Closer

I saw "Closer" last night. I was lukewarm on seeing it in the first place, but then a couple people I trust mentioned they hadn't liked it, so it sat around for about a month before I finally got to it. Anyway, here's the summary: beautiful people treating each other horribly with long lapses in time that are pretty much unexplained.

I've added a bunch of documentaries to my Netflix queue lately. I have Capturing the Friedmans, Murderball, The Fog of War, Winged Migration, Born into Brothels, Grizzly Man, Rock School, Mad Hot Ballroom, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, and The Filth and the Fury all awaiting my viewing pleasure. It's funny -- if you asked me if I was a big documentary fan, I'd probably say no, but I do like them and watch them fairly regularly. I just saw "Spellbound," too.

I might go to a show tonight. I really like going to shows, and I especially like the Knockoffs (who are playing tonight), and I never go out anymore. It's not that Sweetie discourages me. He always says I should go. I just most of the time am tired and WANT to stay home. Sad, huh? If I do go, it'll be right after ballet, so I'll be not just tired but sweaty and tired. Fun. But I still might. It starts at 8 and there's a $3 cover, which pretty much eliminates all my complaints about shows starting too late and costing too much. Well, we'll see.

Cool poem.

The Orange

By Wendy Cope


At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.


And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park
This is peace and contentment. It's new.


The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.


Wendy Cope, "The Orange" from Serious Concerns. Copyright � 1992 by Wendy Cope. Reprinted with the permission of Faber & Faber, Ltd.

My adventure at the FoodMaxx and other weekend goodness

Okay, let's see. On Friday I had a bunch of stuff to do, so I made a grocery run on my prep period. The closest grocery store is the FoodMaxx, which I've never been to. It's one of those ones that advertises its low low prices, and it's located in an ethnically diverse poor area (ahem, about a block from my school). Anyway, I go in because I need veggie boullion, black beans, a lemon, a green bell pepper, some jalapenos and cornmeal. Well, I go up to the place and it has those gigantic wide shopping carts like at Costco, so at first I'm not even certain they'll have a produce department. But they do. In fact, it's enormous. They have a HUGE selection of produce, including stuff I've never seen in either my usual grocery store or the asian grocery. There are mangoes and papayas galore, and HUGE bins of fresh garbanzo beans, which I've never even seen. (They come in their little green fuzzy pod.) So I find everything I need, but it's not in that great shape -- like my lemon is flat on one side and the bell pepper isn't particularly snappy. But whatever. Then I go hunting for boullion. Well, it's all kind of spread out. There's a Mexican foods section where the boullion things are printed in Spanish. I'd use them, but they only have chicken and beef. Then over by the soups there are more--three different brands--but still no veggie. In the spice aisle there are more still, but no veggie. I give up, figure I can use various spices instead, and start looking for cornmeal. Well, they have it in spades, different brands and everything. They have hominy and fresh masa. You want cornmeal products, they've got it! In looking around, I also notice that they have all kinds of other stuff I've never seem elsewhere; there are these Indian meals that come in a little foil packet that I've gotten other flavors of at Trader Joe's and the Co-op, but never this many varieties! I didn't even know there were like 12! And there's a whole rack of Persian spices that I had previously looked in about 6 stores for before finding a store near my house that had them. They also had these HUGE freezers like at Costco or any other big box store, and the place was designed like a big maze -- once you turned the corner past the produce aisle, there was only one way to get back to the beginning. Anyway, I'm going to go back when I have more time and explore the whole place. It was pretty cool.

Anyway, with all my ingredients, I made Cuban black bean soup and banana fritters and cornbread for dinner. Monkeygirl came over and we watched "Thumbsucker." I had mixed feelings about it. It was well-acted and stuff, but had a strange Oedipal theme that creeped me out, and the direction was a little strange. For example, no one ever talked above a whisper. And the teacher (Vince Vaughan) was totally unrealistic. And what was with the girlfriend? There was something clearly wrong, but her story was never fleshed out.

