Halloween is fun.

I thought it was fairly clear I was Frida Kahlo, but I got guesses of Carmen Miranda, an Indian princess, a geisha, and a Ukranian (?). Of course, I also thought it was eminently goddamn clear the years I was Bettie Page, Twiggy, Kali, a valkyrie, and Alex from A Clockwork Orange. I don't think my costumes are obscure -- I think people are stupid.

My principal said he was a "nerdy Jewish principal." Right on. It reminded me of the year I went trick-or-treating with my friend and goddaughter. I showed up in costume, Kriste was in costume, Siobhan was in costume (the cutest little Powerpuff Girl ever), even the dog, Steve, had angel wings and a halo. But our friends Kelly and Rudy show up, Kelly in her ever-present overalls and Rudy in his work clothes. Kriste comes to the front door and hollers "Hey! It's a hillbilly and a Mexican!" I busted a gut, and it still makes me giggle. You probably had to be there.

Happy Halloween!!

Bee oh

Stinky Poo
Originally uploaded by Sheila Hernandez.

Oh. My. God. How often do I use the periods in 'oh my god'? Ever so rarely. But today, they deserve it. I have a student in my 2nd period class whose BO is normally sort of a minor annoyance, but today is an outright assault on mankind. I had to take him outside to talk to him. He says it's "part of the costume" (i.e. Michael Myers). Um, unless you poured the contents of a stinkbomb on yourself, nuh-uh. You just reek. You stink like ass. You're Stinky McRancid. I'm serious, he left to go to the bathroom about 5 minutes ago and the room STILL smells.
I took him outside and when he said it was the costume, I (very delicately said) "oh good. 'Cause you know, it's so easy to stay smelling good... just some deodorant after you shower every morning, make sure you're washing your clothes after you wear them, I mean, obviously YOU know..."

Incidentally, he came back from the bathroom, and now there's a 10 foot radius around him of BO and Axe cologne, so he must have taken note, anyway.
Holy god, let this period end.

Virtual housewarming

Since so many of our loved ones are not in Sacramento, I thought it would be nice to post some pictures of the house so it would be like you're here, only without the hugs and sugar cookies. Sorry if the page takes a while to load -- I'm just going to post them all at once.

This is the kitchen.


This is the kitchen from the opposite view.


This is really the dining room, but I've got my desk in it. I thought a table would sort of interrupt the flow from the front door to the back door. Plus, the space in the kitchen is perfect for my dining table.


This is the office. It's mainly Reza's, but those are my books on the left.


The photo above was from the left side of the office, but there are two doors, so this one is from the other door as you head toward the hall and bedrooms. This is pretty much the view you would have seen during the party, too.



This is a bedroom. So far, it is not a purpose-specific bedroom, but I've been thinking of it as the baby room. I've also been thinking lately how nice it is that my family really hasn't been pestering us about having babies. No one but my grandma and my dad (at the urging of my stepmom) have said anything unless I've brought it up. But apparently there was some sort of agreed-upon timeline, and that timeline is UP. So yes, it's the baby room. Yes, we're working on it. Yes, we're, you know, using applied science. We PROMISE, we will bring you a baby to sniff and hold and coo over. Sheesh.


Here is the bathroom as seen from the hallway.


I took this one and the next one of the bathroom because no-one actually went in there and looked at my cool stuff, and I'm so proud. See if you can name the movies those pictures are from. I also caught my movie star shower curtain in the mirror.


This is above the bathtub. I like how Alfred's looking at you, sitting in judgment while you're sitting on the can.


This is our bedroom. A little plain compared to the colors at our old place, but so's the whole house, really. Someday I'll paint, but I really don't mind it for now.


Another angle on the bedroom.


This is the living room. I was just wondering where the hell the ottoman is in this picture, then I looked up and realized I still hadn't moved it back.


Here is the fireplace. We can't have a fire yet because some work needs to be done to the bricks and we also need a screen, so in the meantime I created a "candlescape." I know, how cheesy. Monkeygirl and Gynagirl both brought flowers -- aren't they pretty?


I am only posting this because everyone seems to dig our built-in entertainment thing. I like it, too.


Our back porch (with adirondack chairs courtesy of Mom),


I should have taken pictures of the backyard before dark, but I got too busy before the party, so I had to wait until after.


More backyard. There's a lemon tree, and that's Sweetie's kumquat. Dad gave me the bench for my birthday a couple years ago.


And of course, my hammock. There is some lawn back there, some overgrown plants, including rosemary, cannas, mock orange, a berry vine, a camellia...


Well, that's it for now. I'll write some text-y stuff later. I would like to say, though, that I know how lucky I am to have the supportive, wonderful, loving friends and family we have both near and far. It is by far the greatest blessing in my life. Thank you.

Yesterday

coffe coffe coffe
Originally uploaded by KaTko0ot_DXB1.

was crazy. I taught all day (including 7th period until 4:30), practiced with the staff band for the rally today until about 5:20, dashed home and got my bass and amp (thanks for packin' them for me sweetie), went to Starubucks (I know, the evil empire) to meet my realtor to counter an offer we got on the house*, then went to my uncle's house to "jam" and eat Chinese food. I got home a few minutes before 10.

*Don't congratulate me just yet -- it was a shitty offer from an "investor" that came in at 60k less than we're asking. I wasn't even sure it was worth countering, but we came down about 15k. If they take it or come pretty close to it, fine. If not, screw 'em, because I'm not going to play around with an offer so insulting.

