I picked this book up in Santa Cruz, and while I'm enjoying it to an extent, I prefer my writers' guides to be, well, better-written. The author encourages writers to fill their texts with neologisms, colorful adverbs, fresh metaphors... all of which can be beneficial if used sparingly, like salt in food. But his own writing is more than sprinkled with these devices; it is literally so full of them that one imagines one could soak a string in them overnight and pull out a solid, crystallized chunk of the stuff.
These metaphors are not just tortured, but left alone in a room with Geoffrey Rush's Marquis de Sade, fecophilic and bruised. The text is swimming with turgidly constructed adverbs and foreign words that obstruct the wabi sabi of the whole. There is good information floating in there, but the reader must swim to it through sentences thick and sweet as condensed milk, the extended metaphors providing informational flotation devices as useful as those vibrantly unhelpful pool noodles. This writer feels that while there is nothing wrong with occasionally gilding the lily, it is overkill to then bedazzle it, hot-glue on rhinestones, and cover the whole roccocco mess with spray adhesive and mica powder until the shape of the lily is lost underneath. The plash and splatter of onomatopoetic syllables stress th syntax (not to mention the synapses), inducing a sort of synaesthesia that obfuscates understanding. Even as you note that the author is winking at you, you find the references to pop culture more tiresome than Carrot Top's prop schtick.
Oh my god, I think it's contagious.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Senior trip
Saturday morning we left early for Santa Cruz. We stopped just once, at a Carl's Junior, and got to Natural Bridges State Park in Santa Cruz a little after noon. We hung around for a couple hours, the kids taking walks, wading out to that stone formation in the picture, taking pictures of anenomes, getting their feet (and jeans) wet, and in the case of one young lady, talking on the phone. It was cold, so after a little running in the surf, I went up the beach towards the trail and did some writing. It was still to early to go to the hostel, so I suggested downtown Santa Cruz, which was fun, although our trip leader was a little less... fastidious about making sure people knew when and where to meet than I'd have preferred.
Then we went to the hostel, which was in Saratoga (I've never been there before). You drive through a big city, then a wine-country-style small town, then through some forest, and finally you arrive at the hostel, which was SO COOL! I've now stayed in 4 hostels, and this one was the nicest. I mean, the sleeping arrangements were spartan, but the common area was absolutely beautiful. There was Mission-style furniture, a record player and large record collection, a guitar and piano, several long wood tables, couches, a fireplace... In the kitchen were three vintage stoves! We spent several hours in the hostel common room on both days and it was perfectly pleasant.
That night, the girls made spaghetti and we stayed up late, but at about 11:30, someone tentatively said "Should we be quiet now?" I answered "Yes, I think it's time." Within about 2 minutes, there was deep breathing and snores all around! It was like they were telling horror stories because they thought it was de rigeur, and once they had permission to go to sleep, they conked out!
On Sunday, the boys made pancakes and eggs, then we went to Great America. Last year, I thought there was a chance I was preggo, so I sat out all the rides. The benefit of my current state is that I rode the rides all day this time! I went on Top Gun twice (my favorite part was that I sat next to a student who, through the duration of the ride, was screaming for dear life, like AUUUGGGGHHHH!" I laughed my ass off). Then I went on Delirium, Survivor (which was really fun), Drop Zone, Rip Roaring Rapids (twice), the Grizzly, Orbit, another water ride, some yellow thing that went forwards and backwards, and the Vortex, which was the only one I didn't like. You sit on a bicycle seat and it bangs your head from side to side against the hard plastic headrest. I have no idea what else happened during that ride because I was distracted by having my ears boxed. I also had a caramel apple and didn't get TOO sunburned, so it was a good day. Oh, and we played "Slug-Mullet," and I saw the most ghetto-unfabulous woman I may have ever seen. She was large, and was wearing a huge purple t-shirt which she had cut from the collar all the way down the sleeves and safety pinned back together. It was a large t-shirt, but not a tunic dress or anything, so I was rather surprised to find that she was NOT WEARING PANTS. No, just tights. Opaque-ish tights, but the kind that come on a wee hanger with cardboard in the leg. Tights that go under skirts. They were purple and black striped, and afforded me an unwanted view of her underpants. It was SCARY.
That night the boys made quesadillas and nachos. By the way, have you noticed yet that there are no vegetables and fruits on this trip? We hung out playing cards and talking more, and went to bed right on time.
Monday morning the girls made pancakes and eggs, and then we went to the Tech Museum in San Jose. On the way there, we passed the Convention Center, where there was a "Fanimecon" going on. In other words, some exceptionally good people watching. I saw a stormtrooper and at least 20 people dressed as animated characters. Fascinating.
The Tech was cool -- we stood outside for about ten minutes looking at a Rube Goldberg device that dropped billiard balls in different formations. Inside, I had a robot spell my name in blocks, gave a virtual speech to congress, had a 3D head scan, saw my body in heat imaging, played Whack-a-spam, looked at an exhibit on green living, "programmed" a Mr. Potatohead toy, watched wistfully as other people got to ride a Segway (they put it away after two people tried it), and saw two Imax movies (I had never been before).
The movies were neat. The first was Greece: Secrets of the Ancient World. Not only was it interesting (focusing mainly on the Athena temple and Santorini Island), but the Imax thing made it feel like you were on a helicopter zooming over the islands. The second one wasn't as good. It was "The Human Body," and I knew pretty much everything in it, although it's always cool to see those electron microscope images of the inside of your ear (WHOOP! WHOOP! NERD ALERT!). They stayed away from anything too gross; once your food leaves your stomach, it apparently turns into white whisps in a dreamy pink fairy world. There was also a sucker-punch of a storyline about a pregnant lady (punctuated by a sperm-swimming sequence set to the tune of "Let's Get It On," and I'm not making that up) that never seemed to end, and had about twenty straight minutes of the woman patting her belly and looking wistfully into the midlde distance, talking about how now the baby comes first, blah blah.
Finally, we headed home. I was glad to see my husband and my house, and I wished I had another day off. But all in all, it was a good trip.
Then we went to the hostel, which was in Saratoga (I've never been there before). You drive through a big city, then a wine-country-style small town, then through some forest, and finally you arrive at the hostel, which was SO COOL! I've now stayed in 4 hostels, and this one was the nicest. I mean, the sleeping arrangements were spartan, but the common area was absolutely beautiful. There was Mission-style furniture, a record player and large record collection, a guitar and piano, several long wood tables, couches, a fireplace... In the kitchen were three vintage stoves! We spent several hours in the hostel common room on both days and it was perfectly pleasant.
That night, the girls made spaghetti and we stayed up late, but at about 11:30, someone tentatively said "Should we be quiet now?" I answered "Yes, I think it's time." Within about 2 minutes, there was deep breathing and snores all around! It was like they were telling horror stories because they thought it was de rigeur, and once they had permission to go to sleep, they conked out!
On Sunday, the boys made pancakes and eggs, then we went to Great America. Last year, I thought there was a chance I was preggo, so I sat out all the rides. The benefit of my current state is that I rode the rides all day this time! I went on Top Gun twice (my favorite part was that I sat next to a student who, through the duration of the ride, was screaming for dear life, like AUUUGGGGHHHH!" I laughed my ass off). Then I went on Delirium, Survivor (which was really fun), Drop Zone, Rip Roaring Rapids (twice), the Grizzly, Orbit, another water ride, some yellow thing that went forwards and backwards, and the Vortex, which was the only one I didn't like. You sit on a bicycle seat and it bangs your head from side to side against the hard plastic headrest. I have no idea what else happened during that ride because I was distracted by having my ears boxed. I also had a caramel apple and didn't get TOO sunburned, so it was a good day. Oh, and we played "Slug-Mullet," and I saw the most ghetto-unfabulous woman I may have ever seen. She was large, and was wearing a huge purple t-shirt which she had cut from the collar all the way down the sleeves and safety pinned back together. It was a large t-shirt, but not a tunic dress or anything, so I was rather surprised to find that she was NOT WEARING PANTS. No, just tights. Opaque-ish tights, but the kind that come on a wee hanger with cardboard in the leg. Tights that go under skirts. They were purple and black striped, and afforded me an unwanted view of her underpants. It was SCARY.
That night the boys made quesadillas and nachos. By the way, have you noticed yet that there are no vegetables and fruits on this trip? We hung out playing cards and talking more, and went to bed right on time.
Monday morning the girls made pancakes and eggs, and then we went to the Tech Museum in San Jose. On the way there, we passed the Convention Center, where there was a "Fanimecon" going on. In other words, some exceptionally good people watching. I saw a stormtrooper and at least 20 people dressed as animated characters. Fascinating.
The Tech was cool -- we stood outside for about ten minutes looking at a Rube Goldberg device that dropped billiard balls in different formations. Inside, I had a robot spell my name in blocks, gave a virtual speech to congress, had a 3D head scan, saw my body in heat imaging, played Whack-a-spam, looked at an exhibit on green living, "programmed" a Mr. Potatohead toy, watched wistfully as other people got to ride a Segway (they put it away after two people tried it), and saw two Imax movies (I had never been before).
The movies were neat. The first was Greece: Secrets of the Ancient World. Not only was it interesting (focusing mainly on the Athena temple and Santorini Island), but the Imax thing made it feel like you were on a helicopter zooming over the islands. The second one wasn't as good. It was "The Human Body," and I knew pretty much everything in it, although it's always cool to see those electron microscope images of the inside of your ear (WHOOP! WHOOP! NERD ALERT!). They stayed away from anything too gross; once your food leaves your stomach, it apparently turns into white whisps in a dreamy pink fairy world. There was also a sucker-punch of a storyline about a pregnant lady (punctuated by a sperm-swimming sequence set to the tune of "Let's Get It On," and I'm not making that up) that never seemed to end, and had about twenty straight minutes of the woman patting her belly and looking wistfully into the midlde distance, talking about how now the baby comes first, blah blah.
Finally, we headed home. I was glad to see my husband and my house, and I wished I had another day off. But all in all, it was a good trip.
Monday, May 28, 2007
I survived the senior trip
which included Santa Cruz, Great America, and the Tech Museum. I will fill in more details later, and possible write a snarky review of a book I'm reading. Now I've got to go to bed. Take care,
The Countess
The Countess
Friday, May 25, 2007
Indian assembly and small mercies
Today was the Indian assembly. It was fun -- very heavy on the dancing. There's one girl who was in almost every number -- she was fantastic. I think I need to find the album that has "Salaam Namaste" on it, because it was rockin'. They sang "Salaam namaste-oh-ee-oh," like Morris Day and the Time. I also need to get myself a salwar kameez (like the outfit to the right).
I'm at school today until 10:30, and have to be back at 8am tomorrow. I'll get home from the field trip Monday at 6. Fuckin'-A, man. I must be dedicated or something.
The small mercy I had today was that I had to go fill a prescription that I didn't want to get at all. I got to the pharmacy and there was a CRAZY LONG ASS line. I thought to myself, "Great, I have to wait for an hour for something I don't even want." But as it turned out, the line for turning in prescriptions was super-short, and when I got to the counter, she juse had to dig through a box to get mine. I didn't have to wait after all.
Okay, I'm outtie. I think I'll take my laptop on the trip, but I'm not sure. If there's no wireless, the only reason would be to work on The Brilliant Idea, which I'm not sure is a good enough reason to take it. Have a good Memorial Day weekend. Memorialize somebody.
I'm at school today until 10:30, and have to be back at 8am tomorrow. I'll get home from the field trip Monday at 6. Fuckin'-A, man. I must be dedicated or something.
The small mercy I had today was that I had to go fill a prescription that I didn't want to get at all. I got to the pharmacy and there was a CRAZY LONG ASS line. I thought to myself, "Great, I have to wait for an hour for something I don't even want." But as it turned out, the line for turning in prescriptions was super-short, and when I got to the counter, she juse had to dig through a box to get mine. I didn't have to wait after all.
Okay, I'm outtie. I think I'll take my laptop on the trip, but I'm not sure. If there's no wireless, the only reason would be to work on The Brilliant Idea, which I'm not sure is a good enough reason to take it. Have a good Memorial Day weekend. Memorialize somebody.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Choose your own adventure (vote for my choice)
Okay, I'm SO frustrated, so I'm going to vent. Please don't feel obligated to read this.
For reference, clowns=endometrial lining, Volkswagon=cooter, circus=cycle, elephant=ovum.
Okay, so normally, during every circus, at the very beginning, a whole bunch of clowns come out of a Volkswagon. Then they stop and they hide backstage while the rest of the circus goes on. They don't come back out until the next circus.
In the last 6 weeks, here is how things have all gone Bozo:
The circus was well underway, and the elephant had even made his appearance, when suddenly the clowns started slowly appearing. It was not time for the next circus yet at all, but they just kept coming!