Saturday I tidied up a little and ran some errands, then went to my cousin's 4th birthday party at Round Table. There was pizza and a mermaid theme. It's always nice to hang with my family. In the evening there was sushi, then I rushed a quick workout in. I ran into my Boompah, which was kind of funny, because I picked a stationary bike, started putting my stuff down, took the foot straps off the pedals... I noticed that the whole time an older guy on a bike a few feet away was looking at me, but I was studiously avoiding looking at him. Until, of course, I realized he was STILL staring as I was getting ready to ride. I turned to give him a hard look, and of course discovered that it was my Boompah (stepdad, to the uninitiated). Then after my workout I stopped at the Co-op and ran into one of my students! Sunday morning I read the paper, then went and worked out again and took the yoga class. The chick last week must have lulled me into a false sense of security about how hard yoga really is, because this lady was ROUGH! My legs were shaking and by the end I was having to stop and rest. I'm sore today. She kept having us do "chair," which is just a squat that you stay in forever. Then I went to Trader Joe's and ran into a co-worker. It was the weekend of running into people.

Mom and I spent the rest of Sunday attacking the monster overgrown shrubs in the backyard. There was a mock orange that was about twenty feet tall (they're supposed to be a shrub) and a big messy bottlebrush that was closer to thirty. The pile of yard waste in front of my house is about the size of an SUV. I still really need to do a LOT more landscaping, putting plants in, taking this shade thing down, jackhammering up the patio, hauling all that away and pouring concrete... It's going to be a huge project. We really still need to finish the kitchen, but I'm considering doing some of the outdoor stuff before it gets too hot and doing the bathroom this summer so we can be inside in the AC.

I guess that's about it. I'll be a little busier this week (my computer class starts), and then it'll taper off, since my 7th period will end. I have to go now and submit the paperwork to prove I'm a "Highly Qualified Teacher," (which basically means I have a credential). They need my subject test results, my credential, and my B.A. Basically just because I've submitted this twice before and am feeling a little bitchy, I'm also copying my CBEST, SSAT, and M.A. and submitting those, too. Not highly qualified, my sweet ass!

Timelines

Hi all,

Sorry I've been busy lately -- brother's Sandan, teaching workshop, poetry reading, various school meetings, teaching 7th period -- but there have been a couple things I'm ruminating on.

This next few months will see my one year wedding anniversary, my four year home-ownership-aversary, my cat's fourth birthday, my three-years-of-sweetie-aversary, my sixth year of teaching under my belt, 4 1/2 years since the breast reduction, four years back in ballet (as of this month, actually), two years since getting my M.A., two years since my mom retired, over 5 years with the Gynas...

I mean, Dang. It's all such good stuff, and it makes me feel all grown up and settled and secure and happy and funny all at the same time.



By the way, last night I think I came close to being the first person ever thrown out of our ballet class for smelling appetizing. I reeked of roasted leeks (which I had both prepared and eaten), and the girls all agreed that it smelled delicious, but I don't think the deliciousness of your body odor is necessarily a good thing. Of course, after that I had a really good class, earning THREE compliments (which are hard to come by), but then at the end we did a grand jete ending in attitude (a big old jump landing on one foot with the other one bent up behind you), and my vertebrae compacted like two sections of cootie plugging into one another. I swear I got a half an inch shorter.

More education stuff

Dang I'm political lately. Read this.

Now, I suspect a lot of people will read the first couple paragraphs and think "The kids can't meet the standards, so we lower them?! What a load of crap!" And I'm not really in favor of lowering standards either, but the two things I think are really important in this debate are the following. One, our "proficient" standard in California is above average. Now, I like "Prarie Home Companion as much as the next guy (which means I don't actively hate it), but it's a little unlikely that all our children could be above average, which is what the goal is. Yep, ALL children (100%!) proficient by 2016. That'll rule. We'll totally kick Japan's ass technologically then!

Second is the point that's buried way down in this article. "States that set the bar low academically have a distinct advantage over California, whose high proficiency standard is a laudable but unrealistic mandate to apply universally to more than 6 million students of varying backgrounds, Hancock contends." We face serious sanctions because we have higher standards.

Let's look at it this way. The world's record for long jumping is 29ft, 4.5inches. Let's say the average for you or me is 10 feet. A state like, oh, say Texas, sets their standard at 10 feet, and then absolutely everyone meets the standard! California set its standard at 15, and only 40 percent are making the standard. So we face sanctions including school closures. Yeah. That's about how it is.

