one of the plans I am making involves requisitioning space from the attic to create a craft storage area. Now, keeping in mind that there are some things that just shouldn’t be stored in an uninsulated attic, I think that I could potentially reduce my visible craft clutter by a third.

That idea, of course, leads to a major overhaul of the attic itself. Currently, I don’t even want to talk about it! However, I know that at least half of the boxes up there were not even opened after the move, so, that means, whatever is in those boxes, I have lived without for over four years. I’m not sure I even want to open them! I think I would just rather have Salvation Army come and take them all away. That way I know I’ll never miss the stuff, because I don’t remember what stuff it was.

Now, that’s just my stuff. Scott has things in the attic that he will need to go through as well. And the same principle will apply: he has lived without it, therefore he doesn’t need it.

That just leaves the girls. Sometimes I forget how attached to my stuff I was when I was Ashleigh’s age. I know how hard it is to get rid of anything, because of all the memories attached to each item. I wish there was a way I could convince her that the stuffed animal she deems as “the most important thing ever” will, twenty years from now, not matter all that much. I wish that she could know that it isn’t the thing; it is the person who matters.

With Cyra dejunking is slightly easier. We pack up toys that I think she has outgrown and we stash them away in the attic. If after six months she hasn’t pleaded to play with them, then we donate them to the place of her choice. Last year it was her old pre-school. This year, I have a thought that it will be the same. Her memories of her pre-school are vivid, clear and all good.

The very last thing I want to accomplish in my spring cleaning is this: set up an efficient, organized home office. I have horrible organization skills. I am willing to admit that- No, it isn’t really the organization part I have issues with. I can organize. My problem is keeping everything organized. The whole saying, “a place for everything and everything in its place,” has long been my nemesis. Having an organized home office would take more than just organizing. It would take a dedicated, active effort to maintain the organization in the long term.

So, those are the plans for February. Maybe March as well. Hopefully not into April…but I wouldn’t put money on it.

2010? WTF happened to 2009?

2010-01-30T11:24:00.003-05:00

Seriously, the last three months have been a blinding lightening flash of activity. Between Nano, the holidays, family and work I'm not sure that I've actually had time to breath!! And now, come to find out, January is practically over.

I've made no resolutions - I never keep them anyway, but I am determined to reconnect to the blog. I have been woefully neglectful of things that I love to do, while I am bogged down in things that I have to do (you know, like work...and laundry).

I've also recently quit the internet so that should free up so much needed time.

I am fairly certain 2010 will be a year just like any other: big plans and minor accomplishments and of course the most important part: time with the girls and the family!

Cheers and Happy New Year!

Epic Win

2009-12-01T18:53:00.003-05:00

After six years at making half-hearted NaNoWriMo attempts, this year, I set forth a determined message not just to my family but to myself.

Self, I said, you are a story teller. You have been telling stories as long as you can remember and there is no reason why you should struggle and ultimately fail at telling a story. This year, Self, you will win. This year you will take NaNo by the keyboard and write your heart out. This year is your year!

Well, Self, you did it. You said “Screw the laundry!” “Who cares about dinner?” and “So what if nothing is prepared for Christmas!” And you wrote. Every day save one or two when prior obligations (namely a tent and some S’mores) kept you from the keyboard. In fact, you did so well, you were ahead of the word count the entire month! Not once did you fall behind. Final word count 50,500. That’s right. 50ks in 30 days.

So, now what?

Well, a pile of Christmas crafts lurks in the corner of my dining room. A pile of laundry conceals my neglected washer. And 200 pages await a quiet moment of reflection and perhaps printing in January. For now though, my favorite Lobsterman and his lady love are quiet. Their story is still unfinished and after the holidays I will rededicate myself to finishing the story, because everyone deserves a resolution (understand though it probably won’t be a happy one).

So Happy December everyone! And if your Christmas goodies don’t show up until sometime in 2010, just remember that your boxes are late because...

I AM A WINNER!!

It's a Wiener

2009-11-07T21:20:00.001-05:00

It all started with the cinnamon balls. My Daisy troop was making part one of their Christmas project, cinnamon applesauce ornament dough rolled into little balls so as to fit inside a paper ornament. As I was the one who brought the cookie sheets for the balls to dry on, they balls came home with me.

I put the three ball filled cookie sheets on the dining room table and didn’t think about them again until Ashleigh came downstairs and made the comment, “Mmmm, Cinnamony.”

“Yup. All my cinnamon balls smell l good.” I replied.

Ashleigh smirked. “That just sounds wrong, Mommy.”

“What?” I say, “Cinnamon balls.”

“Yes,” she replies with a giggle and a blush furiously creeping up her cheeks.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.

“Oh,” I say, “Has someone learned some new word meanings.”

More blushing and snickering and a small little nod.

So my response? I burst into a song about dangly parts and cinnamon balls. Ashleigh’s response? Fleeing upstairs.

What’s a mom to do? Of course I chased her singing and snickering. And there at the top of the stairs stood a pajama clad Cyra.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“I’m teasing Ashleigh.” I say.

“Cool. Can I help?”

“NO!” shouts Ashleigh. “I’m going to bed.”

“What are you singing about?”

“Dangly parts.” I say with a laugh. “Now off to bed with you all.”

Cyra walked to the door of her room and paused with a hand on her hip.

“I know what they are called, Mommy,” she says.

“Really?” I say and look at Ashleigh. “What are they called?”

With a blushing grin she says, “It’s a wiener.”

NaNo-Crazy

2009-10-04T12:15:00.003-04:00

October has hit hard, crafts have been pushed to the side, work is demanding (now that I’m essentially department head) and holidays are fast approaching. So the big question now is what happens next. Well, as far as I am concerned I am determined to “win” this year at Nano. So the only thing that I am concerned about is words! 50.000 words to be exact. October will be for planning and plotting. And November? Oh sweet November. I can’t wait!

Because (and let me repeat): I AM DETERMINED!!!

You got that? All in caps! I am going to win. Come Hell or High Water. If it kills me. Throw in your own cliché here and that’s what it is!

Every year previous, I have been waylaid by other obligations (holidays, birthdays, crafting and work) that I thought were important or might get fired over, this year? Screw it! If I get fired, well, that’s one more reason for me to succeed in this endeavor! So what if the sink is piled with dishes? So what if the kids wear the same clothes for a week on end!

So, Skype will be turned off when I am home and writing. So dinners will be quick and easy (and probably not at all healthy). The phone might ring, but I won’t answer. Cyra will get a cake, but no big broo-ha-ha! Thanksgiving? Maybe I’ll cook, but I won’t socialize and in between basting and pie making, I’ll be writing.

I am not going to be remembered for my awesome cleaning ability or my devotion to a job. On my death bed, I don’t want people to think back and say, “If only I hadn’t cared so much about laundry, I might have gotten a book written.” On my death bed I want to say, “Fuck Yeah! I am proud of what I did with my life!”

So the coffee if fully stocked. My notebook is empty and full of potential. The computer is mine. The plot is set and in two months, I’ll see where it has brought me.

Where have I been?

2009-08-07T19:48:00.001-04:00

I’m still here. I swear. My sister commented today that I haven’t updated my blog for a while and what’s up with that!

I am a bad blogger!!

There are some reasons for my lack of blogging: my computer got sick and needed a new hard drive (thankfully I had backed up all my stuff), I’ve been going to the beach and out with the girls a lot, I’ve been enjoying the laziness of summer…reading trashy novels on the patio, reading really good novels on the patio, playing D&D and Sims, drinking Mojitos, and really just spending time doing nothing which if you think about is the best part of summer vacation. I have no time tables or schedules to follow. I am not bound by obligation to anything or anyone.

Another reason or two: I took the initiative (and those who know me well be shocked and maybe even proud) to start my Christmas crafting now, which is really hard for me to wrap my brain around. Normally, I am rushing and panicking from November through December trying to get everything done. This year? I don’t want to do that for two major reasons:

1) the crafts that I’m doing take time this year
2) NANOWRIMO

The first reason is self explanatory so I will not go into detail, but the second? The second reason is the important one.

For the last four out of five years I have participated in NANOWRIMO – for those not familiar with NANO it stands for National Novel Writing Month. Essentially, a few guys out on the west coast started this idea with the concept that everyone says that they want to write but never do it. Add to that the fact that most people work better with a deadline and you get NANO: One Month, 50,000 words. There is no prize or award, just the satisfaction and pride of doing it.

Every year that I have participated I have not gotten anywhere near to the goal word count. Last year my word count was the highest at 20,000+ (I have more written just not typed so the word count isn’t accurate). But then things happened: Girl Scouts, School, Thanksgiving…pair with that Christmas crafts and my dedicated writing time flew away like a sweet little sparrow chased by a vicious hawk. It was sad for me to make the decision to sacrifice writing time for other things. This year I don’t want to have to make that type of choice.

So, in answer to where have I been. Here. Doing stuff. I’ve got tons to blog about: The rest of my trip, Amanda’s wedding, the Birthday Fiesta O’ Fun, the beach. It’s all here floating around my head waiting.

Summer is about being lazy, especially if you are a kid or a teacher (or a teacher who most of the time acts like a kid). And if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s okay to be lazy, just not all the time.

Cheers! I am off to make some more Mojito Magic!

Travel Log: I95

2009-07-13T18:30:00.005-04:00

There is something special about travelling on an interstate. It is almost like a transporter from Star Trek…or maybe warp speed: travel at ridiculous high speeds, trees sweeping past like stars in the sky, no connection to points along the way…only point A and point B. In order to maintain the illusion that nothing exists outside of the I95 corridor, ingenious evil masterminds plotted and planned rest stops interspersed along the road like a shiny oasis in the Sahara to keep the hapless traveller from venturing off the highway (and thereby discover something cool and totally get sidetracked away from their original trip).

It was at an oasis in North Carolina where the girls and I stopped for lunch that we discovered a Dr. Seuss-like turtle pond.

After we ate our picnic lunch we took a walk to the pond to stretch our legs. Excited to be out of the car for the first time in five hours, the girls enjoyed tossing pebbles and leaves into the water.
It was a nice little pond, it was clean and it was neat…the water seemed warm and the turtles…

OMG!! The turtles!!

Apparently, the turtles are used to people feeding them and as soon as the girls crouched down on the edge of the pond, the began swarming to us. It was like watching circus clowns trying to crawl into their mini car, each trying to claim shotgun. The turtles swam, crawled and pushed each other out of the way trying to get as close to shore as possible without actually touching the edge.

Without exaggeration, the girls and I counted over twenty turtles swarming in the shallows of the pond before we lost count. One especially cheeky little fellow grew oh so bold that it actually started to crawl out of the water and approach Ashleigh. I wasn't sure who was more surprised: Ashleigh with huge eyes, round and shiny, or the turtle, which after a moment or two seemed to suddenly realize that it was out of the water and Yikes! touching grass! And it quickly flipped itself around and plunked itself back into the pond.

All in all it was a lovely lunch and stretch break. None of the other rest stops were as interesting or as pretty...well except for the ones that had a Starbucks.

More Vacation 2009 to come.

Who Ever Heard of a Seasick Pirate?

2009-07-11T08:26:00.005-04:00

My dreams of piracy have foundered and been dashed upon the rocks of reality. I made plans for a single event for my vacation that didn’t involve family and that was a whale watch out of the New England Aquarium in Boston. So sit right back and let me tell you the tale of my three hour tour.

To fully appreciate this sailor’s tale, one must first know about the weather. June was quite a stormy month in New England. Watching the weather reports, one would scarcely believe that the sun ever came out in New England. So on the eve of our whale watch as I sat watching the weather, I feared that my afternoon sail would be cancelled because of the weather. Dire reports of severe thunderstorms with excessively deadly cloud to ground lightening, torrential downpours which might include golf ball sized hail, and gusts upwards of “fast” and “swift” could cause damage to trees, phone and power lines, small children, not so small children and ducks threatened to ruin my carefully planned whale watch. When I mentioned this to the girls, they both frowned and tried to reason with me. How was I to know that I control the weather? In any case, Dad and I talked about trying to switch the afternoon cruise to the morning one to avoid the storm.

The next morning was gray and overcast. After a quick breakfast of pop tarts for the girls and a muffin for me, we just made the 7:40 train into Boston. I had figured that this train would leave us enough time to walk the ten – fifteen minutes to the harbor and talk to the ticket counter about switching.