Then the next circus started, signalled by an enormous wave of clowns, but they never stopped. For the rest of the circus, they just kept coming out of the Volkswagon! Oh, sure, they slowed down, but there were always more clowns exiting the Volkswagon. The elephant didn't show, because he was spooked. Finally, a few days before one circus was scheduled to end and another to begin, the clowns stopped. But apparently now they're on strike, and another circus cannot begin without them! Come back, clowns! (Even though I'm rather tired of clowns, I'd like to know that a new circus is starting. This current circus is 32 days old!)
I called the infertility clinic this afternoon, and I'm embarassed to admit that my voice was shaking. I just don't know what to do. My choices are as follows -- go on birth control (to "re-set" my circus) or wait and hope.
Birth control -- Pro: I know for sure what's going on and when. No clowns for 21 days, clowns for 4-5. Then I can go in early July and get my tests done. The tests are required before I can actually SEE anyone in the infertility clinic.
Birth control -- Con: Early July! That's so far away! Oh my gosh, it would take until late July to get all the tests done, and then who knows how long after that before I could actually schedule my first appointment, and I was kind of hoping to get on the fertility train during summer, when, you know, I'm off work and NOT STRESSED. Plus, it makes the next month an absolute write-off. Taking birth control while trying to conceive is... well among other things, it's depressing.
No pill -- Pro: The new circus could theoretically start any minute. And then no June write-off, no waiting until July for tests, summer could be baby-making time, and we could all sing and dance. This is the dawning of the age of aquarius...
No pill -- Con: But what if it DOESN'T start? Then I have to take the pill anyway, but a week or two weeks or whatever later. And the cons of the birth control are multiplied, because everything is a week or two or whatever LATER.
So from what I can tell, the "no pill" option has a better pro but a worse con.
If you have actually read this, I would genuinely appreciate any opinions you could give. I don't have the foggiest idea what to do.
For reference, clowns=endometrial lining, Volkswagon=cooter, circus=cycle, elephant=ovum.
Okay, so normally, during every circus, at the very beginning, a whole bunch of clowns come out of a Volkswagon. Then they stop and they hide backstage while the rest of the circus goes on. They don't come back out until the next circus.
In the last 6 weeks, here is how things have all gone Bozo:
The circus was well underway, and the elephant had even made his appearance, when suddenly the clowns started slowly appearing. It was not time for the next circus yet at all, but they just kept coming!
Then the next circus started, signalled by an enormous wave of clowns, but they never stopped. For the rest of the circus, they just kept coming out of the Volkswagon! Oh, sure, they slowed down, but there were always more clowns exiting the Volkswagon. The elephant didn't show, because he was spooked. Finally, a few days before one circus was scheduled to end and another to begin, the clowns stopped. But apparently now they're on strike, and another circus cannot begin without them! Come back, clowns! (Even though I'm rather tired of clowns, I'd like to know that a new circus is starting. This current circus is 32 days old!)
I called the infertility clinic this afternoon, and I'm embarassed to admit that my voice was shaking. I just don't know what to do. My choices are as follows -- go on birth control (to "re-set" my circus) or wait and hope.
Birth control -- Pro: I know for sure what's going on and when. No clowns for 21 days, clowns for 4-5. Then I can go in early July and get my tests done. The tests are required before I can actually SEE anyone in the infertility clinic.
Birth control -- Con: Early July! That's so far away! Oh my gosh, it would take until late July to get all the tests done, and then who knows how long after that before I could actually schedule my first appointment, and I was kind of hoping to get on the fertility train during summer, when, you know, I'm off work and NOT STRESSED. Plus, it makes the next month an absolute write-off. Taking birth control while trying to conceive is... well among other things, it's depressing.
No pill -- Pro: The new circus could theoretically start any minute. And then no June write-off, no waiting until July for tests, summer could be baby-making time, and we could all sing and dance. This is the dawning of the age of aquarius...
No pill -- Con: But what if it DOESN'T start? Then I have to take the pill anyway, but a week or two weeks or whatever later. And the cons of the birth control are multiplied, because everything is a week or two or whatever LATER.
So from what I can tell, the "no pill" option has a better pro but a worse con.
If you have actually read this, I would genuinely appreciate any opinions you could give. I don't have the foggiest idea what to do.
New furniture and bat-shit crazy
Yesterday Mom and Boompah went to Rio Vista to pick up some things from Boompah's dad's house. They got a new cedar chest, and I took mom's old one. They also picked up a hutch for me. I really love the new hutch, and yesterday I spent some time putting stuff into it. Finally I have my Alice stuff displayed! Not all of it, as there's so much that it doesn't even fit in those three Rubbermaid containers which, if you can't read, are marked "insanely fragile." But quite a bit of it. I'm trying to get myself used to the idea that I can display some of it, then rotate and put different stuff out later.
I'm so excited to have the cedar chest. It's... It's like a big wooden box of nostalgia! It lived in my mom's house since before I was born, and I spent SO MANY evenings lying on the living room floor absently playing with the key. To add to the nostalgia, mom brought over some baby clothes of mine, including a size 00 pair of Levi's 501s and a pair of overalls from each year of my life!
Now for the bat-shit crazy, which is a different topic. I was reading this blog about a woman's infertility, and every time she mentions the possibility of adoption, some commenters jump on with "Baby-stealer! Adoption is immoral!!" And I'm like... "what now?" I was seriously dumbfounded.
But I try to keep an open mind and I wanted to know what IS it that makes it immoral? What is these folks' point of view? So I found a couple web sites (which I will not link to here, because I don't want the bat-shit crazies finding links from my site and coming over here) about it, and discovered their stance: Only nature can create a family, and a child should never be taken from its family. Abuse? Give the parents counseling so they can stop abusing. Parents die? Give the kids to extended family, like grandparents. Parents who don't want the kid? Give them support so they can raise the kid. Everybody in the family and extended family dies in a fiery train wreck? Give the kid to a couple, but call them "guardians," don't change the birth certificate or the kid's last name, don't call those guardians mom and dad, and make sure the kid understands that they are not his parents, because that would be disrespectful to the birth parents. Oh, and "birthmother" is an insulting and derogatory term.
Well, now I know. BAT. SHIT. CRAZY.
I'm so excited to have the cedar chest. It's... It's like a big wooden box of nostalgia! It lived in my mom's house since before I was born, and I spent SO MANY evenings lying on the living room floor absently playing with the key. To add to the nostalgia, mom brought over some baby clothes of mine, including a size 00 pair of Levi's 501s and a pair of overalls from each year of my life!
Now for the bat-shit crazy, which is a different topic. I was reading this blog about a woman's infertility, and every time she mentions the possibility of adoption, some commenters jump on with "Baby-stealer! Adoption is immoral!!" And I'm like... "what now?" I was seriously dumbfounded.
But I try to keep an open mind and I wanted to know what IS it that makes it immoral? What is these folks' point of view? So I found a couple web sites (which I will not link to here, because I don't want the bat-shit crazies finding links from my site and coming over here) about it, and discovered their stance: Only nature can create a family, and a child should never be taken from its family. Abuse? Give the parents counseling so they can stop abusing. Parents die? Give the kids to extended family, like grandparents. Parents who don't want the kid? Give them support so they can raise the kid. Everybody in the family and extended family dies in a fiery train wreck? Give the kid to a couple, but call them "guardians," don't change the birth certificate or the kid's last name, don't call those guardians mom and dad, and make sure the kid understands that they are not his parents, because that would be disrespectful to the birth parents. Oh, and "birthmother" is an insulting and derogatory term.
Well, now I know. BAT. SHIT. CRAZY.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Oh my gosh, I did it!!
Chicago, here I come!
I've been talking a lot of bullshit lately about how I might go to Chicago this summer, how I was thinking about going to the BlogHer conference, how I thought it would be really fun... but I hadn't actually committed. This morning, I registered for the conference and bought my plane tickets! I'm really doing it!
Now, I have to admit that the reason this is an accomplishment instead of just another check on the to-do list is that I am a big rube. It sometimes seems like all my friends are jet-setters who've been to Europe, the Mediterranean, India, all over the states, lived in Hungary, blah blah blah. I've never done any of that traveling.* In fact, I only got my passport a couple years ago, when I went to New York and the Caribbean with my mom. It was my first plane ride within memory (I had been to Iowa as a kid). I've never been on a trip by myself to anywhere farther than a 3-hour car ride (the wine country and Santa Cruz, mostly). I've certainly never been on a plane or navigated an airport by myself. In fact, just thinking of how I've gotten through airports before, trailing behind my husband or mom, makes me a little nervous. I've never, for example, figured out by myself where my gate is or how to get there. I just jog after my fast-walking husband to the conveyor thing and whiz through the PDX airport. And getting the right shuttle or bus in a strange city? Okay, I admit; I'm a little nervous!
I'm excited as hell, though. I am seeing Suzanne, whom I've met twice before and whose company I enjoy. I will get to meet for the first time Des, whom I believe might be my evil twin (or my good twin, you never know). And I get to meet Alex Elliot whose name, I realize, is not actually Alex Elliot, but I don't think she posts her real name, so I'll keep it on the DL. Anyway, if I could pick a roomful of women upon whose floor to sleep, that would be them, I'm pretty sure!
The conference sounded really fun last year, from what I read on Suzanne's page.
Thanks to Mom for helping both monetarily and with moral support. Thanks to Sweetie for the same! Thanks to Suzanne for the invite/suggestion, and to all three ladies for letting me sleep on their floor!
*It was a trade-off. I wasn't just being a couch potato; I got three college degrees and started my career all in my mid-twenties, and my jet-setting friends are just finishing school, starting careers, or even starting school now. So I'm not saying I feel gypped, and I'm glad I did it the way I did. But, yeah, I've done less travelling.
I've been talking a lot of bullshit lately about how I might go to Chicago this summer, how I was thinking about going to the BlogHer conference, how I thought it would be really fun... but I hadn't actually committed. This morning, I registered for the conference and bought my plane tickets! I'm really doing it!
Now, I have to admit that the reason this is an accomplishment instead of just another check on the to-do list is that I am a big rube. It sometimes seems like all my friends are jet-setters who've been to Europe, the Mediterranean, India, all over the states, lived in Hungary, blah blah blah. I've never done any of that traveling.* In fact, I only got my passport a couple years ago, when I went to New York and the Caribbean with my mom. It was my first plane ride within memory (I had been to Iowa as a kid). I've never been on a trip by myself to anywhere farther than a 3-hour car ride (the wine country and Santa Cruz, mostly). I've certainly never been on a plane or navigated an airport by myself. In fact, just thinking of how I've gotten through airports before, trailing behind my husband or mom, makes me a little nervous. I've never, for example, figured out by myself where my gate is or how to get there. I just jog after my fast-walking husband to the conveyor thing and whiz through the PDX airport. And getting the right shuttle or bus in a strange city? Okay, I admit; I'm a little nervous!
I'm excited as hell, though. I am seeing Suzanne, whom I've met twice before and whose company I enjoy. I will get to meet for the first time Des, whom I believe might be my evil twin (or my good twin, you never know). And I get to meet Alex Elliot whose name, I realize, is not actually Alex Elliot, but I don't think she posts her real name, so I'll keep it on the DL. Anyway, if I could pick a roomful of women upon whose floor to sleep, that would be them, I'm pretty sure!
The conference sounded really fun last year, from what I read on Suzanne's page.
Thanks to Mom for helping both monetarily and with moral support. Thanks to Sweetie for the same! Thanks to Suzanne for the invite/suggestion, and to all three ladies for letting me sleep on their floor!
*It was a trade-off. I wasn't just being a couch potato; I got three college degrees and started my career all in my mid-twenties, and my jet-setting friends are just finishing school, starting careers, or even starting school now. So I'm not saying I feel gypped, and I'm glad I did it the way I did. But, yeah, I've done less travelling.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Hey, what's new
Well, I had my fourth-to-last computer class last night. I learned how to do two cool things in three hours, and in the meantime did some writing and some playing around and some being bored and some homework.
This weekend won't be too crazy, as I only have papers to grade and not much else. Next weekend is set to be insane. I have a banquet to chaperone on Friday night, then a trip to chaperone all weekend starting Saturday morning. I have papers to grade that weekend, too, so I hope we get some down time.
I have several things weighing on me -- I bought my step-mom a Mother's Day card last week before the big day, but haven't been by to see her to give it to her! Now, lord knows she's not as important to me as my mom, but I really should have at least called by now. It's just rude not to. But on a couple of the days I might have dropped by on my way home from work, I've been taking light rail. The days I drove, it was because I was in a hurry, so didn't have time to stop by. Now I feel like an ass.
Also, I have to pack up my classroom because we're moving at the end of the year. I can't do too much packing right now, because of course we're still using everything. But I'm trying to sort and reduce so that it's not such an overwhelming job when it does roll around.
And I haven't made reservations for either my Sweetie's and my vacation or for my Chicago trip, both of which I'm aware I really, really need to do.