Happy almost new year! (Or vernal equinox or Nowrooz)

haftseen06
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

Hi everybody! I think I said I'd try to post pictures of our Haft Seen table for Nowrooz, and I did. It's kind of a mishmash of traditional and well-this-will-work. The book is the Shahnahmeh, by the Persian poet Ferdowsi. The miniature is Sweetie's, as are the plate, platter, and the textile everything's sitting on. The daffodils and hyacinth are obvious, I guess. Monkeygirl made the mirror. There's also a candle, and on the tray, a bowl of vinegar, a jar of sprouting wheat, an orange floating in a bowl, two candies, some dried bilberries and dried sour cherries, hard boiled egges, an apple, and a bulb of garlic. I really am not good at making stuff grow, so I'm always delighted when it happens, and I'm pretty proud of my jar of wheat, even though it creeps Sweetie out. MMM... okay bye bye!

Lawnmower, Taco, Liniment, turn signals

How's this sound: I bought a lawnmower, because my husband is going to mow the lawn.
Does that sounds totally "I'm in my thirties" or what?

I mentioned the above to Drummergirl, and she said "yeah, I know what you're talking about; my Japanese dryer sings me a song at the end of its cycle that goes like do-do-do-do-doo-do-do-do-do..." I said, "Is that Taco's 'Puttin' On The Ritz?'"

I was at Target last night vaguely browsing the men's products (every once and I while I amuse myself by thinking that Sweetie might use man products like shaving cream), and I noticed that they are now carrying Watkins products. My grandma always used to have this stuff around the house -- sort of herbal Ben Gay-type products. Liniments and salves and ointments. I loved the way they smelled, so I was always inventing muscle aches in order to justify rubbing some of that stuff on. I'm sure my mom used to wonder why I came home smelling like ointment regularly. I almost bought some last night. I still might. And I did open up one jar just to sniff it; it took me RIGHT back to childhood.

I heard about a survey about why nearly 60% of people don't use turn signals when changing lanes. I tend to think people are basically good instead of basically evil, but sometimes I am driven to revise that theory by adding parentheticals. Like this: People are basically good (but kind of lazy). or People are basically good (in the sense that they don't actively want to cause harm to others most of the time). or People are basically good (but are misguided in many ways). or People are basically good (but not that smart). It makes me sad.

No Child Left Behind by those evil teachers

First read this:Ruben Navarette's article.

(Warning: although this post looks slightly more formal than some others, it is, as always, completely unedited. I'm just too lazy to proofread and revise.)

With all due respect to Mr. Navarette's credentials, the subject is not nearly as simple as he makes it seem. If the argument were only "NCLB and the exit exam ensure that students are meeting a minimum criteria of achievment before they are awarded a high school diploma," then I suspect there would be a lot less debate. And in that case, I too would accuse teachers who are against the testing of not being concerned with students' results. But the waters are significantly muddier than that. First among the many things to consider is the fact that until a very recent judgment, for the first time ever students in need of special education were going to be denied any kind of diploma, despite their best efforts and their many challenges.

Second is the fact that NCLB, well-intentioned as it may be, is entirely unfunded, meaning that to meet its stringent testing requirements, school districts take money away from established programs. This very morning it was announced that all district librarians here in the Sacramento City Unified School District are being pink-slipped (not fired, just notified that they could be) for budgetary reasons.

Third, although Navarette obliquely mentions "the racism that exists in the educational system" and quotes a principal who points out the unnamed "groups who are not scoring appropriately," he fails entirely to note the many other obstacles these groups encounter in attempting to receive their education. And I may be crucified for saying so, as implicating parents for being at all responsible for their kids' academic failure (it's a different story when you replace the word "failure" with "success") is the ultimate sin in this field, but many of the lowest performing students face challenges that come directly from their parents. The students must work to support their families; they take care of younger siblings; they spend part of the school year in Mexico; they are allowed, even encouraged, to stay home when the parent or other family member is ill; they have transportation problems and the parents don't make other arrangements; the parents simply don't put any value on school or apply any pressure to their kids to do well; the list goes on. And although we in the education business work our butts off to change the culture (and it is changing from within on some fronts), it is still true that it is often seen as unacceptable to be brainy or to work hard in those same "groups." Finally, and I don't know how to change this, there are significantly fewer African-American and Hispanic teachers than white ones. Students do not see themselves reflected in their educators, and that's sad. But where are those groups working instead, and if they think it's a problem (as I do), why aren't they here in the classroom? It's not blame or implication -- it's a question.

