Reason #1 not to do meth

This photo appeared on the front page of yesterday's paper with the caption: Deanna Rockwell, 24, said she tested positive for drug use at least 10 times while in Proposition 36-ordered programs...

The operative word here is 24, as in 24 years old. I don't care how good a drug makes you feel if it makes you ugly...

Quickie

1: I was driving down Stockton and noticed one of those pedestrian signs was hanging upside down. In that position, it looks an awful lot like it should say "caution, men breakdancing."

2: They were just announcing the country's wierdest street names, and the top two were "Psycho Path" and "Divorce Court." But right here in Northern Cali is a street called "Pig Turd Alley." For real -- we used to deliver the paper there when I worked for the newspaper.

Mockula out.

Books, Not Comedy, busy weekend

Okay, so I finished "On Beauty" by Zadie Smith, and my streak is for sure broken now, because I really loved it. It's a lender... I also read "Flush," the newest YA book by Carl Hiassen. I love Carl Hiassen, and I read YA books fairly often. I used to say it was for work, since I'd need good book recommendations for the kids, but it's really because everything I like about great books is still true about great books for adolescents, it's just that they're usually shorter and feature young people as the main characters. Anyway, it was great, and now I'm on to "The Da Vinci Code," mainly because I don't want to be one of the ten remaining people on earth who haven't read it. I read "Angels and Demons," and the prose is really florid and the plot somewhat unbelieveable, but the books are nevertheless suspenseful and engaging.

I went to see "I Can't Believe it's Not Comedy," a local sketch comedy troupe -- I'm not going to bother to try to describe it, because the two times I have I've been given the "I guess you had to be there" response. It was a little heavy on the vagina humor, but I did like the film "The Vagina Dialogues," which is basically Godzilla but with a vagina puppet. I also liked "the Lizard Boys," who were Wayne and Garth types who court women with lizard mating behavior.

My favorite part, though, was the house band Broken Home, a young woman and her long-divorced parents. They play acoustic guitar and kazoo and sing, and cover songs like Abba's "Fernando" and "Dancing Queen," as well as "YMCA," "Staying Alive," and my favorite, "Little Red Corvette." Honestly, they were GREAT. The dad was a good guitar player and the mom and daughter harmonized very well, and the overall effect was that of a really different and interesting interpretation of familiar songs. Totally cool. And goofy, of course.

I missed Beastos' baptism this weekend -- I just couldn't figure out how to drive to an Elk Grove religious ceremony at 4 and still pick up my husband at work at 5. But I'm sure he got baptised safely without me -- who knows, with me there things might not have gone as smoothly. The (apparently massive amounts of) olive oil would have spoiled or something.

I put the cabinet doors back up, so the kitchen is now about three fifths done. It's so gorgeous. It looks really clean and bright, and it may sound odd, but I swear it looks bigger, too.

Yesterday morning I went to "This N That Thrift" to try to nab a flowery vintage dress, but another girl got there about 30 seconds before me. I thought about clotheslining her, but she was buying it for her grandmother for some party she was throwing. (I didn't think about clotheslining her -- I actually found the dress on the rack before she did, and I knew she was looking for it so I pointed it out to her. Fair's fair; she got there before I did.) But for a whopping 14 dollars I got a red Frida Kahlo-esque dress with a ton of embroidery, a mod black dress, and a bright orange knit stewardess-y suit (jacket and skirt) with white piping and a little neckerchief. Fabulous!

We had a nice dinner tonight with my Mom and Boompah for his retirement. I'm going to floss and stuff, because It's nearly curl-up-in-bed time.

Comedy and tragedy

I'm going to see a comedy troupe tomorrow (which I misheard as "hominy troop" when my husband said it earlier), which might not be my first Saturday night choice, but a friend is in it and she had a comp ticket, so...

I can't imagine it'll be funnier than CNN was the other morning, though, when some woman said "We could never have a 1984 situation here because of our system of checks and balances."