By the way, I don't want my blog to become some sort of world-wide prayer center, but if you could spare a good thought today for my Boompah's dad, my step-grandpa, I'd appreciate it.

I got Phished!

spam
Originally uploaded by AlteredMissives.

I got a call yesterday from a bank that we have recently opened an account with. The caller identified himself, gave me my name and address, then offered to send me a credit card. I said I didn't want it and wouldn't use it. He said he'd send it to me anyway, but we never had to use it. He just needed my date of birth to confirm. He sounded so official that I gave it to him. Then he wanted my mother's maiden name. I told him I was hanging up on him and hung up.

I'm about 90% sure that he was a fake now, but at the time, he was very convincing. I've never been phished by phone before, because we've always been unlisted (I thought we still were). I'm really good at spotting the e-mail phishers, but I sort of got drawn in my this guy. Now I'm doing the Chris Farley "Stupid Stupid Stupid!"

Technically this is not Spam-related, but what a good picture, huh?
It even has the mark of the beast on it.

Springtime for Hitler

Hitler Baby
Originally uploaded by DiscoWeasel.

In our shared students discussion this morning, the science teacher brought up a very bright, kind of odd kid. He's in my advanced English class. He's from Romania, has a heavy accent, and sometimes struggles for words, but he's extremely smart and personable, and knows the bible "chapter and verse" as they say.

He came up because apparently she asked him what he was going to do after graduation. He replied that he wanted to go back to Romania and "separate the races." He apparently particularly felt that the gypsies were getting out of control, and their presence was bad for the nation.

Um.

We're not sure if he was so smart that he was putting her on and that was the most absurd deadpan humor I've ever heard or if he's both intelligent and really, really crazy. She's known the kid for over two years and thought he was sincere. I've only known him two months, but would be surrpised to learn that he was. I guess I'll have to wait to find out, because I'm a little uncomfortable with the idea of pulling the kid aside and saying "Hey, Ms. G said you wanted to go back to Romania and separate the races. Were you f-ing with her or are you chock full o' nuts?"

Opposite day

drag king wanna be
Originally uploaded by yellerbelly.

Today in Spirit Week, it's Opposite Day. They suggested that you wear your clothes "inside out, backwards... whatever!" I was thinking about being a student, but didn't have a gigantic enough t-shirt, so instead I'm a boy! I'm wearing a pair of Sweetie's old army pants (seriously oversized), a polo shirt with the collar "popped," a cabbie hat, Docs, and no make-up. I tried to do shaggy emo-boy hair, but I'm not sure how well it worked, so I'm keeping the hat on. Overall, the effect is less "man" than Dykey McBulldyke, and I mean that in an affectionate way.

The kids are LOVING it, and all wanted pictures of me this morning.

Then the principal came into our meeting to ask if I would be willing to sponsor the LGSA club (Lesbian Gay Student Alliance). I said I would, but it depended on when their meetings are, because technically I already sponsor three other clubs. Jokingly (but deadpan), I asked whether it was because of how I am dressed today. He looked panicked and quickly blurted "No!" then recovered with "Not that there's anything wrong with that." I laughed at him, but then later he saw me in the hall and took me to meet the current club sponsor. We had our little conversation about how we could co-ordinate, when the meetings are, etc. and as he walked away, he turned suddenly back, walked close to us, and explained to the other gal "but it has nothing to do with how she's dressed. Today is opposite day." The other teacher then said "What, you think because she's dressed like that I thought she was a big bulldyke? Get outta here." And she shooed him away. That cracked my ass up.

As usual, that's not a photo of me -- it's whatever I could find on Flickr in order to blog undetected... If I get a picture of me, I'll post it. But in the meantime, feel free to look up "drag king" on Flickr. It's very interesting, and you also get a lot of "lesbians bellydancing."

You should dress Indian every day!

Mo in sori
Originally uploaded by Ziggy Lankee.

That was an odd compliment I received from another teacher earlier today. This is spirit week (the week before Homecoming), and today is "Multicultural day." The signs advice us to dress in the clothing of our culture, but since I don't have any overalls and muddy boots and have no intention of dressing like a Leprechaun, I went with the "multi" part, and decided to dress in someone else's cultural dress -- a sari.

I got here this morning and the first student of mine I saw was Indian, and she said "Oh, Ms. Mockula. You're wearing a sari. Who wrapped it for you?" I proudly replied "I did!" She tilted her head to one side, examining me, and stated "you needed help." SInce one typically wears a sari with another long skirt and a shirt underneath, I took off the sari itself and she helped me re-wrap it. Anyway, now I'm very proud. I've gotten many compliments. Of course, my students all walk in and go "You're Indian? I thought you were Irish?" and I reply in my best mock-teacher voice, "I am, but white people don't have culture, children."

You should dress Indian every day!

Mo in sori
Originally uploaded by Ziggy Lankee.

That was an odd compliment I received from another teacher earlier today. This is spirit week (the week before Homecoming), and today is "Multicultural day." The signs advice us to dress in the clothing of our culture, but since I don't have any overalls and muddy boots and have no intention of dressing like a Leprechaun, I went with the "multi" part, and decided to dress in someone else's cultural dress -- a sari.