After explaining the concern about the weather, the girl at the ticket counter had no problems switching our reservation to the morning cruise. We lollygagged around the entrance for a good twenty minutes before Jessica, our naturalist, let us board the Voyager III. The boat, a 102 foot catamaran, was impressive sitting dockside. Jessica stood on the ramp and discussed the conditions out on the water, telling us that according to the forecast, there were three foot swells, so those who might be prone to motion or sea sickness should take Dramamine as soon as possible once boarding. Knowing that I might have a problem (recalling a number of rides at theme parks and fairs that left me hunched over a garbage can) I immediately purchased the medicine. I took a full dose and gave the girls a half dose each. I wasn’t really concerned about Ashleigh, the girl loves her roller coasters! But I was a bit nervous about Cyra who has never been on anything more than a carousel.

The ride out of the harbor was pleasant. The tall ships were in dock, so I got some nice pictures of them and of the Boston skyline as we left.

I only remember the name of one of the tall ships: The Eagle, a US Coast Guard ship. Built in 1936 in Germany, the Eagle was taken from Germany as part of war reparation after World War II. The Eagle is the largest tall ship flying the American Flag and the only square-rigger in service to the U.S. government.
We moved into the cabin before we left the harbor because the boat picked up speed and man was it chilly to us Florida Girls!! It wasn’t until we left the shelter of the harbor, that the swells made themselves known. Now, the weather conditions stated that the swells were three feet; however, they felt way bigger than three feet. In fact, the naturalist came on the PA system and made apologizes for the swells, claiming that they were a bit bigger than forecasted.

Ashleigh loved it. So did Cyra (for a little bit) and I was okay, for the most part. I lasted about an hour (including the twenty minutes or so it took to get out of the harbor, before I started feeling a bit queasy. I wasn’t thrilled, but I was okay. Cyra was starting to complain a little, I just tightened my grip on the table.

Oh but sure enough after another fifteen minutes or so, I felt that tell tale hot flash and dizziness that always precedes an upheaval. I shoved the camera at Ashleigh, grabbed a conveniently placed barf bag and seconds later lost most of my breakfast. And boy did I feel better…for about ten minutes, and then I lost the rest of my breakfast. But after that I lasted a good 15-20 minutes and saw a whale and heaved again. And then some more.

So what were the girls doing during all of this? Well, Ashleigh hovered protectively for a few minutes. Then I told her to go and whale watch which she did and she took all of the following photos. Cyra went out on deck for a few minutes; saw a whale and a whale spout then came in claiming to be cold, wet, nauseous and tired. She quickly stretched out on a bench and fell asleep until we were back in the harbor. Dad was great. He threw out my first two bags, got me more, got me some paper towels, and got to see the whales with Ashleigh. Obviously, I did not get my weak stomach from him.

It is hard to see in this photo, but the whale is above the railing and to the left of the other boat. It is about halfwalf between us and the other boat.

Ashleigh saw Fin whales and Minkes, but no Humpbacks. Jessica said that with the weather conditions, it wasn’t all that surprising. More info about the whales we saw:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fin_Whale
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minke_Whale

All in all, I think it went well. As we disembarked, I thanked Dad, not just for going with us, but for never brining me on a whale watch when I was little, even though I begged and pleaded to go. As I told him, as an adult, I was able to just sit in the cabin and be miserable without bothering anyone. As a child, had I been seasick, I’m sure, knowing me that I would have made everyone miserable! I think I would have been okay if it was a calm day as I had no problem in the harbor and no problems the few times I’ve been out on rivers. Maybe I can be a riverboat pirate!

In any case, the rest of the day proceeded nicely. We loved the aquarium and got some good shots.

The aquarium had a special exhibit on jellyfish. Out of all the pictures I snapped of them, this one came out the best.

I think the one below with the barracuda is great. If you look closely, you can see the girls' reflections.

It is hard to take pictures through thick glass, but I thought this one was cute even though there is a glare.

More about Vacation 2009 will follow, but for right now, I am glad to be home!

Father's Day

2009-06-21T17:18:00.002-04:00

We don't much celebrate the smaller commercial holidays. You know the ones: Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Flag Day...and yes, Father's day. It's not that I am anti the sentiment, but I am anti the whole spend oodles of money to demonstrate love for a certain person.

As I've said before, I show and am shown love daily. I don't need a special day to show it. So for Father's Day, much like Mother's Day, the girls made homemade cards and I pulled from my super secret hiding place one of the DVD's that I purchase throughout the year for birthday, Christmas, any kind of gifty day presents for Scott. This time around Star Trek 2, 3 and 4 special edition set.

Scott has forever been harping on how wonderful The Wrath of Khan is and being a good wife, I nod and say, "yes, of course honey." Unfortunately it has come to Scott's attention that I have actually never seen The Wrath of Khan. In fact, the only original Star Trek movie I have seen is The Voyage Home, which according to some sources is not really the "best" that Star Trek has to offer.

Scott's delightful and slightly maniacal laughter upon receiving the DVDs was disturbing and amusing. But his real gift, the one that I love to give to him received a way better reaction: a huge grin, a ginormous bletch and a full tummy after a big, big breakfast!! Bacon, sausage, French toast, eggs, coffee and juice.

I'm not a superstitious person, however, when it comes to old wives's tales, I firmly believe in "the way to a man's heart, is through his stomach!"

"She's gone from suck to kerplutz"

2009-06-21T00:20:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I hate cleaning. Now, this isn't really such a big deal, everyone hates cleaning. It's boring, time-consuming and a pain in the butt, especially with kids and animals always making messes...like the nice present Simone left me this morning...a huge furball!

Anyway, even though I hate cleaning, when I do it, it gets done! Shiny like mad. So, in my mad dash to get ready to go to New York, I wanted to get the house clean so that I wouldn't come home to a huge mess. And beside, the Birthday Fiesta O' Fun is almost immediately following my return.

About 9 this morning I told Ashleigh to go vacuum her room. Not a problem, she grabbed the vacuum and I went about cleaning the kitchen. So imagine my surprise when about an hour later I check in Ashleigh's room and the floor looks like a Grand Central Station after rush hour! I call Ashleigh up and demand to know why she didn't vacuum.

"I did, Mom!"

I glare at her. "Really?" I say, "You vacuumed?"

"Yes. I did. The vacuum isn't sucking."

I plug the vacuum in and turn it on and indeed, the vacuum is running and making noise, but no actual cleaning is occurring.

"Hmm." I say flipping the vacuum onto its side. I glared at the undercarriage, hoping some foreign object is just stuck a little. No such luck. Fortunately my sis had left her tool box here and I grabbed a screwdriver and began my invasive surgery.

After making the innards outards, I discovered a ripped, broken, melted and dirty belt flopping around. Ok. I think to myself. Easy enough fix. Go to Sears, get a belt, replace, good to go.

Easy sneezy! My plan exceeded my expectations. I went to Sears, with the broken belt, the model number of the vacuum, three pictures of the undercarriage in various degrees of zoom and demanded from the first Blue Shirt I saw, "Help!"

Okay, it was nothing so dramatic. Although it did take the guy a few minutes to locate the correct belt. I purchased said belt and returned home triumphantly brandishing the vacuum cleaner belt as if I had made it myself. I quickly fixed the machine, replaced innards, and set Ashleigh to work.

The floor was beautiful. Then Ashleigh started on the stairs. She accidentally sucked up a sock. From in the living room, I heard a "suck-thump" but didn't think much of it until the smell of burning rubber and the high pitched whine of a engine trying to work overtime penetrated my cleaning focus.

I rushed out into the hallway and yelled for Ashleigh to turn it off.

"Don't you smell that?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"What?"

"When it smells like that something is wrong and you need to turn it off before it explodes!"

"Oh," she replied, "Okay. Can I watch TV?"

"No." I tell her, "you are going to help me figure out what's wrong."

A few minutes later, sock in one hand and melted, broken and smelly belt in the other, I looked up at Ashleigh sitting on the stairs. She had an apologetic grin on her face.

"So," she said, " Back to Sears?"

I nodded.

"Maybe you should get two belts this time." she said.

Maybe that grin was less sorry and more sass...

Conflicted Schedules

2009-06-13T21:36:00.001-04:00

Where does the time go? I had very precise schedules for the two weeks between the end of school and the trip to New York. I wrote everything down in my planner. I’m playing by the rules, why is everything else not?

I now have just over eight days to get ready to go. This coming week is so crazy busy I doubt that I will have time to sleep unless I schedule it in.

Sunday – mad morning cleaning to get ready for Game Session #4. I love my new gaming group. They are unobtrusive and only come over once every two weeks or so. Unfortunately, that means that I am unmotivated to clean until the day before or morning of their arrival. It’s my own fault, I know. I just don’t like cleaning when I could be doing other more fun things.

Monday – The girls have dentist appointments in the afternoon. Now I know it is crazy to have kept the doctors in St. Augustine, but I love our doctors and dislike change, so to St. Augustine we go. Of course, if we are in St. Augustine, then I don’t have to go out of my way to go to Mango Mango’s for lunch.

Tuesday – Cleaning/laundry in the morning, then I have a four hour test in the afternoon. Most likely it will only take me about one hour, but still. I am taking my Social Science subject area test so I can add history to my certification.

Wednesday – We are going to the zoo. I could skip it; however, I am on a scrapbooking mission where I have envisioned this awesome “Year at the Zoo” book and Wednesday is the only day I can go in order to meet my June visit requirement.

Thursday – Another test, ESOL this time, first thing in the morning. As an ELA teacher I am required to be certified in this. I am wholly unprepared for this test as there doesn’t seem to be a study guide for it anywhere. But I figured at this point, take it blind and then I can review from my collection of textbooks as needed. In the after noon I need to continue doing laundry and start packing.

Friday – cleaning, packing, laundry, shopping

Saturday – prepare for Father’s Day…still don’t know what I’ll be doing for Scott. Continue laundry and complete major packing.

Sunday – Father’s Day…big breakfast maybe, Scott really likes that. Pack car. Get a good night’s sleep to get ready to vamoose in the early, early AM.

Not scheduled in this list, but I need to find time for: plan, start and complete favors for the Birthday Fiesta O’ Fun, compile list of recipes and shopping list for said Fiesta, special order mint from Publix (all because of my cursed thumb-its black not green!), play with girls, go to pool with girls, hang out with Mom, call the mortgage company and plead with them to help me, curse out the mortgage company because I know they won’t help, call/email my non-family peeps in NY and make arrangements to hang out…

I need a secretary!
A team of hirelings that I can command to do my bidding!
At the very least, I need more hours in the day!

The Last Day

2009-06-05T05:58:00.003-04:00

Growing up, I never would have thought that teachers look forward to the end of the year as much as the students. Now, after four years of teaching, I begin the end of year countdown the first day of school!!

This year has been rough. With a new principal trying to micro-manage his mark on the place, kids that were nearly impossible to control (and not for lack of trying...they just didn't care about punishment/reward), and a new curriculum that didn't allow for spontaneity or creative projects, this year is one better left in the past.

Now, I look forward to the summer: a trip to New York, Amanda's Wedding, Kyle's Graduation, The 7th Annual Birthday Fiesta O' Fun (Minty Fresh Edition). Lazy days with the girls are in my future: playing in the pool, staying up late and watching movies, getting lost in the book store for hours on end, walking St. George Street sipping on a Groovy Smoothie. Next year is too far away to worry about (although plans are in the works). Days will blend, merge, and ooze until all of a sudden it is August 17th and I have to go back to reality.

Ahh summer...one of the perks that makes teaching tolerable.

In Honor of My Sister’s Birthday

2009-06-03T06:30:00.001-04:00

Happy birthday to my big sister. I hope you have a good one. I have written a nice birthday haiku in your honor:

Kicked in the stomach,
I remember you going
Down hill in stretcher.

Or maybe this one is better:

Happy day of birth
I am pleased to be your Sis;
But I’m still favorite.

Hmmm….maybe something with more sentiment:

I love you sister
I hope you have a great day
Eat a lot of cake!

I'm no poet

2009-05-31T18:57:00.002-04:00

I am not a poet. I don’t think I’ve ever even claimed to be one, but I love to dabble in the art, especially haiku. I do like to read poetry though and the more bleak and depressing, the better. Yet, in my spring of perpetual idealism, I often find myself longing for a hopeful note, an ending that is not quite so bleak…not quite so soul-sucking sad.

