Chipped a molar last night on a flipping brownie. It is not painful, and this is hardly newsworthy, except I've never even had a cavity. Yup, lived 46 years without a needle in the gums, and I liked it that way.
Until now. I haven't even been to a dentist since ours died of cancer in the Big City. I am certainly jinxed tooth-wise. But even worse, is that son #2 has NEVER been to a dentist, and he is 10. To further complicate matters, hubby needs root canals and partial dentures and has gum disease, and even HE has blown off the dentist for a couple years.
So, based upon a recommendation from my sister, I am going to make appointments for all with a very nice female dentist in the nearby city. We shall take a day off and make it a party. End of dentist rumination.
Now I gotta ruminate on how to end this second in the Thresholds series...I think its length is about right. The problem is, it needs to lead into the third, but I don't know what the third is. Options include:
1. The "and that's another blog" blog. I could fill in the story droplets that I hinted at in the first blook. Stuff like college stories wif my bestest friend Sandita and other "rocking chair" memories that I've accumulated.
2. The story of what happens after I get canned for publishing Thresholds and Other Ruminations. Of course this hasn't happen yet, but very well could. THAT's why I've bookiemarked the first amendment lawyer. Tee Hee.
3. The story of what happens after my school district lays me off, as they have to cut 10% of the budget across the board due to a state mandate.
4. Insert Option 4 here. I have NO idea what is to come in the next few months; that I HAVE learned from the whole fire thing.
All I DO know is that we signed and initialed our fingers until they were raw last week closing on our house mortgage. The good news is that we locked in at 4.3% interest for 15 years. We will own the home by retirement time, which is only 18 or so years away for me, and less for hubby cuz he is three years older.
Back to the tooth, I can now feel the warmness of the coffee I sip INSIDE the tooth. This is going to be interesting to say the least and painful in the most. K. Bye. Roger. Out.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Porch Pontifications
It's well documented that the demise of the front porch has resulted in decaying neighborhoods. Or something like that. People don't hang out on their front porches like they used to, at any rate.
We, on the other hand, hang out on our front porch about twice an hour -- whenever the need for nicotine arises. Yes, we are the people who had our house burn down and now we smoke in full view of the public. I'm sure this has caused more than one townsfolk to judge us, as if we burned our house down on purpose from casual smoking.
As a matter of fact, during the most uncomfortable interview ever, between the Ebil Insurance Company and me, I was asked many questions about the cause of the fire, including:
1. Does our son like to play with fire?
2. Do we smoke?
3. Did we have space heaters plugged in?
4. Did we offer up 4 cats as sacrifices on purpose? (ok, this wasn't an actual question, but it should have been considering the invasive nature of the questions.)
I kept reiterating that according to the fire department, the fire was electrical in nature. So, NO Son #2 does not have a fire fetish, and yes, I smoke but know how to put them out safely. Keep in mind, this was MY own insurance company, trying to establish our liability. I felt like a damn criminal during that interview, and didn't appreciate it in the weeks following the fire.
So, back to the porch. Hubby and I sit and smoke and pontificate about life's finer points: the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the history of the World according to a history teacher (hubby), and the dreams of a manic school teacher (me).
We take turns pontificating, and there is something about the porch that makes our speech safe and thrilling. Any passerby could over hear us talking, but since it's a small town the only passerby is the aforementioned "walking man." If he were to stop and listen, I'm sure he'd run away holding his head in his hand and screaming, "Those people are fucking crazy!"
But we are not crazy, we are simply bleeding heart liberals who are getting more and more conservative with age...we are concerned with World events but feel helpless to change the course of them...we are full of hopes and dreams that remain unfulfilled due to funds and time.
So, townsfolk, next time you drive by and see us smoking on the front porch, know that we are solving world problems in addition to inhaling deeply. We are ruminating about the Thresholds in our own lives still...and wondering how to safely cross them to get to the other side.
We, on the other hand, hang out on our front porch about twice an hour -- whenever the need for nicotine arises. Yes, we are the people who had our house burn down and now we smoke in full view of the public. I'm sure this has caused more than one townsfolk to judge us, as if we burned our house down on purpose from casual smoking.
As a matter of fact, during the most uncomfortable interview ever, between the Ebil Insurance Company and me, I was asked many questions about the cause of the fire, including:
1. Does our son like to play with fire?
2. Do we smoke?
3. Did we have space heaters plugged in?
4. Did we offer up 4 cats as sacrifices on purpose? (ok, this wasn't an actual question, but it should have been considering the invasive nature of the questions.)
I kept reiterating that according to the fire department, the fire was electrical in nature. So, NO Son #2 does not have a fire fetish, and yes, I smoke but know how to put them out safely. Keep in mind, this was MY own insurance company, trying to establish our liability. I felt like a damn criminal during that interview, and didn't appreciate it in the weeks following the fire.
So, back to the porch. Hubby and I sit and smoke and pontificate about life's finer points: the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the history of the World according to a history teacher (hubby), and the dreams of a manic school teacher (me).
We take turns pontificating, and there is something about the porch that makes our speech safe and thrilling. Any passerby could over hear us talking, but since it's a small town the only passerby is the aforementioned "walking man." If he were to stop and listen, I'm sure he'd run away holding his head in his hand and screaming, "Those people are fucking crazy!"
But we are not crazy, we are simply bleeding heart liberals who are getting more and more conservative with age...we are concerned with World events but feel helpless to change the course of them...we are full of hopes and dreams that remain unfulfilled due to funds and time.
So, townsfolk, next time you drive by and see us smoking on the front porch, know that we are solving world problems in addition to inhaling deeply. We are ruminating about the Thresholds in our own lives still...and wondering how to safely cross them to get to the other side.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Further Proof...
...that I have learned, Steakboy old chap.
Made this business card with Photoshop CS3 on my HP laptop.
Now, we wait and see what happens. And in the meantime, I live life to the fullest, only pausing to bitch occasionally at life's ironies, like PMS.
