Prostitute, Bob and the vibraphone, and classroom complaints.

Okay, first, I forgot to mention that yesterday I saw a woman in Home Depot dressed in shorts, stiletto heels, and a bikini top/bra. Frankly, I think it was a bra, but we'll call it a bikini top to give her the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, she was like 45! A 20 year old might (and that's a big MIGHT) be able to get away with something like that (especially if you changed the shoes to flip-flops) if she appeared to be on her way to or from the beach, but a grown-up? It was wierd.

My neighbor Bob came by tonight, and while he had good intentions (to be friendly and check to see whether the police had found anything out about our burglary), he ended up rambling on for like half an hour on the subject of his kids, the houses they inherited which had been destroyed by renters, his own dependable landlord of many years, his son's interest in music, his own fiddlings with the guitar ("I only ever learned two songs out of songbooks -- everything else was all my creations."), the vibraphone he has in the garage -- he even offered to bring it over sometime when we have band practice, to "break out the vobes and play around." No, Bob, no. He also reeked of alcohol and referred to his upcoming birthday as "the big FIVE OH."

Finally, I think "Modernization," the fancy term for the remodel my room was supposed to get, might have been a little more believable if when I moved in there had been noticeable improvements. People keep asking what they did, and don't initially believe me when I say that they removed the lights, all the cabinetry, the phone and the pencil sharpener and then painted. They even damaged the floor a little. And they left it really dirty, with dust all over. The room would be more workable if it had lights, didn't stink like industrial paint, and had all the electrical outlets working. Ah, bliss. Also, I'll be real goddamn pleased when I get my COMPUTER BACK. It is pretty hard to keep up with one's grading (and I need to turn in a list of failing 8th graders by Monday) when one has no computer on which to record the grades. If you're wondering, yes, some teachers still use those red spiral-bound books, a pencil, and an adding machine, but I grew up in the information age. Now if only they could bring in a FREAKING WIRE, we'd be set.

This is the dawning of the age of aquarius . . .

No, really, recent weeks are enough to make you believe in hippie shit like astrology. Everything's going so well . . . ever since the burglary, there hasn't been really a bit of bad news. I mean, I've been sick and whatnot, but overall I couldn't ask for mo' better stuff. Most importantly right now (and this will be news to almost none of you), Sweetie and I finally spat in our palms and shook on it -- we're getting hitched! I'm thrilled, he's thrilled, everybody who loves us is thrilled and relieved.
But also, the weather is gorgeous, I'm looking forward to my new job, I saw a great movie yesterday, the flooring project is going well, and Sweetie made the perfect cup of coffee the other day (I mean it's always good, but really, this was exceptional). Anyway, so I'm pretty much secretly singing the Zippidee-doo-dah song in my head all the time. In other news . . .

A commercial for toothpaste has a woman obliquely referring to bleeding gums by saying she had a little "pink in the sink." I don't know what that would be a good euphemism for, but wouldn't it be great for something? Rhyming always does that. You know, like "junk in the trunk." Good stuff.

I'm still going to the gym regularly, still toning up, still haven't lost a pound. Oh well. Let's pretend I'm losing gallons of fat and gaining oodles of muscle. I did have a lesson in the motivating power of gold stars, though -- the gym's having a motivational thingie, their "fitness triathalon." Every time you work out, you note how many "miles" you've gone on the digital readout on the bike/treadmill/whatever. Well, I'm up there in the three or four names that have like a billion stickers noting my progress, and when you reach your first goal, the stickers change from silver to gold. I saw that, and I was like "I MUST get more stickers!" I think I briefly turned into an evil villain. Mwahahahaha -- stickers!!!

More on the self-involved front -- I went to the Benefit (cosmetics) counter the other day and the gal asked if she could "freshen" me up. I have to say, I like this wording a lot less than I liked the old "Do you have a minute so we can play with some color?" Anyway, last time they sold me some moisturizers, noting, by the way, that "a lot of women are starting to be concerned about that at twenty, now." This time, they sold me an under-eye de-puffer (am I puffy? Really?) and a "brightening" thingie for the corners of my eyes. ("Let's just get the redness right here, okay?") Anyway, I would just like to advise the nice folks at Benefit, that although their current scare tactics are working (I bought the shit, after all), I used to buy shit and walk away feeling GOOD, like the time I bought the "Jelly" lip gloss and got three compliments and a wolf whistle on the way back home. What am I going to get now, "Nice firm eye bags, ma'am!"? Anyway, please, please, Benefit ladies, let's all go back to sparkly mica-based eyeshadows and purple mascara, okay? You'd get your comission, the company would get its profits, and I would walk away feeling hot, not insecure. Thank you.