While modern poets find outlet on the net, I tend to look at classic poetry found in hefty volumes and anthologies. Books where Lewis Carroll shares space with John Donne, Elizabeth Barrett Browning mingles with Walt Whitman. Crisp white paper, like fresh albino lettuce crinkles and flutters while I ponder the heavy words of literary giants.

In poetry it is often easier to find an expression of what you are feeling than try to come up with your own words. In poetry the voice of the poet speaks not just to the reader but for the reader, offering solace in expression and joy in thought. Overwhelmed with love? Turn to Shakespeare. Overcome with lust? Robert Herrick readily springs to mind. Concerned with mortality? Christina Rossetti tells it like it is. Question of faith? George Herbert can help you there.

With that in mind I present two of my favorite poems.

The first, “How Did You Die?” by Edmund Vance Cooke is less about death than one might imagine. When ever I feel backed in a corner, trapped by a decision, or faced with major setback, I think of this poem and remember that it isn’t what life throws at you; it is how you handle it that matters.

I first encountered the second poem, “There Will Come Soft Rains” by Sara Teasdale, in a short story of the same name by Ray Bradbury in my 10th grade English class. The poem ought to remind us that we are fallible and our actions will have consequences for us, but the Earth, our only home, will continue far longer than we care to imagine. It is not necessarily a “hopeful” poem, but it leaves in me the sense that there is a possibility for renewal, of starting the cycle all over again.

Enjoy.

How Did You Die?

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way

With a resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light of day

With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,

Or a trouble is what you make it,

And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,

But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?

Come up with a smiling face.

It's nothing against you to fall down flat,

But to lie there -- that's disgrace.

The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;

Be proud of your blackened eye!

It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,

It's how did you fight -- and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?

If you battled the best you could,

If you played your part in the world of men,

Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,

And whether he's slow or spry,

It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,

But only how did you die?

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war,

not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Boldly Going

2009-05-30T08:13:00.001-04:00

I am not a Trekkie. I’m really not. I don’t go to conventions, I have never dressed up like a character and I don’t know the first thing about Klingon grammar theory. I’ve never even seen the complete original series, just random episodes here and there. Same thing with Next Generation, Deep Space Nine and well, I try to pretend that Enterprise doesn’t exist. It is easy to identify with the shows because as with all good (and, well, bad) sci-fi, it isn’t just about the future and technology, it is about teaching us about the human condition, helping us understand ourselves and our world, and most importantly it is about the effects of modern society and where we might “go” if as a people we make the incorrect choice.

Now I will admit that though I have not watched all episodes of Next Generation, it is by far my favorite, simply because 1) Patrick Stewart and 2) Brent Spinner. Picard is all that a Captain should be: bold, decisive, unafraid of making the hard choice. He is rigid in his expectations of his crew but he is also understanding and compassionate. He is defined by his adherence to principles-not just Star Fleet’s, but his own inner moral code of right and wrong. He does what is right because it is right, not because some rulebook told him to. As for Patrick Stewart himself, never have I been enthralled with an actor like I am with him. Maybe it is the accent, or his classical Shakespearean training, or maybe his bald head, but whatever the reason, I just find him pleasant to look at and watch.

Now, Brent Spinner, as far as the actor goes, I’m not really interested. But as Data, his character, I am fascinated. The concept of Data a machine trying to be hum is both endearing and frightening. Seven-of-Nine does the same on Voyager, but Spinner is more believable. His quest is more “human,” more touching, more vulnerable, than a Borg removed from the Collective, because he has more to overcome. He is not built to handle the human condition so when he does finally grasp a concept, like humor, it is all the more poignant and funny; whereas for Seven-of-Nine, her actions and development are more a remembrance. The audience knows she will “find” her humanity because she is human. With Data, although ultimately the audience knows that he will succeed, we have our doubts. However, Data firmly commits to being human in Star Trek Nemesis when he sacrifices himself for Picard.

I do love Voyager, though, don’t get me wrong, I NetFlixed every season about two years ago and made a marathon of each disk. The Doctor really made the show. He, too, searched for humanity, but his quest was more for freedom.

The movies fall into the same categories. I love the Next Generation movies. I wish they would make a Voyager movie. I’ve not watched all of the original movies. Where is this leading up to? The new Star Trek movie.

HOLY MOLY! WOW! Now to clarify, I’m not putting this in the same category as The Dark Night, but WHOA!! This movie was awesome!! The characters were believable. Each of the actors put their own stamp on their character and made them their own. Now, I’m not good at writing movie reviews. I never have been. But in brief I wanted to give some impressions.

Zachary Quinto, amazingly creepy as Syler in Heroes, steels the show as Spock. He was Spock. There was no doubt. In doing some research on the movie, I learned that Leonard Nimoy had casting approval over the Spock character. Quinto made Spock believable, attainable, and understandable. The cold exterior was softened a bit by the added twist of Spock and Uhura’s relationship.

Chris Pine is an equally believable Kirk. I wasn’t sure what to expect at first as I had only ever seen Pine in The Princess Diaries 2: The Royal Engagement. And while he was pleasant to look at, the movie itself was unimpressive. But as Kirk, Pine blew me away. Angsty, drama-ridden and the ultimate bad boy, the movie releases Kirk from his stereotypical captain with a girl in every port, and paints him in a new coat. He is dark, moody, drifting man with a nonchalant attitude toward life. It isn’t until he is approached by a Star Fleet commander who knew his father that he makes a decision to be something.

Overall, this movie was great; better than expected and one that I would gladly go back to see in the theater (and that hasn’t happened since The Dark Night). I was nervous about seeing Star Trek, as many true Trekkies were, not that I’m a Trekkie. What I loved best of this movie? The alternate timeline it has now created whereby the development of other movies and shows may occur without fear of ruining the continuity of the canon series. Time-Space continuum being what it is I wonder if this means we can expect a new Next Generation in the future.

The Snags of Reality

2009-05-28T22:30:00.005-04:00

The problem with reality? It keeps butting into my day. I have about four or five posts in the works, but can I ever finish one? Nope! Silly things like work...cooking dinner...sleep keep interrupting my day. If only I could win Powerball, I'd spend hours upon hours followed immediately thereafter by days upon days writing and actually finish something. What I have found though is that I am finally getting back into a routine...it only took nearly 10 months.

In other news, Ashleigh has completed her last project for the 6th grade. Behold the awesomeness that is Little Miss Hula Spud!!

Why was she assigned a project to dress up a potato? I'm not sure I want to know, but she had a blast doing it. I helped by hinting at aesthetics and suggesting the plastic fish bowl that was gathering dust in the attic over an old shoebox. Other than that, it is all Ashleigh. Although you can't see it, the bottom is covered in sand and seashells.

Cyra completed her first year as a Daisy Girl Scout and her troop celebrated by going to Build-A-Bear with their cookie money. Again, as with Ashleigh, I had no input with her choice. So I present for inspection Major Bear:

Major Bear is so camoflauged, I doubt that even he would notice himself!! From his uniform to his boxers to his fur, this bear get a +100 to his hide check!

And that is that...for now at least.

Cheers!

Memories like Monopoly

2009-05-25T05:59:00.003-04:00

I wanted to write something about my grandmother. But I’m not sure how to. I’m sure giving enough time I could write something a bit more meaningful, something that captures my memories better.

I know not one single bad person. Everyone has their good and bad days. My father’s mother was a difficult woman: demanding, critical and oft times downright spiteful. Despite that, I will not remember her like that. There is no point to it. It serves no goal or agenda. Instead, I will remember her through a child’s eyes. Childhood memories are faulty and scattered but the images are pure.

Memories like Monopoly

Monopoly, on an old card table in the living room
Owls, tiny collectables, high on a shelf
Scat, playing for pennies round the kitchen table
Skirts, always, I never saw her in anything but
Gardening, fiercely protective of her blueberry bushes

Soap Operas, like clockwork
Bowling on TV, I will never understand
Cucumber Spears, with practically every meal, crisp and fresh
Black Coffee, waking up each morning, Sanka on the counter, black coffee in the mug
Needlework, crochet and cross stitch, hands always busy

Testing the Teacher

2009-05-16T09:14:00.004-04:00

The Sixth Crazy!

I’m a pretty easy-going teacher. For all of my complaints, my kids are not criminals and in most cases, not delinquents. I could be in a worse school. And my advanced kids are typically good kids, albeit sassy smart-asses, but good. On Thursday, I had my 5th period advanced class working on an article about Elizabethan England, part of their mini-unit on Shakespeare. Now, Shakespeare is not really in the curriculum for 8th grade, but it is in 9th. My feeling is that if they get a little background knowledge on Shakespeare, they will be better prepared for the full Shakespeare unit in 9th grade.

So, they were reading this article when one of the kids, Z, asks why I am making them read. I say "well, I told you I’m preparing you for next year. And besides, you might see this on my end of quarter final." Well, that prompted a bunch of the kids into this, “You wouldn’t test us” mode. Now, I don’t give many test. Most of my curriculum is about writing so their big grades are writing projects, but an occasional test is not unheard of. Anyway, this conversation quickly degraded into a group of four boys, betting that I wouldn’t give them a test the next day. I said ok, you want a test, you got it. Then they proceeded to up the ante by stating that I wouldn't give them 50 questions. This prompted another to state that 50 would be too easy. In no time they talked themselves into a 150 question test with an essay.

Sound unfair? It was, but I said, okay, you want a test, you got it. They didn’t believe that I would do it, so now I had something to prove. First, don’t mess with me. Second, I keep my word. I was up until about 1 am writing this wicked fill in the blank/short answer test. Unfortunately I did not have enough material to get to 150 questions. I got to 110.

I went in yesterday, made copies and awaited 5th period. They all filed into class. They had heard rumors from their other teachers that I did indeed have a test for them. The first few in asked if I really did have a test. I held up the stack.

“Testing mode,” I told them and obediently they turned their desks from groups to rows and sat down. They took out pens and pencils. They waited.

“Ok guys, here’s the deal: I do not have a 150 question test for you.” My ringleaders smirked. I waited a second. “I was only able to come up with a 110 questions.” Mouths dropped. “I didn’t want to end up just repeating questions, and I was up pretty late so, well, there you go.” I continued the instructions, including the instructions for the essay question.

Eyes got wide. Smirks fell. Hands tentatively went into the air. I called on A.

“What if we don’t finish?”

“Well, I guess that would be a problem for you, huh?” I smiled. “Do the best you can. You may start as soon as you get the test.” I handed out the test and as the kids flipped though the seven pages, they kept glancing at me as if waiting for me to get to the punch line.

When I said nothing more, they heaved a collective sigh and began working. All except Z. When he got his test, he clearly, boldly, loudly (how many more adverbs can I add here?) said, “I’m not doing this,” put his name on it and turned it over and sat there glaring at me as if he were a matador staring down a bull. But a Taurus has nothing on a Leo in terms of stubborness.

Ok, I thought, you want to play hardball…we’ll play. I set the timer for twenty minutes. Meanwhile, all the other students were working as quickly as they could to get as many finished as they could. Twenty minutes went by the only way it could during a test, crawling like a lame animal for shelter for the teacher, and flying by like an supersonic jet for the students.

When the timer went off a number of the kids looked at me horrified. I said, “Ok, for those of you who had the foresight to bring your notebook with you, as you are supposed to do each day, you may take it out and use your notes to complete the test.” Z glared even more. Guess who didn’t have his notebook?

The test continued. Z glared. It was a matter of principle now. Who would break first? Who would prove the point?

Twenty more minutes went by. I called time and collected the tests. After I had all the tests I addressed the kids.

“Now, how many of you think it was unfair for me to test you all when this whole thing was started by Z, D, D, and T?” All hands went into the air including the four troublemakers! I said, “You’re right. It really wasn’t fair; however, I made my point, right?” Heads nodded. “Good. Now, for those of you who attempted this test, even though it was unfair, for each correct answer you will receive extra credit on your end of quarter exam.” Smiles, except for one. “Now, I’m going to grade these, record your points and give them back for you to correct and use for a study guide for the end of quarter final. And if you turn this back in, corrected, on the day of the final you will receive additional points.”

The bell rang and students looked at me to dismiss them. I let them go, reminding them about the second part to their test to be completed at home and turned in on Monday: a brief summary of one of Shakespeare’s plays.