I got here this morning and the first student of mine I saw was Indian, and she said "Oh, Ms. Mockula. You're wearing a sari. Who wrapped it for you?" I proudly replied "I did!" She tilted her head to one side, examining me, and stated "you needed help." SInce one typically wears a sari with another long skirt and a shirt underneath, I took off the sari itself and she helped me re-wrap it. Anyway, now I'm very proud. I've gotten many compliments. Of course, my students all walk in and go "You're Indian? I thought you were Irish?" and I reply in my best mock-teacher voice, "I am, but white people don't have culture, children."

The Liz Phair train left and I wasn't on it.

Blogger is acting goofy, so I don't know if this'll work, but here goes.

We're having a housewarming next weekend (well, an open house -- we're not begging for presents) so I spent a lot of time this weekend cleaning up. Every time someone asks me "well, are you all settled in?" I answer "Yup, I unpacked the last box this weekend." But then I find one more box. We're more settled in, but there are always things that need to be done. I cleaned up the backyard a lot yesterday, but am nowhere near done with that. Everything's thorny and overgrown, like giant Muppets with pokey bits. I cut a lot of stuff back and dragged the big pile to the street. It was hard work, and I got several scratches, but it smelled delicious!! Really. The first thing I cut back was the rosemary. Then I moved on to the mock orange, and if you have never gotten a whiff of this citrusy, soapy, tangy, astringent smell, then go find somebody with a mock orange and cut off a branch. It's really an interesting and pleasant smell. Then I went to the lemon tree. At first, I balked a little at pruning it at all and losing some lemons, but we have way more than we can use anyway. But when I cut it, there was serious lemon smell, too. So depending on what I was cutting or walking on or dragging to the street, it smelled absolutely delightful.

I've made some really yummy dinners lately, including last night's stuffed squash (don't balk --Sweetie even went back for seconds), but Blogger has been seriously fussy, so I probably won't update Count Broccula tonight, but soon.

I bought Liz Phair's "Exile in Guyville" last week. I've been hearing about this album literally for years. It's supposed to be this seminal riot grrl feminist rockin' masterpiece. I've kind of felt guilty all these years for not owning it. I've never even heard any of the songs off the album, so I finally saw it at Tower's clearance sale and went for it. I had really high expectations and... it was okay. I think I was expecting ROCKING, like, PJ Harvey or Hole. But it's almost folky. I think it rocks about as hard as Suzanne Vega. I mean, I don't dislike it, and I've listened to it several times through, but it is completely not what I thought.

I still have to go grocery shopping tonight and do some other stuff, so I'm out. Take care everyone.

Thank You Card

Thank You Card
Originally uploaded by miss88keys.

Awww. Sometimes you do start the day right. I had my scone, got to school and found a thank you card in my box. A student of mine from last year had asked for a recommendation letter for a scholarship, and I gave it to him Wednesday and found my card today.

Now let me tell you -- most kids don't ask me for letters until about the day before they're due. This kid asked for one in September. And I have NEVER gotten a thank you card. It was a really thoughtful one, too, and included his senior portrait. What a nice kid, huh?

Modesto, real estate, Blockbuster

I'm going to Modesto tomorrow for a meeting with the Renaissance Society, which has nothing to do with funny costumes. It's some sort of incentive program for schools. So I have no idea why I'm still up at 10:20, since I have to be at school at 6:30 tomorrow. Sigh.

I e-mailed the real estate agent we used to buy our new house in the hopes that he can sell our old one. I've been fairly unhappy with our old agent, and I'm looking forward to our contract being up in 2 weeks. I know the market is slow and perhaps any agent would have had trouble selling the house in a market like this, but I kind of suspect our agent had an EXTRA-hard time. She's kind of weird.

And finally -- I hate Blockbuster. I really do. I don't even know why I have a membership, other than that I don't know where the hell else to rent movies and I do occasionally need to rent movies faster than I can Netflix them. I've been teaching stage make-up to my drama classes, and I had to come up with a sup plan, so I thought I'd show "A Midsummer Night's Dream," since it has some good makeup, and I also have a student who's chosen Nick Bottom as the character he's studying for this unit. Not there. So I try Cyrano for the same reasons. Not there. So I try several other Shakespeare plays, because even if the makeup's not there, several of the kids are doing Shakespeare characters. I try Hamlet, Macbeth, The Taming of the Shrew, even Shakespeare in Love. No. I start randomly browsing the shelves for any movie that has makeup in it or was based on a play, ever. Blockbuster blows.

When I am very sad

Handstand mit Lothar
Originally uploaded by sesamoel.

sometimes I do silly things to make myself feel better. Today I am wearing a gigantic purple ring that is plastic but cut to resemble a large jewel. It is approximately the size of a kiwi.

I went to the restroom just now, in the middle of our PSAT tests, and my back hurts, so I did a couple yoga stretches. It struck me that it would be funny to do a handstand in the bathroom, so I did. I washed my hands thoroughly afterwards.

I don't know what "Lothar" over there is about, but it was the picture I liked best when I searched for
"handstand" on Flickr. I am pretty sure the dude has a frog puppet on his foot.

I'm a highly qualified teacher!

Finally! I got a letter today informing me. Don't think for a moment I won't be photocopying that fucker for my files.