The movie Crash, which I saw yesterday, was excellent. I consider it a must-see. I don't want to tell you anything about it, not because there's some big surprise, but because I don't want you to have too many preconceived notions. Anyway, I found it very thought-provoking.

Ummm . . . wireless internet is good. I'm writing from the hammock. Another band asked me to sing on one of their tracks, which is really cool and I'm excited to do it. Our own band has some cool new songs that are getting a good reaction from "the people," and I want to write more of that kind of stuff, but unfortunately I'm not very good at sitting down and going "I am going to now write a song in this style." Basically, I have to wait until I'm driving around and it just pops into my head full-blown. Hopefully, one will come along soon. My band homework is to call around to some recording studios and find our how much it costs and whether we can record all at the same time, because we really have trouble recording apart. I also have to write a cover letter for out press kit.

School is out in three more weeks, but its only 13 days, because this is a short week and so is the last one. I'm super-ready for it to end. I've been feeling rushed all the time -- every single day is "I have to pick up BLANK, then call BLANK about BLANK, then head to BLANK really quickly before my BLANK at BLANK o'clock. I almost never have "Gee, I have nothing to do. Should I read, watch TV, listen to music, garden, play bass, or do odd stuff around the house?" Even things that sound like chores, like gardening and painting, would be a welcome respite from all the running around. Speaking of which, my free time here is pretty much up. The sun's about to go down, and the last project on this weekend's list, sinking PVC pipes into concrete blocks for play props, is still ahead. Wish me luck, and I'll blog more when I have more time . . .

Later,
CM

Still busy

Dear Friends,

News of my demise has been greatly exaggerated. Not dead, just not in contact, either. Finished my paper, did Open House (7 parents, thankyouverymuch), been to the gym, boxed up some books, took some shit off the wall, did 1/3 of the in-service, and now it's bedtime and I'm leaving off some verbs and nouns in my blog to save time. What a life. Happy, though.

Crazy-ass schedule

Someone told me once I thrive on being busy, but I don't remember agreeing to it.

Monday: 2 liaison meetings, 1 Dr. appt.
Tuesday: Drama club, open house, in-service day, final assignment for online course due.
Wednesday: Protest at Capitol, in-service day, band practice
Thursday: Must be packed to move, in-service day, band practice
Friday: Moved (in theory), band practice?
Saturday: Awards ceremony for students, Gynas show

All of which means -- I'd better get in gear!

Liar Liar Pants on Fire!

So, Arnold Schwarzenegger has been quoted in the paper lately accusing those mean old teachers of lying. They (we) contend that he promised to pay back the money he took out of the schools' budget last year and fully fund prop 98 again. Now he says (in yesterday's paper) that he never said any such thing. We made it up, apparently. Nuh uh. Here's an article from his very own Join Arnold website.

The Sacramento Bee article from yesterday reads, in part:
On Tuesday, Schwarzenegger accused the union of lying.
"I did not break a promise like they keep saying," Schwarzenegger said of teh CTA, which has been running television ads for months that accuse him of breaking his word. "I borrowed $2 billion, and now I'm supposed to give it back this year? This is wrong. It's a right-out lie," he went on. "We did not make a promise that we would give it back this year because I couldn't guarantee we would give it back this year because we didn't know how much money we'd have."

More floor and stuff

So, we did another room. This has been an interesting project, in that each room really presents its own unique challenges. The first room was mainly difficult in that we'd never laid flooring before, so everything --cutting, measuring, snapping it together -- was new and required practice. It took us a long time, but not because the room itself was that difficult. In fact, probably the hardest part was getting the last boards cut lengthwise, which we had my dad do on a table saw at school.

The second room was mainly difficult because of the walls and the big moulding issues (described elsewhere on this blog). It also took a long time, but the main culprit was the walls. We made a breakthrough on cutting boards lengthwise, though, figuring out how to do it with a different blade than we'd used before on the jigsaw.