Later on, while I was outside with my 3rd period class doing art fest stuff, Z came up to me and apologized for "being a jerk." His words, not mine.

Exeunt stage left, pursued by homework.

a CrAzY wEeK

2009-05-16T07:48:00.007-04:00

To say things at work are crazy would be far beyond an understatement. While the end of the year is always a bit stressful, more so than the beginning of the year, for some reason there is always one week in May that is psycho crazy!

First – This week was the 4th Annual Art Festival. Our art teacher, Mrs. C, works tirelessly all year round to raise money, plan and execute this week. She invites all sorts of artists, musicians, story tellers, and bands to come to our school and spend time talking about, demonstrating, and performing for our students. It is an awesome activity for the kids…if they would appreciate it. Unfortunately, the type of students I have…middle schoolers…are disrespectful, rude, obnoxious and downright nasty. And really this has nothing to do with race, gender or culture. It is all about the age! Middle schoolers are jerks. And truly as much as I love the art fest, I think it would serve better to do it for an elementary school. Little kids might not be able to sit still, but from what I’ve seen they show a lot more respect at assemblies than older kids.

So during this week, the teachers sign their classes up to go see and do different activities. The last two years it has been very easy to make sure that each class got to go to at least one thing because we were on teams and no one class or group of students went to the same thing over and over. My team last year had worked out a schedule to a perfect harmonious flow. This year because administration did away with the team concept, I had many classes I brought to events that whined they’d already been to that particular event three times already. And therefore, they took it upon themselves to act like the little jerks they are. And amazingly, it was my advance kids who were the worst! One of my worst classes, so grateful to not have to work, behaved so well I gave them extra credit!

So that was going one every day last week.

Second – Scott’s car is on its last wheel. So Scott and I have been talking about trying to figure out a way to acquire a new car. Carjacking and Grand Theft Auto aside, we don’t have much in way ability. We just got our tax refund which I was planning on using for my trip to New York, but we could use it for a down payment. Scott thinks the car will last for the summer, but the fact that the underneath is trying to escape containment and he has to disconnect the battery when he parks, makes it hard to justify keeping this old red death trap.

Ok…so that isn’t really crazy as much as frustrating.

Third – Scott has long claimed there is some sort of mystical energy transfer between the two of us. When he is exhausted, I am wide awake; the few times that I am tired and in bed before 9 or 10, he is wide awake and unable to sleep. This week, that has happened two times. So twice this week, I have been in bed before 9 – 10 (when I normally am writing) and thus have not done much writing this week. So my schedule has been thrown for a serious loop this week. Weird!!

Fourth – Administration!! Once again, our principal has seen fit to redo the class assignments and arrangements for next year. Now I am not going to complain about this because I got back on the team I was on originally and that’s where I wanted to be. I will however, once again state that the man is trying to put his mark on the school and in my opinion the reason he split us up in the first place was because we are a really strong team and he is trying to conquer and divide. So during the week, he has been coming to us, talking about placement and blah blah blah while subtly still insinuating that it was the teacher’s fault FCAT scores weren’t as good as they should have been.

Meanwhile, in the 8th grade hall we’ve been holding these contests for the students. Every 15 days, whichever students have remained referral free get a reward. The first one was a field-day type event that was poorly planned and executed because the admin didn’t really communicate with us what she wanted u s to do. Ok. It happens. The kids had fun anyway. The second one was this week. During the art fest when the kids were already crazy. Once again, poorly planned. We weren’t told what was going on until Wednesday. We didn’t get to give any input. Ok. She’s the admin. Tell us what you need us to do. Nothing.

The plan was to watch a movie in the cafeteria. Now, it was a Bolt, which is Disney, but rated PG so the kids needed a permission slip. Those didn’t get handed out until Thursday last period, in the breezeway by the admin. So once again the teachers didn’t know who was allowed to go. Well, on Friday morning, kids who hadn’t gotten a permission slip asked to call home for verbal permission. I spent all morning on the phone with parents getting permission. When I went to lunch, I was told that I should have turned in that list by noon. And that she had clearly given me those instructions. Uh, nope, but ok, I’ve got a list even though it is one, and I turned it in.

Then, later on coming out of the hall for planning, I bore the brunt of the admin’s anger as she scolded that “all [she] wants is the teachers to cooperate. Is that really too much to ask? [She] clearly gave instructions to all teachers to turn in verbal permission by noon and now [she] had all these kids who claimed that had verbal permission running around trying to get into the movie” and on and on. Now, I am a team player. They ask me to do something, I do it, I might complain later about it, but I do it, no questions asked. So for the admin to claim that I refused to do what she asked in and of itself aggravating and insulting. But for the admin to then claim that I was giving instructions that I was not is ridiculous. In fact, another teacher had handed permission slips (verbal and non) directly to the admin who later sent in a student for the information that was already in hand!!

So that was super fun!!

Fifth - Never in all my great many years of teaching (four, for those who don't know) has a student ever cursed at me or called me a name to my face. I'm sure I get called all manner of things outside of class. This week, I had a group of students not return with me to class after an art fest activity. When they showed up about 5-8 minutes after everyone else, I stood at the door to write their names down to mark as tardy/skipping. One of them, a nice, quiet, sweet straight A student tried to explain why she was late. I calmly said that I didn't want an excuse, and to please go in and sit down. As she walk in she very loudly call me a "bitch" and sat down. I was speechless. Agast. Stunned. I said "What did you just say?" The class was silent all staring at me and back at her. She just glared at me over her shoulder. "Out," I said pointing at the door. I walked her across the hall to another teacher and said I did not want her back. I wrote her up and sent it up to the office. Later on I found out her punishment: one day suspension and her mom told her that she would not be going on the end of the year trip. Ouch! I felt bad about that, but I hope the message was driven home. It is one thing to grumble under your breath and think things, but quiet another to let stuff out without thinking about consequences.

The sixth and last crazy, deserves its own post. Tune in for part two in about 30 seconds.

Quiet Monday

2009-05-11T21:00:00.004-04:00

Today was just a quiet day. The bug that caught Ashleigh last week finally settled in on Cyra and we stayed home today. So what did I do?

cuddled
played Neverwinter Nights (a new addiction that I totally blame on Scott)
played Sims
played Neverwinter Nights because there isn't any blood and gore in Sims
laundry
smiled when after telling Cyra to take a nap and she insisted she wasn't tired she passed out for most of the afternoon
played Neverwinter Nights
cleaned the kitchen
played Neverwinter Nights
cooked an awesome dinner - cheddar ranch burgers with ceaser salad and mac and cheese
played Neverwinter Nights
cuddled
more laundry
played Neverwinter Nights
more cleaning of the kitchen
blogged
cuddled

So, a highly productive day in my honest opinion! And a very nice end to a now five-day weekend! I'm back to work tomorrow before my boss freaks out on me and little Cyra, if she is still yicky (which I don't doubt she will be) will hand out with Mom.

It's A Brand New Game

2009-05-10T22:08:00.001-04:00

If it is a brand new game, why do I feel like I’ve been here before? Is it that gamers fall into the same categories and types regardless? Will there always be a rules lawyer? A goofy geek that fondles the minis? An obnoxious loudmouth that always has to tell a story about what this one character did in a game unrelated to the current one? A self absorbed narcissus whose character is single minded in their own purpose to the determent of the group? A DM who takes far too much delight in our character’s deaths? It isn’t so much the stereotypes that are throwing me for a loop, but the memories they dredge up.

Now, I’ll admit, I’m sure I also fall into a category. But for right now, I am quiet at the gaming table, almost unbelievably so. I watch the others, see how they interact, and merge, while I am trying partly deliberately and partly subconsciously, to keep my distance.

Without diminishing what Sara went through (and honestly, I have no idea how she managed to be so calm through it all, I’m still seething about it for her and for me) I’m still really upset about how my last group fell apart. As much as I disliked D I didn’t like “firing” him, and I really miss J. She was fun to hang out with, witty, amusing and an all around nice person. But when D went, J went too. It was a choice between Z and C who really merged well with us and D, who just drove us crazy with his self-absorbed rules-lawyering.

I can’t hold a grudge against Z and C. I mean they had job opportunities that were just too good to pass up and from what I hear they are doing well in Cali! I miss them a ridiculous amount! Both are good guys and I hope that they have found groups that appreciate them as much as I did and that play to their strengths.

And then there was E. Out of all the old group, never would I have pegged E for being a dickweed. It was bad enough what he did to Sara. For that alone, I wish him ill. His actions though affected not just Sara, but my whole family as well. We were all close with him, spending time with him away from the gaming table, hanging out late into the night, going out as a group. Cyra especially loved the man. God, she spent time crying over him when he was on deployment, not just because she missed him, but because she kept having nightmares that something happened to his ship or that he fell overboard and was eaten by sharks!

And then there is Sara. What can I say about her that isn’t obvious? My first grown-up BFF (how childish does that sound?). I don’t blame her for high-tailing it out of here. In fact, I am more than a little envious of her opportunities to travel and explore the world. I took her departure harder than I thought I would. But 13 time zones are piddle-squat when it comes to friendship! And before I start mushing and gushing, I’ll leave it at that.

So, when it came time to regroup, to find a new set of gamers I found myself very hesitant. I didn’t want to invite people into my home and get close, be friendly, get hurt. What finally convinced me was Scott. He has been dying to play Pathfinder and he kept checking the message boards looking for a group in town. When he found a message that looked promising, he immediately drew my attention to it and all but begged and pleaded with puppy eyes (not that that works) to see if we could set something up.

I capitulated and emailed and then met part of the group at the bookstore to see if we’d be compatible. Much to my dismay, I hit it off with them. They are nice guys, so far that I’ve seen. They can only game two or three times a month and only on Sunday afternoons which works out really well for Scott and I. And, yes, they fall into stereotypes and after two gaming sessions it is hard not to make comparisons.

S reminds me a great deal of E. Goofy, playful, geeky. I know I’ll get along famously with him.

E reminds me of C. A rules lawyer who doesn’t work the rules so much as reminds the DM as needed, or looks up a stat for the DM as requested.

The DM reminds me of Sara. He is a great storyteller and weaves us into the fabric of the story. Unlike Sara, he uses the critical hit deck-OUCH!! And he takes gleeful delight in pulling out those cards!

C reminds me a great deal of D. He always wants to talk about what he once did in a different campaign. He is loud and boisterous, which could be taken either way, good or bad.

J reminds me of the very first Jess we had at our table in the apartment. Self-absorbed, her character is conniving and won’t engage in battle unless forced. She is also single-minded in her own personal side quest.

So where does this leave me? I’m friendly; it is hard for me not to be friendly. It is easy for me to keep my distance since we only meet every other week or so, and because we have such a short time to game, we are all focused on the game as soon as everyone gets here. I’m not entertaining as I once did. It is a strict BYO: if I don’t feed them, I don’t adopt them. And in an unfortunate side effect from our last group, I am a bit fearful.

I am a loyal friend, fierce and devoted, once I have given friendship; it takes a lot to break it. It is the Leo in me, I think, and really, I’m not sure I willing or able to hand over friendship as I once did. And that, I think is what kills me the most. I am friendly and outgoing by nature, and right now, it is taking all I’ve got to not be.

"I've Got a Miniture Secret Camera"

2009-05-09T08:43:00.003-04:00

One of the reasons why I love my husband’s job: bonuses!! Now unfortunately the bonuses are not given as cash which, seriously, I could totally use right now. Instead, his company gives gift cards. Now, we get to select which stores the gift cards are for, and most of the time, we opt for Best Buy, Borders or Sears. This time around I went for Best Buy. And hoo boy! I’m glad I did!

I’ve been toying with the idea of a new digital camera, nothing big and flashy, but an upgrade from my 6 megapixel, hesitating camera. After spending some time playing with cameras in Target, Sears, and Best Buy I knew I was leaning towards the Samsung SL620. So when I went in to Best Buy yesterday, I once again looked at and played with all the cameras at least once as I walked around.

Again, I kept coming back to the SL620. Product information that really I have no clue as to what it all means: 12 megapixels, 5x optical zoom, 3.0" intelligent LCD, Dual image stabilization, Smart Auto, Perfect Portrait System, Frame Guide. It was in my price range, shiny red and didn’t have that hesitation when snapping a picture.

