Father's Day

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"

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

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

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

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

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

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.