This room was different again because it had the house's original asbestos tiles under the carpet, and many of them had shattered or warped over the years. I did a lot of patching the day before we laid the floor. Also, the closet floor was bare concrete, and therefore also at least 1/4 inch lower than the rest of the floor. Finally the closet doors presented some challenges (hinges coming loose, pegs too short). Worst is that my nemesis wall (also previously written about), which has been papered and painted numerous times and was finally looking pretty good, got ripped to shreds because the bottom of the paper was stuck fast to the carpet. I have to repaint quite a bit of it now. Nevertheless, we tried a new method (working left to right, instead of right to left) and it worked a lot better for two reasons. First, we just are more USED to doing things that way (like reading), and our brains seemed to wrap around the task a little better. And second, because the grooved edge of the planks, which is supposed to go on the left, is much more susceptible to getting badly chipped. Well, before, we had to look for unchipped ones, because that end would be in the middle of the floor. Now, we can hide the chipped end close to the wall under the moulding. Ta da! Now we can use a much greater percentage of the planks.

I've been really happy with how all of the rooms have turned out, but I think I'm even happier with this room. The color scheme I have in there clashed badly with the blue carpet, and it's a big enough room that you could see a lot of the blue. It looks so warm and friendly now -- even the beautiful antique furniture looks better against the floor than it did before. It's, not to exaggerate, about a billion times nicer-looking. I'm really thrilled. In fact, I had a rug in there, and I'm not going to put it back down because I'd hate to cover up the floor!

Okay, enough flooring. I'm sick! Hacking cough, breathing like an obese person, Kathleen Turner-voiced sick. But my Dr. said it was asthma, and I walked out of there with a duffel bag full of asthma and allergy medicines. So far there's no change (I still woke up at midnight and 4am hacking, and I still can't yell at my students), but hopefully that will change soon.

And, sorry, LAST post on this, I swear, but I picked something else up at the pharmacy that day -- my "medication" from Friday. The poor pharmacist, who until that point had been consulting me on everything in a very normal manner ("Okay, to use this inhaler, take a deep breath, hold for ten seconds, then exhale and wait about thirty seconds . . . you have to wash your mouth out after the steroid inhaler . . .") all of a sudden is like "this one . . . well, did your doctor . . .?" I interrupt him, "It's cool, my doctor showed me how to use it." "Oh good, because I can't really demonstrate . . . I mean, I could tell you, but there's no way for me to show . . . you know, just physically, I couldn't . . ." My eyebrows are crawling for my scalp at this point, in disbelief that he didn't just drop the subject after I said I knew how to use it. "Thank god, huh?!" I gave a fakey laugh, grabbed the bag and ran.

Oh, another thing from the Dr. visit . . .

I almost forgot that right before I went in for my appointment, I went to the little girls' room. As I walked out, a woman was opening the door very slowly (you've had this happen, I'm sure: they put their hand on the handle and open it an inch, then continue to talk to someone outside). I was leaving, so I pulled from the inside, and the woman, startled, goes "Oh, can I come in?" I give her a puzzled look, as there are several stalls and I'm obviously leaving. "I mean, are you cleaning in here?" Not impolitely, but in a tone probably stronger than wholly necessary, I say "No," then edge past her to get out. "Oh, I thought you might have been . . . I saw the staff shirt, and I thought . . ." She was still talking when I let the door swing shut behind me and walked off. Okay, yes, I wear a white polo shirt that says "Staff" on Fridays, but you'd think the fact that the word right before "staff" is "Spartan" and there's a big spartan head on it would give away that I'm not Kaiser staff. Sheesh. And quite frankly, I don't think I look like a janitor, either. At least, I hope I don't . . .

Altogether too much information

And listen, I know it's TMI. Probably, you shouldn't even keep reading, and if you do, I warn you that at the very least you will find it distasteful or off-putting. But I can't help it. I know it's TMI, and I'm doing it anyway. I will try to keep it delicate, but we'll see. Anyway, I'm giving you some blank space so that you at the very least will have to scroll down if you want to read it, and it won't just leap off the screen at you.




