Next, an exit exam may or may not accurately reflect a student's learning. I've seen some of the tests that pass for assessments of standards around here, and they are utter crap. Also, I wish my readers could have stood in the gym, as I did, during a recent administration of the CAHSEE. The din was unbearable. Students were crammed into the room back to back at long, paper-covered tables. The gym is normally an echo chamber; under exam conditions every noise was magnified. Even my best and brightest students came back later that day worried that they had not done well because the atmosphere was so discombobulating.

With all that said, I am not against an exit exam. Sound crazy? As a teacher, I agree that we should be responsible for teaching our kids the basics. Otherwise, a high school diploma will quickly lose its value. If a young adult applies for a job and it is discovered that he or she cannot read but has somehow earned a diploma, any employer would stop accepting a diploma as an indication of merit. I don't want that. A diploma should mean something. I just think that, given the circumstances, we have a lot more talking to do.

When Navarette says that teachers "will talk your ear off about the shortcomings of students -- particularly Hispanics and African Americans -- but they're in no mood to confront their shortcomings as educators," I think he is mistaken. There are those of us who look at the assessments and are scared. I am one of them. It is terrifying to think that I might not be properly educating these students in preparation for college, the world, and the responsibilities of being a citizen. But for me, that fear is a motivator to step up my game. And if that same fear forces teachers who really don't do their job, dislike their students, and are only in it for the summer vacation to leave the field, all the better! I think good teachers, like good parents, worry constantly that they're not doing a good enough job, and I don't think that fear is a bad thing. Yes, we should have standards, yes, we should be held accountable, yes, the students need to learn. I am simply not convinced that this test at this time applied in this way is the right answer.

And, because this is not an editorial or any kind of professional publication, what's up with the fact that this guy has such a low opinion of teachers? We're racists who hate our students? For reals? We win the prize for having "the thinnest skins on the planet." "All they care about is whether you agree with them." We're "hostile" towards hearing other points of view? "...Many of them hate their jobs, disrespect their students and resent their supervisors." Teachers "always make the worst students." Wowsers! Nothing like making generalizations, huh? Well, I feel a little intimidated about disagreeing with him now, since I'm sure that makes me "hostile," but does anyone else smell some bias here? I suspect that there are people in every profession who have similar complaints, and people in every profession who would fire off a critical letter that might piss someone off, but that doesn't speak to the profession as a whole.

And a little more on the parent issue. It's practically an unwritten rule of political correctness that you cannot say that the parents are responsible for their kids' failures. But why? If a kid is a success, the first thing people say is what a great job the parents did of raising him or her. They must be so proud... And later on, much later in the conversation, maybe someone will give a shoutout to the 3rd grade teacher who inspired and encouraged the kid. Well if a kid can't graduate from high school, no one says to the parents "Wow, you did a shitty job, you must be so ashamed!" No, THEN it's all about the school and the school system letting them down. I'm not saying that anyone SHOULD say that to parents, but I think we should be able to say out loud that there are myriad factors that contribute to any student's success or failure, and those include the student, the parents, and the teachers. All three.

Okay, enough for one night. Bye all.

Credit card fraud

I am posting this link to Cockeyed.com as a public service. Scary stuff.

Point Reyes trip

Hi all! I'm back from Point Reyes. I wrote a LOT about my trip in a little notebook, and I don't know if I'll have time to write it all here, but I'll give it a go.