The tragedy is... I couldn't help myself, and I gave a note to that anorexic girl at the gym. I've written about her before, no need to go into it again, but I wrote:

Hi,
I know it's none of my business, but I hope you have friends and family who can support you through your illness. I am terrified that one night, during your second hour of cardio or on your jog home, you will suffer from heart failure and I will have to watch you die. There is nothing but love and fear driving me to write this. If you need a friend, or just want to yell at me, my name is Mockula*.
All the best in hope for your wellness,
Mockula

I don't know whether it was right or wrong; I hope it was right. I don't want to sound like a bible thumper or something, but I just couldn't watch one of god's creatures, a fellow human, a sister in the universal sense, continue to harm herself without at least trying to reach out. So I tried. I kind of handed it to her, smiled and said hello, then walked away, so we'll see what happens nexxt time I see her. I sure didn't want to hurt or upset her, but I would understand if she was angry. I don't know. Sigh. I hope it was right. I just couldn't continue to be me and not do it.

Oh. My. God.

Sweetie, stop reading right now.

Okay, so today at lunch I go to the staff lunchroom. I usually don't, but I want a soda, and figure that's the best way to maximize my time -- I'll get a soda and go to the restroom there. I get the soda successfully, but then I go to the restroom, which is locked. I wait for a couple minutes, but there's no sound coming from inside, so I knock, just in case it's somehow locked but vacant and I should give up and go elsewhere. But immediately a voice comes from inside: "I'll be out in just a minute." So I wait. In silence. For several more minutes. And yet more minutes. But I'm thinking, hey, everyone poops. I'll give this gal a break. Maybe she's sick or something. At this point, I should have left and gone to the next closest restroom, but as that is four buildings away, I decided to hang in there. Also, I hate to be indelicate, but, um, I CRIED at a Bob Seeger song yesterday and then ate ice cream, and today I just can't afford to wait for the bathroom.

Finally, I start getting kind of frustrated, and I admit to jingling my keys and making other the-natives-are-restless noises. Finally, FINALLY, the toilet flushes. And flushes again (the horror!). Then there is a long pause. Then the sound of hand washing. Silence. Hand washing. Silence. Hand washing. Silence. Paper towel dispensing. Silence. Paper towel dispensing. Silence. Paper towel dispensing. Silence. At this point, I am pretty freaked out -- Just what kind of atrocity requires two flushes, multiple handwashing and yards of paper towels?!?!?! Finally, after a Poe-worthy wait (slowly, ever so slowly...), the door opens and a crone-like woman with a lesion on her face opens it. I am not kidding.

I finish up (in 60 seconds), and then go to leave (noticing the hairball in the wastebasket). Well, our restroom has, like, a lobby, and SHE'S STILL IN THERE APPLYING EYELINER! So to add fucking insult to injury, all the people I then walk by in the staff dining room must think I'm the one who has been in there for TEN FREAKING MINUTES, rather than the waiting victim. (Because most of them entered after she was already in the bathroom, so they saw me enter, stay in 11 minutes, then leave.)

Okay, gotta go.
(SHUDDER!)

These WHATS are made for WHAT?!?!?!?!

I so easily lose focus when the TV is on... Jessica Simpson just appeared on my screen holding a pizza. The music is "These Boots are Made for Walking," but she's singing something like "these bods are made for bupping." Upon further reflection, I suspect it was something like "these BITES are made for POPPING," as in, throwing bite-sized pieces of pizza into your mouth. Because apparently today's teens no longer like the whole slicing-the-pie-into-16ths-and-taking-bites-of-the-wedge-shaped-piece-that-results thing.

Okay, back to business. I was in ballet tonight, and it was just flying by, because even though it was a REALLY HARD class, I was totally daydreaming about ice cream. Permit me a birdwalk...

I am a good cook. I don't have all that many good qualities, so I can brag about this one. I am not a great cook, but a good one. About 90% of the things I experiment with come out how I intended them to. The ones that don't I can usually fix up so that they're still relatively tasty. I don't use recipes all that often, even though I really enjoy browsing my cookbooks, because I figure that once you have a technique down, you're free to experiment with flavors. And I do. And when it comes to combining flavors, I am a pretty good judge of how it will go. So on to the ice cream.

I was thinking about making some pretty unusual ice creams, but stick with me here, because I really think some of these might work. Comment and tell me what you think. And if my Sacramento readers want to try an ice cream, let me know; I'll make it and invite you over.

Lemon grass -- I love the flavor, it goes beautifully with creamy textures, and I think it's light enough to convert to a sweet taste.

Fennel -- same as above. It's a little earthier, but almost like licorice.*

Lavender -- this one, I think, is a no-brainer. Some ice cream company is probably already making it. I've had lavender fudge (from the Faerie Queene in SF), and it's delicious.