OK. That's a crock of shit. I made this and I'm going to make it better. My nephew suggested making the fingernails red, so Ima try that for the final version once Thresholds and Other Ruminations comes out.
I'm blogging late; I've been abusing caffeine all day long. Everybody is in bed, and I'm rearing to go. UH OH. Oh well, I can sleep in tomorrow for sure. If you count waking up at 4:30 and then 6 sleeping in.
Further proof...that I'm getting too damn old for this.
Pages! I need pages...
This is the cry of the journalism adviser on deadline night. Well, at least it's my cry. I often channel Jackie Gleason as I scream it in the computer lab around 7 PM: "PAGES! I need pages...."
It's the signal to the student editors to quit MESSING around and get done with their first drafts of the inDesign pages so we can edit them with our ready red pens. Their messing around is actually called "multi-tasking" these days. Kids can do it much better than adults, so we often yell at them when they have their music and social networking sites open WHILE they work on the newspaper/yearbook. But I try to focus them in spite of their diversions; i work WITH them on their addictions/fetishes and manage to get some decent journalism out of them.
For example, there is Laken. We met her last as an underclassmen with promise of being an editor. She met that expectation and more, but the way she operates is typical and frustrating. She was editor-in-chief last year, and she's more like an adviser this year because she is graduating mid-year. She writes like a professional feature writer; a bit lengthy and wordy at times for journalism, but it works.
AND SHE is perpetually on her iPhone, even though I have a no phones rule. She also is frequently seen playing a damn balloon-popping game on addictinggames.com. When does she work? I'm not sure, but her stories are always done on time and she puts together the front page of the paper and she massages all pages before we put the paper to bed. WHEW.
Multiply this times 15 computers and 20 kids and you have a glimpse into my world. They are all doing crap that they shouldn't be doing. Jedi was a master at this also back in my early days. He never looked on task, but always got shit done. Same with Pi. But not Steakboy -- he worked always and only paused when the other boys distracted him. His graphics are legendary now; as well as his "Brain" and his stylebook.
Why am I thinking of deadline night on this Saturday morning? It's coming up in a week, and OMG, I just realized as I typed this that I'm double booked....it's parent conferences AND deadline night on Oct. 27. SHIT. Oh well, they can stay in the lab and mess around while i am in the classroom schmoozing with the parental units.
And I'm thinking about this because I am more behind than I care to think about with paper work, again. I can't focus on it; haven't been able to for a month now.
Pages, I need pages.....
It's the signal to the student editors to quit MESSING around and get done with their first drafts of the inDesign pages so we can edit them with our ready red pens. Their messing around is actually called "multi-tasking" these days. Kids can do it much better than adults, so we often yell at them when they have their music and social networking sites open WHILE they work on the newspaper/yearbook. But I try to focus them in spite of their diversions; i work WITH them on their addictions/fetishes and manage to get some decent journalism out of them.
For example, there is Laken. We met her last as an underclassmen with promise of being an editor. She met that expectation and more, but the way she operates is typical and frustrating. She was editor-in-chief last year, and she's more like an adviser this year because she is graduating mid-year. She writes like a professional feature writer; a bit lengthy and wordy at times for journalism, but it works.
AND SHE is perpetually on her iPhone, even though I have a no phones rule. She also is frequently seen playing a damn balloon-popping game on addictinggames.com. When does she work? I'm not sure, but her stories are always done on time and she puts together the front page of the paper and she massages all pages before we put the paper to bed. WHEW.
Multiply this times 15 computers and 20 kids and you have a glimpse into my world. They are all doing crap that they shouldn't be doing. Jedi was a master at this also back in my early days. He never looked on task, but always got shit done. Same with Pi. But not Steakboy -- he worked always and only paused when the other boys distracted him. His graphics are legendary now; as well as his "Brain" and his stylebook.
Why am I thinking of deadline night on this Saturday morning? It's coming up in a week, and OMG, I just realized as I typed this that I'm double booked....it's parent conferences AND deadline night on Oct. 27. SHIT. Oh well, they can stay in the lab and mess around while i am in the classroom schmoozing with the parental units.
And I'm thinking about this because I am more behind than I care to think about with paper work, again. I can't focus on it; haven't been able to for a month now.
Pages, I need pages.....
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Not Gonna Do It
My school district is spending gagillions of dollars on a university-sponsored professional development sequence. And I like it. Yes, I said I like it. I'm not one of those old teachers who balks at professional development no matter what it is. I am a picky old broad who only balks at 90% of staff inservices.
So, this current "content enhancement" push falls into the 10% of times when I learn something I can immediately and enthusiastically apply to my classroom. We are finally getting away from theories and moving on to teaching strategies that I can sink my teeth into. I even worked on the weekend to make lesson plans based on the new tools, AND invited my principal in to evaluate me on its implementation on the Monday after the training. Now, I'm teaching my husband how to manipulate the technology necessary to do it properly. I am now an official Content Enhancement Whore.
That's why it pisses me off when I hear reports of other teachers who are, "not gonna do it." I heard a report through a student of Teacher I (for ignorant) actually telling the kids that he wasn't gonna do it because the way he teaches, kids learn, but the way they want him to teach is too confusing.
What a crock of shit. Teacher I just doesn't understand how these techniques could STRENGTHEN his curriculum; and he doesn't understand how the hell THEY WORK. I wanted to rat him out to the principal so badly, but I didn't because that would make ME look bad somehow.
Squeaky wheels don't get the grease in education; they get the axe. So, I shall continue to whore it up and teach the shit out of the kiddies. By the way, my evaluation went smashingly and it looks like I may even have a job in spite of the 10% spending cut our State is facing, and in spite of the fact that I'm about to publish a very controversial blook.
Stoopid or not? Time will tell.