Okay, so I'm trying a new form of birth control, and I had to see the doctor to get a "fitting." Yeah. Anyway, part of this appointment is that I have to show I am able to, um, USE the device. Insertion, removal. So the Dr. pops it in to see if it fits, and it does. Then he tells me I have to take it out. So I do -- no problemo. I am a champ. But when it comes time to put it in, well . . . let's just say fourth time's the charm, and a chair gave me a, ahem, leg up on the situation. I made a crack that "Now I finally get that scene in 'Kentucky Fried Movie.'" The doc doesn't seem to get it, but the nurse cracks up. Anyway, that part of the ordeal over, I head to the pharmacy and start looking at vitamins and, um, accessories for the device. Anyway, I notice about three elderly women freeze in their tracks as I approach, so I decide to glance at the pink paper my Dr. has handed me on the way out of the office and which I have casually folded and am holding face out. In about 36 point font, the header reads "USING YOUR DIAPHRAGM." Later that day I return to the pharmacy (didn't have my purse the first time) where poor Stan Chan, the pharmacy clerk, has to tell me that my "medication" has to be ordered and will be there Monday. They can call me when my "medication" arrives. He's sorry, but if it's an emergency, they could try to get the "medication" tonight. No, I reply, I am not having a birth control emergency, and I'm sure I can hang tight until Monday. Anyway, a situation just made for comedy. Okay, Mockula out.

Friday the 13th!

Well, this post isn't actually about Friday the 13th, but I was tired of post titles like "Random stuff," "Crap" and "General Ramblings." Still, those would probably be more appropriate.

I saw a bumper sticker in the parking lot this morning: "A Womans Place is in the House, the Senate, and the Oval Office." And while I appreciate the sentiment, I would like to add another sticker, something along the lines of "An Apostrophe's Place is in Possessive Nouns, Right Before the S."

Speaking of car stickers, this week for the second time I found a yellow ribbon magnet attached to the back of my car. Now, since it happened at work both times, there are two reasonable explanations I could probably turn to -- first, that the students are being mischevous and taking stickers off other cars and putting them on mine. Second, it could be that someone else's sticker fell off and someone picked it up and accidentally "replaced" it on the wrong vehicle. But the third option, which I admit is both a distant possibility and reeking of paranioa, is that someone is urging me to conform to the sticker-bearing masses. "A car without a yellow ribbon! They must join us!" I imagine legions of magnet-wielding patriots slapping these things on all unadorned cars. Creepy.

I'm feeling just a little sick -- not enough to call a sub, but enough to rent a movie so I don't have to talk much. This weekend we're doing the bedroom floor, and I'm going to try to paint the bedroom ceiling. I'm also meeting my friend Michael (of the avocado dream) for dinner, and hopefully seeing Monkeygirl for dinner, as she has just finished her finals.

My little cousin is getting better, and will probably be out of the hospital in a couple days. I don't want to go into all the details, but he's been very much on my mind and I'm happy to have the good news that he's almost ready to go home.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. Maybe I'll manage to squeeze a nap or two in. Mmm, naps.

Yaargh!

Okay, so today's almost over, which is a good thing. Except when it's not. See, the kids are insane, and I can hardly wait to be rid of them, but at the same time, in an hour this week will be two fifths done, which means I really need to get on the stick, because my deifiency notices are due Friday, and I may very well have to be packed to move out of this room Friday as well. Now, am I crazy, or was it like a WEEK ago that I was complaining about having to rush to do my grades? I can't believe it's already deficiency notice time. And if you're wondering, yes, it would be really nice to know whether I'm moving or not. Yep. I'm going to hold my breath until I get that answer.

Busy weekend!

Well, this weekend was fun, if jam-packed with excitement. Friday after school I rushed to the gym so I could get in a little-calorie burnin' before dinner with my friends Chris and Christie. They're a sweet couple that I've known for almost 5 years. I met Chris in my teacher internship program. They're both incredibly nice, sweet, genuine, and cool people, and I would like to spend more time with them. We killed two bottles of wine and a lot of falafel, hummus, brie, tabouli, and hours talking. The wine doesn't sound like much until you realize that Christie's pregnant, and therefore not drinking, and Sweetie, not a big fan of wine, only had one glass. Towards the end of the evening we all took a starlit walk around the neighborhood. It was a very nice evening.