Poker, Apple Hill, pathetic poetry night

Hi all,

I don't really have anything to say, but thought I'd update anyway. On Saturday I met some friends at Apple Hill, which is basically just a collection of apple orchards about an hour east of here. I know that probably doesn't sound like the world's greatest tourist attraction, but we've been going since I was a kid, and I really love it. Most of the orchards sell not just apples, but pies, crumb cakes, caramel apples, cider, other fruits and veggies and funky gourds, sometimes fudge and candy, recipe books, and all sorts of ridiculous crafts. Several of the places have stuff for kids, and it's kind of lame stuff ("Go stick your head through the hole in the plywood pumpkin, honey!"), but it's also sweet and innocent, and I think the kids have as good a time reaching through the fence to pet the ponies and ride the tricycles and go through the hay maze and climb around the pumpkin patch as they would doing something zippier, like going to Magic Mountain. They seem to have fun, anyway. (I went with several friends with kids.) Anyway, I always like to buy as many different varieties of apples as I can so we can try them. This time I didn't get to because I was planning to get them at the last orchard we went to, and we were planning to go to High Hill Farms (which has a fudge factory, kettle corn, a trout pond, and a cider mill where you can watch the apples getting smooshed into juice), but when we got there it was insanely crowded, so I only came home with the few Granny Smiths and Empires I bought at Mother Lode. I also got a bunch of pumpkins for the porch, so now we have a whole little family out there.

Saturday evening we went to Sweetie's co-worker's house for poker. I've played about three hands of poker in my entire life. It showed. I really, really sucked. I had fun though. The hostess kept making me virgin Cosmos, which were delightful, and I ate a cupcake, and we had some nice conversation. I really had a hard time following the game, though, because we switched what kind of game we played each time, from 5 card stud and 7 card stud (which I sort of understood) to Texas Hold 'Em (which I got), to Mexico, something High-Low, Baseball Black Moriah (which I finally won some money back on)... it was crazy!! Plus, there was all this intricate stuff about knocking on the table and sometimes it seemed like we went around betting a couple times and other times just once, and frankly I had to work to sort out what "of a kind" meant, because the only way I can remember what "full house" and that stuff means is from playing Yahtzee. I had a good time, and I'll totally go back if invited, but... well, I just blow.

In early September I sent an e-mail to all the other English teachers telling them that our students had been invited to be the featured readers at the Sacramento Poetry Center. I encouraged them to send their students to me to get directions and everything. Then I reminded them. And I put posters up (lots of posters). And then I sent the teachers the directions, just in case. And then I sent the ENTIRE staff an e-mail. Ultimately, I had five kids say they wanted to come, and two showed up. There were 8 people in the room -- the two students, one's brother, me, another English teacher, the host, a regular guest, and a girl who went to community college who was getting extra credit for attending. Sigh. I really try to drum up excitement for stuff like this, but after so many disappointments, I don't know how much energy I should continue putting into it. Like, if somebody ELSE wants to organize a poetry reading or something, I'll support it, help them out, encourage my students to attend (and offer them extra credit), and do whatever I can to foster creative writing on campus, but I can't, like, give birth to it. If that makes sense. It's probably not even true. In a couple weeks, I'll be organizing something new. It's what I do...

How selfish is it that I'm happy no one has responded to the art meme? It means I don't have to do anything, and I still get art from my brother. MWAHahahahahaha!! I'm kidding, you can still reply.

Meme (I still don't really know what a meme is)

"The first five people to respond to this post will get some form of art, by me, about them. I make no guarantees about quality or type, but I will assure that I will give it good effort and that the art will be individual to you, so if you get a mixed CD or some sort of painting doodle, yours is the only one like it.

The only catch, of course; as with most memes, if you sign up, you have to put this in your own journal as well."



I stole that outright from my brother so that I could score some art from him. If anyone responds to this, I will follow through, but since he's a real-live artist and I'm more of a, um, an English teacher, mine will probably involve a glue stick and glitter. Or be a mix CD, but I'm good at those...

I feel like a number...

Bar Code Tattoo
Originally uploaded by moosmom.

I actually sent this e-mail this morning:

Good morning,

I went to three training days before school started and I filled out my user ID incorrectly. My classroom was packed, and my ID number with it. I have since received 15 notices that remind me of my user number, or just about one a day for the last three weeks. Not to worry; I've got it now. I've had it artfully tattooed in a tasteful location and never intend to forget it again.

Thank you,
Count Mockula
#23263

Recyclemmings

Tonight I got home and discovered that several people on my street had put out their blue recycling bins next to their garbage bins. But I'm pretty sure it's not recycling day. Or is it? Why would they have put them out if it wasn't the right night? How much is in my bin? If it's not overflowing, it's not recycling night. Plus, I just cleaned out the garage a week and a half ago, and I had all the boxes in there...

It was like all of a sudden, their confusion had affected me! I almost put the bin on the street. I seriously can't let a recycle day go by, because while we average only one small bag of actual garbage a week, we recycle like mofos... If my recycling doesn't get picked up, the house starts overflowing with newspaper and water bottles.

I was also thinking that it's funny how if one person accidentally puts the blue bin out, it's like contagious, and other people start putting theirs out, too. I thought, "there should be a word for that..."

Which started me on an entirely different tangent. See, in my newspaper, there's this TERRIBLE trend toward trying to make the paper more appealing to younger readers. Ultimately I guess it's a good thing if it secures the future of the newspaper industry, because I LOVE my newspapers. But I want my newspaper old-people style. It doesn't have to have graphics on the header. It doesn't have to have teasers to stories inside. It should eschew crapass fluff pieces where editorials used to be. And I certainly don't need news articles that use slang terms like "gonna" unless it's a pretty necessary quote.