I'm beginning to get a little nervous that I won't get to have my HSG test this month either, because between field trips and vacations, there might just be only a three-day window in which I could get it, and Kaiser was, well, not that helpful last time.
Well, I have a thousand things to do here, too, so... bye!
This weekend won't be too crazy, as I only have papers to grade and not much else. Next weekend is set to be insane. I have a banquet to chaperone on Friday night, then a trip to chaperone all weekend starting Saturday morning. I have papers to grade that weekend, too, so I hope we get some down time.
I have several things weighing on me -- I bought my step-mom a Mother's Day card last week before the big day, but haven't been by to see her to give it to her! Now, lord knows she's not as important to me as my mom, but I really should have at least called by now. It's just rude not to. But on a couple of the days I might have dropped by on my way home from work, I've been taking light rail. The days I drove, it was because I was in a hurry, so didn't have time to stop by. Now I feel like an ass.
Also, I have to pack up my classroom because we're moving at the end of the year. I can't do too much packing right now, because of course we're still using everything. But I'm trying to sort and reduce so that it's not such an overwhelming job when it does roll around.
And I haven't made reservations for either my Sweetie's and my vacation or for my Chicago trip, both of which I'm aware I really, really need to do.
I'm beginning to get a little nervous that I won't get to have my HSG test this month either, because between field trips and vacations, there might just be only a three-day window in which I could get it, and Kaiser was, well, not that helpful last time.
Well, I have a thousand things to do here, too, so... bye!
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Commuting again
Well, the benefits of my alternative transportation continue to add up:
It's lovely weather (right now, anyway).
I still remember all the words to "Paul Revere" by the Beastie Boys.*
I can grade and read on the train.
I get exercise (not much, but some).
But so do the drawbacks:
It actually costs me more money.**
It takes a lot longer, so I have less getting-ready-for school time.
I also still remember a lot of "Bennie and the Jets."*
No drinking coffee on the train, so I had to slug it back quickly.
When I said a chipper "good morning" to a co-worker I saw at the station, he looked at me like I was a psycho.
*I won't take my iPod to work because I've just had too much stuff stolen, but the music in my head never stops.
** A round trip saves me 1/20th of a tank of gas and costs me $4. A tank of gas costs $35. 1/20th of a tank of gas is $1.75. Yes, there's insurance to factor in, but I have to pay that anyway because I have to drive other places. Sweetie volunteered that he offsets my carbon footprint because he doesn't drive at all. Sounds good to me.
It's lovely weather (right now, anyway).
I still remember all the words to "Paul Revere" by the Beastie Boys.*
I can grade and read on the train.
I get exercise (not much, but some).
But so do the drawbacks:
It actually costs me more money.**
It takes a lot longer, so I have less getting-ready-for school time.
I also still remember a lot of "Bennie and the Jets."*
No drinking coffee on the train, so I had to slug it back quickly.
When I said a chipper "good morning" to a co-worker I saw at the station, he looked at me like I was a psycho.
*I won't take my iPod to work because I've just had too much stuff stolen, but the music in my head never stops.
** A round trip saves me 1/20th of a tank of gas and costs me $4. A tank of gas costs $35. 1/20th of a tank of gas is $1.75. Yes, there's insurance to factor in, but I have to pay that anyway because I have to drive other places. Sweetie volunteered that he offsets my carbon footprint because he doesn't drive at all. Sounds good to me.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
WHEW! Good to know!
(I MUST STOP GOOGLING!)
A woman with constant bleeding came to the Prophet (May Allah bless him and give him peace) and asked him, "I
am a woman with constant bleeding problems so I do not ever become fully pure. Should I leave off praying
altogether?" The Prophet (May Allah bless him and give him peace) replied, No your bleeding is from a vein and
that isn't menstrual blood. So when your [real] menstrual bleeding is approaching, leave off praying and when your
[real] menstrual bleeding goes away, wash off the blood from yourself [by taking a bath for purification] and then
pray the formal prayer. Then, perform ablution for every [wajib] formal prayer until that time [for your real
menstrual bleeding] comes again."
I do wonder if the Prophet would have felt differently if it was endometrial lining? Does it make a difference if it is not from a vein? How does one know? And by the way, what open vein would be hanging out in there anyway?
I was trying to see what the world record is, and may I just suggest NOT Googling the following terms?
longest dysfunctional uterine bleeding
record dysfunctional uterine bleeding
world record bleeding
world record blood
world record menstruation
world record menstrual bleeding
Guiness record menstruation
longest uterine bleeding
world record longest bleeding
I'm sorry if this is all getting a little TMI for you guys, but I have to take it out on someone! I'm going fucking nuts! I believe this is day 31. (I know lots of people have had more than 31 days of it - just ask someone who had a bad experience with Norplant or Depo-Provera -- but I reserve the right to be a drama queen about this!)
Oh yeah, and I'm already GOING to hell, so I don't think this little bit of blasphemy is going to push me over the edge. Allahu akbar, though, just in case, right?
A woman with constant bleeding came to the Prophet (May Allah bless him and give him peace) and asked him, "I
am a woman with constant bleeding problems so I do not ever become fully pure. Should I leave off praying
altogether?" The Prophet (May Allah bless him and give him peace) replied, No your bleeding is from a vein and
that isn't menstrual blood. So when your [real] menstrual bleeding is approaching, leave off praying and when your
[real] menstrual bleeding goes away, wash off the blood from yourself [by taking a bath for purification] and then
pray the formal prayer. Then, perform ablution for every [wajib] formal prayer until that time [for your real
menstrual bleeding] comes again."
I do wonder if the Prophet would have felt differently if it was endometrial lining? Does it make a difference if it is not from a vein? How does one know? And by the way, what open vein would be hanging out in there anyway?
I was trying to see what the world record is, and may I just suggest NOT Googling the following terms?
longest dysfunctional uterine bleeding
record dysfunctional uterine bleeding
world record bleeding
world record blood
world record menstruation
world record menstrual bleeding
Guiness record menstruation
longest uterine bleeding
world record longest bleeding
I'm sorry if this is all getting a little TMI for you guys, but I have to take it out on someone! I'm going fucking nuts! I believe this is day 31. (I know lots of people have had more than 31 days of it - just ask someone who had a bad experience with Norplant or Depo-Provera -- but I reserve the right to be a drama queen about this!)
Oh yeah, and I'm already GOING to hell, so I don't think this little bit of blasphemy is going to push me over the edge. Allahu akbar, though, just in case, right?
Co-worker and drummer
Sheesh, what a day was Monday! I was participating in Alternative Transportation Week, so I walked to light rail. There's a lot of jasmine blooming, and it was a pleasant walk and ride. But of course, it's a longer trip than driving.
That afternoon was my meeting with co-worker, Mega. Well, I was figuring it would be about an hour, but it was an hour and a half. We yelled at each other for about 75 minutes, then talked calmly for another 15 and shook hands on the way out. The crux of it is that we just have VERY different modes of communication. I mean, we have some different philosophies and stuff, too, but the main thing is that neither of us was communicating in the way the other wanted or expected. (He's still crazy, but at least I have a heads-up now on how best to deal with him.)
Anyway, I got home at about 6, then had to rush out to band practice.
We worked up several new songs, so it would have been a really good practice, but for the fact that the drummer... couldn't drum if he was sitting on John Bonham's lap and in charge of just the high hat. I swear to god, we'd be MUCH, MUCH better off without a drummer at all, since we're fighting against whatever he's doing most of the time. I asked him a couple weeks ago (in a VERY NICE tone, I swear) "So, J, do you count when you're drumming?" And he said no. That's like.... not pedaling when you bike!!!! Maybe it's more like not measuring when you cook -- if you're REALLY good and have a lot of practice, you can manage it, but not as a novice.
Anyway, last night he was so all over the place that one of the other guys and I were suggesting that he not even use his arms and just hit the bass drum on 1 and 4. But we couldn't get him to count, no matter how much snapping, clapping, gesturing, or counting-out-loud we did. He just, like, FEELS the drums, and it's like the whole time he's drumming it's just a long, random, no-counting space jam. A big, messy, drum-solo forever and ever. It's driving me nuts.
I got home at about ten to ten. Long, long, dumb day.
That afternoon was my meeting with co-worker, Mega. Well, I was figuring it would be about an hour, but it was an hour and a half. We yelled at each other for about 75 minutes, then talked calmly for another 15 and shook hands on the way out. The crux of it is that we just have VERY different modes of communication. I mean, we have some different philosophies and stuff, too, but the main thing is that neither of us was communicating in the way the other wanted or expected. (He's still crazy, but at least I have a heads-up now on how best to deal with him.)
Anyway, I got home at about 6, then had to rush out to band practice.
We worked up several new songs, so it would have been a really good practice, but for the fact that the drummer... couldn't drum if he was sitting on John Bonham's lap and in charge of just the high hat. I swear to god, we'd be MUCH, MUCH better off without a drummer at all, since we're fighting against whatever he's doing most of the time. I asked him a couple weeks ago (in a VERY NICE tone, I swear) "So, J, do you count when you're drumming?" And he said no. That's like.... not pedaling when you bike!!!! Maybe it's more like not measuring when you cook -- if you're REALLY good and have a lot of practice, you can manage it, but not as a novice.
Anyway, last night he was so all over the place that one of the other guys and I were suggesting that he not even use his arms and just hit the bass drum on 1 and 4. But we couldn't get him to count, no matter how much snapping, clapping, gesturing, or counting-out-loud we did. He just, like, FEELS the drums, and it's like the whole time he's drumming it's just a long, random, no-counting space jam. A big, messy, drum-solo forever and ever. It's driving me nuts.
I got home at about ten to ten. Long, long, dumb day.
My incompetence leads to a happy budget discovery!
By the way, that is not my pee on that stick. Not that you can see the pee.
So I buy the ClearBlue Easy Ovulation Predictor thingies. The nurse at Kaiser said the regular ones were fine, but the digital ones were easier to read -- they have a happy face. I'm at Walgreens looking at the different packages, and the digital ones are ten bucks more (almost $40!!!). But, I am obsessive and nervous, and have a hard time reading the two-lines version. See, that picture at the right? That's not a positive. The line on the left has to be as dark as or darker than the one on the right. So I was using something like that and spending god-knows-how-many minutes going "Is it darker? Should that count? Would you consider it as dark as...?" I took them into other rooms to look at them in different light and everything. I figure the ten bucks (about $1.25 more per stick) was worth it for clarity. I pay for them and go on my way.
Well, when it first is time to use them, a week or so later, it was my camping trip. I pack two with me in my little toiletries bag, but do not read the instructions, because I believe that they are probably "pee on the stick." On that Saturday I go into the pit toilet with no light, unwrap the foil thing, and pee in the only spot that appears to be pee-accepting.* It turns out to be the window. I only realize it after I pull off the pink cap with the absorbent end. Duh. Anyway, that one's wasted.
Sunday, I take another one and actually pee on the correct end. I then put the little lid back on and wait. Does a happy face come up? No, a LINE comes up!! I paid ten extra bucks, and I get a line?! I was enraged! I assumed someone must have wanted the expensive ones as much as I did, and switched the cheap ones into the expensive box, then bought the expensive ones in the cheap box! Trashy bastard! When I got home, I hunted up my receipt and decided I would take that box right back to Walgreens and demand an exchange. If they gave me shit for having used two of them already, I would say "Hey, I'm obviously dealing with fertility issues. Do you really want to fuck with me?"
I grabbed the receipt, picked up the box, looked at the little foil packets to see if the number on them matched the number on the box... and it did. I opened the directions. It said to put the stick you pee on into the digital reader. The what now? I look in the box, and tucked into a fold of cardboard in the corner of the box is a digital thing that sort of looks like a thermometer. Oh. So, you put the stick inside the reader, and THEN you get the happy face (or the finger, I think).
Abashed, I put the receipt and the box away. I was a little mad at myself for having been so dumb. But then I had a thought -- if the sticks are just the garden variety two-lines ones, then next time I'd buy the cheap ones and stick THEM in the digital reader! Hah! ClearBlue Easy, I just figured out how NOT to give you ten dollars!
That's... a really tiny little victory, considering, but I'll take it.
*I have been using OPKs, but little chemistry-class type paper strips that don't have fancy absorbent tips, which is why I didn't know...
So I buy the ClearBlue Easy Ovulation Predictor thingies. The nurse at Kaiser said the regular ones were fine, but the digital ones were easier to read -- they have a happy face. I'm at Walgreens looking at the different packages, and the digital ones are ten bucks more (almost $40!!!). But, I am obsessive and nervous, and have a hard time reading the two-lines version. See, that picture at the right? That's not a positive. The line on the left has to be as dark as or darker than the one on the right. So I was using something like that and spending god-knows-how-many minutes going "Is it darker? Should that count? Would you consider it as dark as...?" I took them into other rooms to look at them in different light and everything. I figure the ten bucks (about $1.25 more per stick) was worth it for clarity. I pay for them and go on my way.