So, this current "content enhancement" push falls into the 10% of times when I learn something I can immediately and enthusiastically apply to my classroom. We are finally getting away from theories and moving on to teaching strategies that I can sink my teeth into. I even worked on the weekend to make lesson plans based on the new tools, AND invited my principal in to evaluate me on its implementation on the Monday after the training. Now, I'm teaching my husband how to manipulate the technology necessary to do it properly. I am now an official Content Enhancement Whore.
That's why it pisses me off when I hear reports of other teachers who are, "not gonna do it." I heard a report through a student of Teacher I (for ignorant) actually telling the kids that he wasn't gonna do it because the way he teaches, kids learn, but the way they want him to teach is too confusing.
What a crock of shit. Teacher I just doesn't understand how these techniques could STRENGTHEN his curriculum; and he doesn't understand how the hell THEY WORK. I wanted to rat him out to the principal so badly, but I didn't because that would make ME look bad somehow.
Squeaky wheels don't get the grease in education; they get the axe. So, I shall continue to whore it up and teach the shit out of the kiddies. By the way, my evaluation went smashingly and it looks like I may even have a job in spite of the 10% spending cut our State is facing, and in spite of the fact that I'm about to publish a very controversial blook.
Stoopid or not? Time will tell.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
It's a BIG 10-4
That's right, it's the anniversary of my birth, my hubby's birth and our wedding. We have one big celebration a year, and we never forget it.
Hubby is 3 years older than me, but we were born on the same day -- further proof that we are soul mates. Can't remember if I've ruminated on this before in Thresholds I or this, the sequel, but mah hubby and I have a huge connection in and out of the bedroom, and it's made for an interesting 11 years to say the least. My friends don't wanna hear how good I got it; it's THAT good.
Today will be full of family and food (alliteration unintended.) Probably won't see Son #1, but might tempt him with a japanese dinner after he gets off work. Son #2 isn't up, and whaddya know, it's 10:04 AM. I'm overdue to start cooking a few dishes to bring to our birthday potluck I orchestrated to avoid going to my hubby's family. Long story there. Might be a whole other blog.
Birthdays are overrated as you age, fer sure. I'm just one year closer to 50, which blows my mind. Fifty-year olds are OLD. I mean old.
Anyway, I'm off like a dirty shirt, to celebrate a Big 10-4.
Hubby is 3 years older than me, but we were born on the same day -- further proof that we are soul mates. Can't remember if I've ruminated on this before in Thresholds I or this, the sequel, but mah hubby and I have a huge connection in and out of the bedroom, and it's made for an interesting 11 years to say the least. My friends don't wanna hear how good I got it; it's THAT good.
Today will be full of family and food (alliteration unintended.) Probably won't see Son #1, but might tempt him with a japanese dinner after he gets off work. Son #2 isn't up, and whaddya know, it's 10:04 AM. I'm overdue to start cooking a few dishes to bring to our birthday potluck I orchestrated to avoid going to my hubby's family. Long story there. Might be a whole other blog.
Birthdays are overrated as you age, fer sure. I'm just one year closer to 50, which blows my mind. Fifty-year olds are OLD. I mean old.
Anyway, I'm off like a dirty shirt, to celebrate a Big 10-4.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Braydon
Meet Braydon: yearbook geek of the decade.
Well, of the past three full years and to the end of first semester, at least. Braydon took photojournalism as a freshman, then joined the yearbook as a sophomore. He currently is a fifth-year senior. We know each other well.
To start, every year I give out silly awards and Braydon wins the "Best at Hovering" award. Everytime I freaking turn around, THERE he is. This wouldn't be so bad, but to be blunt: he has personal hygiene issues. He is a stinky boy some days.
Add to this his overall "nerdy" attire and his poor economic home situation, and you have one helluva kid. He is a computer whiz, although he has to keep his together with duct tape at home, it seems. He's always cobbing together a working machine from crap. He also glommed onto our online yearbook software like a pro; and he teaches the staff like Pi used to -- not very well. Braydon is actually a little better than Pi, but social skills aren't either of their forte's. Plus, they both stunk up the computer lab on certain days.
I need to talk to Braydon about his stench. He is in my room like 3 hours a day, and Friday he really stunk up the joint to the point where other kids were commenting on the smell of the lab. He's a sweetheart; so this won't be easy.
Especially since he's now done all my work on the ladder for yearbook. Over the summer, he assigned pages and reduced the book 4 pages, which helped. Then, on Saturday he assigned all the people and deadline dates AND wrote up a document splitting all the deadlines in an easy-to-print format for grading and such. He's going to split it up by people, also, so we know who is supposed to be just sitting around.
So, I praised him online yesterday in an e-mail and a private instant message on gmail. I've given him the title of co-Adviser also, with Adviser privileges online. Now I'll give him a lecture about washing his ass, and everything will be peachy keen.
Another example of the glamorous life of a public school teacher, plus another example of how diverse the kids I love appear to be, but how they really are all the same. All they need is a laugh and some gentle guidance, and they will bark like puppies for you.
So hover away, Braydon. You've learned my job very well by hovering for 4 years. You're gonna make me look good once again, and I love you for it.
Well, of the past three full years and to the end of first semester, at least. Braydon took photojournalism as a freshman, then joined the yearbook as a sophomore. He currently is a fifth-year senior. We know each other well.
To start, every year I give out silly awards and Braydon wins the "Best at Hovering" award. Everytime I freaking turn around, THERE he is. This wouldn't be so bad, but to be blunt: he has personal hygiene issues. He is a stinky boy some days.
Add to this his overall "nerdy" attire and his poor economic home situation, and you have one helluva kid. He is a computer whiz, although he has to keep his together with duct tape at home, it seems. He's always cobbing together a working machine from crap. He also glommed onto our online yearbook software like a pro; and he teaches the staff like Pi used to -- not very well. Braydon is actually a little better than Pi, but social skills aren't either of their forte's. Plus, they both stunk up the computer lab on certain days.
I need to talk to Braydon about his stench. He is in my room like 3 hours a day, and Friday he really stunk up the joint to the point where other kids were commenting on the smell of the lab. He's a sweetheart; so this won't be easy.