Tomato -- it's a fruit! I'd use a little more sugar than I would for melon or something, and I'd use really ripe tomatoes, but I think it might be nice.

Clove -- I'm not totally sold, because it might be harsh, but I might try it.

Lemon and Mascarpone -- crazy? Maybe, but Italian desserts use mascarpone all the time. I'm thinking I might whip the cheese with powdered sugar and use lemon zest or maybe candied lemon peel. I got the idea from a delicious and lightly sweet lemon stilton we had at my birthday... This one's topping my list of ones I really might try.

Pomegranate - I don't think I would use fresh pomegranates, but maybe the juice or the pomegranate molasses you get at middle eastern stores.

Peanut brittle -- It sounds good, but if the candy got gummy instead of staying crunchy, that would suck.

Cracker jack -- this is another one where texture would be a problem -- the candy coating would keep it crunchy, but only if you didn't break the pieces up. It might require that you make your own, smaller pieces of candied popped corn.

Basil-mint -- I'm not sure basil would be good by itself, thus the mint. I also considered (and am still considering) basil with some sort of fruit, maybe berry or melon...

Ginger -- okay, it's cheating to add this to the list, since I already made it once and it was delicious. But I might make it again.

Orange blossom -- this would probably involve the bottle of orange flower water in the fridge and some orange zest.

Rose or jasmine -- I'd include petals but the flavor would probably come from rosewater and jasmine tea respectively.

Sesame -- would include sesame butter and hunks of that sesame candy.

Pepper -- I'd blend it with something, but I'm not sure what yet.

Strawberry Balsamic -- I have some balsamic glaze, and I'd use it VERY sparingly.

Honey -- I'm not sure how this would work, since honey tends to get granular. I was sort of thinking of buying some of this honey candy I used to get -- it's a hard candy, and I could crunch it up.

I'm considering other herbs, possibly chamomile, verbena... I'm not sure. I like experimenting. Whaddya think?

--CM

*Except that I like fennel and don't like licorice. Which reminds me that I bought a new kind of gum called "Midnight Cool," and it was SHIT. It was BLACK LICORICE flavored, and there was no warning whatsoever on the package that that was the case. I put it in my mouth and thought that something had gone horribly wrong! It was worse, WORSE I SAY, than the "Cherry Chill" flavor that I complained of tasting like Robitussin. Why are they marketing this garbage when they seem to have taken the delicious "Lemon Ice" off the shelves???

You scored as Existentialist. Existentialism emphasizes human capability. There is no greater power interfering with life and thus it is up to us to make things happen. Sometimes considered a negative and depressing world view, your optimism towards human accomplishment is immense. Mankind is condemned to be free and must accept the responsibility. Cultural Creative 75% Existentialist 75% Postmodernist 69% Modernist 44% Materialist 38% Idealist 38% Romanticist 38% Fundamentalist 19% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational. Cultural Creative 75% Existentialist 75% Postmodernist 69% Modernist 44% Materialist 38% Idealist 38% Romanticist 38% Fundamentalist 19% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

I had to do a "tie-breaker" between these two. Can you really be that close to both of these? Gotta go to ballet...

Got distracted

I was just signing on to tell you about this George Harrison dream I had (we were jamming, and I had the opportunity to tell him how much the Beatles had meant to me, even showing him my stuffed raccoon named "Rocky."

But then on the TV came an add for the Ashro Spa dress, a satiny muumuu that you can wear in various styles, most of which resemble muumuus. It was hilarious, and I honestly thought it was some kind of Mad TV gag for the first minute, but then there was no punch line. Well, other than maybe the one view of a girl with the thing tied up with a sash so it kind of looked like a Hefty bag.

Gotta go, I'm already behind today.

Ooh Sally, that girl!

BAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! More maniacal laughter!!!!!! Laughter without end!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I have been abusing iTunes. I cracked myself up so much with that last post about L'Trimm's "Cars that go Boom" that I went and downloaded it. It was on an album called "Booty Shake: Oringinal Old School Crunk." Also on the album was "Sally (That Girl)" by Gucci Crew II. Did I download it? Yes I did.

"Don't touch my bootie 'cause I won't touch you. Don't touch my bootie 'cause it's not the thing to do. Ooh, Sally. That girl."

ADH... Huh? Kitty!