I was thinking that there's a really lame semi-regular feature on Sundays written by one of the Bee's two trendoid Lifestyle reporters. I'm fairly sure it's called "So Sacramento." and the subtitle is "Words that should be in the dictionary but aren't." They're always stupid words like "Thursweekend." (I made that up, 'cause I can't find any of them online, but it's something like that.) Then there'll be the definition: "Thursweekend: the way traffic backs up on Thursdays before a three-day weekend on highway 50 out of town." Then, the mandatory use in a sentence. "Hey, we'd better sneak out of the office early, because it's going to be a Thursweekend out there!"

Anyway, it's stupid and pointless and no one would ever use the words (they tend to be really awkward, long constructions) and it just irritates me. Nevertheless, I like "recyclemmings."

I call BS

No get out of jail free here
Originally uploaded by salgal.

I got an e-mail (a mass mailing, not just to me) this morning about how we shouldn't be checking our personal mail from work. You know what? F--- that. Here's why:

1: My calendar is linked to my e-mail account. I can keep track of field trips, appointments with students, meetings, etc. THROUGH MY E-MAIL ACCOUNT. I am not organized enough to write stuff down in one place and carry it with me, and this is the best method I've found for me.

2: Just because I am at school doesn't mean I'm working. I arrive here at least 30 minutes prior to the time my contract states, ALWAYS stay at least 15 minutes late, and my 40-minute lunch is my own. You mean to tell me I can't access my personal life during those times (which add up to about 200 hours a year that I am on campus, mostly working, entirely for free each year)?

3: Who is it hurting? If I take 30 seconds during a passing period to tell my husband I'll be home late, what harm is that doing? Yes, I could be out in the halls watching kids, but we've been specifically asked not to this year. Nope, administration told us to be in our rooms.

4: It's a double-standard. No one has been told not to bring cell phones to school. Yes, the cell phones are ours, not school property, but that's the sole difference. Why does it matter if we're connecting with someone electronically rather than cellular-ly?

5: I conduct school business using my personal e-mail. It's much easier to check from home, and it's way shorter. My home e-mail is myname@sbcglobal.net. My work e-mail is something like My_name@FHHS.CA.SCUSD.post-office.internalservererror/stillreading?.shutup. Even I don't get it right half the time when I try to send something to my work e-mail. I give the e-mail to my kids to turn in assignments or ask questions. I communicate with parents via e-mail. I send myself useful links, articles, and documents. I keep in touch with the community about school events (like an upcoming student poetry reading)... Yes, when I check my mail, it's a mix of personal and school, definitely leaning more towards personal, but I do use it for work.

Anyway, I really don't plan to stop checking my e-mail from work unless they come have a personal chat with me about it. And if they do, I plan to tell them about those reasons above. Hmph. It just put me in a grumpy mood.

Teen pregnancy

Pregnant belly!
Originally uploaded by The Pdot.

As a teacher, I have had several students over the years end up pregnant. The saddest was when I still taught junior high. A girl came back to visit me during her freshman year and told me she was pregnant. I saw her at the bus stop less than 9 months later and she didn't appear pregnant, so I never found out what happened. Anyway, one of my students from last year got knocked up, and I didn't realize it until almost the end of the year. She's a very petite girl, so during puffy-winter-coat season, there was no way to know. Anyway, now that we're back in school in the fall, she's had her baby. I asked some of her friends yesterday whether she was raising it or giving it up. They were shocked and offended that someone might give up their child for adoption. I mean, it was like they'd never heard of such a thing, and the idea was incomprehensibly cruel. How, they asked, could I have thought of such a thing?

Well, she's sixteen, I responded. They asked if I would have given up a child for adoption if I gave birth at sixteen. I said I would have (not precisely true: I probably would have had an abortion). Now I guess it's ironic, because I'm 30 and want so badly to be pregnant. But no, at 16 I still had big plans! I would not have tried to raise a baby at 16. If I did, there's a decent chance my mom would have taken over primary baby-raising responsibilty, because I was SO immature! How would I have provided for a child? What did I know about nutrition? What did I know about ANYTHING? Shit, if you can't figure out birth control at 16 (sorry if that's offensive -- I know it doesn't apply to everyone), how are you supposed to figure out raising a baby?

Anyway, we ended up in a discussion about teen parents, and the kids seemed to think that a teen parent can be every bit as good as an adult. While I agree that a teen parent can be a good parent, and an adult parent can be a bad one, I think that maturity, self-sufficiency, job skills, life experience, and a stable relationship do add a lot to parenting, kind of automatically. It surprises me that my students don't think that way. Gotta go to a meeting...

Food/poetry/yoga

Hiya. I made a really yummy risotto yesterday. I'll try to get it up on Count Broccula this week. I called it "Three Sisters Risotto" on the vague notion that I picked up somewhere that Native Americans called squash, corn, and peppers "the three sisters." It may be wrong, and possibly even culturally insensitive, who knows... It was tasty, though.

Tonight I did a poetry reading. It was cool. I was rather unprepared, but I pulled it off. Mom showed up at the last minute, which was cool. I think I read well, even if my poetry is only okay. I at least use gestures and voice modulation and know how to breathe and slow down. Unlike, I'm sorry to say, the two guys who went before me. I think I would have enjoyed reading both their stuff on paper, but it was really hard to understand in fast-forward. Also, have you ever had your bottled water sitting on your lap, and the condensation caused a little wet spot right at the crotch, and then you had to stand up and do some public speaking and you wondered if people thought you'd peed yourself? We did.