Saturday morning was basketball for Sweetie, and a trip to the bank to replace my cards, then to the gym for a full workout (most days of the week I just ride the bike for about 45 minutes, but about two days a week I also use all the weight equipment). We came home and had a big salad, then I went to Tupelo (a local coffee shop) to work on my homework. Then it was sushi time, and after sushi we went out to the Arden area to get some more Pirates of the Crimson Coast (ship thingies) for him and a fuzzy robe for me. I have plenty of robes, probably, but I liked this one so much I even had a dream about it, so Sweetie said I should get it and gave me the dough. Imagine the softest fabric ever, like a really plush baby toy, multiply it by two, and you have my new robe. I'm in it right now . . .

Sunday morning was a very quick gym trip, then home to get ready for brunch with Mom. We went to Grand Island Mansion, a cool place in the Sacramento Delta with a neat history -- movie stars used to go to San Francisco, then take a boat up to the Delta and hang out at this place. It looks that glamorous, too, with a huge ballroom, a billiards room, a couple nice bars, lovely gardens, a pool with fountains, tennis courts, beautifully detailed guest rooms, a balcony with an incredible view, several lovely dining rooms . . . we even tried to peek through a door to the kitchen and saw huge banks of windows and lovely artwork. There was a fireplace in nearly every room, and most were blazing (it was a little gloomy and rainy this morning). I was really impressed with all the little details. There was even a small private movie theatre with about twenty seats! Anyway, we had a nice time.

Afterwards we went to UCD med center to visit Cooper. He is my very newest relative! He was born last Tuesday, and he has a few minor medical issues that can be corrected, but he got sick a few nights ago and it's bad enough that he's hospitalized and probably will be for a week or two. I'm not actively worried because I feel very positive that he's going to be just fine. I feel better after seeing him today, though, sleeping peacefully in his grandma's arms the whole time we were there. He's GORGEOUS. And he's got the softest little head . . .

Then we came home and finally put together the guest room (I like to think of it now as Steve's room). We mitered the moulding, then glued and installed it. When we were finally done, Mom painted the rest of the trim around the ceiling (it had matched the wainscoting, so we covered it with Almond Sugar to match the ceiling and moulding), and I puttered around putting things away. Sweetie and I ate dinner, and then I went in and moved most everything back into place, including the new cabinets we got from Grandma. It looks pretty good in there! Not 100% yet (I need to dust and vaccuum a bit, and put a few more things away), but it is way better than it was before we started the project. Even though this one was a lot of hard work, it was still really worth it, because the outcome is possibly better than I imagined.

I'm in the middle of Memoirs of a Geisha and I'm really enjoying it. Will probably finish it in a few days. Not sure what's next, but I did start another collection of essays, called something like Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs . . . I'll look at it again and let you know. It was interesting so far, but I only picked it up because I'd left Memoirs at school overnight.

Hey, I really like the new System of a Down songs. I feel a little weird liking music that is almost certainly aimed at a 20-year-old guy demographic, but it's really interesting and different. The trends right now seem to be either emo or dredge up the 60s garage rock sounds. I don't dislike either trend when it's done well, but I like to hear someone bucking the trends as well. System seems to be doing that with songs like "Cigaro" and "BYOB." Cigaro, frankly, just cracks me up. The first line, delivered in a sort of high-pitched hysterical yell, is "My cock is much bigger than yours!" The rest of the song reminds me of a local band I really liked called MDSO. So does BYOB, which dredges up an entirely different era of music during the "Everybody's going to a party have a real good time" chorus . . . it sounds like Bobby Brown or something circa 1988. Or you could take it for disco-era. Still, it's catchy, funny, and not like what anyone else is doing . . . they're available on iTunes. I am not being paid to say they're good, but check 'em out anyway. Okay, now I'm going to read until bedtime. Take care!

Happy Mother's Day!

I got the job . . . sorta

There's weird paperwork stuff going on, but long story* short, I've got it. I'm happy. I'm going to celebrate with sparkling cider and meatless riblets. Then we'll have non-fat frozen yogurt. (In trying to make up a pseudo-celebration, I find I'm using things I would happily consume anyway. Huh.)