Okay, first of all, I finally watched the Aristocrats (thanks for giving me the impretus to put it at the top of my Netflix list Gynagirl and Suzanne!), and it was really funny. I hardly ever watch all the special features on aything I rent, but I really wanted to hear Bob Saget's entire spiel, among other things. It was hilarious, although I'm glad I didn't invite Sweetie to watch it with me; he's anti-caca, and the film was pretty coprophilic. And coprophagic, for that matter. I described it to our sushi chef as breaking pretty much every human taboo, and I'm not sure that even begins to cover it.

Anyway, why we're really here today is to talk about ADHD. I've been hearing a lot of otherwise reasonable people lately insisting that ADHD is completely made up and doesn't exist at all. I'll start with the concession--I think it is overdiagnosed. But after that, let's look at the evidence.

1: Ritalin (and other drugs of the sort) is a stimulant. How would it work to CALM kids who did not have a chemical imbalance? It wouldn't and doesn't. When people without ADHD take Ritalin, they get stimulated and high (that's why so many people sell and steal it). It works entirely differently on kids with ADHD because their brain chemistry is different.

2: When teachers (like myself) talk about ADHD, the default response (and dismissal) is that we want a room full of comatose zombie children. On the one occasion a kid's medications DID cause that affect (glazed eyes, etc), I talked to his mom, and they went back to the doctor to change medications. I don't know any teacher who wants zombie children. We just would like it if they could focus a little.

3: The general consensus of the "ADHD doesn't exist" crowd is that all children have a lot of energy and are naturally hyperactive. Sure they are--when's the last time you tried to keep up with a kindergartener? Of COURSE they have a lot of energy. But it's not just about energy, it's about focus. I have had a couple kids whom you could watch flicking their eyes around the room, fast as hummingbirds, unsure where to look or what to do. Both of the kids who jump to mind were almost completely unable to stay in a chair. They couldn't remember things you had just told them. You could lean down, look in their eyes, put your hand on their shoulder, and before you got three words out, they'd be looking elsewhere and not be able to repeat what you had said. (For reference, these are junior high school students I'm talking about -- I think that kind of thing is de rigeur in kindergarten.)

4: People think it's just about controlling misbehavior. One of the most genuinely malevolent kids I ever had was extremely well-focused. The kid could plan out intricate evil plots. That's not ADHD. ADHD is the kid who tried SO HARD, whose mom came in ten times that year for meetings with all his teachers and sat in class with him, the kid who would get so upset about his inability to concentrate that he would cry in our meetings. The kid who, yes, was a disruption in class because he couldn't help turning around to see everything that was going on in the room and who then had to ask for the directions to be repeated (usually more than once). He wasn't bad, he was really quite sweet! I genuinely liked this kid. It's not about wanting him changed or just getting him to shut up and sit still. It was wanting to help him concentrate, because he wanted it so badly.

I guess what bothers me most about this debate is that it seems to come from people who have neither medical experience nor much experience with kids. I can just imagine what someone who had been diagnosed with ADHD would feel upon hearing this--basically, "you're crazy, you should just be able to focus like everyone else." It's sad.

Okay, I'm out. Take care. And wish me luck in the big fresh bread adventure in the morning -- I'm hoping to locate some just-baked seeded bread. Mmmm.

Oh, and "We like the cars, the cars that go boom. We're Tigre and Bunny and we like the boom." If you find this song stuck in your head later in the day, please feel free to leave a comment and tell me I'm a jerk!

Little Miss Sunshine

So, I admit it; I'm an optimist. I almost always look for and find the bright side of things. And generally I bounce back well from setbacks, which probably makes me seem outwardly as though I don't really have setbacks. But I'm a little frustrated with myself this week.

I was supposed to host a poetry slam today. Well, I am hosting a poetry slam today, but my plan was to have it announced in the bulletin, have posters hanging everywhere, talk to other teachers about it to get them hyped on the idea, make sure all my students knew about it and bribe them with extra credit... but all that really went down the drain. The principal was sort of pressuring me to get a good turnout for "Tree care day," which I did -- by devoting all my energy to bulletin announcements, posters, etc. for that. I also had 16 meetings in two weeks with the seniors, whose papers I'm reading. It took pretty much every waking moment and most of my lunch periods. Plus last week was the CAHSEE, this week was benchmark testing (which took me by surprise), it's a short week because of the holiday and, essentially, I didn't get done with any of the shit I planned to. So we'll see how this goes, if there's any turnout at all, but I am certain it will suffer from lack of publicity, and that's my fault, and I'm upset about it.