Well, when it first is time to use them, a week or so later, it was my camping trip. I pack two with me in my little toiletries bag, but do not read the instructions, because I believe that they are probably "pee on the stick." On that Saturday I go into the pit toilet with no light, unwrap the foil thing, and pee in the only spot that appears to be pee-accepting.* It turns out to be the window. I only realize it after I pull off the pink cap with the absorbent end. Duh. Anyway, that one's wasted.
Sunday, I take another one and actually pee on the correct end. I then put the little lid back on and wait. Does a happy face come up? No, a LINE comes up!! I paid ten extra bucks, and I get a line?! I was enraged! I assumed someone must have wanted the expensive ones as much as I did, and switched the cheap ones into the expensive box, then bought the expensive ones in the cheap box! Trashy bastard! When I got home, I hunted up my receipt and decided I would take that box right back to Walgreens and demand an exchange. If they gave me shit for having used two of them already, I would say "Hey, I'm obviously dealing with fertility issues. Do you really want to fuck with me?"
I grabbed the receipt, picked up the box, looked at the little foil packets to see if the number on them matched the number on the box... and it did. I opened the directions. It said to put the stick you pee on into the digital reader. The what now? I look in the box, and tucked into a fold of cardboard in the corner of the box is a digital thing that sort of looks like a thermometer. Oh. So, you put the stick inside the reader, and THEN you get the happy face (or the finger, I think).
Abashed, I put the receipt and the box away. I was a little mad at myself for having been so dumb. But then I had a thought -- if the sticks are just the garden variety two-lines ones, then next time I'd buy the cheap ones and stick THEM in the digital reader! Hah! ClearBlue Easy, I just figured out how NOT to give you ten dollars!
That's... a really tiny little victory, considering, but I'll take it.
*I have been using OPKs, but little chemistry-class type paper strips that don't have fancy absorbent tips, which is why I didn't know...
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Happpy Mother's Day!
I love Mother's Day, because I pretty much hit the Mom jackpot. Today we're having brunch (with Bloody Marys!), then going on a garden tour.
My mom raised me about 99% by herself. She always accepted me for who I was (which was sometimes a green-haired lip-ringed punk-rocker, so this is no small feat), while pushing me to be my best (she DIDN'T accept the school-skipping math-flunker, which was good). I always knew she loved me, even when she was really, really mad at me (always deserved). We laughed a lot, we sang Patsy Cline and the Beatles a lot, we cooked and baked a lot, we played a lot, we watched old movies a lot. As I established independence, she helped me an enormous amount (I cannot count the number of times she took me grocery shopping when I was 19 and making minimum wage and at the checkout line she would wave me away and pay for my groceries -- okay, let's face it, that lasted a lot longer than just when I was 20!). She still helps me an enormous amount -- I've come home recently to find that she's cut my grass or pruned my overgrown backyard! (Not to mention the full-time work she put in helping me get the last house ready to sell.) My mom is my rock, and I know the only way I can every pay her back is to be that good to my own child someday. She set the bar really high, though, so wish me luck.
Plus, she's almost 60 -- doesn't she look fantastic!!!???
My mom raised me about 99% by herself. She always accepted me for who I was (which was sometimes a green-haired lip-ringed punk-rocker, so this is no small feat), while pushing me to be my best (she DIDN'T accept the school-skipping math-flunker, which was good). I always knew she loved me, even when she was really, really mad at me (always deserved). We laughed a lot, we sang Patsy Cline and the Beatles a lot, we cooked and baked a lot, we played a lot, we watched old movies a lot. As I established independence, she helped me an enormous amount (I cannot count the number of times she took me grocery shopping when I was 19 and making minimum wage and at the checkout line she would wave me away and pay for my groceries -- okay, let's face it, that lasted a lot longer than just when I was 20!). She still helps me an enormous amount -- I've come home recently to find that she's cut my grass or pruned my overgrown backyard! (Not to mention the full-time work she put in helping me get the last house ready to sell.) My mom is my rock, and I know the only way I can every pay her back is to be that good to my own child someday. She set the bar really high, though, so wish me luck.
Plus, she's almost 60 -- doesn't she look fantastic!!!???
Saturday, May 12, 2007
I actually sent this.
Remember the issue I was having with a co-worker? Well, I've hardly so much as seen him in the halls since! I figured it was over, since I don't tend to hold a grudge or obsess, but I was wrong. Apparently, he's been "very concerned" about the issues, to the point that he called a co-worker and had a 2 1/2 hour conversation about it! The co-worker pulled me aside to say that I had to address it and resolve it, because this other dude has "gone to the bad place." So I spend some time composing the following missive. I blind carbon-copied it to the co-worker, who thought it was good, and later that day, got a positive response from the psycho co-worker. I should add that as I was leaving my little tete-a-tete with the friend co-worker, I said, "Okay, I'll do it. I just want it stated for the record that he's the crazy one." Names have been changed...
Good morning, Mega. Between the fact that you haven't used my microwave in weeks and that, well, Co-worker spilled the beans about the fact that you're concerned about my teaching, I think I'd better address some things. I know we need to sit down and talk, and I'd like to do that within a week. But in the meantime, I'd like to express some important things, and I hope you'll forgive the fact that I'm much more comfortable in writing than in person.
First and foremost, I respect you greatly as a teacher. I have nothing but confidence in your skills, abilities, intelligence, savvy, etc. With that in mind, I took much of your advice already (I'll elaborate further later on). My class has changed already due to your observations.
Second, I value our relationship both as professionals and as friends. I think as professionals we have similar philosophies, if they are often manifested in different ways. As friends, you and I have had some fine bonding moments, I appreciate your company socially, I get a kick out of your sense of humor... I have no wish to damage either part of our relationship and I'd like to see you back using the microwave post haste.
Third, I am utterly committed to making the IB program a success. I have a strong dedication to, even love for, these kids. I feel that teaching is a calling, and I spend a good deal of my personal time working on improving the program, my teaching, the kids' skills... I will do whatever it takes to get these kids out of here with certificates and diplomas.
Now go back and read those if any of the next stuff pisses you off.
I have indeed been avoiding you. I was angry and hurt at the way our "observation" meeting went down. First, I thought it was supposed to be a friendly beer, not a ninety-minute excoriation of my teaching abilities. I also felt tricked -- you said we'd be discussing the 5th period class you observed, but rather you had a different agenda. I felt like a cat tricked into a cage, which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't also mean that you felt I was so weak or fragile that I had to be handled with kid gloves. I am a strong, adult woman, and in future, if you have something you need to speak to me about, you should do so in a straightforward manner. I assure you that I can take it.
That feeling of being handled with kid gloves was only compounded by the general feeling that you were treating me as an inferior. I recognize the need to share our observations, and have no problem doing that in an open format. However the general tone I picked up was not that of a peer mentor, but rather of a supervisor, advisor, or someone with power over my position. You actually said "I still have confidence in you as an IB teacher." In my head I was thinking "Thanks! That's a relief! I have confidence in you, too." And to find that you were sneaking around behind my back asking others about my teaching methods! I suspect that because I am (relatively) young, because I am new to Horticulturalist High, and because many people here know my father, there is also a general perception (not just on your part, but around the school) that I am VERY young, inexperienced, and fresh out of credential school. In truth, I am in my thirties, have been teaching for the better part of a decade, and have not just a B.A. and a credential, but a Masters in literature. I shouldn't even have to remind you of that. I felt intensely disrespected. I understand that you were trying to spare my feelings, and I appreciate the sentiment, but next time, please assume I too am mature and have a pair.
Also, you made your point (that I was using too many seminars and they weren't as successful as you hoped) early in the discussion, and then drove it into the ground. I got it. I wish, though, that you had been able to give me more positive suggestions. The discussion felt like "Here's what you're doing wrong." "Okay, what can I do instead?" "Well, you're doing it wrong now." "Okay, what else could I do?" "Just as long as we're clear -- you're doing it wrong."
The week after that, I was scheduled to watch your class. My student teacher has been out a great deal for various reasons, so the day I was supposed to come, I had to teach my own 2nd period. BUT, I should have then re-scheduled and made an effort to uphold that commitment. For three reasons, I did not. One, I was still feeling pissy. Two, I was thinking that if you were the great and powerful guru of teaching, how could you possibly benefit from my observation? (Okay, that falls under pissy, too.) And three, because I was angry, I didn't want to... over-critique you in retaliation. I wanted to cool off so that I did not make the situation worse. Because all three were motivated by pissy and childish instincts, I apologize. That was wrong. I was hopeful that this situation would all blow over, and that it might improve with some time away. But while time usually works for ME, I understand now that all it did was allow you to spend time ruminating on the situation and make it worse for YOU. That was not fair. Again, I apologize.
I did take your observations to heart. I want you to know that immediately following our conversation, I adjusted my lessons to include more of your suggestions. For example, we've since had two discussions wherein I wouldn't even let the kids talk unless they could provide textual evidence for what they were arguing. It was a slower conversation, to be sure, but very useful.
However, I also want you to know that you were wrong. I do not have discussions every day or nearly every day. More than once a week, yes (see the next paragraph). But you have set foot into that class twice. What you missed is me lecturing on writing, discussing the ins and outs of the rubrics, giving timed writes, teaching grammar and punctuation, lecturing on aspects of literature... You have made a hasty generalization about my teaching methods based on not enough evidence. Ask Co-worker -- he has been in my class many times, and the majority of those times, we have NOT been having discussions. It's easy to make generalizations -- I do it too -- but I do not want this idea to so occupy your mind that you assume that the small part of what you have seen is the whole. Please, please allow yourself to open your mind to the possibility that there are things you have not seen. For example, I know you've worked your ass off with the seniors in first period, polishing their extended essays, prepping them for tests and IOCs (and by the way, I really appreciate all the work that you do on their behalf), but if I were to base my impression of that class on just what I've seen when delivering your scantrons, I'd assume it was a candy-eating, iPod-listening session. But I have not made that assumption. Please give me the same respect.
Finally, I tell the kids regularly that you and I have different strengths, and I truly believe it. I am not wandering aimlessly through the year with no plan. Rather, I have thought through my plans quite extensively. I have solid reasoning behind what I do. You and I do not have the same teaching methods, and I think that's acceptable. I have class discussions because I want this class, for the most part, to live up to the college model. If they receive college credit, then they damn sure ought to have been doing college work and be prepared for college when they get there. College classes, in my experience, are primarily based on the following -- do the reading on your own, be prepared for seminar discussion, then prepare a project upon which most of your grade will be based. I also feel that the students will have difficulty seeing all the layers and aspects of the texts without them being explicitly pointed out, and if something is not adequately addressed in discussion, I guide the discussion or give the information directly myself. I believe that students will retain information better if they generate it themselves (and that belief is, of course, backed up by research). As to the format of the discussions (whether there's textual evidence, whether they're all staying on topic, whether it fits formal Socratic seminar guidelines, etc.), frankly, I feel function is more important than form in this case. If they occasionally stray off topic, I steer it back. Overall, I value the independent thinking they're doing and believe it far outweighs any structural deficits we have. Though as I said before, I HAVE made changes based on our discussion, and I will continue to do so.
Incidentally, it's a bit off topic, but I understand that you feel unappreciated for the work you've done with the seniors, particularly in terms of their World Lit papers. I just want to tell you that I do understand and appreciate how much work you've done. Last year I read each of your seniors' papers twice and met with them to discuss the papers. This year, you have essentially had the kids re-write the papers and supervised that entire writing and revising process. I am in awe of the work you've done, and I deeply respect and appreciate it. I want to assure you that because of the (let's call a spade a spade) clusterfuck that was last year's WL papers, I have made enormous changes to this year's syllabus and practice. I do not want you to have to face that amount of work again. To that end, students are turning in three drafts of each paper, not two. We started almost two months earlier on the drafting process so that students have more time to revise. I will not be passing students to year 2 if they have not turned in all three drafts of both papers. Some of the papers still suck after draft 2. I have told kids to start over (DELETED STUDENT NAME stands out as an example). I hope that these measures will remove some of the burden for you next year.
Now, go back and read the first three items again. I genuinely want us to continue to have a positive relationship, but I think it's important for you to have heard my perspective. When can we talk? Generally, Mondays and Tuesdays after school are easiest for me.
Thanks for reading this enormous missive, which is meant in a spirit of honesty, openness, communication, respect, and friendship.
Sincerely,
Count Mockula
Good morning, Mega. Between the fact that you haven't used my microwave in weeks and that, well, Co-worker spilled the beans about the fact that you're concerned about my teaching, I think I'd better address some things. I know we need to sit down and talk, and I'd like to do that within a week. But in the meantime, I'd like to express some important things, and I hope you'll forgive the fact that I'm much more comfortable in writing than in person.