Especially since he's now done all my work on the ladder for yearbook. Over the summer, he assigned pages and reduced the book 4 pages, which helped. Then, on Saturday he assigned all the people and deadline dates AND wrote up a document splitting all the deadlines in an easy-to-print format for grading and such. He's going to split it up by people, also, so we know who is supposed to be just sitting around.
So, I praised him online yesterday in an e-mail and a private instant message on gmail. I've given him the title of co-Adviser also, with Adviser privileges online. Now I'll give him a lecture about washing his ass, and everything will be peachy keen.
Another example of the glamorous life of a public school teacher, plus another example of how diverse the kids I love appear to be, but how they really are all the same. All they need is a laugh and some gentle guidance, and they will bark like puppies for you.
So hover away, Braydon. You've learned my job very well by hovering for 4 years. You're gonna make me look good once again, and I love you for it.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Friday Morning Musings
Why is it so much easier to wake up on Fridays?
Is it because the weekend looms large? Is it because of some magical aura that surrounds the day? Whatever the reason, I'm DAMN glad it is Friday today.
This week has been productive -- or I've been productive. I've organized my classes well and they are operating like a smoothly oiled machine. (Exception: the study hall from hell last hour. I had to actually yell on Wednesday when they were acting like animals instead of young adults.)
The yearbook is supposed to be delivered this week, but I haven't seen it yet. It better get here by next Friday, which is Homecoming, so I can get rid of the last years' seniors books while they are back visiting. I pray we didn't make any huge errors, like "pubic school" instead of "public school" or a cutline identifying the wrong student in a photo.
Of course, I won't hear anything positive about the book, I only get the negative. Last year I got a nasty call from a freshman cheerleader's parent about why they aren't in the book. Well, we have a policy that we only cover Varsity sports, which didn't go over well with the parent because "those freshman cheerleaders work their rear ends off." Sigh.
I work my rear end off and I only get bitched at. Kids go out of their way to point out the errors in the book, but where is the love?
Anyhoo, Fridays rock and I shall survive. Time to get my ass in the shower, or I'll be late to school, which at this point, can get me fired. I'm just one false move away from the unemployment line since my "censored" incident last year -- it's in my permanent record and everything.
Maybe it was easy to wake up today because I passed out around 7:30 PM last night. AHhhhhhh, the glorious life of a "pubic" school teacher.
Is it because the weekend looms large? Is it because of some magical aura that surrounds the day? Whatever the reason, I'm DAMN glad it is Friday today.
This week has been productive -- or I've been productive. I've organized my classes well and they are operating like a smoothly oiled machine. (Exception: the study hall from hell last hour. I had to actually yell on Wednesday when they were acting like animals instead of young adults.)
The yearbook is supposed to be delivered this week, but I haven't seen it yet. It better get here by next Friday, which is Homecoming, so I can get rid of the last years' seniors books while they are back visiting. I pray we didn't make any huge errors, like "pubic school" instead of "public school" or a cutline identifying the wrong student in a photo.
Of course, I won't hear anything positive about the book, I only get the negative. Last year I got a nasty call from a freshman cheerleader's parent about why they aren't in the book. Well, we have a policy that we only cover Varsity sports, which didn't go over well with the parent because "those freshman cheerleaders work their rear ends off." Sigh.
I work my rear end off and I only get bitched at. Kids go out of their way to point out the errors in the book, but where is the love?
Anyhoo, Fridays rock and I shall survive. Time to get my ass in the shower, or I'll be late to school, which at this point, can get me fired. I'm just one false move away from the unemployment line since my "censored" incident last year -- it's in my permanent record and everything.
Maybe it was easy to wake up today because I passed out around 7:30 PM last night. AHhhhhhh, the glorious life of a "pubic" school teacher.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
School Year Update
In true retrospective style, I will fill the reader in on the first three weeks of school.
I ROCK.
My students also rock. I feel like I know my shit now. AND IT FEELS GOOD.
Hope this isn't more foreshadowing, because I just, not 30 minutes ago, burned the final copy of my book for the publisher. I have the first amendment lawyer in my corner, or in my bookmarks, so I can get proper representation as a citizen of this country.
I keep wondering how this second in the Thresholds series is going to end, also. It's like my department chair said -- I am playing with fire. But dammit, this is me. This is my life. And since the fire I'm not letting life pass me by. I am participating in it fully.
And this means getting out the creative aspect of my twisted persona. Maybe my story will inspire other teachers to try to excel in the midst of chaos. Maybe my story will touch one other person who hasn't been able to label their depression. Maybe the damn thing will make one person laugh.
Anyway, in spite of the fact that I don't have HUGE stars this year like Steakboy, Jedi and Pi, I do have kids with motivation and talent. I've trained these new editors, and they know their stuff well -- as a team they can function and produce and I'm not worried this year much.
I still will lose money in yearbook, and Mike will have to bail me out. I still will be selling chocolate instead of surviving only on ads in newspaper. But I have a bounce in my step and an appreciation of my colleagues and students. Couldn't ask for more.
I ROCK.
My students also rock. I feel like I know my shit now. AND IT FEELS GOOD.
Hope this isn't more foreshadowing, because I just, not 30 minutes ago, burned the final copy of my book for the publisher. I have the first amendment lawyer in my corner, or in my bookmarks, so I can get proper representation as a citizen of this country.
I keep wondering how this second in the Thresholds series is going to end, also. It's like my department chair said -- I am playing with fire. But dammit, this is me. This is my life. And since the fire I'm not letting life pass me by. I am participating in it fully.
And this means getting out the creative aspect of my twisted persona. Maybe my story will inspire other teachers to try to excel in the midst of chaos. Maybe my story will touch one other person who hasn't been able to label their depression. Maybe the damn thing will make one person laugh.
Anyway, in spite of the fact that I don't have HUGE stars this year like Steakboy, Jedi and Pi, I do have kids with motivation and talent. I've trained these new editors, and they know their stuff well -- as a team they can function and produce and I'm not worried this year much.