Also, we sort of just figured out a good financial plan and I had all these really great ideas about how to save money, and then my fence blew down and I realized I needed to sign up for a computer class. On the bright side (there I go again!), I got a great deal on the fence by having my cousin do it. Also, I found a deal on the class--$345 versus $425. But between the two that takes a HUGE chunk of the tax refund I was counting on to put into our vacation/house savings fund. And I thought we were spending too much on groceries, so I set a new budget goal, but it's been almost impossible to meet. How did I eat so cheaply when I was single and poor? Any overage in our grocery spending comes straight out of the rest of my bill money, and with my insurance premiums having gone through the roof, I am barely making it to the end of the month!

Finally, I'm frustrated with myself for being such a space cadet. Several times recently I've made plans and forgotten to inform my sweetie. Luckily, he's really easygoing about it, but I feel bad. I think it's because I've got so much going on; my brain just pushes out anything it considers optional. I'm sorry I'm such an ass, baby.

Huff. Okay, I've got a three day weekend coming up, including plans with Monkeygirl, whom I haven't seen in over a month! Off to make some last-minute posters...

The Olympics!

Wow, um, I caught about 30 seconds worth of the Olympics tonight. Yesterday some gals were talking about the figure skating, and I was just hushed up, but someone asked me whether I'd seen the thing they were talking about (some Chinese do-over?). I said no, that I really hadn't been watching the Olympics. Then she asked me why, and I made some noise about having been busy, but that's not it at all. I just don't give a shit. I guess some of the skating can be pretty or whatever, but I don't care who wins, don't know a triple lutz from a hole in my head, and think the guys look like pansies. Especially when they do emotive jazz arms. I wasn't even really watching tonight, it was just on the TV directly above me while I was riding the stationary bike, reading a magazine, and rocking the Knitters.

I know this is an extremely long shot, but does anyone know how to do sentence diagramming with tree diagrams instead of the traditional ones? I can do it, but I can't seem to figure out how to do a complex sentence (i.e., one with an independent clause and a dependent (subordinate) clause. Like so: Although your mama wears combat boots, I still find her strangely attractive.

Or, to make it easier: When we blog, we meet new friends.

It would look something like this, but with little diagonal lines connecting shit.
S2
VP
S1 NP
CONJ N V N V ADJ N
When we blog, we meet new friends.

I think you can also do it like this:
C[When]C s1[n[we]n v[blog]v]s1 s2[np[we]np vp[v[meet]v]np[adj[new]adj]n[friends]n]np]vp]s2

But I've never really done that kind before, so that might be totally wrong.
A little help?

P.S. -- Blogger didn't save my spacing, so it looks like this.

Feminism and a side note.

I'll start with the side note. Willie Nelson cracks me up.

Okay, so I was reading my Bitch magazine, and there was an interesting article on feminism and just what the difference is after all between radical feminism, liberal feminism, third wave feminism, pro-sex feminism, anti-sex feminism... I have long been stymied by some women's refusal or reluctance to label themselves feminists. In many ways, the article actually made it a lot clearer -- people are afraid to align themselves with some of the more radical branches, or they have heard that feminists are "anti-man" or something. It still makes me pissed whenever I hear an interview with an icon of mine like PJ Harvey, and she says she is not a feminist. But ultimately what I love about PJ Harvey is her music, not her politics. I wouldn't hold a man to the same standards ("What, Robert Plant won't label himself a feminist?!"), so I really can't do it to her or other female artists. And ultimately, is it more important what words you use or what values you uphold? I think it's the values...

As Walt Whitman said, "Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes." (Sorry, that's a paraphrase; I didn't feel like looking it up.) I am absolutely, unabashedly a feminist. But I am a pro-sex feminist. I am in favor of legalizing sex work and I have no problem with porn. Am I naive enough to believe that every woman working as, say, a stripper, is there by choice, satisfied with her career, and empowered? No. But the flip side of that coin is that I also don't buy that every woman working as a stripper has been forced to be there and is automatically furthering our culture of violence. Among the anti-porn arguments is that "porn is the theory, rape is the practice." I just couldn't disagree more. First of all, I think to understand equality is to recognize that there are gender differences, and that men are inherently visual. I certainly haven't talked to EVERY man I know about whether he enjoys pornography, but the great majority of men I have talked to do, even if it's just Playboy, not the complete works of Jenna Jamison. Besides that, rape is not a sexual act but one of violence and control. And would a woman working as a porn actress necessarily be happier and better paid making sandwiches at the local sub shop? I doubt it. There's so much more to say, but I'd never get to my other contradictions...