First and foremost, I respect you greatly as a teacher. I have nothing but confidence in your skills, abilities, intelligence, savvy, etc. With that in mind, I took much of your advice already (I'll elaborate further later on). My class has changed already due to your observations.
Second, I value our relationship both as professionals and as friends. I think as professionals we have similar philosophies, if they are often manifested in different ways. As friends, you and I have had some fine bonding moments, I appreciate your company socially, I get a kick out of your sense of humor... I have no wish to damage either part of our relationship and I'd like to see you back using the microwave post haste.
Third, I am utterly committed to making the IB program a success. I have a strong dedication to, even love for, these kids. I feel that teaching is a calling, and I spend a good deal of my personal time working on improving the program, my teaching, the kids' skills... I will do whatever it takes to get these kids out of here with certificates and diplomas.
Now go back and read those if any of the next stuff pisses you off.
I have indeed been avoiding you. I was angry and hurt at the way our "observation" meeting went down. First, I thought it was supposed to be a friendly beer, not a ninety-minute excoriation of my teaching abilities. I also felt tricked -- you said we'd be discussing the 5th period class you observed, but rather you had a different agenda. I felt like a cat tricked into a cage, which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't also mean that you felt I was so weak or fragile that I had to be handled with kid gloves. I am a strong, adult woman, and in future, if you have something you need to speak to me about, you should do so in a straightforward manner. I assure you that I can take it.
That feeling of being handled with kid gloves was only compounded by the general feeling that you were treating me as an inferior. I recognize the need to share our observations, and have no problem doing that in an open format. However the general tone I picked up was not that of a peer mentor, but rather of a supervisor, advisor, or someone with power over my position. You actually said "I still have confidence in you as an IB teacher." In my head I was thinking "Thanks! That's a relief! I have confidence in you, too." And to find that you were sneaking around behind my back asking others about my teaching methods! I suspect that because I am (relatively) young, because I am new to Horticulturalist High, and because many people here know my father, there is also a general perception (not just on your part, but around the school) that I am VERY young, inexperienced, and fresh out of credential school. In truth, I am in my thirties, have been teaching for the better part of a decade, and have not just a B.A. and a credential, but a Masters in literature. I shouldn't even have to remind you of that. I felt intensely disrespected. I understand that you were trying to spare my feelings, and I appreciate the sentiment, but next time, please assume I too am mature and have a pair.
Also, you made your point (that I was using too many seminars and they weren't as successful as you hoped) early in the discussion, and then drove it into the ground. I got it. I wish, though, that you had been able to give me more positive suggestions. The discussion felt like "Here's what you're doing wrong." "Okay, what can I do instead?" "Well, you're doing it wrong now." "Okay, what else could I do?" "Just as long as we're clear -- you're doing it wrong."
The week after that, I was scheduled to watch your class. My student teacher has been out a great deal for various reasons, so the day I was supposed to come, I had to teach my own 2nd period. BUT, I should have then re-scheduled and made an effort to uphold that commitment. For three reasons, I did not. One, I was still feeling pissy. Two, I was thinking that if you were the great and powerful guru of teaching, how could you possibly benefit from my observation? (Okay, that falls under pissy, too.) And three, because I was angry, I didn't want to... over-critique you in retaliation. I wanted to cool off so that I did not make the situation worse. Because all three were motivated by pissy and childish instincts, I apologize. That was wrong. I was hopeful that this situation would all blow over, and that it might improve with some time away. But while time usually works for ME, I understand now that all it did was allow you to spend time ruminating on the situation and make it worse for YOU. That was not fair. Again, I apologize.
I did take your observations to heart. I want you to know that immediately following our conversation, I adjusted my lessons to include more of your suggestions. For example, we've since had two discussions wherein I wouldn't even let the kids talk unless they could provide textual evidence for what they were arguing. It was a slower conversation, to be sure, but very useful.
However, I also want you to know that you were wrong. I do not have discussions every day or nearly every day. More than once a week, yes (see the next paragraph). But you have set foot into that class twice. What you missed is me lecturing on writing, discussing the ins and outs of the rubrics, giving timed writes, teaching grammar and punctuation, lecturing on aspects of literature... You have made a hasty generalization about my teaching methods based on not enough evidence. Ask Co-worker -- he has been in my class many times, and the majority of those times, we have NOT been having discussions. It's easy to make generalizations -- I do it too -- but I do not want this idea to so occupy your mind that you assume that the small part of what you have seen is the whole. Please, please allow yourself to open your mind to the possibility that there are things you have not seen. For example, I know you've worked your ass off with the seniors in first period, polishing their extended essays, prepping them for tests and IOCs (and by the way, I really appreciate all the work that you do on their behalf), but if I were to base my impression of that class on just what I've seen when delivering your scantrons, I'd assume it was a candy-eating, iPod-listening session. But I have not made that assumption. Please give me the same respect.
Finally, I tell the kids regularly that you and I have different strengths, and I truly believe it. I am not wandering aimlessly through the year with no plan. Rather, I have thought through my plans quite extensively. I have solid reasoning behind what I do. You and I do not have the same teaching methods, and I think that's acceptable. I have class discussions because I want this class, for the most part, to live up to the college model. If they receive college credit, then they damn sure ought to have been doing college work and be prepared for college when they get there. College classes, in my experience, are primarily based on the following -- do the reading on your own, be prepared for seminar discussion, then prepare a project upon which most of your grade will be based. I also feel that the students will have difficulty seeing all the layers and aspects of the texts without them being explicitly pointed out, and if something is not adequately addressed in discussion, I guide the discussion or give the information directly myself. I believe that students will retain information better if they generate it themselves (and that belief is, of course, backed up by research). As to the format of the discussions (whether there's textual evidence, whether they're all staying on topic, whether it fits formal Socratic seminar guidelines, etc.), frankly, I feel function is more important than form in this case. If they occasionally stray off topic, I steer it back. Overall, I value the independent thinking they're doing and believe it far outweighs any structural deficits we have. Though as I said before, I HAVE made changes based on our discussion, and I will continue to do so.
Incidentally, it's a bit off topic, but I understand that you feel unappreciated for the work you've done with the seniors, particularly in terms of their World Lit papers. I just want to tell you that I do understand and appreciate how much work you've done. Last year I read each of your seniors' papers twice and met with them to discuss the papers. This year, you have essentially had the kids re-write the papers and supervised that entire writing and revising process. I am in awe of the work you've done, and I deeply respect and appreciate it. I want to assure you that because of the (let's call a spade a spade) clusterfuck that was last year's WL papers, I have made enormous changes to this year's syllabus and practice. I do not want you to have to face that amount of work again. To that end, students are turning in three drafts of each paper, not two. We started almost two months earlier on the drafting process so that students have more time to revise. I will not be passing students to year 2 if they have not turned in all three drafts of both papers. Some of the papers still suck after draft 2. I have told kids to start over (DELETED STUDENT NAME stands out as an example). I hope that these measures will remove some of the burden for you next year.
Now, go back and read the first three items again. I genuinely want us to continue to have a positive relationship, but I think it's important for you to have heard my perspective. When can we talk? Generally, Mondays and Tuesdays after school are easiest for me.
Thanks for reading this enormous missive, which is meant in a spirit of honesty, openness, communication, respect, and friendship.
Sincerely,
Count Mockula
Good teacher/evil teacher
Actually, I'm going to amend "good teacher" to "lucky teacher with a little initiative, a happy partnership, and great students."
I had a great day yesterday. My two drama classes paired with the special ed teachers who have the autistic and the orthopedically handicapped students. Their teachers told us what kinds of modifications we'd need to help with and helped supervise all our activities. I had my students come up with drama games (modified as necessary) that we played with the kids on Tuesday. (It went great -- one of them's a ringer at charades!) Then they wrote scenes showing how kids interact normally as friends. The autistic students then got to act as part of a group and have a script in front of them so they knew exactly what to say. My kids came up with several good scenes. One was some kids who wanted to sneak into a movie theatre, but they resisted the peer pressure! Another group went to a restaurant and someone forgot their wallet, so others pitched in to help. Another group went on a road trip and had several problems including a flat tire, but when they finally got to their destination, a birthday party, they sang the birthday song (that was a huge hit). One group went to a soccer game to watch their friends play, then went to karaoke to celebrate the win. One group made friends with a lonely girl at school. Another group comforted their friend after a break-up. Oh, and there was a surprise party that one friend didn't get an invitation to, but it was in her mailbox all along (this one was a bit of a musical). Anyway, I'm so proud of how well my kids worked with the guests from the other classes. They pushed their wheelchairs, held their scripts, prompted them on their lines, applauded their efforts, and hung out afterwards with them and mingled (well, most of them did, anyway). It was awesome.
Sometimes I'm evil. There's a freshman who cracks me up -- she's a real character. Anyway, I think she's got a crush on one of the tennis players, because she's always hanging out in the corner of the tennis courts by my room. I was leaving Thursday when I heard her announce "I'm always getting hit by the tennis balls! They ricochet..." at which point she was interrupted by a tennis ball ricocheting off the back wall and beaning her in the side of the head!! I laughed.
Now for the real evil: Yesterday, as a gift for helping judge the design of the ag classes' planter boxes, the ag teacher next door came in at the beginning of 6th period with a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate syrup for me. I thanked him, then saw the student's VERY interested glances at my bowl and just made the most of it. I was like "So in terms of your papers..." I take a HUGE bite and close my eyes with sheer pleasure. "Mmm. You can continue to revise them through..." I get some ice cream on the spoon and lick it. "Yum. ...Spring of next year." You should have seen their jaws drop! I was totally taunting them with my ice cream. Then, to "get me back," one of my favorite students got out her camera to take pictures of me standing there at the front of the room with my ice cream so she can post them on MySpace. Well, I'm mugging a little bit, then I lick the bowl, but she misses the shot. So I keep faking her out so that she misses the best faces and stuff. She's got about 6 pictures of me ALMOST licking the bowl. Although my favorite picture is of this other girl who sits in the front row jumping behind me while I eat ice cream at the camera. I asked the girl to send them to me and she hasn't yet, but I'm going to peek at their MySpaces (hey, they added me!) to see if those pictures are on there. If they are, I primise to post them here.
I had a great day yesterday. My two drama classes paired with the special ed teachers who have the autistic and the orthopedically handicapped students. Their teachers told us what kinds of modifications we'd need to help with and helped supervise all our activities. I had my students come up with drama games (modified as necessary) that we played with the kids on Tuesday. (It went great -- one of them's a ringer at charades!) Then they wrote scenes showing how kids interact normally as friends. The autistic students then got to act as part of a group and have a script in front of them so they knew exactly what to say. My kids came up with several good scenes. One was some kids who wanted to sneak into a movie theatre, but they resisted the peer pressure! Another group went to a restaurant and someone forgot their wallet, so others pitched in to help. Another group went on a road trip and had several problems including a flat tire, but when they finally got to their destination, a birthday party, they sang the birthday song (that was a huge hit). One group went to a soccer game to watch their friends play, then went to karaoke to celebrate the win. One group made friends with a lonely girl at school. Another group comforted their friend after a break-up. Oh, and there was a surprise party that one friend didn't get an invitation to, but it was in her mailbox all along (this one was a bit of a musical). Anyway, I'm so proud of how well my kids worked with the guests from the other classes. They pushed their wheelchairs, held their scripts, prompted them on their lines, applauded their efforts, and hung out afterwards with them and mingled (well, most of them did, anyway). It was awesome.
Sometimes I'm evil. There's a freshman who cracks me up -- she's a real character. Anyway, I think she's got a crush on one of the tennis players, because she's always hanging out in the corner of the tennis courts by my room. I was leaving Thursday when I heard her announce "I'm always getting hit by the tennis balls! They ricochet..." at which point she was interrupted by a tennis ball ricocheting off the back wall and beaning her in the side of the head!! I laughed.
Now for the real evil: Yesterday, as a gift for helping judge the design of the ag classes' planter boxes, the ag teacher next door came in at the beginning of 6th period with a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and chocolate syrup for me. I thanked him, then saw the student's VERY interested glances at my bowl and just made the most of it. I was like "So in terms of your papers..." I take a HUGE bite and close my eyes with sheer pleasure. "Mmm. You can continue to revise them through..." I get some ice cream on the spoon and lick it. "Yum. ...Spring of next year." You should have seen their jaws drop! I was totally taunting them with my ice cream. Then, to "get me back," one of my favorite students got out her camera to take pictures of me standing there at the front of the room with my ice cream so she can post them on MySpace. Well, I'm mugging a little bit, then I lick the bowl, but she misses the shot. So I keep faking her out so that she misses the best faces and stuff. She's got about 6 pictures of me ALMOST licking the bowl. Although my favorite picture is of this other girl who sits in the front row jumping behind me while I eat ice cream at the camera. I asked the girl to send them to me and she hasn't yet, but I'm going to peek at their MySpaces (hey, they added me!) to see if those pictures are on there. If they are, I primise to post them here.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Just effing with Google
Click this one to help Suebob be the second Google hit for Dollar Rent a Car with Dollar Rent a Car Sucks.