Today has been a CRAZY morning. I'm actually still kind of shaking from the adrenaline. We had the big yearly race, the Dream Mile, and I took my kids out to see the 7th graders run. Well there was this very charged atmosphere, with probably more than half of our 900 kids outside, and rumors that there was going to be a big Norteno-Sureno fight during the race. Kids were wandering back and forth in packs that looked intent, so the other teachers and I had our hands full trying to monitor the activity. It's like trying to keep a mosh pit from happening at a Slipknot stadium show. I ended up helping to break up one fight, but heading off several others. Another teacher told me she had heard there was a gun on campus, but kept trying to get through to administration, and couldn't get any confirmation that the info had gone through. Then the kids all went back to their classes (well, mostly), and we started 2nd period. A P.A. announcement (which we can't hear from the portable classroom I'm in) sounded like it was saying there was a lockdown. I couldn't get any of the P.E. teachers standing outside to set up for the next race to confirm that, so I called the office. They said yep, it's a real lockdown. Well, one of our procedures is that if there's anyone outside, you usher them into your classroom quickly. In this case, there were about 100 people standing outside, so I just ordered them all into my room until it was packed full, then asked them to knock on other doors to see if any other teacher would let them in. Finally, we got everyone inside, and about 50 MORE people came pouring out of the gym towards our rooms. I called again, and they confirmed that we were still in lockdown, so I was about to stick my head out to tell the 50 new people, and in teh ten seconds it took to get to the door, another P.A. announcement came on that it was all clear and we could let them out. So, everyone from my class ran out, including my students, to watch the next race. About a minute later (when naturally my class has already dispersed into the crowd thoroughly) another staff member comes over and says that I wasn't supposed to have let my class out, because they were only letting the P.E. students watch. Didn't I hear the announcement? Well, no, I didn't hear the fucking announcement. I can't hear the goddamn stinking announcements out here. What am I supposed to do now, go round them all up one by one and TRUST them to go into my room and not kill each other? Leaving alone the two or three kids in my room right then? I don't think so. I caught a couple that looked like they were going to cause trouble, and dragged them back to my room, then we just sat in here, all four of us. It was a nightmare this morning. There have already been, at the very least, 5 confirmed fights. We have an alert that the Asian gangs are going at each other AND the Hispanic gangs are going at each other. Yep -- two seperate gang wars going on basically outside my window. Nothin' spells fun like that.

By the way, I need to confirm it, but I heard that a new translation of Revelations shows that they got the number of the beast wrong. It's 616, not 666. Can you imagine? All those people with a phone number or address with 616 in it? All the buildings with office #616? All the Satanic literature? I can't wait to find out if it's true. http://www.sixonesix.com already has an interesting graphic on it. 616.com is registered, but there's nothing there.

Commercials I hate right now.

1. Tom Shane. "Hi, I'm Tom Shane. My grandfather started this company, and personally hand selecting the rubies, saphires, and other precious gemstones . . ." Now imagine this monologue lasting about ten minutes (it seems like it, anyway) in a monotonous drone. Recently they've started adding another person to the commercials, like some woman saying "Tom, I'm getting married soon, and want to know why I would select my bridal jewellery at the Shane Company." Then he launches into the monologue. It's like they added the other person to make him sound human, like he's having an actual conversation, but it doesn't work.

2. Wendy's. Try the new Wendy's Mediterranean Chicken Salad -- Mediterranean the way only Wendy's can do it. And how would that be? Unappetizing? Wholly inauthentic?

3. Verizon. Wheedle your dad into buying your mom a Verizon phone for Mother's Day, and you'll get a free phone out of the deal. Sweet, no money or thought expended by you, AND you get a phone. Happy Mother's Day -- I really value you.

4. Greyhound. I feel bad for these guys. Either they can't afford a real marketing department, can't afford more than one version of their radio spot, or accidentally sent the spots to the wrong station, but the one playing on my hard rock station (highly dependent on Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Disturbed, System of a Down) is narrated by a woman with a distinctly, em, urban accent, who spends a lot of time talking about cultural issues that are probably more familiar to listeners of "the Bomb." Not that we don't have things in common, not that we can't all get along. Just that we don't get your jokes about cousin Ray-Ray or shout-outs to Pookie Bear.

Glad I could get that off my chest.

Into every life, a little rain must fall.

Every rose has its thorn.
Always look on the bright side.
You win some, you lose some.
Everything happens for a reason.

And yet, I'm still pissed.

No, it's not about the job -- in fact, they've been checking my references, which is probably a good sign (they wouldn't bother making those phone calls after the interview if they didn't like me, right?).

And it's not school this time either. Yesterday was sucky, but today, with the testing actually started, the kids are taking it pretty seriously and are calm and quiet (for the most part).