I like to be objectified. Yep, I like to look hot, I like it when my sweetie thinks I look sexy, and I would be depressed and unfulfilled if I was not an object of sexual desire to him. Objectification rules.

Abortion. Whew. Man. I am pro-choice. I will always vote for reproductive rights. I still want to do clinic defense, but I am a scaredy-cat. I think pharmacy employers should force their pharmacists to provide Plan B. (And yes, that contradicts with my whole "freedom of religion" thing, but I don't think anybody's refusing to sell Viagra, so fuck 'em.) I will never have an abortion. But what if...? Nope, sorry, I just don't see it. I am a healthy married woman who is financially stable. It's just not going to happen. Furthermore, I think that the second implantation happens, I am going to feel as that I have a child on the way, one I can nurture and comfort and speak to and sing to. And even uglier? I absolutely do question the motives of women who have multiple abortions. Two? Maybe -- if you're underage, unmarried, poverty-stricken, victim of incest or rape, not ready, on your way to a career or college, would get the shit beaten out of you by somebody, concerned about your health or the baby's, the product of an affair... there are a lot of really understandable reasons. But just "whoops" and "whoops" again?" I dunno, I've been sexually active for 15 years and never had an unplanned pregnancy. Yes, I have certain privileges others might not, like prescription drug coverage (thanks Depo, Norplant, and Ortho-Novum), but I'm talking about people with those privileges. If you can prevent it and you know you should, then do. I'm not going so far as those who say if you aren't ready to be a parent you shouldn't be having sex -- sex is great, go for it! And I know there is a failure rate for all types of birth control (and I have personally heard from women whose children were conceived on the pill or were born clutching an IUD in their tiny fist), but I would still like to think that seeing the abortion rate decline would be a good thing (as long as it wasn't because abortions were being denied to women, yadidimean?).

Well, it's late. Take care, y'all.

Flip side of hip and heart full of love

So, I was proud of myself the other day for that whole "hyphy-scraper-yadidimean" thing, but here's the other side of the "hippo-meter," as my principal would say: I was looking for a "high-interest" article for my kids to read, so I chose an article on Young Jeezy from the Source magazine. I only knew the name because I'd seen another kid reading a magazine with his name on the cover. Okay, so my first V-8 moment comes when I read the sub-head, which calls him a "trapper-turned-rapper." It also mentions that he's from the Dirty South. Now, I know what the Dirty South is, but the image I get from "trapper" is of someone in a flannel shirt with a bear trap. It turns out that that means he's a drug dealer. Well, I figured that out before embarassing myself publicly, but as I read on, I find that he calls himself "Da Snowman" because of his alleged heavy cocaine sales. Okay, I get that -- but two months too late. Because before Christmas several of my young male African-American students were wearing t-shirts with a graffiti-art style snowman on them, wearing sunglasses, and on the back it said "Da Snowman." Yeah, so I thought the shirts were cute, and, ahem, well... seasonal. And I complimented the kids on them. Now I feel like a real idiot.

Today I got my hair done, so I have a brand-new platinum blond faux-hawk. I had lunch at Thai Basil with my hairdresser (who I get along with famously). I made a nice dinner for my sweetie (Quorn-brand Chick'n patties baked with Apricot-pepper glaze, salad with avocado, feta, carrot, and raspberry balsamic dressing, artichokes, and roasted potatoes with rosemary and Persian lime olive oil. Then I made cookies, and I let sweetie be in charge of chocolate chip distribution. So we have almost 200% of the normal chip level. Mmm. Tonight's a full moon, I had a good dinner, the house smells like cookies, I'm wearing my Paul Frank monkeypants, and my little heart is full of love.