Friday, we hit town a little after 12:30, walked through a couple bookstores, then got pastries and coffee (pain au chocolate for me and a sticky bun for Sweetie) at the Bovine Bakery and sat on a bench in the sun. It had rained (and even hailed a little) on the way down, so the sunshine was a pleasant surprised. We then checked into Motel Inverness; it was a small room, but the lobby was nice, and the innkeeper was building a huge fire in the massive stone fireplace. The grounds were gorgeous (right on the bay), and we were "welcome to use the bird blind." We decided to go to the beach, so we started driving... and driving. We were headed for the lighthouse, but it was taking FOREVER, so we pulled off at South Beach. There were scary wave advisories, so we pretty much stayed away from the water, but we hung out and looked at the waves for a long time. The water up close was foamy and white, further out was pale green, the horizon was a dark indigo line, and the clouds were a purply storm. It was gorgeous. I've never seen this, either, but the horizon was bumpy! You could see it moving. The sea must have been really choppy. The beach was deserted for a long time until another couple drove up. It must have normally been pretty well used, though, because there were the remains of several fires, and a fair amount of trash, sadly enough. Sweetie even leaned over to look at what he thought was a pretty rock, and it was a pistachio shell. We drove back, passing several ranches (all named letters, like "M Ranch"). and in Inverness, the Dacha, which is a building that hangs out over the water on stilts, and is topped rather inexplicably with about 12 minarets.
We poked around Pt. Reyes Station a bit more, and while in Cowgirl Creamery, I said "Ooh, we'll have to get some things from here before we go!" Sweetie smirked, and wouldn't tell me why until we got outside. Then he said "Are you planning to sell my kidney to buy something there?" Sure enough, when we went back later, I admired some plum jam and saw that it was $18.50. I think my gasp was audible. That night we went to the Station House Inn for dinner, and it was really good. I had a veggie Shepherd's Pie, and it was delicious!
The next morning we got pastries again, this time from the Busy Bee Bakery, which was in Inverness Park and was charming as all get out. Sweets had another sticky bun and I had a tangerine spice scone. We liked our pastries and assumed that the chocolate croissant was good, since a French guy in there had two. Then we drove to Stinson Beach. It was a long but lovely drive, through rolling green hills, eucalyptus groves, around Bolinas Lagoon, through Dogtown (population 30, but with an art gallery!). We got a couple beautiful hours of sunshine, even though it was cold. We had brought long books and a beach blanket, and had a great time. It was lovely out, and iridescent foamy bubbles were drifting along the sand.
Back in Pt. Reyes, we got a sandwich and salad and ginger beers from the market. For store food, it was REALLY good. My salad had feta, dried cranberries, artichoke hearts, and balsamic vinaigrette. We took a nap that afternoon, then went to Vladimir's for dinner.
Now, I had seen on the internet that at Vladimir's, "Food and entertainment" was provided by the owner. That sounded good. What I didn't really think about was that at a Czech restaurant, I might not find much to eat. Well, I should have thought about that, as the ENTIRE menu was meat-centric. Not just meat-centric, but entirely meat-filled. Still, the waiter was super-nice, and he got the chef to hook me up with some sauteed veggies, as well as the dumplings, braised cabbage, and hot rye bread that came with every entree. I'm actually glad we went there, because we had a really good time. Sweetie described the interior as looking just like the place that, in D&D, you go to meet your fellow campaigners. He narrated for me: "You see an elf shooting fire from his fingertips." "I go talk to him." "You see a burly guy drinking at the bar." "I go talk to him."
It was all red leather, low chandeliers, horseshoe candleholders... Until about halfway through our dinner, we were the ONLY people eating there. Everyone else was clustered around the bar, and it was obvious they were locals. An interesting side note was that one of them was Bob Giacomini, maker of Point Reyes Farmstead Blue Cheese, who is a distant married-in relative of my Boompah.
Vladimir himself was an old guy entertaining the crowd at the bar, wearing a tam and athletic socks pulled up to his knees, and some sort of maybe vaguely ethnic outfit. Hard to say. He grunted us to a table, then his nephew took over.
That night wechecked out the bird blind, then pretty much watched TV, cracked a bottle of dessert wine, and that was that.
Sunday morning we went to the Pine Cone Cafe, which I can't recommend highly enough. The Coastal Traveler had said it offered food for "citified" tastes, and a Chronicle review mentioned its "citified" flavors as well. A really strange adjective for what was basically a very traditional diner, just with fresh, local, organic ingredients. I had a spinach, swiss, avocado and caramelized onion omelette, and I'm not sure I've ever had a better omelette. It was delicious. The decor was retro-50s, with map of America curtains, and overall a sweet, if Twin-Peaksy vibe. I loved it. I would totally go back there, and the lunch menu looked good, too. It was hard to turn down the honey-wheat pancakes. Mmmm. The organic thing is big there -- that's why Prince Charles visited, apparently -- and I don't think we had a cup of coffee that wasn't organic and fair trade the entire time we were there.
After breakfast we drove to Dillon Beach, which was a bit of a disappointment, because, beautiful as the view was, there was only one place to park, it cost $5, and it was raining. We turned around and went back to Tomales, where we had more pastry! (I just had "Chai-ish" tea, but Sweets bought a sticky bun for later.) We sat in a little covered area outside the bakery and watched the drizzle. Tomales is very pretty, in an old west sort of way. All the buildings on the main street look just like they must have 100 years ago. We were puzzled by the building that looked just like a bank that had a big sign that said "Not a Bank."
I really wanted to do a little shopping, so we went to Point Reyes Station again and I poked my head in most of the shops. Sweetie bought a beautiful photo called "Mt. Vision Moonrise" and I got some nudie postcards and a windchime. I liked these cool "vegetable papyrus" bowls made of dried really thin slices of veggies like purple potatoes and woven longbeans. Then we went to Olema for more shopping, and I LOVED the stores there. One was more arty, with textiles, scarves, books, and jewellery. I salivated over some hand-tooled leather purses. One store was more mixed-up, with pottery, imports, vintage jewellery (I had to get a pair of clip on chandelier earrings)... The final one was crazy, with original clothing designs that I really liked, with funky prints of Chinese babies and cowboy boots and sushi and stuff. They also had more funky jewellery (I got a Bettie Page bracelet and pin-up girl earrings). I also got Moe a super-Moe outfit, which I'm sure the boys will blog about later. The clothing was expensive, but they had all kinds of great stuff. I loved it. It was totally quirky -- they even had Lucha Libre masks. The ad in the Coastal Traveler described it as selling "women's clothing, men's stuff & fun things." Its hours were "noonish to sundownish." It was fun.
Then we got a baguette, apple, pear, some black pepper chevre, and candy and chocolate. We drove around a bit more and found Manka's (a super-duper fancy restaurant), then ate our goodies in our room. We dinked around some more and I took another nap (I love vacation!), then we went to Priscilla's for dinner. It was a homey little pizza shop next to Vladimir's, and we had a good dinner. I had pizza margherita, one of my favorites. Afterwards we walked out towards the bay and watched the clouds (pinky from the sunset and reflected in the water, with deep gray puffs in front of them). Then we walked back towards the car, but both noticed a little park at the same moment. It was tiny, but really charming. There were wooden steps up to it, a big log set up as a bench, bulbs and cherry trees, little flowering things, a fountain, and sweet ferny things growing up all over. I don't know what they really were, but they might even have been some kind of pine sapling. They looked lacy and delicate, but when I touched them they felt like pine needles. They were the shape of pine trees in minature. There were more at the motel, which had beautiful grounds, too, including several sweet pieces of statuary and bunches of calla lilies.
This morning before we left, we ate at the Bovine Bakery again. I had an Armando roll, like a cinnamon roll, but with apples and raisins! Sweetie had his third sticky bun of the trip, and we headed out of town. Sigh. We had a really nice time, and a good drive today too -- we got lost a little, but it was a nice drive anyway.