I still will lose money in yearbook, and Mike will have to bail me out. I still will be selling chocolate instead of surviving only on ads in newspaper. But I have a bounce in my step and an appreciation of my colleagues and students. Couldn't ask for more.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Poop Diet Results
Well, after taking these Acai berry pills for 3/4 of a month, I'm happy to report that I broke even.
It was serious hell. The shits you get with the colon cleanse AND the acai berry combination are unbelievable. Runny and gross -- especially when combined with female problems on top of it. NOT a pretty sight, and I'll censor the rest of this description right here.
But, I lost 15 lbs. It was a miracle. We had our family portrait taken when I was at my lowest, which was fortuitous. THEN, just as miraculously, I gained it all but 4 lbs. back. I got stuck in this vicious cycle: starve myself all day because the pills truly take away your appetite. Normally, I don't eat until noon, so I'd take the pills 30 minutes before lunch, and then barely eat anything.
Come supper-time (yes, I'm from the sticks) I'm not hungry still, and take the second set of pills for the day. But around bed-time you are ravenously hungry and that's when I would munch. It does take away your cravings for carbs, but I would find myself choking them down somehow.
Anyway. Fast forward three weeks, and the scale suddenly jumps up. It's like once the colon was cleansed, the weight just started to pack on even though I felt starvation all day long.
So I said fuck the pills, and just went back to normal. I've maintained this -4 pound differential for a week or so, so at least I'm not gaining the full 15 back again. I blame it on being peri-menopausal; I've been having symptoms of that.
Fun shit. LOL. I accidentally made a punny.
It was serious hell. The shits you get with the colon cleanse AND the acai berry combination are unbelievable. Runny and gross -- especially when combined with female problems on top of it. NOT a pretty sight, and I'll censor the rest of this description right here.
But, I lost 15 lbs. It was a miracle. We had our family portrait taken when I was at my lowest, which was fortuitous. THEN, just as miraculously, I gained it all but 4 lbs. back. I got stuck in this vicious cycle: starve myself all day because the pills truly take away your appetite. Normally, I don't eat until noon, so I'd take the pills 30 minutes before lunch, and then barely eat anything.
Come supper-time (yes, I'm from the sticks) I'm not hungry still, and take the second set of pills for the day. But around bed-time you are ravenously hungry and that's when I would munch. It does take away your cravings for carbs, but I would find myself choking them down somehow.
Anyway. Fast forward three weeks, and the scale suddenly jumps up. It's like once the colon was cleansed, the weight just started to pack on even though I felt starvation all day long.
So I said fuck the pills, and just went back to normal. I've maintained this -4 pound differential for a week or so, so at least I'm not gaining the full 15 back again. I blame it on being peri-menopausal; I've been having symptoms of that.
Fun shit. LOL. I accidentally made a punny.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Reminiscing
Been reading the first Thresholds as I prepare it for publication, and it's fun to take a trip down memory lane. But I'm concerned that I have strayed a bit from my initial goals.
At first, this blog was about my failed attempts to teach journalism to some very bright students. I wanted to capture my angst as I tried to learn those programs-that-shall-not-be named...I wanted to show how public education in my world is as much about sex, drugs and rock-n-roll as it is about classroom management. I wanted to paint a picture of this innocent school in the Heartland of the USA that made your eyes pop out of your head and your ears scream.
But in this second blook, I have strayed from the original mission. I have had to process this thing called life: perhaps I have grown up or at least am attempting to do so. That silly fire has turned everything upside down.
Oh well, I go back to work in one week from tomorrow, so this blog shall most likely get back on track. But I kinda like the diversion of the last 6 months, to tell the truth. I think it shows that Delani has depth of character...or that she has really good brain drugs.
Drum roll please.....school year #5 is about to start. Will my new technology arrive before school starts? Will my class sizes have reduced to match my available technology? Will my classes control me or will I finally learn to be the head mother fucker in charge?
Well, one thing hasn't changed. I still can curse like a truck driver, as my mother used to tell me. Sounds like shit and doesn't do a damn bit of good. But it's real, at least. People talk like this in my world, how about yours?
At first, this blog was about my failed attempts to teach journalism to some very bright students. I wanted to capture my angst as I tried to learn those programs-that-shall-not-be named...I wanted to show how public education in my world is as much about sex, drugs and rock-n-roll as it is about classroom management. I wanted to paint a picture of this innocent school in the Heartland of the USA that made your eyes pop out of your head and your ears scream.
But in this second blook, I have strayed from the original mission. I have had to process this thing called life: perhaps I have grown up or at least am attempting to do so. That silly fire has turned everything upside down.
Oh well, I go back to work in one week from tomorrow, so this blog shall most likely get back on track. But I kinda like the diversion of the last 6 months, to tell the truth. I think it shows that Delani has depth of character...or that she has really good brain drugs.
Drum roll please.....school year #5 is about to start. Will my new technology arrive before school starts? Will my class sizes have reduced to match my available technology? Will my classes control me or will I finally learn to be the head mother fucker in charge?
Well, one thing hasn't changed. I still can curse like a truck driver, as my mother used to tell me. Sounds like shit and doesn't do a damn bit of good. But it's real, at least. People talk like this in my world, how about yours?
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Dreams
I've been having a sort of recurring theme in my dreams over the past few months. Either I'm at work, like some twisted workplace that reminds me of former jobs, or I'm at a huge talent show where I'm either performing or watching. But what is strange is that I am always lugging around a bunch of junk: my purse, which perpetually gets lost, or boxes of clothes and other personal belongings -- and I always lose everything. I can't find my car half the time in the big city that is always involved, and my purse is never with me.
It just hit me that this might be angst from the fire. Both my husband and I have been very emotional lately, and we cry easily now. We didn't cry over the fire immediately, but maybe that dissociation is finally wearing off and we are now FEELING.