And help Desiree become the Super Des that you find when you Google by clicking on Super Des.
Just in case you missed it or want to click again, try Dollar Rent a Car Sucks or Super Des.
And help Desiree become the Super Des that you find when you Google by clicking on Super Des.
Just in case you missed it or want to click again, try Dollar Rent a Car Sucks or Super Des.
Captain's Log, Stardate 5102007
Today is the twentyfifth day of our mission, and it looks like this one, too, will be a failure. We've had a fuel leak that has demoralized the crew and weakened the ship. We consulted with on-ground technicians, who suggested a fix, but it has had no effect. In fact, the fuel leak has experienced somewhat of an uptick in fuel loss. We are currently resorting to the same stopgap measures we have been employing since the beginning of the mission.
Unfortunately, this mechanical issue has caused us to issue a temporary order: no R&R for the crew. They were looking quite forward to some fun, and are now quite demoralized. Can't anticipate which is the biggest threat to our ship -- mechanical failure or mutiny. At this point, we may need to abandon this mission and wait until the next time favorable conditions appear. That would make this the fourth mission in ten months to abort due to mechanical failure. The other six all simply failed in their objective. Having recently partnered with a group with advanced technical skills, we still can't begin to work with them and make use of their diagnostic equipment until we can control our own mechanical isues. This mission is in trouble.
Unfortunately, this mechanical issue has caused us to issue a temporary order: no R&R for the crew. They were looking quite forward to some fun, and are now quite demoralized. Can't anticipate which is the biggest threat to our ship -- mechanical failure or mutiny. At this point, we may need to abandon this mission and wait until the next time favorable conditions appear. That would make this the fourth mission in ten months to abort due to mechanical failure. The other six all simply failed in their objective. Having recently partnered with a group with advanced technical skills, we still can't begin to work with them and make use of their diagnostic equipment until we can control our own mechanical isues. This mission is in trouble.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Yosemite
Well, I'm going to have to do the short version, since I've let it sit too long now and my brain leaks.
Saturday morning we got to school at 7:30, packed up, and were on the road by 8. Last year we stayed in the hostel, so we didn't have as much equipment, but this year we were camping, so P-Man rented a U-Haul and the kids just threw all their stuff in it, so it made packing easy. I was the scout car, sort of, and my mission was to get to the camp before noon, when our reservation would be forfeited. So we tore ass out of there, stopped once in Oakdale for McDonalds, then got to the camp at 11:30. (Well, there was one brief carsickness episode that we stopped to clean up.) I looked at both group sites (they were across from each other), determined that camp C was bigger than A, and that we had more girls on the trip, so we toook C and I set up my tent (including my air mattress -- I come prepared). Soon, other people arrived and we all unloaded the U-Haul and got everything set up. We put our food into the bear lockers (that which we didn't leave in the U-Haul) and then helped the kids with their tents, etc.
Then we drove down to the valley floor (about a 45 minute drive) and caught sight of Half Dome and El Capitan. The first time you come around a corner and see a huge meadow and forest in a valley nearly 6000 feet below, it's breathtaking. I kept pointing out to the kids the waterfalls, the views, the wildflowers. They were a quiet group, so I was pretty much the only one talking. In the valley, we took half the kids on the Lower Yosemite Falls walk (I hesitate to call it a hike, as there was a woman on a Lark up there to watch a wedding --- the bridesmaids in their sleeveless dresses looked FREEZING in the mist and wind coming off the falls!). The other half went to the Miwok village, the cemetery, the Ansel Adams gallery, etc. Then we traded groups. I went on the walk again. When we got back, it was almost 6:30, so we hurried back to camp. On the drive, the sun was slanted at eye level, which was annoying but also created some incredible effects, like the underside of a stone bridge all lit up. It took a long time to get everything set up for dinner, and we didn't eat until after 8. By the time everyone was fed and everything was cleaned, the kids were like "So are we going on the night hike?" And we had to say no, it's almost curfew! Brush your teeth and go to bed!
I slept like hell that night. Actually to say I slept like hell is almost an exaggeration of how much I slept, because mostly I laid around and was cold and alert and thinking about stuff. I think I finally fell asleep about 4 am and woke up at 6 when the boys wandered over. I heard later that the two counselors went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and saw a ranger standing perfectly still in the clearing by our tents. We also heard some shots that night. We all suspect there was a bear nearby.
We got breakfast set up (cereal, bagels, danishes, cinnamon rolls, oatmeal, fruit...) and pretty quickly cleaned up and got in the vans. That day was the Nevada Falls/Vernal Falls hike. We drove to Curry Village and parked, then let the kids do a little shopping. Then we rounded them up and shuffled them off to the shuttle stop. The first shuttle that came was pretty full, so half of us got on and half of us (my half) just walked the mile to the trailhead. I am usually the one to bring up the rear on hikes. I know I can make it all the way, and I don't mind waiting for the slow kids. But within a couple hundred yards, I was so far behind the group! The counselors and other chaperones were the slowest walkers ever! I was trying to stay behind them, but going that slowly was going to keep me far from the kids. Thankfully, Pman relieved me of my duty and took up the rear. I left him and three other chaperones behind (this is important later). Anyway, I caught up with the kids soon, and walked with them to the first lovely photo op spot. It's a bridge that overlooks the waterfall. It's just gorgeous. Coey (the hike leader and a good friend) was laying on a flat rock in the sun and I joined him. "It's kind of zen, being here with all these kids. Sometimes I look around and think 'What am I doing here with all these kids?! But then I look at them and think..." I finished for him, "What would I be doing here without them?" It's really rewarding and cool, honestly. Like, maybe an hour before, as we walked to the trailhead, one of the other teachers pointed out an unusual spiderweb and told a kid who was hanging back with us that only a particular kind of spider made that kind of web. Then the teacher wandered off and I sped up a bit and I heard the kid, a fifteen year old boy, say totally to himself "I'm learning so much on this trip." Isn't that cool?
Anyway, then we started up again, and for a while, the trail continues as a moderate uphill. But then you hit the stairs. There are three tenths of a mile of stairs straight up the side of a mountain, and for about half of them, you're beset with winds and heavy mist. It gets cold and slippery, and the stairs are narrow. This is where the kids get a little concerned. I met up first with one girl who asked if she could go back. I said no, because everyone else was going up and she couldn't be alone. Sounds harsh, but I know she just needed the motivation to get up. She followed. Then I ran into another young lady who was hot, tired, scared, and dizzy. I walked with her, encouraged her, and we went about ten steps at a time, but we were moving. As we got closer to the top, we picked up two more stragglers, and I pushed them to the last 40 feet of stairs to the top. I know it's dorky as hell, but getting to say "You're almost there! That's the top! You can do it!" is just... It's great is what it is. We all got to the top of Vernal Falls and sat down with the rest of the kids to eat lunch and taunt squirrels.
Then came the split. A little more than half of the group wanted to go to the top of Nevada Falls, another mile and a half straight up. Twelve kids wanted to go back down via an easier route. We decided that the three male teachers would go up to Nevada Falls and the three female chaperones would take the route down. I suppose it's a little sexist, but the truth is that all three of the guys are very outdoorsy and I had already confided my achilles tendon problems to Coey, so it really was fair. The plan was, they would go a little way to the scenic overlook and we would follow, then split up. But right as they set off, the two other female chaperones decided to use the facilities, so we waited. The kids asked how they would get their shower things if all three male chaperones had their van keys, so I sent two kids to run after them to get the keys and turn right back. Now, these two kids set off just thirty seconds behind the first group, so they were able to follow them easily. By the time the bathroom trip was done, however, they were nowhere to be seen. We set off anyway, assuming we were following them. We hit the first sign, which said only "trail" and had a large yellow arrow pointing right. We followed it. We thought we would see the two girls any moment. We kept walking, mostly uphill. We did not hit a scenic overlook. We asked some other travellers for a map, and it was vague, but the trail we were on did not seem to include a scenic overlook. We started to worry. The kids were not back. It did not appear that we were following them. We called someone in the other group on their cell (after about three failed tries) and found out that they had indeed gotten to the other group and turned around... twenty minutes ago. We had been walking for twenty minutes. If we were on the same trail, there was no way we could have missed them. So now we were really concerned. There were a few options. We could turn around and try to find them, re-tracing our path (with kids who were already tired and unhappy) twice. We could go on and hope they followed us and caught up quickly. We could turn around and potentially NOT find them. But wait! There were four adults still on the trail behind us! They hadn't made it up by lunch, but they must be there now, and the kids would certainly run into them if they went back to our lunch spot. Slightly relieved at the prospect, we went ahead. When we reached the bridge again, about 1/2 a mile from the trailhead, we sat down to take a rest. Within thirty seconds, someone yelled the name of one of the missing students. Sure enough, they were stumbling down the same trail we had come down!! I ran to them, saying the kinds of things you'd expect ("Oh thank god! We were so worried!") and one of them started to cry. I almost cried, too. When we started walking again, they gravitated to the head of the group so as not to get left behind again!
As in turns out, three of the adults at the end had quit and gone back to Curry Village, while the counselor who had gone on had suffered an attack of vertigo at the foot of that 40-foot staircase to the top. A friendly Scout leader walked her, arm-in-arm, all the way back down the wet staircase to the bottom. So they wouldn't have run into her at all.
Our group got back to Curry Village first and was there taking showers, shopping, and eating pizza, and about two hours later, the other group arrived to do more of the same. Finally, my carload of kids was ready to return to camp, and we had an earlier and more pleasant dinner. Then we toasted marshmallows (at least I did!) and made s'mores, and finally went on our much-anticipated night hike. It was a very short one to a meadow at the campground. We made the kids turn off their flashlights and walk in the dark, and when we got to the meadow we looked at the stars. I saw a shooting star (I have a knack, I think). Then we walked back in the dark, too.
I slept much better that night. Well, I bought an extra blanket and took two sleeping pills, so I guess it would have been surprising if I hadn't.
The next morning we pretty much broke camp and left. I got the kids back to school around noon. There was a little drama because Coey had to give a test at one, so he left super-early, and took whatever kids were ready to go right then. The kids who had been in his van were hurt that they had to be split up, and were trying to manipulate people into trading with them and stuff. I ended up with most of them, and allow me to just say that it was a much more talkative ride home.
When I finally got back to my house (it took a long time to get the van returned, because there was a train sitting on the tracks, so I spent ages on the road on the way to the rental place), I took a long lukewarm bath. I was really overheated, because I was still in my jeans and had been sitting in the sun in the car. It was 30 degrees when I woke up and 90 degrees when I got home, which was a little disconcerting.
And unless I think of anything else, that was this year's Yosemite trip!
Saturday morning we got to school at 7:30, packed up, and were on the road by 8. Last year we stayed in the hostel, so we didn't have as much equipment, but this year we were camping, so P-Man rented a U-Haul and the kids just threw all their stuff in it, so it made packing easy. I was the scout car, sort of, and my mission was to get to the camp before noon, when our reservation would be forfeited. So we tore ass out of there, stopped once in Oakdale for McDonalds, then got to the camp at 11:30. (Well, there was one brief carsickness episode that we stopped to clean up.) I looked at both group sites (they were across from each other), determined that camp C was bigger than A, and that we had more girls on the trip, so we toook C and I set up my tent (including my air mattress -- I come prepared). Soon, other people arrived and we all unloaded the U-Haul and got everything set up. We put our food into the bear lockers (that which we didn't leave in the U-Haul) and then helped the kids with their tents, etc.
Then we drove down to the valley floor (about a 45 minute drive) and caught sight of Half Dome and El Capitan. The first time you come around a corner and see a huge meadow and forest in a valley nearly 6000 feet below, it's breathtaking. I kept pointing out to the kids the waterfalls, the views, the wildflowers. They were a quiet group, so I was pretty much the only one talking. In the valley, we took half the kids on the Lower Yosemite Falls walk (I hesitate to call it a hike, as there was a woman on a Lark up there to watch a wedding --- the bridesmaids in their sleeveless dresses looked FREEZING in the mist and wind coming off the falls!). The other half went to the Miwok village, the cemetery, the Ansel Adams gallery, etc. Then we traded groups. I went on the walk again. When we got back, it was almost 6:30, so we hurried back to camp. On the drive, the sun was slanted at eye level, which was annoying but also created some incredible effects, like the underside of a stone bridge all lit up. It took a long time to get everything set up for dinner, and we didn't eat until after 8. By the time everyone was fed and everything was cleaned, the kids were like "So are we going on the night hike?" And we had to say no, it's almost curfew! Brush your teeth and go to bed!