I took the "yoga challenge" class tonight since it was too late to go to ballet after the reading. Dude, it was HARD! No lie! We did this downward dog to plank to crocodile to cobra back to downward dog about a THOUSAND times. Imagine doing pushups, but having to hang out in the down position for, oh, say, the time it takes for your instructor/coach to walk over to the stereo and adjust her microphone and come back. Or putting your arms in the air and lunging with your legs for the time it takes for your instructor to have a chat with somene abotu her shoulder problems. Several people left early, and one big guy was sweating up a storm! Okay, so now I know that "challenge" really does describe the class.

Sorry for the quickie, but I've been pretty busy lately, and I still need to do a little tidying around here before bed...

Dents can usk my _____.

Okay, my car is only three years old. I did some damage to it when I first got it (backed into a basketball pole when we were asked to park on the basketball courts at school), but I had it fixed. Almost immediately thereafter, a bicycle ran into me. Yes, you read that right. I was turning left onto a 4-lane plus chicken lane street, and a cyclist who was travelling the opposite direction on the other side of the street suddenly veered across four lanes right towards me with his head turned backwards the entire time. I slammed on my brakes, two other cars slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting me, and the cyclist kept coming until I finally saw him turn his head, but at that point he was an inch from my bumper, and he and his bike ended up ON my hood. To make it clear, I was at a COMPLETE, DEAD STOP and the cyclist ran into me. Anyway, I ended up with some dents and scratches on the hood. Then my car was stolen and when I got it back, it had a couple new dents -- one in the driver's side door and another on the trunk. The other day, my windshield cracked out of nowhere. I got in the car in the morning and there was a crack. I put a tiny paint scratch in the front bumper recently, and then on Thursday, a HUGE (hand-grenade sized) hunk of blacktop fell off a truck, bounced across two lanes, and hit my hood. Are you keeping track? I now have scratches on the hood, dents on the hood, a dent in the door and the trunk, a cracked windshield and a scratch in the bumper and the only one I had any part in was the scratch. My car is starting to look significantly beaten up, and I'm actually a pretty decent driver! I've never been in a serious accident (and the two minor ones I've been in weren't my fault), I have done a couple stupid things, basketball pole included, but like with the basketball pole, it was under extremely wierd circumstances (I was blocked in completely on the right and in front and back by cars -- I was angling myself out successfully, but the pole was painted white, the sun was shining on it, and it was exactly in my blind spot, so it was damn near invisible. I actually had to get OUT of the car to see what I'd hit. So I feel as if my car does not accurately reflect my driving record. It's kind of irking me. I really want it to still look good, since I am hoping to have it for many years to come...

You must be wondering what "usk my ____." is about. I was listening to a Beastie Boys retrospective on KWOD, and it kind of took me by surprise. I like the Beasties a great deal, and frequently listen to them in the car, but they rarely come on the radio. So I was surprised to hear the edited versions. It seems as though for some words, they reverse a few of the sounds, while others are just blanked out. Which led to the really odd experience of hearing a familiar song as "People come up to me and they try to talk ISH, man. I was makin' records when you were USKing your mother's _____." It was totally nonsensical. Now, I'm not saying that usually the Beasties make sense (they are the band, after all, with lines like "I got girls in a castle and one in a pagoda, you know I got rhymes like Abe Vigoda"), but at least the words they are using are generally real words, and they go in the grammatical order you might expect.

All right, I've got stuff to do. Take care.

Umm, Blondie, stage fighting, the Chipotle conundrum, Count Mockula would never lie to you, the blues...

Okay, a week or so ago, I made a vague reference to the "staff band" I think. I said I would follow up on it, and I haven't. Here's the deal -- there are several guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer on staff. They know I sing, so they invited me to perform a song with them at the homecoming rally. They're doing Blondie's "Rapture." I'm trying to memorize the lyrics, and I'm going to be able to fake the singing (she sings it REALLY high, which I can do if I only have to do it once). If I had my choice of Blondie songs, I'd have probably chosen "The Tide is High" or something, but I like "Rapture" all right, even if I have occasionally wondered what the fuck she was talking about. Now that I actually know, and am obligated to sing it, I find myself rolling my eyes in embarassment as soon as I start the "rap" part, which begins with "Fab Five Freddy told me everything is fly. DJ spinning, I said 'My, my!'" It continues on with such delightful lines as "Don't hurt your brain, paint a train, you'll be singing in the rain." The narrative, if you will, is told in the second person and is about a Martian who attacks the listener and eats his or her head. Now that the listener is inside the Martian, he too travels the world eating cars (Mercurys and Subarus), bars (where the people meet), and guitars. It's really quite strange. Also, did you know there's an F-word in there? I had no idea, and in fact when I first read it in the lyrics, I didn't believe it. I had to listen to the song to confirm it. Sure enough, the line is "And it's finger fucking, 24 hour shopping in rapture."

I'm teaching stage combat in my drama class today and tomorrow. Oh, you might ask, what qualifies me to teach stage combat? Well, about 45 minutes of it one day when I was in the 9th grade. And the internet. But god damn, can I fake it! They think I know everything! And it's working, too. We had some really decent-looking fake punch-to-the-stomach/lift-'em-up/right-cross combos going. And third period had a killer spin-your-opponent-around/haymaker combos going on. I had to tell them, though, not to go around "practicing" in front of administration. I could just picture it; "Hey, Mr. Apple, look what we learned in Ms. Mockula's class!" Grunt! Pow! Still, it's pretty fun. The kids are being good sports, too.