It makes sense that I keep losing everything in my dreams -- I DID lose everything a few months ago. I feel frustrated in the dream, and I wake up in a cold sweat (well, that could be peri-menopausal) and all wound up. Last night, I went to bed at 9 PM because the boys were out camping. I woke up at 12:00 and 2:00 and 5:30 -- finally sleeping a bit more until 7 AM.
So, what is my psyche trying to tell me about my future? Or is it just ruminating on the past? I need a sign, dammit -- just like when I had to get my red light adjusted on the car because it wasn't giving me proper warning when I was about to run out of gas.
Oh well, it's not like I'm getting murdered or murdering other people in them, so I got THAT going for me. I'm not falling off of the building and landing SPLAT on the ground, so I also got that going for me. But why the obsession on stuff? Why do I always lose my purse? Maybe it's because my Elvis purse was my only possession after the fire, and I did buy a larger one shortly after so I could carry more stuff in it. Hmmmmmmmm.
If anyone can help me figure out my twisted brain waves, please give me a shout-out.
Until then, happy dreams!
It just hit me that this might be angst from the fire. Both my husband and I have been very emotional lately, and we cry easily now. We didn't cry over the fire immediately, but maybe that dissociation is finally wearing off and we are now FEELING.
It makes sense that I keep losing everything in my dreams -- I DID lose everything a few months ago. I feel frustrated in the dream, and I wake up in a cold sweat (well, that could be peri-menopausal) and all wound up. Last night, I went to bed at 9 PM because the boys were out camping. I woke up at 12:00 and 2:00 and 5:30 -- finally sleeping a bit more until 7 AM.
So, what is my psyche trying to tell me about my future? Or is it just ruminating on the past? I need a sign, dammit -- just like when I had to get my red light adjusted on the car because it wasn't giving me proper warning when I was about to run out of gas.
Oh well, it's not like I'm getting murdered or murdering other people in them, so I got THAT going for me. I'm not falling off of the building and landing SPLAT on the ground, so I also got that going for me. But why the obsession on stuff? Why do I always lose my purse? Maybe it's because my Elvis purse was my only possession after the fire, and I did buy a larger one shortly after so I could carry more stuff in it. Hmmmmmmmm.
If anyone can help me figure out my twisted brain waves, please give me a shout-out.
Until then, happy dreams!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Legends and Harleys
I live in a very small town in the Midwest: under 1,000 people. We have to go to the post office to get our mail, and there is one small grocery store in town. We love it, after living in the capital city for years....our son has the run of the town and we have peace of mind.
But our town gets invaded weekly for "bike night" where the Harleys rumble into town and park downtown. We have live bands every Wednesday night for it, and we can sit on our front porch and jam out. This phenomenon has taken over the Midwest actually -- there are a dozen or so such bike nights in the area that last throughout the summer. Nothing like the roar of an American-made motorcycle to get your innards scrambled.
Last night was a bit different, however. We had a huge bike ride from a nearby town that ended here at the local bar, with several bands playing. The headliner was fucking Edgar Winter...that's right, the albino blues legend himself. Right here in small-town USA. We just walked the two blocks to the bar, walked right in and up front to the stage. We took both our sons and a couple friends, and we jammed the night away. From "Frankenstein" to "Free Ride", this man rocked our socks right off. He was the first to strap on a keyboard, and even played a couple songs with his brother Johnny at freaking Woodstock.
So, after I pooped out my Acai berry, I slept like a baby last night, with visions of a white-haired virtuoso dancing in my head. Of course, the thunderous sound of the Harleys is always in the background -- and my hips still feel the swing of the blues.
AHhhhhhhhhhhh, summer is so good for the soul. It purges old memories and washes the senses with sunshine and rainbows. What fire? What school? What responsibilities?
Think I'll bottle this feeling up and store it away for winter like a squirrell. My cheeks are full of nuts right now and I like it.
But our town gets invaded weekly for "bike night" where the Harleys rumble into town and park downtown. We have live bands every Wednesday night for it, and we can sit on our front porch and jam out. This phenomenon has taken over the Midwest actually -- there are a dozen or so such bike nights in the area that last throughout the summer. Nothing like the roar of an American-made motorcycle to get your innards scrambled.
Last night was a bit different, however. We had a huge bike ride from a nearby town that ended here at the local bar, with several bands playing. The headliner was fucking Edgar Winter...that's right, the albino blues legend himself. Right here in small-town USA. We just walked the two blocks to the bar, walked right in and up front to the stage. We took both our sons and a couple friends, and we jammed the night away. From "Frankenstein" to "Free Ride", this man rocked our socks right off. He was the first to strap on a keyboard, and even played a couple songs with his brother Johnny at freaking Woodstock.
So, after I pooped out my Acai berry, I slept like a baby last night, with visions of a white-haired virtuoso dancing in my head. Of course, the thunderous sound of the Harleys is always in the background -- and my hips still feel the swing of the blues.
AHhhhhhhhhhhh, summer is so good for the soul. It purges old memories and washes the senses with sunshine and rainbows. What fire? What school? What responsibilities?
Think I'll bottle this feeling up and store it away for winter like a squirrell. My cheeks are full of nuts right now and I like it.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Lawyers, Guns and Money
Sing it like Warren Zevon....
Lawyers: I need a high powered lawyer experienced in the First Amendment if I'm gonna take on THE MAN.
Guns: Last night, Perry, my brother-in-law, decided to shoot a bird in the back of the head for no good reason. Earlier that day, my mother sent me an email with a bunch of scare tactics about gun control. Good thing the average citizen can have a gun to shoot innocent wildlife.
Money: We are officially out of money from the insurance company. I have successfully spent every last dime from the comfort of my own home. Click the button and the UPS man miraculously shows up within a few days.
So that's the update, except for the part I am really getting excited about: the part where I get my own author's paradise office above the garage...I already have it decorated in my mind with celestial themed knick-knacks and bean bag chairs and sheets hanging from the ceiling. THIS will be where I create my future. I love public education, but I think my days are numbered simply because I am too "out there."