It was quite amusing while I was in the store fiddling with the cameras: every few minutes a sales geek...uh…man…boy…would come up to me asking if I needed help. I said, “Not right now, I’m still just looking.” For twenty minutes I was stalked by the lurking blue shirts. The second I decided that, yup, the SL620 was for me, the guys disappeared. I mean it wasn’t even a case that they were helping someone else, or in another aisle. They were just gone! I spent another ten minutes hunting down someone to get the darn camera and ask a few questions about it.

And granted just because I had the gift cards, didn’t mean I wasn’t looking for a deal. In fact, Best Buy was having a sale on cameras, so really I couldn’t have planned it any better. I picked out a new camera case, an upgraded memory card, and the fourth season of Stargate: Atlantis for Scott and Ashleigh, and left with almost half of one gift card unused.

So here are the first pictures I took with my new camera.

Mother's Day Brunch

2009-05-09T08:26:00.004-04:00

It is not often that I have the chance to go to my daughters’ school activities. So when the opportunity arose that I was home with Ashleigh and there was a Mother’s Day Brunch in Cyra’s class, I jumped at the chance. Mom had originally been slated to go in my place, so instead, Mom stayed with Ashleigh and I was able to go to school.

Sara often says that Cyra is terminally cute, meaning her cuteness is apparently fatal to others. I wouldn't know, of course, becuase I have survived 7+ years of it. But it should be obvious then that Cyra plus 30 other pretty cute kids is 30 times more fatal. We moms were entertained to tears; thirty six-year-olds singing an updated “Wheels on the Bus” and reciting a poem about how hard moms work. Cyra was a ballerina on the bus who twirled around…I can’t help feeling that this would be a dangerous activity to participate in; especially if one is a ballerina; especially on a moving vehicle. In any case, it was adorable. I have pictures of her twirling and singing, but as other children, who don't belong to me, were also in the photos, I will not post them here.

Throw in a PowerPoint, set to highly emo music, with then and now photos and it is no wonder Cyra’s teachers made sure there were tissues at every table. The kids took great delight in pointing out each child in the classroom as their picture came on the screen.

Each mom was presented with a card with one of the songs that they sang printed inside, as well as a little matchbox painted silver with the child’s school picture glued on the inside.

We also got a poem about little handprints and a yellow towel with a “dirty” handprint on it.

The kids served the moms a plate with a mini bagel, mini muffin, mini donut and a scoop of fruit. They served drinks, cleaned up afterwards, thanked us for coming and ushered us out the door. Apparently, they were eager for their lunch which they wouldn't get until after we left!

At the end of the day, when I picked Cyra up, I received the following pictures that Cyra had made in class.

Where the day leads...

2009-05-07T18:14:00.002-04:00

I spent the day home with a sick Ashleigh. I had grand plans…laundry, dishes, vacuuming. But in the grand scheme of things, I ended up spending most of the day working on lesson plans and researching Twilight Zone episodes for my Drama unit. Interestingly, that led me to research gremlins which led me to reflect upon modern technology, specifically when modern technology fails, which in turn got me thinking about how we would deal with a sudden absence of all technology.

All those people running around without their cell phones and their apps; mobile blogging and twittering. How would be people who are used to being in contact 24/7 handle the void? Obviously there have been stories about this before. I think I’d like to try my hand at it too. I’ve always had a fondness for end-of-the-world stories and one without technology is one that interests me greatly.

I’d like to imagine that I’d be a-okay without my geeky gadgets, but I think I’d miss my computer…my stove…ohh…my AC. Do appliances count as geeky gadgets? I can do without a cell phone. I have one but don’t use it all that much. I could do without my MP3 Player. I’ve been without before, so I think that while I’d miss it, I could deal. The more I think about this the more I think I’d like to read one of those “living off the land for a year with no modern technology” books.

Needless to say, the dishes are still taking over the kitchen, the laundry is still piled up like unpaid bills and the dust bunnies, without fear of the vacuum, have left the security of the dark underworld beneath the couch and are blatantly mingling with the dog and cat hair balls.

Other than that I really don’t have much to say today. So I will leave you this thought:

"We all live in suspense, from day to day, from hour to hour; in other words, we are the hero of our own story." — Mary McCarthy, American author (1912-1989).

Going to School

2009-05-06T22:41:00.001-04:00

I miss school. More specifically, I miss going to school to learn, not to teach. I’ve been on both sides of the desk, and I have realized that I am a better student than I am a teacher.

When I graduated from college in ’04, I was ready to go, but I regretted not being able to complete my plans of duel major in English and Religion&Philosophy. How was I to know that there was such a thing as “lifetime student loan limit?” Really?? Why limit my ability to learn when I am obligated to pay back my loan? How much money could the government have made off of my student loan interest if they kept lending me money? I could have single-handedly saved us from the economic recession! I could have been a hero!

Over the past few months I’ve been toying with the idea of going to grad school. I always planned to continue with my education, but money was always an issue. Guess what? Money is still an issue. Scott says we can figure out something if I really want to go. I suppose if I budget even more and oh I don’t know, cut out food, I might be able to afford a class each summer. It is a nice dream that I’d like to see realized sooner rather than later, but I am willing to bide my time.

I longingly perused university websites tonight looking at requirements for grad students and overall, I could easily qualify for a number of schools around me. I would love to get my Masters. Even better, I’d love to get my Masters in English and complete my Bachelors in Religion&Philosophy.

My colleagues urge me to go to the University of Phoenix to get a Masters in education. I keep telling them that I don’t want to be in education my entire life. I’ve got plans beyond where I am.

I dream big. My plans are always complicated and intricate. I know there is a way for me to return to school. Now I just have to research. Maybe I’ll find a grant for broke English teachers who work at ghetto schools and have way too many bills but are really adorable, smart and deserving!

Holiday Rant

2009-05-05T19:34:00.001-04:00

I love holidays! If it was up to me (and I had the money) I’d be celebrating something everyday! I’d throw a dinner party with food that was traditional to that holiday. My problem comes from the news…they way they pick and choose what holidays to recognize as important. So, if we make a big deal about this:

Cinco Day Mayo – celebrates the Mexican Army’s defeat of the French Army in 1862

Why not these?

Bastille Day – July 14 a celebration of the Storming of the Bastille, a prison fortress in Paris.

Yom Kippur – Jewish Day of Atonement, 25 hours of prayer and fasting revolving around atonement for sins committed in the prior year.

Greek Independence - Day March 25 – celebrates Greece’s independence from Turkey.

Blessed Rainy Day – the Buddhist celebration of the end of the monsoon season which involves bathing outdoors and washing away bad deeds, obstructions and defilements (which as a side note sounds amazingly similar to a certain End of Hurricane Season celebration but without the bath).

Karthikai Deepam – an Hindu festival of lights that celebrates an astrological alignment between the full moon of November/December and the constellation Karthigai (Pleiades).

Swedish National Day – June 6th – this started as the Day of the Swedish Flag, around 1900, and it also commemorates the election of Gustav Vasa as King of Sweden on this date in 1523.

Ramadan – is an Islamic religious observance that takes place during the ninth month of the Islamic calendar; the month in which the Qur'an was revealed to the Prophet Muhammad. It is a month of fasting, in which participating Muslims do not eat or drink anything from true dawn until sunset. Meant to teach the person patience, sacrifice and humility Ramaḍān is a time to fast for the sake of Allah, and to offer more prayer than usual. Much like Yom Kippur (although more drawn out) Muslims ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds.

International Day of Peace – September 21 – Peace, or specifically the absence of war, such as might be occasioned by a temporary ceasefire in a combat zone. If we celebrated this every day, what a world it would be!

Ninja Day – December 5 – Started by the Ninja Burger guys, this correlates to a long standing argument between Ninja fans and Pirate fans and can now be viewed as a counterpoint to…

International Talk Like a Pirate Day – September 19 – Ahoy and climb on board for mayhem, looting and pillaging.

Pi Day – 3/14 celebrates one of the universe’s more amazing numbers and by happenstance is also Albert Einstein’s birthday. And just think of all the pie you could justify eating!

Towel Day – May 25 – a celebration of Douglas Adams – on this day make sure you know where your towel is.

Now for a tangent side note and the “ranty” part of my post…

America is a melting pot. Indeed, The Great American Melting Pot is one of my favorites from School House Rock, and one thing that I think we all need to remember is that everyday is a holiday somewhere and paying more attention (news coverage wise) is both insulting and demeaning to people. America is the sum of its parts, is not Christian, Jewish or Muslim. It is not black, white, European or Asian. It is not one thing that makes us American; it is all things about all our people that make us great. Being able to respect and celebrate with friends who may not share our beliefs is amazing and often times a humbling experience.

While I do not profess a belief in any one particular religion, it is interesting to note that all religions seem to hold dear the same motifs and themes but those entrenched and indoctrinated in their religion don’t seem to notice. Then they get mad when the similarities are pointed out. Ironic? Indeed! We (please note, the “we” implies “me” too) spend far too much time looking for differences; looking to categorize “us” and “them,” we forget that at the core, we are all human and have all of the same needs. Atonement, is after all, the same regardless of when, how and why you atone. So really, does it matter what label you slap on a religion?

(Sites cited….Wikipedia)

With Apologies

2009-05-04T06:17:00.000-04:00

Nearly nine years ago I moved from New York to Florida dragging along with me and my daughter, my BFF Manda. That first summer in Florida in our little brick house we turned an ugly little coffee table into a fantastical art piece: Bright yellow, with purple legs and astrological chunky stamps on the top. Around each side ran star related quotes from Shakespeare. And underneath, we each signed our initials: HLM, ARN and AWW.

That little yellow table became a symbol of freedom, independence and our irrepressible natures. For the past eight years and ten months, that yellow table has held a prominent place in each house that I’ve called home. Living in my current neighborhood is an older woman who has “adopted” me for all intents and purposes and every time she cleans house, I get new furniture. Her recent spring cleaning brought me three tall media towers. Each one about four to four and half feet, two feet square, with frosted glass shelves and pitch black.

Fortunately these towers came at a time when our old media center was falling apart. After Scott gleefully and with such unadulterated pleasure destroyed the old entertainment center (I really should have taken pictures of that) I set the new towers up with the idea of using the yellow table to put the TV on. The height and length are perfect to fit between the two shelves. When I set it up it was exactly what I needed and the best part? I didn’t need to spend money on a new table. Needless to say, so I’ll say it anyway, it looked silly and rather misplaced.

And so for the sake of continuity and the fact that our little yellow table was looking pretty beat up, I bought some paint. Standing in front of the rows of spray paint in Home Depot, I was overcome with such melancholy and sadness. With tears in my eyes, I choose a nice premium primer and black semi gloss. The salesman who earlier stopped to ask if I needed any help kept glancing at me with concern from the paint mixing station. I grabbed some sandpaper and a drop cloth and left before I truly started crying. Who would have thought painting a table would be so emotional?

And so, Dear Manda, with apologies, our yellow table in no more. It is now pitch black and shiny. I think that we both knew this day might come but I left our signatures on the bottom. And though I still have a dorm-room feel throughout my house it now fits in with some of my other furniture.

Derby Part Two

2009-05-03T10:59:00.000-04:00

Isn't it always the case? The one year that I don't pick a longshot is the year that a longshot triumphs! Good for Mine That Bird! Too bad I didn't pick him. Of course, even if I hadn't picked Dunkirk, my second favorite was Chocolate Candy ridden by Mike Smith, and he came in 18th! Ouch!! Maybe I ought to listen to Sara and base my choice not on how pretty a horse looks, but on pedigree and previous race stats.

Regardless of the loss, we still had fun. Dinner was delicious! Hot browns, corn pudding, and A Run for the Roses pie. Yum!! It was my first year making everything alone, and I think it turned out quite well.

The girls and I painted our horses and this year we thought to add their names on the back so we could remember who was who.

Next year, we plan on new Derby hats and maybe we'll have the time, money and desire to host a bigger party than just Mom and Sis (who wasn't really here, but we spent the entire time on Skype with her).

Kentucky Derby

2009-05-02T15:57:00.000-04:00

Part One:

Just so we clear, because I don't retcon...My favorite to win the Derby is Dunkirk. Ashleigh is pulling for Flying Private. Cyra is going for Friesan Fire. Mom likes Mr. Hot Stuff and Big Sis is opting for Join in the Dance.

The winnings is a bag of old-time candy...to be shared of course.