I finished Joan Didion's latest, The Year of Magical Thinking,and I quite liked it, breaking my streak -- although, let's be fair, I didn't like Slouching Towards Bethlehem all that much. Not that I didn't like it, just that I had such a hard time identifying with her or agreeing with her. Her writing's great, I just don't see California in the same way, and although I wasn't there, I felt she was looking for the dark underbelly of the whole "summer of love" thing and not open to the interesting and culture-changing aspects of it.

We finished another section of cabinets, and I had a handyman come and fix the light, leading to my second V-8 moment in two days; the fixture fit perfectly into the existing crossbar -- I had simply measured the wrong set of holes. But as long as he was here, he fixed two vents that I had taken down to paint and which hadn't thereafter hung properly. The cabinets look great, and having light in the kitchen is phenomenal!!! It's a great deal brighter than it ever was before, because the old fixture was opaque and sort of pink-tinted. Also pleasing to me is that my kitchen-dining room area is clean and uncluttered for the first time in weeks. Next week I'll tear it all apart again, but for now it's nice. Oh, also, my cousin came by and is going to build a new back fence for us. For real, because I gave him money for the materials.

Anything else? Let's see -- I found another shelf for the cabinet, bought another wee shelf support peg for nineteen cents, and now I have better-organized foodstuffs.

Okay, I guess I've got to read one more paper and do a little planning for the week. Take care, all.
--CM

Folk that!

My musical taste was so misrepresented tonight as to have been downright maligned. It was stated (Drummergirl, how could you!) that I was "more into folk." Folk? Folk?!! For god's sake, folk?

Okay, it was amended to classic rock, which I do love -- among my favorite bands ever are the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, the Animals, the Who, David Bowie, Cream, Creedence, Janis, Jefferson Airplane, Hendrix, The Kinks, Lou Reed, The Beach Boys, Van Morrison and the Doors...

But I also love Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, James Brown and Aretha Franklin.

Do I like some folk? Sure, I like Joni Mitchell, I own CDs by Donovan, Cat Stevens, Peter Paul and Mary, and Don McClean. But of the probably thousand CDs I own, these make up about 1%.

My iTunes is totally stuffed to the gills with Elvis Costello, Patti Smith, Frank Black, Jane's Addiction, the Beastie Boys, PJ Harvey, the B-52s, Beck, Bjork, the Cure, Cibo Matto, the Talking Heads, the Dead Milkmen, Depeche Mode, Iggy Pop, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, Operation Ivy, Peaches, the Distillers, the Knitters, Peter Gabriel, the Police, Primus, Prince, REM, RATM, the Ramones, Rancid, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sublime, System of a Down, Talking Heads, They Might Be Gians, Tori Amos, U2, The Violent Femmes, the White Stripes, Wire, X...

You might not expect all the Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline and Marty Robbins in there. Maybe you'd motice the Metallica, the Ozzy, the Judas Priest. Maybe the Public Enemy or Eazy E. There's punk and pop, some classical, a ton of local music, Styx ('cause it makes me laugh!). There's new wave, swing (from Dezi Arnaz to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy). There's such a wide variety that I can say safely that I can't imagine another person on earth who would have heard of every single band on there.

And how much folk is there? Trace amounts of folk. There's ten times as much punk as folk. There's a shitload more industrial music than folk on there. Folk. Folk indeed.

Books.

So, I'm not quite done with Anansi Boys, the newest Neil Gaiman, but I have to say I'm a little disappointed. I mean, I don't dislike it, that's for sure, but I also don't think it nearly lives up to Stardust or Neverwhere, or even American Gods, which I liked, but not as much as the other two. Unless something pretty fucking spectacular happens in the last hundred pages, I'd have to give it like a C+/B-. And that got me thinking...

I liked Zadie Smith's White Teeth tremendously. Then I read The Autograph Man, which was good, but not as great as White Teeth. I have On Beauty on the shelf, and I'm looking forward to it, but we'll see.

I loved Ian McEwan's Atonement, but only liked Saturday.

I've loved every Amy Tan book more than the last -- until Saving Fish from Drowning, her most recent. I didn't hate it, and in fact I found it a lot funnier than some of her other books and I enjoyed the humor, but it didn't grab me like some of the others.

Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius? Damn near lived up to the name. You Shall Know Our Velocity? Eh.

I'm a little nervous, frankly, about starting the new Johnathan Safran Foer.

Oh my god, I'm totally distracted now because Turk is singing Bell Biv Devoe on the show Scrubs right now. Poison. I totally made an obscure reference to that in conversation a week ago. I'm out. Goodnight.