That's about it. Take care everybody!

It's a small, small world...

Okay, I know I've addressed this theme before, but sometimes it still really takes me by surprise. Yesterday I went to my uncle's house to "jam;" I suck, but so does my uncle, so if we just play quietly, then the two guys who are good can make most of the noise and we feel like we're making music! Anyway, Uncle e-mailed me yesterday and said that the guitarist's wife went to school with one of the Gynas. I figure it must be an anthropology kid that knew Drummergirl, since that's way more recent than Gynagirl's educational experiences. But lo, when I am introduced to "CJ," she says that it is indeed Gynagirl that she knows -- they went to high school together in Elk Grove. But she also says she recognizes me and is sure she knows me. We start poking through the past, this job? That school? But no, we can't pin it down. Until she mentions a guy named Jeremy, and out of nowhere I ask "Jeremy that lived with Shane R?" Yes! That's him! Well, I figure she's a friend of Jeremy's old girlfriend that I met at a party or something, and I start kind of reminiscing; "Yeah, I used to date Shane, and he and Jeremy's girlfriend Caroline," (she smiles in excitement and recognition) "and I used to hang out and talk, too. I never saw Shane again after we broke up, but I always really liked Caroline." I stop thoughtfully and she almost yells "I'm Caroline!!!" Oh!!! Man, what a difference ten years makes. She used to have perfectly straight hair, but I should have recognized her anyway -- she has these ice-blue eyes. And I think if she'd been introduced as Caroline, I wouldn't have gotten stuck like that, but for whatever reason I didn't equate "Caroline Johnson" with "CJ." Anyway, we reminisced a little, and it was cool to see her.