No, we were robbed, and not in a "kill the ump" way. Our house was burglarized. They didn't get away with everything they could have (I still have a laptop and iPod, as well as TV, VCR, PS2, cd collection . . ., and although they did get some jewellery, only one thing they took had a lot of sentimental value to me (the ring Mom always wore that she gave me when I got my M.A.). Sweetie got hit hardest, losing his laptop, camera, and iPod. My purse was rifled through, and they got all my credit cards and stuff, but not my driver's liscence, which I'm glad about (the irony here, of course, is that I have stopped bringing my purse to school sicne things were snatched out of it, and I thought it would be safer at home). I cancelled all the cards, and sweetie notified the bank about his checkbook (which they also got). A few other things are gone, most horrifyingly, I think, a set of keys to the back door (yes, a locksmith was out last night), another set of keys to the van that's parked outside (we let the air out of the tires, so if it's going, they're going to have to make a pretty supreme effort), and my own car, which freaks me out most, as they also got my school ID, so they know where I work. I plan to get it re-keyed, but I have no idea how much that costs, and I'm sure as HELL not going to ask my insurance to pay for it (seeing as how after I got the scratches from the keying incident fixed, my monthy payment doubled).

But, since I do my best to look on the bright side, the house insurance should cover most of it, including a few things I don't need replaced (my and my ex-husband's wedding rings, for example), minus the $500 deductible. And no-one got hurt, which is the most important part. I got a call yesterday at work that there was an emergency at my house -- after the scenarios that played through my head, hearing that we had only been robbed was kind of a relief.

We still have a few security kinks to work out -- we have to replace the back door, and we definitely need a system whereby we only lock the interior door to the garage when we are both gone and have our keys (yes, the first mishap was this morning, me stuck in the garage, late for work, ripping the door off its hinges to get back inside to get my car keys). I also think we'll probably get a security system. I had thought about it before anyway. Not a fancy bells and whistles one, but the three main doors and a breaking glass thingie in the living room. (There are bars on all but the front windows.)

I'm pretty upset about the idea of them coming back, and the current safety situation of my car. Nevertheless, I know we'll get through it. And hopefully the bad will be tempered by the good, and sweetie and I will both have good job news this week. Wish us luck.

Oh, and by the way, never trust a big fat lazy kitty to scare away intruders.

If my camera wasn't busted . . .

I'd post photos of the walls! They would look like the previous photos, except with no cracks and glue squiggles, and perfectly shining white on the bottom half! Now, hopefully tomorrow we'll make it all blue. I just primed it today. With Mom's help, the patching and sanding went really quickly. In fact, she came over at about two and at 6 we were sitting in Cafe Bernardo, the primer drying at home. It's going to look good when it's all finished. The last few things we have to do are paint the walls (Lotus Blue) and install the moulding. I'm really excited about how it looks. I also picked up some cabinets from my Grandma this morning, so once we're done I'll reassemble the room with more storage! Yay!

Other recent developments -- the interview went well, I think, but I won't know anything until they call, so knock wood, you know?

I've been reading a bunch lately -- finished Joan Didion's "Where I Was From," then Laurie Notaro's "We Thought You Would Be Prettier," and am working on "The Glass Castle." After that I plan to start "Candyfreak" by Steve Almond. Sweetie is trying to get me to read the Wheel of Time books, which even he admits are not very good, have long boring sections, and are at times flat-out infuriating. I believe this is a perfect example of cognitive dissonance -- in other words, he wants to suck me into reading these things so that he feels justified in making the same dumb-ass decision. Well is ISN'T GONNA HAPPEN, BUSTER. I have a fat stack of books that I actually want to read waiting for me.

I'm halfway through my online course -- I have only two real assignments left, a fact sheet and a review of someone else's fact sheet.

I had funny dreams again. In one, someone in my Bel Air parking lot was vaccuuming their dog with one of those car wash vaccuums, and you had to pay to park in the lot. In another, I was talking to this jazz chanteuse who was very beautiful, but also bitchy, and was making fun of a friend of my who was another singer (at this same club) and was overweight. Then I went shopping and got a champagne colored long satin evening gown, a circle skirt with yellow and green ribbons, and a really soft robe.

I guess that's about all I have to say for now -- I'm anxious to get to my reading, and eventually I need to work on my homework, too. Take care, all.

CM