At least I don't murder innocent things for sport. I got THAT going for me.
Lawyers: I need a high powered lawyer experienced in the First Amendment if I'm gonna take on THE MAN.
Guns: Last night, Perry, my brother-in-law, decided to shoot a bird in the back of the head for no good reason. Earlier that day, my mother sent me an email with a bunch of scare tactics about gun control. Good thing the average citizen can have a gun to shoot innocent wildlife.
Money: We are officially out of money from the insurance company. I have successfully spent every last dime from the comfort of my own home. Click the button and the UPS man miraculously shows up within a few days.
So that's the update, except for the part I am really getting excited about: the part where I get my own author's paradise office above the garage...I already have it decorated in my mind with celestial themed knick-knacks and bean bag chairs and sheets hanging from the ceiling. THIS will be where I create my future. I love public education, but I think my days are numbered simply because I am too "out there."
At least I don't murder innocent things for sport. I got THAT going for me.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Poop Diet
First things first. I need an author's mug shot for my book, so we are going to get our family portrait taken in two weeks and I'll have him shoot a creative photo of me also. So, I need to lose weight fast, so I have one chin instead of two for the pictures.
Enter the Acai berry craze. Everyone from Oprah to me is hopping on the poop diet bandwagon to lose those unwanted pounds. Combine the Acai berry pills with a colon cleanse pill, and you got double the pleasure.
So we started it two days ago, and I report a slight increase in energy and a radical increase in poop and farts. NOBODY talks about this, although a colon cleanse implies poop. They say we are carrying around an extra 10 to 15 pounds in waste around our colons from past meals. So I say bring on the expensive pills...
Probably should have run this by my shrink; there is probably some negative reaction between the Acai berry and anti-depressants. Oh well, I enjoy a good up period in the bi-polar scale and haven't really had one since I started teaching in 05-06. Isn't that what summers are for?
Enter the Acai berry craze. Everyone from Oprah to me is hopping on the poop diet bandwagon to lose those unwanted pounds. Combine the Acai berry pills with a colon cleanse pill, and you got double the pleasure.
So we started it two days ago, and I report a slight increase in energy and a radical increase in poop and farts. NOBODY talks about this, although a colon cleanse implies poop. They say we are carrying around an extra 10 to 15 pounds in waste around our colons from past meals. So I say bring on the expensive pills...
Probably should have run this by my shrink; there is probably some negative reaction between the Acai berry and anti-depressants. Oh well, I enjoy a good up period in the bi-polar scale and haven't really had one since I started teaching in 05-06. Isn't that what summers are for?
Monday, July 13, 2009
Inspiration and Motivation
I have decided that I have a few goals. I thought my goal was to become Dr. Ruth all along, in the back of my mind. But I have now let it come forth, and my hubby supports it. I am going to get fired fer sure for publishing the first Thresholds, so after I lose in court, because I will get a lawyer, I will enroll in the grad school of my dreams. I will become Dr. Bleu, Sexologist, and spread the love.
These goals are easy when it is summer and you are a teacher. Seriously. It's fun to lose track of the days, as my Principal orders us to do, and it's fun to have time to reflect. We don't have time to simply reflect on past decisions and to dream of the future.
I have been inspired. Now will I have the motivation to follow through?
These goals are easy when it is summer and you are a teacher. Seriously. It's fun to lose track of the days, as my Principal orders us to do, and it's fun to have time to reflect. We don't have time to simply reflect on past decisions and to dream of the future.
I have been inspired. Now will I have the motivation to follow through?
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Book is to Bed...
...as we say in the journalism field when the final pages of the yearbook get submitted. Kiwi submitted the final batch at 2:20 today, and then we cranked up "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang really loudly and danced around the empty classroom.
I've never had this feeling before: the feeling of closure. In the past 3 years, I've never gotten done on time. EVER. As the faithful reader will remember, I got done in October my first year, in September my second, and in November my third. So, Hallelujah, Amen...I have a full 5 1/2 weeks to look forward to being slovenly.
Slovenly. Dictionary definition is:
OH YEAH. I think I'll shower every third or fourth day, and spend all day social networking until I drop. Plus, I'm working on the finishing touches of Thresholds: and Other Ruminations for the publisher. I have to figure out how to include images, since all my original 300 dpi photos got burned up in the fire. I have them at 72 dpi, but if I crank them up to 300, they turn into little tiny 1 inch photos.
I need to PAUSE, and stop and realize how much I've learned. Enjoy this moment for awhile, and not look to the future and start obsessing about next year already. Take my anti-depressant cocktail and float through the rest of the summer.
Why? Because I am a sloven, and I am a public school teacher. Other teachers have summer jobs and summer goals, but since we are in our lovely house and we are done done done with the 2009 yearbook, I think I'll just chill.
Thank you, Kiwi, for 4 wonderful years. . . you've been there baby, every step of the way. You have a bright future ahead, and I'm pleased to have known you on your journey.
I've never had this feeling before: the feeling of closure. In the past 3 years, I've never gotten done on time. EVER. As the faithful reader will remember, I got done in October my first year, in September my second, and in November my third. So, Hallelujah, Amen...I have a full 5 1/2 weeks to look forward to being slovenly.
Slovenly. Dictionary definition is:
- Main Entry:
- slov·en·ly
- Pronunciation:
- \ˈslə-vən-lē also ˈslä-\
- Function:
- adjective
- Date:
- circa 1568
1 a: untidy especially in personal appearance b: lazily slipshod <slovenly in thought>2: characteristic of a sloven <slovenly habits>
— slo·ven·li·ness noun
— slovenly adverb
OH YEAH. I think I'll shower every third or fourth day, and spend all day social networking until I drop. Plus, I'm working on the finishing touches of Thresholds: and Other Ruminations for the publisher. I have to figure out how to include images, since all my original 300 dpi photos got burned up in the fire. I have them at 72 dpi, but if I crank them up to 300, they turn into little tiny 1 inch photos.