We're off to Point Reyes soon, (but our slobbering half-crazed Rottweiler is guarding the house), and apparently they have "a little thing you can plug in in the lobby" for internet service, so I expect you won't hear from me until Monday. Take care, all.

Mockula

Busy, gotta go!

1. Saw two rainbows, one today, one yesterday. Today's was from end to end. Cool.

2. Blew a tire Sunday. Sucked, but the AAA guy was there within 20 minutes and I was on the road again.

3. Needed new tires Monday. Sucked, but hey, at least I HAD the credit available to buy them instead of having to go without. Plus, I saw the rainbow from the tire store yesterday. So that's a plus.

4. [Removed for excessive venom.]

5. I have rather suddenly found myself teaching a 7th period madrigal choir class. It will make me rather pressed for time all month, but it's going all right so far. I wish I knew how to play the piano so that I could, I don't know, play the bass parts for the men to hear instead of just asking them to take it down an octave. I'm working on it.

6. I'm pleased to have done something here at the house last night. It's almost Nowrooz, the Persian New year, so I've set up a Haft Seen table, which is hard to explain, but the short story is that it has a number of symbolic items on it to help usher in the new year (and am I crazy or does it make sense to celebrate the new year at the vernal equinox when Spring is starting, the sun is returning, the days are getting longer, and life is starting to renew itself all over?). On ours, we have two colored eggs (just like Easter, yay!), a bowl of vinegar, some dried cherries and bilberries, an orange floating in a bowl of water (to symbolize the earth floating in the universe), some sweets, an apple, a bulb of garlic, and sprouting wheat. What we are missing is a hyacinth (I'll pick one up soon), some sumac, and samanu (a "pudding" made from sprouted wheat and water). For good measure we can also throw on some coins and nigella seed (I don't actually know what this is, but I've seen it at the halal market, so I might get some). I asked sweetie if I was a total dork and he said no. Nowrooz is more of a Zoroastrian festival than an Islamic one, although even Islamic Iranians celebrate (they just put a Q'uran on the table!). Anyway, I've been pleased every time I walk by it!
Nowrooz mobarak everybody! (Happy new year.)

7. I guess that's it for now. Wait, I was embarassed today at the thing - one of the other people there was a professor of mine years ago, and he has a good memory. So in front of my new colleagues he says "Hey, didn't you win the...?" "Ahem, yeah, the Bazanella." "But more recently, didn't you read at the...?" "Festival of the arts, yeah." Geez, I'm trying to keep it on the down low!!! They already think I'm uppity because I teach in the International Baccalaureate program.

Okay, now that's it.

The DaVinci Code

I finished it today. I have a few problems with it (which my mom and I have been e-mailing about), like the fact that between the two of us, we figured out every anagram, puzzle, clue, and secret code about a hundred pages before any of the main characters (the cryptologist and symbologist included). But there were two things that are of note Count Mockula-style, and don't worry, no spoilers are coming. Okay, just a tiny one.

1) One of the characters is named "Teabing," which to my amusement, I couldn't help reading as "Teabag." If you aren't a pervert or haven't seen John Waters' "Pecker," just... nevermind.

2) I was misled somewhat as to the nature of the secret. MINI-SPOILER AHEAD.
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Okay, so they're searching for the holy grail, right? But they're thinking it's not really a literal cup... There is a lot of talk of the "sacred feminine," of the chalice representing the female, of it holding Jesus' blood, of it bearing fruit, of the "sword" and the "chalice" being opposites... Well, I think it's natural that I was leaning towards a holy vagina interpretation, right? Anyway, that was not it. I mean, unless you're using the word in a particularly vulgar type of synecdoche.