The Run for the Roses pie has been made, I am working on the corn pudding and onto the hot browns. It feels weird without Sara here and she can't even join us through Skype. But we've forged a tradition and it would be even sadder to not continue with it.

More to come later!

First of May

2009-05-01T06:02:00.000-04:00

May Day Resolutions

New Year’s resolutions are so yesterday! Instead, I’m going to try May Day resolutions.

1. I am going to post to my blog everyday in May.
2. I am going to write 1500 words everyday, words, I declare, that are unrelated to my blog.
3. I will truly begin stockpiling supplies for anything that might come up. Zombies, Nibiru, Yellowstone…
4. I am going to reestablish my good habits.
5. I will not let the laundry get that high ever again. It is unreasonable!
6. I will craft more!! I have so many scrapbook supplies it is ridiculous!!
7. I will care more about the house and try to take a more active role in fixing what is broken.
8. I will try a new recipe at least once a week. This one shouldn’t be too hard especially with all the cookbooks I’ve got around here.
9. I will remember that Junie is just a dog and she really does not do things deliberately to piss me off.
10. Everyday I will say something nice to someone I don’t really like.
11. I will try not to hold grudges. I tend not to, but there are a few…
12. I don’t know how I’ll do this, but I will try to not be so idealistic since it leads to disappointment.
13. I will train diligently with my weapon of choice.
14. I will think before I speak, especially when I am mad.
15. I will remember that while the internet is a quick and easy way to keep in touch, nothing beats getting an old fashioned letter in the mail.
16. I will back up my hard drive every week! And while I’m doing that I’ll cheerfully hum, “Never Again!”
17. I will not stress over my job. I know that I do what I can and numbers be damned!
18. I will remember that life is fluid and malleable. I will not be rigid in my expectations nor will I berate myself for trying but not succeeding.
19. I will have more fun!
20. In the words of my favorite D&D character (and Chumbawumba) if I get knocked down, I’ll get up again, you’ll never gonna keep me down!

The Cons of Naps

2009-04-30T01:40:00.000-04:00

Most people who know me will not be surprised when I say I’ve got a temper. It is slow to boil (90% of the time) but when it rages it is quite out of control. Therefore, I have learned that when I know I’m mad about something and know that I will not be able to rein in my mouth before thinking, I should just be alone. When possible, I do make every attempt to isolate myself away from my family so I don’t wig out at them for something that they have nothing to do with.

So it was with no surprise, that today after a particularly pissy day with 8th graders, a pissy day trying to get ready for a District Visit and an equally pissy Early-Release training where instead of training, or at the very least something useful, we listened to a sales pitch for $500 stainless steel cookware and then got berated for not doing our jobs, for not caring about the students, for not being dedicated enough, for not…

Deep breath.

Anyway, I came home and went straight to bed. I wasn’t particularly tired, but with tears welling in my eyes as I drove home, I knew that there was no way I could handle dealing with people. I heard Scott come in and check on me a few times, I was aware of dinner; the spicy aroma of turkey tacos drifted into my room arousing me for a brief moment, but I ignored it as best I could and drifted myself on a lazy wave of near consciousness. My stomach grumbled and growled while I eased in and out of odd half dreams that could have been real except for the maniacally grinning drama mask that hovered in each scene.

Subliminal reflections on what I deal with each day? I wouldn’t be surprised.

I finally got out of bed at about 9:30, hungry, disoriented and still grouchy, although not as angry as before. Scott had cleaned the kitchen, done piles of laundry and was watching Mythbusters. I stumbled into the kitchen looking for food and found just enough taco meat for a single taco. Scott asked me if I was okay and I told him briefly about what happened. I ate my taco while cruising the net, and was entertained by Zach and Facebook pirate English. After Mythbusters, Scott went to bed, telling me not to stay up all night.

So where does this leave me? After my four and a half hour nap, I am still wide awake at 1:30, the night-morning before a major district visit and am now flipping between cheesy romance movies on USA and MonsterQuest on History because there is nothing else on. And because I am especially adept at multitasking – you know, doing a half hearted job at a multitude of things, never finishing one thing and then wondering why nothing gets done properly, I am browsing the internet for news on the Swine Flu and reading a book.

On the plus side? I managed to not freak out at my kids and didn’t explode at Scott for anything.

Idiocracy

2009-04-27T22:03:00.000-04:00

I recently watched the movie, Idiocracy. Although it has been out for a few years, I was blissfully unaware of its existence, coasting along in my bubble of ignorance. I was, until a co-worker highly recommended it, saying, “It was a movie that I would truly get.”

And, oh my, did I get it! I get that the future is bleak. I already knew that. From my unlikely and unreasonable fear of Zombies – you know the brain eating ones – I now fear Zombies of another kind: The kind that I am attempting to educate each day. Slated as a comedy, I spent most of the movie terrified!

The premise of this Luke Wilson movie is that an average “Joe” (and his name was indeed Joe) was selected along with a hooker to participate in an Army cryogenics experiment. Needless to say, the experiment floundered and Joe and the hooker woke up 500 years later to a dumbed-down world where with their average intelligence they were now the smartest people in the garbage overrun world!

The movie had a few amusing parts…like the…umm…well I know I snickered a couple times…but behind the, for lack of a better word, Idiocracy, it smacked of truth that many people would just as soon ignore.

Take for instance the ability to read. 500 years from now Idiocracy shows that people are illiterate “white trash” (regardless of actual skin tone) who use pictures to identify everything. For example, in an early scene, Joe is trying to get medical attention shortly after he wakes up in the future. At triage, the nurse mindless stares into space while Joe describes his symptoms, her finger hesitating over each picture depicting a symptom, until she finally decides to just press the question mark button.

Another horrid truth the movie depicts: smart people don’t procreate enough. They put it off until they are stable and able to care for a child. While on the opposite spectrum, intelligence-challenged people over-create, breeding as if they need to colonize their own planet.

All in all, while I try to be optimistic and idealistic, reality keeps a large hammer hovering over my head waiting for the right opportunity to drop. For a long time I have believed in and preached mandatory sterilization (or at the very least some form of birth control ala Gate to Women’s Country, seriously one of the best books out there) of all children at the onset of puberty. Then, after college or some form of job training, there should be a test to see who gets to procreate. It, of course, should be based on a number of things, intelligence among the top things tested for.

Of course I know those who’d object (Vive le Resistance!) but it would be practical to cut out unwanted teen pregnancies. And maybe if someone would take the Vice-Dictatorship, I might reconsider the whole testing thing.

Goings On...

2009-03-19T20:03:00.000-04:00

Well, I've had a crazy week. I am working on a post for the camping trip, unfortunately, I am unable to sit at the computer for long periods of time right now, so it might take me until the weekend to get it together. It might also come in more that one post, because a lot happened at camp and I'm going through the pictures, too.

I have been going through so major tooth pain. As many know, I have genetically inferior teeth and made some bad choices about tooth care (like not telling Mom that my wisdom teeth were coming in). And now, I am facing multiple extractions. I've put off the surgery for just about as long as I could because of my dental phobia.

Anyway, I've finally scheduled my appointment, so instead of camping with the girls over spring break I'll be nursing puffy chipmunk cheeks and ingesting nothing but liquid foods...which for some reason reminds me of Kirsten and her lost tooth and Mom putting her dinner in a blender...meat and all.

Me? I'm planning ahead! I know I'll not be able to eat solid food, so next weekend, before my surgery, I plan on making a batch of both Sweet Potato Soup (mmm...so orangey and delightful) and a batch of Strawberry Soup (tangy and oh so cheery red). That way I'll have a hot food and a cold food both full of nutrients and comfort. Will I want to eat? My buddies at work tell me no.

Speaking of them, they have been trying to freak me out about the surgery. I keep telling them, it isn't the surgery that scares me, it is the thought of the sound of the crunch as my teeth are ripped out. I'll be completely put under - otherwise I would just suffer with the pain of bad teeth - because I cannot fathom making it through that "craackkk" and "crunnccchh." And as I need at least six taken out, I know I wouldn't be able to sit through that!

Cyra, of course, wants to know if I'll be bringing the teeth home so the Tooth Fairy will visit me after the surgery. She is such the sweet innocent! I told her that the Tooth Fairy does not reward those who neglect their teeth and have to have a dentist take them out. She nodded sagely as only a six year old can do, and said, "Oh, that makes sense."

Well, that's it for now. I'm off back to my couch and my Oragel.

February

2009-03-06T23:03:00.000-05:00

Sara says that February is the single suckiest month there is. I have to agree. With a weeks distance between me and February, I feel I can now safely comment on this stupid month.

For some reason, mayhap because of the shortness of it, February always finds me short on funds. No matter what. Ever since I can remember…well since I started paying taxes and bills, I am always in a position of trying to figure out which bill I am going to short in February. And simply because it is a bad economic environment does not explain this away. February is only short by two days, but those two days seem to have great pull. I can’t explain it at all. Now, I won’t claim that money is flowing from the money tree every other month; it is often that we are tight, but February is unique in its short change. It isn’t Christmas effects, because I am pretty good about not buying stuff I don’t have money for (at Christmas time anyway). In addition to the short fall for bills stupid stuff always seems to happen in February that requires a large amount of cash to fix. This year? It was the computer (see my previous post about what Scott did).

Since becoming a teacher February also brings about the hated and despised FCAT writing test, truly the worst judge of an 8th grader’s writing ability. Nothing like massive amounts of pressure to make a 13 year old spew out a brilliant 5-paragraph essay in 45 minutes or less. Not only does it suck for the students, but it sucks for the teachers because the admins start fussing, mussing and micro-managing what we do in the classroom. Apparently, we teachers are not doing our jobs at all even though we get good reviews on observation days and maintain lesson plans and portfolios and diligently repeat repeat repeat lessons and do grade recovery and oh man the list goes on. Come February, everyone from academic coaches to district cluster chiefs feel we don’t teach enough. It would probably help the system if we went back to actually teaching information rather than teaching strategies to understand information (you know like memorize the multiplication table, instead of a multiplication strategy).

Next, of course is my least favorite holiday: Valentine’s Day. I hate this stupid commercial day of forced love! I can not remember liking Valentine’s Day since I was in elementary school. It has nothing to do with love…maybe once it did, but now it has to do with “how much do you love?” And really, I love Scott everyday (yes even when I want to kill him) and he loves me everyday. I don’t need one day out the whole year to show love. I show him everyday, in a thousand little ways, making him lunch, ironing his shirt, kissing him goodbye and telling him, “Be safe.” These might seem like “domestic” or “trivial” acts of love, but love is a daily commitment and affirmation. It is work and flexibility, compromise and determination. Relationships take work. And yes it is nice to have a “romantic” evening out, giving a flower and all that, but I refuse to be told to do it, to make it a commercial event. One day a year to make a show of love is a ridiculous expectation. People get too wrapped up in “romantic” love and don’t pay attention to real love. (By the way, I feel the same way about Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and all those other days. Ridiculous!)

Let’s talk about the weather. February in Florida is like dealing with an emo, manic-depressive angst-ridden teenager. One day it is freezing the next it is in the high 70s. It gets rainy, foggy, yucky, and can’t ever make up its mind about what it really wants to do. And on top of that: Groundhog’s Day!! What is the point? Six more weeks of winter? Early Spring? It doesn’t matter!! Spring starts March 21st each year anyway and February 2nd is roughly six weeks before it. Why doesn’t anyone see this connection? It’s like trying to play mind games with us so we don’t all get Jack Nickolas crazy-like in The Shining because we are miserable in winter blues. And people get miserable sick in February. It’s the height of Flu and cold season and for first time someone in my family got the Flu and when did it happen? February! Cyra was hit the last week. Thankfully, it was the head and ache flu and not the stomach puking flu!

Finally, (and this is going to sound politically incorrect and prejudiced at first but bear with it, because I do have a point) February is Black History Month. Now, what have I got against African Americans? Nothing. I just think it is ridiculous to have history “months” in general. My problem is that history should be taken as a whole, not chunks separated out by people, but chunks separated by time. All history should be explored because it is in our history that we figure out who we are. Race and ethnicity should not be a factor in studying history. It should not be, “Oh, it’s February, let’s study black history.” Or “Oh, it’s March, let’s study women’s history.” History does not happen in isolation, therefore, we can not study isolated pockets and hope to understand.