Academic Decathalon, mostly

Well, today I met with three other young-to-youngish female English teachers for lunch at Bernardo, then we went outlet shopping in Folsom. I haven't been to those outlets in probably fifteen years, and they're good ones! I got Guess? sunglasses -- I had planned to buy nice sunglasses now that I've got my contacts, and I found a pair I liked today. I also got two pairs of Easy Spirit shoes. When buying for comfort, there's a fine line between relatively stylish and outright schoolmarmish. But I found two pairs that mainly fall into the former category. One pair are black mules with little brass decorative pieces, and the other are more like a clog in sky-blue suede. I also got a kelly-green cardigan while we were out, some socks (yay socks!) and a scarf. Oh, and some ghetto fabulous big gold hoop earrings.

Then two of the teachers bailed and one of the others and I went to the Academic Decathalon. The kids did great, placing fifth in the whole county out of twenty schools competing. Last year they placed eighth, so they're happy about moving up, too. And, maybe best of all, Bella Vista (who has won something like 18 of the last 19 years) was unseated! Hah! So I'm really proud of them and happy for them, but that may not have been the best part. No, the best part was the announcer. I got suckered into videotaping the event, and I'm sure it will have to be edited to remove all the snorts. The announcer could not pronounce ANYTHING. Oh, he butchered the de Medicis (Meh-DEECH-ee), he butchered the papal protectorate (short-a-so-it-rhymed-with-"clap" pap-al prow-tec-TOOR-ate)... but what was my favorite? It was Copernicus. Not just because he struggled so (Coa-cup-cop-kuh...), but because the guy behind us snorted derisively and said "CoperNEEus, geez!" I also liked how, when we would all applaud, whistle, stomo and cheer, the guy looked completely taken aback, like, "shit, people actually care about this stuff?" He must have said "Wow, we have a lot of excitement in the room tonight" about twenty times.

I actually had my own moment of glory this week -- I was dragged up on stage during yesterday's homecoming rally, and told I was going to participate in a "spelling bee." Well, it was a spelling bee for slang. My words (we all had the same words, actually) were "hyphy," "scraper," and "yadidamean." I came in second, beating everyone else by a mile, but the gym teacher was a ringer. I was pleased with myself -- I knew what they all meant and was able to use them in a sentence.

Okay, I guess I'm done. I'm going to see if I can locate some chocolate in the house. I suspect I can...

Mockula, clearly in some sort of mood

I really can't say what sort of mood it is, but it was the kind of mood that led me, this morning, to download the following from iTunes:

Billy Idol -- Rebel Yell
Billy Idol -- Dancing With Myself
Butthole Surfers -- Pepper
Echo and the Bunnymen -- Lips Like Sugar
Nada Surf -- Popular
Peter Murphy -- Cuts You Up
Placebo --- Pure Morning
Sugarcubes -- Hit
U2 -- Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car
Wang Chung -- Dance Hall Days
Weezer -- Undone (the Sweater Song)
Weezer -- Buddy Holly

Now clearly, this is some sort of nostalgia at work, but is it for the 80s or the 90s? I don't know. And why did I not already own some of these songs? Again, I can't say. But just go ahead and see if one of these isn't stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

Now take your baby by the hair... hold her close and there there there ...

Lips like sugar... sugar kisses, yeah

If you want to destroy my sweater, whoaoaoaoa, pull this thread as I walk away...

The Blahs

I must be cranky -- I think bad things happen regularly and maybe you don't notice, but for some reason I'm noticing EVERYTHING this week. Among them are:

Broken copiers when I need copies to do my planned lesson

Terrible drivers on the way home (like, ridiculously bad)

The bookroom not open on three attempts (when, again, I need it for my kids)

A bit of a sore throat

Raised insurance rates (when trying to lower them -- trust me, I'm infuriated)

I'm massively over-scheduled


I guess the good things I'm not paying enough attention to include:

Mom did my taxes for me, and we're getting a refund (a pretty decent one)

I'm partly over-scheduled because people like me and want me to do stuff. Like, if my kids hadn't asked me to cheer them on at the Academic Decathalon... I think that'd be worse than not being obligated to go.

I'm not actually sick, just have a sore throat.

I got home safely despite the bad drivers.

I finally got both the copies and the books.

Life is good. I'm just cranky.