I slept like hell that night. Actually to say I slept like hell is almost an exaggeration of how much I slept, because mostly I laid around and was cold and alert and thinking about stuff. I think I finally fell asleep about 4 am and woke up at 6 when the boys wandered over. I heard later that the two counselors went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and saw a ranger standing perfectly still in the clearing by our tents. We also heard some shots that night. We all suspect there was a bear nearby.
We got breakfast set up (cereal, bagels, danishes, cinnamon rolls, oatmeal, fruit...) and pretty quickly cleaned up and got in the vans. That day was the Nevada Falls/Vernal Falls hike. We drove to Curry Village and parked, then let the kids do a little shopping. Then we rounded them up and shuffled them off to the shuttle stop. The first shuttle that came was pretty full, so half of us got on and half of us (my half) just walked the mile to the trailhead. I am usually the one to bring up the rear on hikes. I know I can make it all the way, and I don't mind waiting for the slow kids. But within a couple hundred yards, I was so far behind the group! The counselors and other chaperones were the slowest walkers ever! I was trying to stay behind them, but going that slowly was going to keep me far from the kids. Thankfully, Pman relieved me of my duty and took up the rear. I left him and three other chaperones behind (this is important later). Anyway, I caught up with the kids soon, and walked with them to the first lovely photo op spot. It's a bridge that overlooks the waterfall. It's just gorgeous. Coey (the hike leader and a good friend) was laying on a flat rock in the sun and I joined him. "It's kind of zen, being here with all these kids. Sometimes I look around and think 'What am I doing here with all these kids?! But then I look at them and think..." I finished for him, "What would I be doing here without them?" It's really rewarding and cool, honestly. Like, maybe an hour before, as we walked to the trailhead, one of the other teachers pointed out an unusual spiderweb and told a kid who was hanging back with us that only a particular kind of spider made that kind of web. Then the teacher wandered off and I sped up a bit and I heard the kid, a fifteen year old boy, say totally to himself "I'm learning so much on this trip." Isn't that cool?
Anyway, then we started up again, and for a while, the trail continues as a moderate uphill. But then you hit the stairs. There are three tenths of a mile of stairs straight up the side of a mountain, and for about half of them, you're beset with winds and heavy mist. It gets cold and slippery, and the stairs are narrow. This is where the kids get a little concerned. I met up first with one girl who asked if she could go back. I said no, because everyone else was going up and she couldn't be alone. Sounds harsh, but I know she just needed the motivation to get up. She followed. Then I ran into another young lady who was hot, tired, scared, and dizzy. I walked with her, encouraged her, and we went about ten steps at a time, but we were moving. As we got closer to the top, we picked up two more stragglers, and I pushed them to the last 40 feet of stairs to the top. I know it's dorky as hell, but getting to say "You're almost there! That's the top! You can do it!" is just... It's great is what it is. We all got to the top of Vernal Falls and sat down with the rest of the kids to eat lunch and taunt squirrels.
Then came the split. A little more than half of the group wanted to go to the top of Nevada Falls, another mile and a half straight up. Twelve kids wanted to go back down via an easier route. We decided that the three male teachers would go up to Nevada Falls and the three female chaperones would take the route down. I suppose it's a little sexist, but the truth is that all three of the guys are very outdoorsy and I had already confided my achilles tendon problems to Coey, so it really was fair. The plan was, they would go a little way to the scenic overlook and we would follow, then split up. But right as they set off, the two other female chaperones decided to use the facilities, so we waited. The kids asked how they would get their shower things if all three male chaperones had their van keys, so I sent two kids to run after them to get the keys and turn right back. Now, these two kids set off just thirty seconds behind the first group, so they were able to follow them easily. By the time the bathroom trip was done, however, they were nowhere to be seen. We set off anyway, assuming we were following them. We hit the first sign, which said only "trail" and had a large yellow arrow pointing right. We followed it. We thought we would see the two girls any moment. We kept walking, mostly uphill. We did not hit a scenic overlook. We asked some other travellers for a map, and it was vague, but the trail we were on did not seem to include a scenic overlook. We started to worry. The kids were not back. It did not appear that we were following them. We called someone in the other group on their cell (after about three failed tries) and found out that they had indeed gotten to the other group and turned around... twenty minutes ago. We had been walking for twenty minutes. If we were on the same trail, there was no way we could have missed them. So now we were really concerned. There were a few options. We could turn around and try to find them, re-tracing our path (with kids who were already tired and unhappy) twice. We could go on and hope they followed us and caught up quickly. We could turn around and potentially NOT find them. But wait! There were four adults still on the trail behind us! They hadn't made it up by lunch, but they must be there now, and the kids would certainly run into them if they went back to our lunch spot. Slightly relieved at the prospect, we went ahead. When we reached the bridge again, about 1/2 a mile from the trailhead, we sat down to take a rest. Within thirty seconds, someone yelled the name of one of the missing students. Sure enough, they were stumbling down the same trail we had come down!! I ran to them, saying the kinds of things you'd expect ("Oh thank god! We were so worried!") and one of them started to cry. I almost cried, too. When we started walking again, they gravitated to the head of the group so as not to get left behind again!
As in turns out, three of the adults at the end had quit and gone back to Curry Village, while the counselor who had gone on had suffered an attack of vertigo at the foot of that 40-foot staircase to the top. A friendly Scout leader walked her, arm-in-arm, all the way back down the wet staircase to the bottom. So they wouldn't have run into her at all.
Our group got back to Curry Village first and was there taking showers, shopping, and eating pizza, and about two hours later, the other group arrived to do more of the same. Finally, my carload of kids was ready to return to camp, and we had an earlier and more pleasant dinner. Then we toasted marshmallows (at least I did!) and made s'mores, and finally went on our much-anticipated night hike. It was a very short one to a meadow at the campground. We made the kids turn off their flashlights and walk in the dark, and when we got to the meadow we looked at the stars. I saw a shooting star (I have a knack, I think). Then we walked back in the dark, too.
I slept much better that night. Well, I bought an extra blanket and took two sleeping pills, so I guess it would have been surprising if I hadn't.
The next morning we pretty much broke camp and left. I got the kids back to school around noon. There was a little drama because Coey had to give a test at one, so he left super-early, and took whatever kids were ready to go right then. The kids who had been in his van were hurt that they had to be split up, and were trying to manipulate people into trading with them and stuff. I ended up with most of them, and allow me to just say that it was a much more talkative ride home.
When I finally got back to my house (it took a long time to get the van returned, because there was a train sitting on the tracks, so I spent ages on the road on the way to the rental place), I took a long lukewarm bath. I was really overheated, because I was still in my jeans and had been sitting in the sun in the car. It was 30 degrees when I woke up and 90 degrees when I got home, which was a little disconcerting.
And unless I think of anything else, that was this year's Yosemite trip!
American Idol blasphemes
Listen, I know the show sucks, but that doesn't keep me from occasionally turning on the last five minutes when I get home from ballet and have taken out the garbage, etc.
Tonight it is on (as I read the blogs), and a commercial comes on. The song is "You Really Got Me," originally by the Kinks, but performed here (POORLY) by the final four Idol contestants. The commercial is a CLEAR parody/tribute of the Beatles' film "A Hard Days Night" (almost shot for shot as they run from the crowd, enter cars, hide behind newspapers...). So they're essentially taking down two of my favorite bands at once. It's sick. It's wrong, I tell you.
Tonight it is on (as I read the blogs), and a commercial comes on. The song is "You Really Got Me," originally by the Kinks, but performed here (POORLY) by the final four Idol contestants. The commercial is a CLEAR parody/tribute of the Beatles' film "A Hard Days Night" (almost shot for shot as they run from the crowd, enter cars, hide behind newspapers...). So they're essentially taking down two of my favorite bands at once. It's sick. It's wrong, I tell you.
Grandpa
For some reason, my mind has been really occupied with my grandfather lately. I wore his bowling shirt the other day and received many compliments, including people asking me who "Vince" was. We were talking about wedding photos on a hike and I was reminded of the series of pictures from my first wedding (I wish he could have attended the second) where me, my cousin Phil, and my cousin Matt are all leaning over talking to our grandparents with our hands on their shoulders in exactly the same position. I saw a headline about Barry Bonds today and remembered how he was so excited about Sammy Sosa breaking the homerun records. I was trying to determine which year of my life had been my worst, and the one in which my grandfather died ranked pretty high.
My grandfather wasn't a hero or a trailblazer. He wasn't someone you'd write a book about. He was just a normal guy -- a father of five, grandfather of ten, and a great-grandfather of one (although two more were born after his death). He loved baseball. He loved talking politics. After the stroke he had when I was little, he always struggled a little for words, but it didn't keep him from enjoying a hearty debate. Apparently when he was younger, he had a temper, but by the time we were all born, he was a loving, gentle grandfather. I remember that he used to let me and my cousin Janelle play "salon" with his white hair, patiently sitting on the floor as we pretended to wash and style it. He loved Planters roasted salted peanuts and always had some at the house. I don't mean to idealize him -- he was an alcoholic before his first stroke. My father and his brothers and sister can certainly remember some bad times. But I don't. All I remember was his Hawaiian shirts, his white hair, his voice (answering the phone "Nyeellow"), his special chair, the way he talked about my younger cousin Amber (sometimes he couldn't get through a story about her feisty little self for his laughter), the way he got on his knees to look for the turtle in the bushes, the way he sat at the dining room table with me and my grandma, eating a salad for lunch, the way he would turn serious and lean forward when he had something to say that he thought was really important. My grandparents' house was a place, when I was a child, that held my cousins, the old Saltine cracker tin full of tiny kitchen toys, another tin (Danish cookies?) full of farm animal toys and little plastic fences, a shelf of Little Golden Books, a high shelf full of Flaxy Flix, Nilla Wafers, ladyfingers, and various other confections, a blue jar full of Starburst by the door, a mail slot you could reach your thin arms up into, a table that could be turned upside-down on the red carpet of the spare bedroom to be a boat afloat on hot lava, a hallway that could be closed at both ends so that giggling children could escape the prying eyes of adults (but never for long)...
I've been thinking about him in part because of this whole baby thing. Naturally, I wish he could see and hold my child, know how happy I am in my life, know that I became a teacher and that I'm a good one and that I'm happy, know my husband (I think he'd like him). But it's more than that. I've been thinking about the grief process, and what mourning's all about. It's about, among other things, the plans you had and the future you dreamed. I mourn not just my grandfather, but all the visions of the future that I had that included him. And I find myself also mourning some of the other ideas I had -- about a baby that I thought would have come into my life by now. About the easy way we would become pregnant and the joy I would have in sharing the news. I know those dreams aren't gone, just changed.
Part of why I am thinking of the worst times of my life is because I'm wondering if this is one of them. I feel ungrateful. I have a beautiful house, a wonderful husband, a great job, a supportive family, a weird cat... I shouldn't complain, I guess, because I'm so fortunate in so many ways.
My grandfather wasn't a hero or a trailblazer. He wasn't someone you'd write a book about. He was just a normal guy -- a father of five, grandfather of ten, and a great-grandfather of one (although two more were born after his death). He loved baseball. He loved talking politics. After the stroke he had when I was little, he always struggled a little for words, but it didn't keep him from enjoying a hearty debate. Apparently when he was younger, he had a temper, but by the time we were all born, he was a loving, gentle grandfather. I remember that he used to let me and my cousin Janelle play "salon" with his white hair, patiently sitting on the floor as we pretended to wash and style it. He loved Planters roasted salted peanuts and always had some at the house. I don't mean to idealize him -- he was an alcoholic before his first stroke. My father and his brothers and sister can certainly remember some bad times. But I don't. All I remember was his Hawaiian shirts, his white hair, his voice (answering the phone "Nyeellow"), his special chair, the way he talked about my younger cousin Amber (sometimes he couldn't get through a story about her feisty little self for his laughter), the way he got on his knees to look for the turtle in the bushes, the way he sat at the dining room table with me and my grandma, eating a salad for lunch, the way he would turn serious and lean forward when he had something to say that he thought was really important. My grandparents' house was a place, when I was a child, that held my cousins, the old Saltine cracker tin full of tiny kitchen toys, another tin (Danish cookies?) full of farm animal toys and little plastic fences, a shelf of Little Golden Books, a high shelf full of Flaxy Flix, Nilla Wafers, ladyfingers, and various other confections, a blue jar full of Starburst by the door, a mail slot you could reach your thin arms up into, a table that could be turned upside-down on the red carpet of the spare bedroom to be a boat afloat on hot lava, a hallway that could be closed at both ends so that giggling children could escape the prying eyes of adults (but never for long)...
I've been thinking about him in part because of this whole baby thing. Naturally, I wish he could see and hold my child, know how happy I am in my life, know that I became a teacher and that I'm a good one and that I'm happy, know my husband (I think he'd like him). But it's more than that. I've been thinking about the grief process, and what mourning's all about. It's about, among other things, the plans you had and the future you dreamed. I mourn not just my grandfather, but all the visions of the future that I had that included him. And I find myself also mourning some of the other ideas I had -- about a baby that I thought would have come into my life by now. About the easy way we would become pregnant and the joy I would have in sharing the news. I know those dreams aren't gone, just changed.