Now, that being said, I also have a problem with the term “African-American.” We are in a day and age when we need to look at our race as “human.” And our nationality? Well, where were you born? Poland? Guess what? You’re Polish regardless of skin color. South Africa? You’re South African. American?? Guess what? You are AMERICAN regardless of skin color. The only people who should be referred to as African-Americans are those who immigrated to America and became citizens (even then, I have issues because if they became citizens then they are American). How silly would it be for me to walk around saying I’m Irish-English-Scandinavian-American even though it was three or more generations ago that my ancestors immigrated here? I might have Irish ancestry, but I am American. I might have Scandinavian relatives, but I am an American. Yes, the history of slavery is tragic, inexcusable and devastating, however, we cannot change history; we can only study it and learn from it. And one month isn’t going to accomplish that!

The only good things to ever come out of February: my mom’s birthday (which I didn’t even get to celebrate with her yet because Cyra was sick with the flu!) and my niece’s birthday. Everything else? I’d just as soon hibernate through the month. Now that March is here and Spring is on its way, things are looking up!

Zombie Haiku and Early Morning Ramblings

2009-03-03T08:21:00.000-05:00

Zombie Haiku

Zombies are moaning
Outside of my locked window
Calling for my brains.

Why do I fear them?
Rotting away. Shambling.
Piles of grey flesh.

They will never stop
In their quest for squishy brains.
Mine must be tasty.

Lock all of the doors.
Board up the first floor windows.
Prepare for the worst.

Grey flesh sloughing off,
Organs and gore oozing out,
Black, soulless, empty.

Contingency plans
Should have contingency plans.
Plan A never works.

Scream all through the night,
No help will be there for you.
Stare into the night.

Alone in the house,
Bloody fingernails scratching,
Ripping at the door.

The dead are walking.
Humankind is at an end.
The dead will consume.

Two thousand and twelve
The Mayans knew what we don’t:
Dead will walk again.

Why worry about
The Nasdaq and the Dow Jones?
Zombies on Wall Street.

I really need to stop reading Zombie stories before I go to bed!

Early Morning Ramblings

If the Borg tried conversion rather than assimilation, I think people would be more willing to be Borg. Here’s why: we claim we want to be unique individuals, yet we exhibit our individuality by following all the latest trends and fads. One of our fears is not fitting in, not being “normal.” Think about it. The Borg allow all people to follow the same trends…that of the Hive Queen. All people fit in whether they are Human, Ferengi, or Klingon. Race doesn’t matter. Gender doesn’t matter. The Borg work together for a united front. Isn’t that what we all claim we want? Peace? The Borg want it too and actually work together to achieve it.

Teenagers are the worst form of humanity on the face of the planet. Hormonal, awkward and gangly, they look to fit in by being nasty and mean. I will accept the claim that all humans are selfish (even those that appear selfless) however, I would claim that teenagers are the epitome of this ideal. It is the teenager mind that wraps around itself and refuses to acknowledge the existence of anything else but themselves. It is a very rare occurrence that teenagers at selflessly. And yes, I realize that this is a huge generalization.

Arthur is really the best cartoon on television today. The new cartoons cater to trends and fads. They offer fluff and cotton. Arthur has substance. By no means am I making the claim that the cartoons I grew up with were any different. Fluff, cotton and catering to a mass market and consumerism, the cartoons I grew up with are no better that that of Dragon Ball Z, SpongeBob, and Mickey Mouse (the new adventures). It is just that Arthur is funny, moral, and real. Kids can relate to it. Hell, I can relate to it! Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking today’s cartoons. I’ve learned to like SpongeBob. I enjoy others as well – I can’t think of any right now, but I’m sure there are some out there.

What have I learned today through my early morning ramblings? Fear Zombies and Teenagers. The Borg aren’t all that bad. Arthur rocks!! And I probably shouldn’t philosophize first thing in the morning.

Surprising

2009-02-24T20:33:00.000-05:00

It isn’t often that my students surprise me, 8th graders being predictable: selfish, oozing with drama and full of themselves. But occasionally they do surprise me with their actions or thoughts. Today was one of those days.

It was an ordinary enough day. A “b-week” which for some reason always seems to speed by like a runaway train. Busy, hectic and chaotic, but that describes just about everyday at a middle school. During the class change between 4th and 3rd periods two of my students, M and J decided that smack talk wasn’t enough to prove their manly “maness” (keep in mind of course that these students are 14 and a far cry away from “man”) so words became challenges and a gauntlet was throw, picked up and accepted. Imagine the very romantic image of knights in shining armor and then go to the complete opposite. Now, we had just come back from lunch and they were hyped up on chocolate milk and cold hamburgers, so the full stomachs and sensitive hormones gave way to an all out brawl. A brawl that I was unfortunate enough to get stuck in the middle of.

Normally during fights, I am crowd control. I push kids into the nearest classroom and kick the mob back so nobody gets hurt, as is required. I am not overly strong, so me trying to break up a fight is laughable. And with my medical issue, bruising is a concern for me, so I try to stay out of the way of flying fists. Besides, I really, really, really, don’t like pain.

So there I am, stuck in the middle of the hall surrounded by a mob of students that I am trying to keep back. The mob decided that it was far more fun to get as close to the fight as they could, which resulted in the unfortunate side effect of me being closer to the fight. At that point, two male teachers at the top of the hall are trying to push their way towards the fight. Two other students D and T are trying, unsuccessfully, to help break up the fight. Good rule of thumb, if people are intent on injuring each other, it is kind of pointless to try to stop them. In any case, I am still far too close to this fight but it seemed to be winding down in that J was on the floor and M was pummeling him about the head. At that point it is a simple matter of pulling M off J and M would be considered the “winner” (at least this is easy in boy fights, girl fights? I don’t even want to think about it!).

So I figure in order to end the fight and get the kids out of the hall, I’ll pull M off J and that will be that! And amazingly, it worked. I grabbed M with my left hand and pulled him up and back. As soon as I put my hand on him, he stopped punching. Whether he let me pull him back or in the moment I became grinch-like strong, I don’t know. But I pulled him back and swiveled to my left and pushed M away from J. Now, keep in mind, we are in a hallway, I can’t get to my classroom because a mob is standing in front of it. I am pushed up against the lockers because a mob is behind me. So in essence I am stuck in one spot in the hall. But I figure I’ll be ok, because I know that the two other teachers are making their way towards me. (remember the mob?)

M immediately “calms” down when he sees me. Now he was still yelling but he wasn’t swinging and he certainly didn’t have anymore to prove by that point. My right arm is braced against the lockers and I keep trying to push M farther back away, but mob! So I am holding him in place. I look at him and in a split second, just as I feel a presence behind me, M’s face goes from calming down to boiled up. J came up behind me and started swinging at M over my right shoulder.

Now, let me remind you: MOB!!! I had no where I could move to. As J started swinging inches from my head I twisted away so that instead of fighting over my shoulder, the boys were now fighting two inches from my face. And really, I never knew punches really did sound like a sickening thud. Now, at this point, I am more than a bit nervous…I am bordering on fright. Both of these boys were bigger than me, both were athletes and took great pride in working out. With the mob pushing in to see the fight I could not move in any direction. The two teachers were still trying to get to M and J and all I could do was lean my head back.

I started off this post saying that a student surprised me, and here is where the surprise comes in: As I am trying to avoid being hit (although I do have to say, M and J were very accurate with their punches) my other student, D, who had been trying to help break up the fight to begin with, saw that I was stuck, pushed his way up to me through the mad mob of 8th graders eager for some blood, grabbed my upper chest with his left arm, called a quick, “Watch it!“ and forcibly shoved me behind him, effectively shielding me from the fight. Now whether his “watch it” was directed at me, M and J or the other students I’m not sure. But by that point, the other two teachers were able to get in between M and J and pull them apart and down to separate ends of the hallway. And I resumed my crowd control job shoving kids into classrooms and clearing the hall.

Afterwards, during the class change at the end of the day, I called D over to my door and thanked him. I said, “You shoved my out of the way, thank you.” And, bless this boy, because he looked down at me in shock and said, “Ms. M, I’m so sorry I pushed you but you were gonna get hurt.” I almost cried. I said, “No, Darling, I was scared and didn’t have anywhere I could go, you got me out of the way. Thank you!” He just grinned a sheepish sort of embarrassed smile and went to class.

Not one to leave enough alone, I called D’s mom before I left for the day. At first she was afraid that I was calling with bad news, and I said “No, Ma’am,” and explained to her what happened, that her son, who apparently outside of class gets into a bit of trouble, was concerned for my welfare and helped me. I told her how proud I was and grateful to D that instead of looking to “get in” on the fight, he was doing the right thing. She started to cry and thanked me for letting her know about the “good stuff” that happens.

Now I can honestly say, that in my four years at my school, I have not been scared in the sense I was afraid something was going to happen to me. I had a student with a gun in my class. Didn’t phase me. I had a student who, in anger, threatened me. Not a problem.

Today…today, I was scared. And grateful. And proud. And really, when I think about it, when I think about the kind of kid D is, I’m really not all that surprised.

Live and Learn

2009-02-14T23:39:00.000-05:00

Okay, so here’s the gist of what has been going on this week.

Number 1

- Florida Writes. This inhuman test of an 8th graders ability to barf an essay onto a piece a paper is a major hassle and an inconsistent way of judging whether or not a student can write. I’ve kids who can write brilliantly if given enough time. I’ve no love for standardized testing though I understand the concept. I would rather go to a portfolio based assessment program, unfortunately, many teachers are too lazy to want to keep up with all that paper and a portfolio system would cost the district more money since someone would have to collect the portfolios and “grade” them. Anyway, the test was on Tuesday and the week leading up to it was so incredibly stressed, I have no words for it. I can say that I am exceptionally proud of my homeroom. For a group of kids that had barely given me an inch all year long, they showed out well on test day. They all planned and all but one of them wrote a full page and most of them wrote front and back - a whole actual essay! We’ll see how their grades turn out in late May, but I am hopeful. Besides, if they do well, my principal is more likely to keep me on in the face of HUGE budget cuts coming down the road.

Number 2

- Wednesday I got home to pretty crappy news. My non-tech savvy husband managed (and I’m still trying to figure out how) to perform a complete system wipe on my computer. I know it involved one of the cats and the keyboard, beyond that, I’m at a loss, as is he. So, I yelled, screamed, cried, begged the computer gods to wake me up because you see…I did not have a backup. So, I got on the phone, to my tech geek buddy at work who said, “that sounds bad.” And he referred me to a geek company, who said, “Wow? Really? A complete system wipe? Wow. That’s bad.” Then they offered an outrageous fee per hour to attempt (attempt - not guarantee) to recover some (SOME) data. I called my big brother. Still crying, and was informed that “yup, it is bad and really there isn’t much hope.” I believe my big brother. I do. I put faith in his knowledge of computer geekiness but that did not stop me from calling an additional 12 computer repair companies in town to try to get my data back.

So where did this leave me? Well, fearing for his life, Scott slept on the couch after I threw a phonebook at the wall, screamed, “Fuck all this, I’m going to bed” and slammed into the bedroom at 7:00pm. Thursday was not much better. I kept thinking about the lost pictures, the lost stories, the lost everything! I moped through the day, grouching at my students, not yelling at them, but just in a funk and they knew it and for the most part left me be and actually worked. By the time I got home, I was still upset but not mad anymore. After all, Scott didn’t do anything on purpose. It was just something that happened. I made some attempts to get the computer back up in working order and realized that a daunting task lay before me.

My computer was 6+ years old and while in human terms that isn’t very long, in computer terms, my faithful tower should have already been put out to pasture, sent to the great PC pile in the sky. I started in with updates and downloads from Microsoft. Even with high speed internet it took about an hour to download everything. Then I tried to open Word. My product code have been deleted. Yikes! So I called up HP and begged for them to give me my product code so I could reinstall it. The nice foreign lady explained to me that it would cost a nice shiny credit card for them to remotely access my computer and manually input that information. And that it would take up to three - five days and would cost me $56.95 each day! What? I politely declined. By the time Scott got home Thursday night, I was no longer mad or upset, just frustrated with the reality of the situation. I told Scott that I wasn’t mad at him. I was just sad at the loss. He said he was sorry, and that I could blame him all I wanted. Instead I spent a good ten minutes hitting him with a throw pillow. While I felt better afterward, it was kind-of pitiful because he just took it.