Here is my Chipotle conundrum: I usually only go there when I'm starving nigh on to death. And their portions are mammoth, so it's perfect. But when to stop eating? Usually, I'm so hungry that I get to the half-way mark and really still want more. So I keep eating, but when I get about three bites from the end, I start to feel really stuffed. But you can't wrap up three bites for tomorrow's lunch, so you might as well eat the rest. And I do. And then I hate myself and want to die and roll around with my pants unzipped moaning in pain.

Listen, I don't want to give you the impression that I'm not hyperbolic, because I sometimes am. And don't think I include every little detail of my life, because I don't. But if I write something in here, it is because to the best of my knowledge, it is true. Or has the quality of truthiness, whatever you prefer. And so it struck me as funny that last week when I had Monkeygirl over, she looked in the garage and laughed. "You really DO have the old people thing!" she exclaimed, pointing at my hanging-windshield-parking-spot-indicator. I know I have it! Mockula does not make up things like this. Mockula tells the truth. She just mocks it.

And finally, I try to not repost other people's shit too often, but I found this online today, and it really cracked me up. It's the rules for playing the blues.

If you are new to Blues music, or like it but never really understood the
why and wherefores, here are some very fundamental rules:

1. Most Blues begin with: "Woke up this morning..."

2. "I got a good woman" is a bad way to begin the Blues, unless you stick
something nasty in the next line like, "I got a good woman, with the
meanest face in town."

3. The Blues is simple. After you get the first line right, repeat it.
Then find something that rhymes - sort of: "Got a good woman with the
meanest face in town. Yes, I got a good woman with the meanest face in
town. Got teeth like Margaret Thatcher and she weigh 500 pound."

4. The Blues is not about choice. You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in a
ditch... ain't no way out.

5. Blues cars: Chevys, Fords, Cadillacs and broken-down trucks. Blues
don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or Sport Utility Vehicles. Most Blues
transportation is a Greyhound bus or a southbound train. Jet aircraft and
state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running. Walkin' plays a
major part in the Blues lifestyle. So does fixin' to die.

6. Teenagers can't sing the Blues. They ain't fixin' to die yet. Adults
sing the Blues. In Blues, "adulthood" means being old enough to get the
electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis.

7. Blues can take place in New York City but not in Hawaii or anywhere in
Canada. Hard times in Minneapolis or Seattle is probably just clinical
depression. Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, Memphis, and Nawlins are still
the best places to have the Blues. You cannot have the Blues in any place
that don't get rain.

8. A man with male pattern baldness ain't the Blues. A woman with male
pattern baldness is. Breaking your leg 'cause you were skiing is not the
Blues. Breaking your leg 'cause a alligator be chomping on it is.

9. You can't have no Blues in an office or a shopping mall. The lighting is
wrong. Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.
10. Good places for the Blues
a. highway
b. jailhouse
c. empty bed
d. bottom of a whiskey glass

11. Bad places for the Blues
a. Nordstrom's
b. gallery openings
c. Ivy League institutions
d. golf courses

12. No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, 'less you happen
to be an old person, and you slept in it.

13. Do you have the right to sing the Blues?

Yes, if:
a. you're older than dirt
b. you're blind
c. you shot a man in Memphis
d. you can't be satisfied

No, if:
a. you have all your teeth
b. you were once blind but now can see
c. the man in Memphis lived
d. you have a 401K or trust fund

14. Blues is not a matter of color. It's a matter of bad luck. Tiger Woods
cannot sing the Blues. Sonny Liston could have. Ugly white people also got a
leg up on the Blues.

15. If you ask for water and your darlin' gives you gasoline, it's the
Blues. Other acceptable Blues beverages are:
a. cheap wine
b. whiskey or bourbon
c. muddy water
d. black coffee

The following are NOT Blues beverages:
a. Perrier
b. Chardonnay
c. Snapple
d. Slim Fast

16. If death occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it's a Blues death.
Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is another Blues way to die. So are
the electric chair, substance abuse and dying lonely on a broken-down cot.
You can't have a Blues death if you die during a tennis match or while
getting liposuction.

17. Some Blues names for women:
a. Sadie
b. Big MamaD
c. Bessie
d. Fat River Dumpling

18. Some Blues names for men:
a. Joe
b. Willie
c. Little Willie
d. Big Willie

19. Persons with names like Michelle, Amber, Jennifer, Debbie, and Heather
can't sing the Blues no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis.

20. Blues Name Starter Kit
a. name of physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Lame, etc.)
b. first name (see above) plus name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi,
etc.)
c. last name of President (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.)

For example: Blind Lime Jefferson, Pegleg Lemon Johnson or Cripple
Kiwi Fillmore, etc. (Well, maybe not "Kiwi.")

21. And I don't care how tragic your life is, if anyone in your family
plays soccer, you can't sing the blues.

hubby penguin

hubby penguin
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

Just cheering myself up. I'm okay today -- I did go to ballet last night to see the girls just so I wouldn't miss out on any group hug action. It sounds like we're going to channel our energy, if at all possible, into turning the studio into a cooperative, like the "Bader Dance Collective" or something. It would be pretty darn cool if we could, if only to keep our little community intact. I've sort of been thinking that with some more training I could teach a (very introductory) belly dance or yoga class. Might be fun...