I need to PAUSE, and stop and realize how much I've learned. Enjoy this moment for awhile, and not look to the future and start obsessing about next year already. Take my anti-depressant cocktail and float through the rest of the summer.
Why? Because I am a sloven, and I am a public school teacher. Other teachers have summer jobs and summer goals, but since we are in our lovely house and we are done done done with the 2009 yearbook, I think I'll just chill.
Thank you, Kiwi, for 4 wonderful years. . . you've been there baby, every step of the way. You have a bright future ahead, and I'm pleased to have known you on your journey.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Grrrrrrlfriends
Met with some high school girlfriends last night, and had a luffly time at an old watering hole in the big city. This isn't a big deal for most people, but you see, I am allergic to women. I've always had one or two close girlfriends, and then a slew of male friends. I'm not comfortable with women topics much, like Oprah's Book Club, or which make-up covers up blemishes best, or what shoes to wear with white pants.
I'm much more comfortable saddling up to the TV and watching a good old-fashioned American football game. I know my first down from my P.A.T...and I know when the other team is cheating.
But back to last evening. We sat out on the patio on a cool evening and chatted from 5:30 to 9:00 p.m. We discussed our lives; each giving a report on what's been up since 1986, when we all graduated from college and lost touch. I had a fun tale to tell: got married at 25, had a kid at 28, got divorced at 31, got depressed, got drugs, had a variety of jobs, and ended with being happily married to a wonderful man for ten years.
They wanted to know all about the fire, so I waxed philosophical of the life lessons I think I've learned in the past 5 months. To sum:
1. Shit doesn't matter much, but shit matters greatly.
2. Life is more important than stuff.
3. It's humbling to be on the receiving end of charity.
4. BACK UP your pictures and music and anything that you value, and put it in a safety deposit box.
5. Dissociation is a very comfortable place to be.
So, my grrrlfriends all had life lessons and interesting stories and we had many giggles. Val has the best belly laugh, Terri has the best smile, and Jayne is still the Homecoming Queen in my book. I'd rather have a fire than to go through chemo and radiation due to breast cancer, like Terri, fer sure. I'd rather have a fire than join the Peace Corps (twice) and fight the bugs and sexism in Papua New Guinea like Val.
Time to turn on the TV and catch a Cubbies baseball game.
I'm much more comfortable saddling up to the TV and watching a good old-fashioned American football game. I know my first down from my P.A.T...and I know when the other team is cheating.
But back to last evening. We sat out on the patio on a cool evening and chatted from 5:30 to 9:00 p.m. We discussed our lives; each giving a report on what's been up since 1986, when we all graduated from college and lost touch. I had a fun tale to tell: got married at 25, had a kid at 28, got divorced at 31, got depressed, got drugs, had a variety of jobs, and ended with being happily married to a wonderful man for ten years.
They wanted to know all about the fire, so I waxed philosophical of the life lessons I think I've learned in the past 5 months. To sum:
1. Shit doesn't matter much, but shit matters greatly.
2. Life is more important than stuff.
3. It's humbling to be on the receiving end of charity.
4. BACK UP your pictures and music and anything that you value, and put it in a safety deposit box.
5. Dissociation is a very comfortable place to be.
So, my grrrlfriends all had life lessons and interesting stories and we had many giggles. Val has the best belly laugh, Terri has the best smile, and Jayne is still the Homecoming Queen in my book. I'd rather have a fire than to go through chemo and radiation due to breast cancer, like Terri, fer sure. I'd rather have a fire than join the Peace Corps (twice) and fight the bugs and sexism in Papua New Guinea like Val.
Time to turn on the TV and catch a Cubbies baseball game.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Back in DA HOOD...
It's good to be back to the old neighborhood, albeit weird to be in a different house on our same lot. At first the house felt like a hotel: all new stuff and none of it familiar. But now, it is truly feeling like home, and my agoraphobia is coming back. I don't wanna leave my house, you gotta take me kicking and screaming away from it now that I finally have it.
I've observed some wonderful small town characters from my front porch since I've been here, also. There are colorful folks in this town: from Judy, the town drunk who drives around on her John Deere Gator, to The Walking Man, who had a breakdown on Wall Street, or so the rumour goes. He walks around town all day every day. He used to never wave much, but now he follows local custom and waves at us. Maybe it's cuz we are now famous because of our fire.
I can't forget Crazy Alberta, the woman who terrorizes the kids from her car -- and who drives like a bat out of hell around town -- she drives past our house at least 5 times a day, if not more. I see her during every other cigarette.
And finally, there's the Man with No Sleeves: the stocky biker dood who rents the crappy house across the street and moves his 3 trucks around his yard to follow the shade...well, one truck doesn't move as it has a nice bed of weeds growing underneath the rusted frame.
Damn it's good to be back. Maybe soon, we can add one eccentric, PUBLISHED author to the local character list. We almost have the money saved to get my innermost thoughts published, and see if the world gives a shit.
I've observed some wonderful small town characters from my front porch since I've been here, also. There are colorful folks in this town: from Judy, the town drunk who drives around on her John Deere Gator, to The Walking Man, who had a breakdown on Wall Street, or so the rumour goes. He walks around town all day every day. He used to never wave much, but now he follows local custom and waves at us. Maybe it's cuz we are now famous because of our fire.
I can't forget Crazy Alberta, the woman who terrorizes the kids from her car -- and who drives like a bat out of hell around town -- she drives past our house at least 5 times a day, if not more. I see her during every other cigarette.
And finally, there's the Man with No Sleeves: the stocky biker dood who rents the crappy house across the street and moves his 3 trucks around his yard to follow the shade...well, one truck doesn't move as it has a nice bed of weeds growing underneath the rusted frame.
Damn it's good to be back. Maybe soon, we can add one eccentric, PUBLISHED author to the local character list. We almost have the money saved to get my innermost thoughts published, and see if the world gives a shit.
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