That left me Friday to think about what to do. I had already had plans to purchase a new graphic card so that I could play Spore. The more I thought about the amount of money I needed to spend to update the system the more I began to think maybe it would be more cost effective to get a new system. I researched. Which is what I do. And found that graphic cards are expensive. And one that would be compatible with my ancient motherboard was about $200. Yikes! Again.

So, with Scott’s bonus check for making Salesman of the Year, I went out today and purchased a new HP Pavilion desktop for under $650. It was bundled with a flat screen monitor (which is beautiful) and printer (which I didn’t need, but can give to Ashleigh to have in her room). It has about a gazillion GBs of hard drive space (and read that gazillion as 500 GB which is almost 3 times as much as I had before and I hadn't come anywhere near to filling it all up). I brought it home, plugged cords in like mad and was rewarded with a shiny new computer.

So the story ends with a lesson learned - I bought an external, portable hard drive that I will use to religiously back up my files once weekly. A “big” purchase with money that wasn’t slated for anything and that we didn’t account for when budgeting (and really, I’m just doing my part to help the economy!). And a realization that stuff is just stuff. I may have lost photos of my girls, but I still have my girls. I may have lost stories and ideas, but I’m full of ideas and stories (just ask Sara). And one of the reasons (aside from financially) that I hadn’t purchased a new systems was because of the hassle of transferring files. Not a problem now. And what’s more beyond that, I know have the capability to use ALL my Sims expansion packs without crashing the computer or closing 30 background tasks while I play!

So, live more, learn more, take more pictures, play more Sims, write more stories, rip more music…and apologize to the husband for yelling at him because, of course, I should know better than to not have back-ups!

Silent Fury

2009-02-13T18:41:00.000-05:00

I'm not exactly ready to blog about certain events yet as I am still to pissed off to blog objectively, however, the moment will be coming and all will be revealed. That my husband is still alive and untouched is a testament to my previously unknown self-control. So really that is all I have to say for now until I get some perspective.

A First Date

2009-01-27T21:38:00.000-05:00

To say that Scott isn’t good with picking out gifts is unfair. Typically, because I have specific “gifts” in mind, I tend to give him a specific list of ideas and hope he doesn’t stray from the list too much. This year for Christmas was a little different. Due to a minor lack of “fundage” even though I gave Scott a list, it was quite vague, quite small and I left a lot up to Scott. And really, my story just goes to show how much someone can surprise you if you let them.

One of Scott’s gifts to me this year was far beyond tangible. He gave me twelve days. One day each month that he would take me out on (gasp) a date!

And while this might not seem like a lot, it is. With precious little time and money, we tend to put “us” stuff to the side and focus on the “house” stuff-bills, groceries, power. Previous date nights were sporadic and poorly planned, consisting mostly of a quick dinner and a movie.

With this gift, come rules. Scott is ultimately in control of where we go and what we do, although I can offer suggestions, Scott will plan each date on his own.

So, without further ado, here’s the first date:

After clearing babysitting detail for Ashleigh with Mom (Cyra had a sleepover at a friend’s house), Scott set our first date for January 10 and wouldn’t tell me anything about it. All day long I wondered and waited for him to get home from work.

Ok, by waited, I mean, I went to a girl scout meeting, ran errands, went to the library, did some laundry, dropped Cyra off at Olivia’s and bought a new pair of jeans that actually fit (in case Scott chose a casual setting).

Scott surprised me with his venue for the night. I figured he’d ease into “datiness” with a return to tried and true dinner and a movie. Instead, he told me when he got home that he wanted to go bowling. Now for those that might laugh, I have developed a great fondness for bowling, especially when it involves disco balls. So I was quite excited. Scott, although he decided on bowling, couldn’t decide where he wanted to go eat and asked for a suggestion. I said, “Well, if we’re bowling, the only logical place to eat is, of course, Steak and Shake.”

And off we went. Steak and Shake was hopping for an early Saturday night, so it took a few minutes to be seated. Once we sat down we began perusing the menu; although really I don’t know why I did, I always get the same thing every time: Turkey melt, cheesy fries, diet coke, and a coffee shake. But Scott needed to browse the items. So while he pondered what triple-decker delight he’d partake in, I watched the goings-on around the restaurant. The servers were moving like elegantly choreographed ballerinas, swooping, dancing, gliding in and around tables, balancing trays filled with bubbly soda and smooth thick shakes. It was a beauty to watch and it struck me then: I miss waitressing.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to quit my nice cushy job that offers benefits and four months off a year, but I honestly think I was a better waitress than I am a teacher. I was good at it, evidenced by my plethora of $20 tips. I could go home and actually leave work at work! It had drawbacks, of course, as every job does, but I was really good at it.

Anyway, back on track, Scott ordered a huge triple-decker “man” burger with oozy cheese, bacon and God knows what other type of meat was thrown on top of the hamburger, fries and coleslaw (eww). Not only did he manage to finish his food, but he ate some of my fries too. He complained that I ruined perfectly good fries with cheese while I argued right back that he ruined perfectly good fries with ketchup!

After dinner, we headed over to Bowl America on Beach Blvd. A dingy little hole in the wall bowling alley, but really? What bowling alley isn’t? We played four games. The first game was spent trying to get the feel for the game again-it had been some time since we’d been bowling. And Scott still totally bowls like Frankenstein’s Monster. Stiff, ungainly, and well, dorky. Scott won by one point in the first game we both came in well under 100. The second game was a bit better for both of us. Scott still beat me and I will claim that I had a ball malfunction. It wasn’t a large victory, only about 5 points, but still, I was getting grouchy with all the losing! Then that blessed time of night came when the lights went out, the disco ball came on and the lanes were lit with black lights-Cosmic Bowling had arrived!!

It was our third game. Scott kept mocking me and my technique. Granted I kept mocking him as well, but still the karma flowed in my favor for the third game. Was it the loud hip hop music that thrummed in our ears? The bright flashing lights that raked across the lanes like UFO’s searching for people to abduct? I might never know, but I do know this, my third game is always my best game!! I trounced Scott with a 20 point victory!! I mocked. I gloated. I danced about in the dark while amused people in the lanes next to us laughed at my childish antics (they then carried on with their own childish antics so I wasn’t the only one!).

Then my joy was deflated like a perfect soufflé that collapses under the intense scrutiny from a judge in a cooking contest. Mayhap it was my selfish gloating, my egotistical narcissism, or the fact that my thumb kept getting stuck in my ball. Who knows, but the last game ushered in my sad defeat. If we are to talk trounced this is the game in which I was trounced. Thoroughly. Completely. Systematically. The difference between the scores is too shameful to even mention. Suffice to say, Scott reined in at well over 100, while I barely hit 70. It was sad.

What wasn’t sad though, was the night! We had a great time. It has been a long, long time since we went out and had that much fun. Alcohol wasn’t even involved at all! I can’t wait to see what he has in mind for February!

The Magic Pot

2009-01-12T22:44:00.000-05:00

For Christmas this year, I asked for and then ordered for myself, a Crock-Pot. An ancient device that allows me to prepare a meal in the morning and by the time I get home, it is all cooked and piping hot! The wonders of technology! For a long time I was nervous about getting a crock-pot, scared even, about what the pot might “do” all by itself all day, unsupervised. In fact, even in the instruction manual, it states: Do not leave the crock-pot unattended. It also states: do not use crock-pot for anything other than its intended use. So, really? I figure like all good corporations fearful of lawsuits, Rival was just trying to cover all its bases.

I decided to try out my crock-pot the day of winter break. I figured that I should do a test run before I let it go off on its own. I scoured though recipe books, the one Scott got me (after he was informed that he was getting me a crock-pot) and my Good House cooking bible and found a lovely chicken meal that called for potatoes, carrots and chicken. Three major food groups in one pot; I was sure it would be magical or at the very least, tasty.

The final product ended up more “chicken stewy” rather than “chicken dinnery.” but all in all it turned out well. The girls both ate their portion and Ashleigh asked for seconds. Scott not only dug into seconds but moved on up to thirds.

My second recipe the next day: meat sauce for pasta. I prepped all the ingredients the night before, pepper, onion, shredded carrots, meat… and popped in my magic pot the next morning. That night when I got home, my house smelled like an Italian restaurant. Even the girls who do not appreciate spaghetti sauce as much as they should ate their dinner.

The final recipe I tried last week was on Wednesday: Hungarian goulash. (After that I did not need to cook again until Sunday with the amount of leftovers and activities over the weekend) While the girls did not dive into this meal, they did eat and I made it clear that with the magic pot in our lives we were going to be introduced to new foods and flavors and they might as well just get over it now otherwise they could go hungry. They seemed ok with that.

Scott summed up the best thing about my crock-pot on Sunday as we sat down to delicious pork tenderloin (not crock-potted). He said, “You know, we’ve sat down to dinner, as a family, four times this week. That’s more than we have in the past month.”

No only does it cook our meals, but it arranges our schedules too!

What can I say? Magic!

An Even Dozen

2009-01-11T22:50:00.001-05:00

On January 2 a sacred ritual is preformed in my house. It involves cake and burning wax, brightly decorated gifts and a loud, off-key rendition of an ancient folk song.

It is, of course, Ashleigh’s birthday. I have instructed her to stop aging, alas, her stubbornness persists and every year she informs me that she is now grown-up. And boy does she act it. At a whopping 12, she is fully involved in pre-teeness, from rolling her eyes, to sassing, to (gulp) being independent.

I couldn’t be more proud.

If I thought the tenth birthday was hard, I couldn’t be more wrong. Compared with twelve, ten was lackluster in evoking my melancholy. I thought with ten it would hit me hard, a double-whammy Ashleigh ten, me thirty. Ten wasn’t so bad. Thirty was no big deal. Ten was like a sweet piece of chocolate dripping with caramel and marshmallow.

This year we celebrated quietly. Ashleigh asked if we could go to Dave & Busters (and arcade/restaurant that is full of fun awesomeness where one can easily drop $200+ without realizing it) on Friday night and unfortunately, right after Christmas is not a good time to go as bank accounts are slightly lower than normal. Instead, Ashleigh accepted a dinner at Red Lobster and a Build-A-Bear.

While Red Lobster is a favorite restaurant of hers and well, mine too, as it has the whole seafood thing going on, I’d have liked to have gone to Joe’s Crab Shack or Mango Mango’s but as it was Ashleigh’s choice, to Red Lobster we went. Ashleigh enjoyed a shrimp fest: shrimp scampi, shrimp linguini and fried shrimp. Cyra had children’s popcorn shrimp while I enjoyed scampi and coconut shrimp. Scott just had a huge plate of coconut shrimp.

Following of side splitting dinner, we went to the mall to build a bear at Build-A-Bear. She chose a fluffy light brown bear and promptly (and aptly) named it Velvet.

On Saturday we had a birthday dinner with my mom and my sister. Steak and potatoes. Yum! I gave Ashleigh her actual birthday presents: new bedding. It doesn’t seem like a lot but if we consider that she hasn’t ever had “matching” anything, she was pretty excited about it.

So that concludes another year. 12. A whole dozen. It really doesn’t seem possible that that much time has passed. And from what I hear (and, of course, what I remember) the hardest years are yet to come!

I'm still here

2009-01-07T21:03:00.000-05:00

It has been a bit since I've posted. Aside from being crazy busy back at work, I found a great many things preoccupying my time. I am currently in the process of getting a few posts written. So, I am still here. Please don't give up on me. And maybe, just maybe, I'll even figure out how to add photos to my posts.

Happy New Year

2009-01-02T12:37:00.000-05:00

So a new year begets a new venture: I’m now blogging.

I tried my hardest to come up with something witty, intelligent or at the very least meaningful to me for my first post yesterday. I drew a blank all day long. I’d start typing and think: Pretentious. I’d talk to my husband and kids hoping that they’d inspire me to write something. Nope.

So here it is the second day of the New Year. 2009. It feels just like 2008 and maybe that’s why I had such a hard time yesterday. I’ve thought about it and I don’t really count my years from January to December. Yes, I know that is technically the correct way but when we were growing up, as kids our years went from September to August. And now that I’m grown and I’m still in school (as a teacher of course) my year still follows that pattern, except that in Florida the school year goes August to June (summer running from the second week of June to the third week of August).

So does it surprise me now that even though I am not a student I still have the student schedule? Not at all. And besides I kind of like it.

One of my dreams? Become a professional student – and really what is a teacher but a student who grew up.