School's been quiet today. I told my "study buddy" that I wouldn't be able to make study team because I have prior committments, and I do -- to my husband, my ballet class, and my CSA (I have to pick up my veggies). Wednesdays just suck and I'm pressed for time. I'm planning to show my face at these study teams every couple weeks, and check in and do my assignments and be a good girl, but you can't make me go to all of them. It's frickin' VOLUNTARY. That's what that means...

Okay, I'm going to get back to modelling good behavior to my class, not being off-task. Just wanted you to know it's not as bleak as yesterday.

Black cloud

black cloud
Originally uploaded by unflux.

Hmm. It seems like there's a bit of a black cloud hanging overhead lately. I'm not actually depressed or anything -- there are just a lot of bummer things going on. Friend losing jobs, other friends being "re-deployed," friends so miserable and alone on vacation that they came home early, death of a teacher, Sweetie's sick... I have online friends who have lost babies or have triplets (yes triplets) with a bacterial infection putting their birth at risk. Work is stress-y (it's gotten to let's-go-talk-to-the-union-rep level -- not for me, thankfully, but all around me). We got an offer on the house, sort of, but they'd really like to borrow fifty-six-thousand dollars from us. Another friend who crossed the divide between online real life sounds like she's concerned about her new life (after quitting her job). A good, old friend is undergoing major changes in her life, and she's far away and has advised me not to e-mail her usual address... We're still "trying" and kind of unmotivated (oh, and by the way, thanks Grandma for responding to "We're still working on it" with "Well, it's not working! I'm ready for another grandbaby.") It's just kind of sucky.

Tell me something good...

Miss Bobbi

About four and a half years ago, after my breast reduction surgery, I decided it was time to return to ballet. I had taken a nearly eight year break and gained a lot of weight in those years. I was nervous about starting ballet again, fearing that I was clumsy and old and overweight, but I really, really wanted it. I started by looking in the phone book, but it was hard to tell who offered adult classes, and most of the studios were geared towards tap and jazz. I went to the local dancewear store to pick up a leotard, tights, and shoes, so that when I did find a place, I'd be ready to go. While I was there, I overheard someone asking whether there were any studios in town that taught adults. The reply was "Oh, you've got to go to Bobbi Bader." I inquired further, and the answer was that yes, she was the only teacher in town that was really a good adult teacher, primarily an adult teacher, and taught all levels. I gave her a call and she asked me some questions about my training, then invited me to a beginner class.

I came, and I really enjoyed the class. I was challenged, but felt invigorated to find that I still "had it," as it were. I could still dance. I may never be able to play poker, tennis, run a 10k -- but damn, I can DANCE. And it feels good. After class, Bobbi circled on a schedule all the classes I was welcome to attend. As time wore on, she complimented me on my arms. We talked about my childhood teacher, whom she knew (and reminded me of). We worked on my abdominal strength, my footwork, my balance and my turns. I went up a level or two. I joined the pointe class, then dropped it. I confided my joint issues in Bobbi, and she always worked around me, but still expected my best.

She worked us hard, but never failed to notice and compliment improvement. I'm struggling with the past tense.

Two weeks ago, we had a sub. Miss Bobbi had the flu. In the last 4 years, we've had a sub maybe twice. Last week, we had a sub again. I was surprised. People had called her, but weren't getting any information about what was wrong. One of my classmates is a doctor, but even when she called, all Bobbi would say was that "she had someone there 24 hours a day." Last night I got a call from a classmate and friend who said that Bobbi was in a nursing home, and as they weren't sure it was covered by her insurance, it would be great if I could continue to go to classes (and pay tuition). I, like everyone else, am more likely to skip when Miss Bobbi is not there, since only she really knows my ability, my potential, and who keeps the class moving at our preferred pace.

Tonight I got the call that she passed away. We still don't know how or why. I guess I'll leave it there. I'm sad. Miss Bobbi is younger than my parents.

Busy, just checking in.

Hey all,

I have about 400,000 words worth of essays to read (really) and I've put it off until 7pm on Sunday, so I won't be long here. But I had a nice relaxing weekend. Sweetie and I went to the old house to mow and found our realtor staging it for an open house Saturday. Hopefully something will come of that.

We chilled out most of yesterday. I cleaned out the garage and FINALLY got all our boxes unpacked and our stuff put away. There isn't really enough room for the books, but someday we'll have shelves built. Last night I went to a birthday party for a work friend, and it was a cute retro cocktail party theme. I drank a White Russian and two Black Russians (small ones) and ate cake and traded stories and had a good time. Her place is SUPER-CUTE. It's got a green vintage oven and cooktop, and she built on that and has a whole ultra-lounge retro theme going on, so naturally I love it. I also got to talk to a new co-worker I just met and had a good time in general.

I caught up with Gynagirl this morning. We had a yummy breakfast at Fox and Goose and a great talk. She is in a really good place right now, and I'm delighted to hear it.

I did get bad news about my ballet teacher, but it's extremely vague bad news. I'm worried about her. She's in her early 50s, but she's in a nursing home for some reason. We knew she was sick, but not how sick or with what illness. We still don't...

I guess that's about it. I finally got the rest of our art, including our stained glass, up. That feels like an accomplishment.

I'd better go plan and read essays. Oh, and don't worry: I'm reading some of the essays carefully, but about 350,000 words worth of them are journals that I'm planning to skim.

Take care,
CM