Part of why I am thinking of the worst times of my life is because I'm wondering if this is one of them. I feel ungrateful. I have a beautiful house, a wonderful husband, a great job, a supportive family, a weird cat... I shouldn't complain, I guess, because I'm so fortunate in so many ways.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Here is us talking.
You: So, any plans for the weekend?
Me: Yeah, I'm going camping at Yosemite...
You: Oh wow! Have fun! That'll be great. Supposed to be good weather, I hear.
Me:... with 30 teenagers.
You: Oh. Shit. Good luck.
See you on Monday if I make it out alive.
Me: Yeah, I'm going camping at Yosemite...
You: Oh wow! Have fun! That'll be great. Supposed to be good weather, I hear.
Me:... with 30 teenagers.
You: Oh. Shit. Good luck.
See you on Monday if I make it out alive.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
New haircut
Hi all. I got a new haircut on Saturday. This isn't the best picture of it (or of me, for that matter) but whatever. Tonight is my computer class, and I can't seem to access my online forum at all. How boring can it get? I didn't even get to go home tonight, because our staff meeting got out at 4:45 and my class started at 5:30 completely across town. So, no happy Sweetie interlude. Plus, he had to make his own dinner while I ate leftovers from lunch in the parking lot here.
There are still clowns coming out of my Volkswagon. I'm a little frustrated, because I want to get to the root cause. Why are there clows coming out? Is there a trapdoor? Is there some sort of black hole? Is the glovebox a secret portal? But all the doctor seems to want to do is shut the door.
Our tests are finally over, and thank goodness!! 12 hours of tests in three days. We all breathed a deep sigh at 12:15 today.
I'm enjoying my novel, A Spot of Bother, more than I was a few days ago. This guy's first book, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, was SO GOOD, and I wasn't expecting more of the same, but I don't think I was expecting a quiet British family drama, either. The quotes on the back made it sound like there was a bit of a mystery, but unless it's going to appear in the last third or so, there's no mystery.
I realized I haven't talked much about the books I've been reading lately. I've managed to get some time to read in, and read a bunch of those books that I picked up in Portland and at the Borders during teacher appreciation week. In reverse chronological order, I read:
The Committment, by Dan Savage. I really thought this was wonderful. Sex columnist Savage write about his and his partner Terry's decision whether to marry. Among the things they have to consider are their families, their 6 year old son, the fact that gay marriage is not legal in Seattle where they live, the fact that they may not want to "act like straight people" and the fact that Savage thinks weddings are "jinxy." A very satisfying read, with several really hilarious stories, some of which involve driving through South Dakota.
What is the What, by Dave Eggers. I wasn't 100% sure at first whether this was fiction or non, since Eggers does both, and this was "from the point of view of" a Sudanese refugee. I was assured, though, that Valentino Achak Deng does in fact exist and that the book is more or less his real story. It was fabulous and heartbreaking. The story begins with Deng in Georgia being robbed in his apartment, and as the novel progresses, he tells the story of his childhood, of his village's invasion (and basically destruction) by the murahaleen, his long journey to Ethiopia, then Kenya (if I remember correctly) in various refugee camps, the family he left, the family he created, and the tragedies that continue after he reaches, finally, the States. He narrates the story in his head to people nearby, people he couldn't tell in reality, from the people checking in to the gym where he works, the nurse at the hospital he is seen at, and the young boy who is left to watch over him while the robbers return for more. Highly recommended.
Grace Eventually, by Anne Lamott. Well, hmm. I like Anne Lamott. I loved Bird by Bird, Operating Instructions, and Travelling Mercies. I'm not as crazy about her fiction. But now I've read THREE of these "thoughts on faith" books, and I'm finding them a little redundant. I mean, she has a really interesting and relatable perspective, and isn't heavy-handed with the god stuff. In fact, most of the writing is much more along the lines of "I was feeling really jacked-up, and here's how I got better." I appreciate that. But as my mother said, for someone who has written three of these books, she's still pretty jacked-up, sometimes in really disturbing ways. I don't like to judge, but she does some crappy stuff and loses control pretty seriously. She's an ex-addict who seems to have replaced her addiction with God -- but that jus tmakes her a god addict, you know? Anyway, there's beauty and humor to be found in this book, but it's the same old beauty and humor that was in the last two. Not that I wouldn't read another, but I'd really prefer she, maybe, tackled something else.
Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. Now THIS was funny. I love Bill Bryson. I loved looking at childhood through his eyes. I even loved looking at Iowa through his eyes. He has such a unique perspective on the world. This might be only of interest to you if you enjoyed other Bryson works, like A Walk in the Woods, but I did. I've read all his books (even the science one!), and I can't get enough. This was sweet, funny, goofy, sentimental, funny again... If you haven't read Bryson's travel books (or language books, if you're into linguistics), I recommend a couple of those. By then, you'll like him as a person so much you'll be delighted to read about his childhood.
And... that's it for now. My memory doesn't go back farther than that, although I could probably jog my memory by looking at my bookshelf. But I'm not at home, am I? No, I'm in my computer class, and only half an hour has gone by. *Sigh*
There are still clowns coming out of my Volkswagon. I'm a little frustrated, because I want to get to the root cause. Why are there clows coming out? Is there a trapdoor? Is there some sort of black hole? Is the glovebox a secret portal? But all the doctor seems to want to do is shut the door.
Our tests are finally over, and thank goodness!! 12 hours of tests in three days. We all breathed a deep sigh at 12:15 today.
I'm enjoying my novel, A Spot of Bother, more than I was a few days ago. This guy's first book, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, was SO GOOD, and I wasn't expecting more of the same, but I don't think I was expecting a quiet British family drama, either. The quotes on the back made it sound like there was a bit of a mystery, but unless it's going to appear in the last third or so, there's no mystery.
I realized I haven't talked much about the books I've been reading lately. I've managed to get some time to read in, and read a bunch of those books that I picked up in Portland and at the Borders during teacher appreciation week. In reverse chronological order, I read:
The Committment, by Dan Savage. I really thought this was wonderful. Sex columnist Savage write about his and his partner Terry's decision whether to marry. Among the things they have to consider are their families, their 6 year old son, the fact that gay marriage is not legal in Seattle where they live, the fact that they may not want to "act like straight people" and the fact that Savage thinks weddings are "jinxy." A very satisfying read, with several really hilarious stories, some of which involve driving through South Dakota.
What is the What, by Dave Eggers. I wasn't 100% sure at first whether this was fiction or non, since Eggers does both, and this was "from the point of view of" a Sudanese refugee. I was assured, though, that Valentino Achak Deng does in fact exist and that the book is more or less his real story. It was fabulous and heartbreaking. The story begins with Deng in Georgia being robbed in his apartment, and as the novel progresses, he tells the story of his childhood, of his village's invasion (and basically destruction) by the murahaleen, his long journey to Ethiopia, then Kenya (if I remember correctly) in various refugee camps, the family he left, the family he created, and the tragedies that continue after he reaches, finally, the States. He narrates the story in his head to people nearby, people he couldn't tell in reality, from the people checking in to the gym where he works, the nurse at the hospital he is seen at, and the young boy who is left to watch over him while the robbers return for more. Highly recommended.
Grace Eventually, by Anne Lamott. Well, hmm. I like Anne Lamott. I loved Bird by Bird, Operating Instructions, and Travelling Mercies. I'm not as crazy about her fiction. But now I've read THREE of these "thoughts on faith" books, and I'm finding them a little redundant. I mean, she has a really interesting and relatable perspective, and isn't heavy-handed with the god stuff. In fact, most of the writing is much more along the lines of "I was feeling really jacked-up, and here's how I got better." I appreciate that. But as my mother said, for someone who has written three of these books, she's still pretty jacked-up, sometimes in really disturbing ways. I don't like to judge, but she does some crappy stuff and loses control pretty seriously. She's an ex-addict who seems to have replaced her addiction with God -- but that jus tmakes her a god addict, you know? Anyway, there's beauty and humor to be found in this book, but it's the same old beauty and humor that was in the last two. Not that I wouldn't read another, but I'd really prefer she, maybe, tackled something else.
Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid. Now THIS was funny. I love Bill Bryson. I loved looking at childhood through his eyes. I even loved looking at Iowa through his eyes. He has such a unique perspective on the world. This might be only of interest to you if you enjoyed other Bryson works, like A Walk in the Woods, but I did. I've read all his books (even the science one!), and I can't get enough. This was sweet, funny, goofy, sentimental, funny again... If you haven't read Bryson's travel books (or language books, if you're into linguistics), I recommend a couple of those. By then, you'll like him as a person so much you'll be delighted to read about his childhood.
And... that's it for now. My memory doesn't go back farther than that, although I could probably jog my memory by looking at my bookshelf. But I'm not at home, am I? No, I'm in my computer class, and only half an hour has gone by. *Sigh*
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Kids are weird
First, the kid I'm pissed at: This kid and his friend are in a feud with another kid and his girlfriend, and all four are in the same classes together all day long, so you can imagine the drama. But this kid is pissing me off, because he always makes these insidious sly sideways comments that are clearly meant for other people to hear. Mostly, it's about how wrong the other people are. Luckily, the other group has decided to be more mature about it (or less obvious), but this kid is trying, pretty much daily, to start trouble. Anyway, yesterday he got a copy of the itinerary of our weekend field trip, and he was going on and on about how lame it was. "What's this, leftovers? Ha! Cup o' Noodles? For breakfast? Y'all have fun with that." And part of me wanted to be like "shut the hell up, kid! Just because you can't go doesn't mean you need to ruin the anticipation of the trip for everyone else." The other part wanted to tell him how wrong he had it, too, since there's more food than you can shake a stick at, and while it's not gourmet, there is something damn special about burgers and salad and fruit and punch made outdoors after a long day of hiking in the wilderness. This kid's a punk, and I've had him for two years now and will probably have him next year, too. I hope he grows up some over the summer.
I had a kid for two years at my last job, too, speaking of growing up. This kid's a sophomore, now (he moved with me to the new school, sort of). He was always a real dork -- the kind of kid who chews off the end of his pen and gets blue ink all over his face, twice a week. Anyway, he came by to see me today, and was bragging about how grown up he is. He's five foot four, now, and he's got one full beard hair, with color and everything. He shaved. In March. It was hard to keep a straight face.
Okay, that's it. I'm still bummed about yesterday, and today got even more bad news. There's this... thing going on. Let's say I've got... clowns following me around. (I don't want to gross you out with the real thing.) So at the class last week, the nurse practicioner was like "You are OUR patient now. If you have any issues with your... hilarity, call us, not your old doctor." So, I call them and leave a message about the clowns, and I get a call back today (incidentally, too late for me to call anybody today) that says "Oh, that's not us. Call your old doctor." Thanks. I've still got fucking Bozo peering through my windows and nobody can do anything about it. Plus, we've now been trying for a full year, and it's kind of sucky to reach that kind of milestone with nothing to show for it. I'm going to eat some ice cream.
I had a kid for two years at my last job, too, speaking of growing up. This kid's a sophomore, now (he moved with me to the new school, sort of). He was always a real dork -- the kind of kid who chews off the end of his pen and gets blue ink all over his face, twice a week. Anyway, he came by to see me today, and was bragging about how grown up he is. He's five foot four, now, and he's got one full beard hair, with color and everything. He shaved. In March. It was hard to keep a straight face.
Okay, that's it. I'm still bummed about yesterday, and today got even more bad news. There's this... thing going on. Let's say I've got... clowns following me around. (I don't want to gross you out with the real thing.) So at the class last week, the nurse practicioner was like "You are OUR patient now. If you have any issues with your... hilarity, call us, not your old doctor." So, I call them and leave a message about the clowns, and I get a call back today (incidentally, too late for me to call anybody today) that says "Oh, that's not us. Call your old doctor." Thanks. I've still got fucking Bozo peering through my windows and nobody can do anything about it. Plus, we've now been trying for a full year, and it's kind of sucky to reach that kind of milestone with nothing to show for it. I'm going to eat some ice cream.
I look a little poochy?!?!
A co-worker said to me this morning "You look nice. You look a little... poochy."
I'm thinking, what?! That's rude!! But she didn't have a rude tone, and she's never insulted me before. We get along fine. I was walking around trying to find a way for "poochy" to be a compliment. I was halfway down the hall before I remembered my brightly-colored patterned scarf. She was saying my outfit was a little "Pucci." I feel better now.
I'm thinking, what?! That's rude!! But she didn't have a rude tone, and she's never insulted me before. We get along fine. I was walking around trying to find a way for "poochy" to be a compliment. I was halfway down the hall before I remembered my brightly-colored patterned scarf. She was saying my outfit was a little "Pucci." I feel better now.
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