Reason #1 not to do meth

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

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

Quickie

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

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

Mockula out.

Books, Not Comedy, busy weekend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comedy and tragedy

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. God.

Sweetie, stop reading right now.

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

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

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

Okay, gotta go.
(SHUDDER!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--CM

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

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

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

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

Got distracted

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

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

Gotta go, I'm already behind today.

Ooh Sally, that girl!

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



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

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

ADH... Huh? Kitty!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little Miss Sunshine

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

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

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

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

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

The Olympics!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feminism and a side note.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flip side of hip and heart full of love

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

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

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

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

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

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

Folk that!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Academic Decathalon, mostly

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

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

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

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

Mockula, clearly in some sort of mood

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

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

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

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

Lips like sugar... sugar kisses, yeah

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

The Blahs

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

Broken copiers when I need copies to do my planned lesson

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

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

A bit of a sore throat

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

I'm massively over-scheduled


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

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

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

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

I got home safely despite the bad drivers.

I finally got both the copies and the books.

Life is good. I'm just cranky.

Secret #7

I do good things, but don’t tell people. If I have to tell them, I feel really uncomfortable talking about it -- but I also sort of really want them to know, because I want people to think I am a good person.


I don't feel well today. Not sick, but as though I might get sick if I don't take care of myself and take it easy. Just a little sore throat and really tired. Bleh.

cabinets2

cabinets2
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

And secret #6 ...
I compare myself to other girls to find girls whom I am prettier than.

cabinets1

cabinets1
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

These are the first 4 of 16 cabinets and 6 drawers in the whole kitchen. Mom and I refinished them from a dark brown -- shoot, I should have taken before pics. Well, I still will, just of the ones we haven't done yet. My kitchen is this dark hole in the middle of the house, and the only window it gets much light from is a Southern exposure and is pretty diffused. Just of note -- that refridgerator masterpiece is AFTER I sorted through the magnets and posters and got rid of everything but the essentials. And the light? Oh god, don't ask about the light. After crawling through the attic insulation in a tiny space, wondering if I was going to be electrocuted, I decided I'd just wait until I had some cash and call the handyman. There's one more picture coming . . .

Secret #5

I worry that other people are smarter than me, then feel guilty for worrying.

I'm kind of troubled -- there's this girl at my gym who's anorexic. Yes, I'm makikng assumptions, but here's my evidence -- she is always there doing aerobic activity, no matter what time of the day I'm there. She is there when I arrive and there when I leave. Her upper arms are, being generous, probably 4 inches in diameter. Her wrists look like they will snap under the weight of her hands. At times she increases the lever of activity on her stair-climbing machine to the point that it is whining and rattling loud enough that people turn around to look at it. And of course, I have no business whatsoever caring.

I don't. I know. There's nothing I can or should do. But as a member of the human race, I can't help but care, and want to help somehow. I know she probably has people in her life who care, and that this issue has probably been brought up by others, but it's just troubling. I want to slip a note in her locker, or talk to her quietly. I checked around today to see if there was a defibrillator on the wall in case she gives herself a heart attack. MM-- if you don't know who Im talking about already (I can't imagine there's anyone ELSE there with arms like that), she's the one who increases the difficulty of her stairclimber workout by raising her hands above her head and lifting them up and down. Okay, no closing thoughts. Sorry.

CM

Secret #4

I watch a lot of TV.

Secret #3

I find a lot of classic literature boring, incomprehensible, and unrelatable.

For reference -- I have a Master's in English.

For Zigmund

Surly Otter Baby
Originally uploaded by kathryn.

Here you are, sweetie.

Secret #2

I always plan to submit my poetry to journals, but then never do it, because I’d rather never be published than face rejection.

Missing finals!!

I have four kids absent this morning for their final exam. Now, I don't know what's up with the other three (one, I know her mom is in town, and suspect she's trying to spend time with her), but one of them I know for sure has a court date this morning. I don't know what he did and I don't much care. But this is a special education student who misses a ton of school, yet works his ass off to keep up and make up work he misses. As of right now, he has a B-. What will he have after missing his final exam? God knows. But this is the JUVENILE court system -- don't they understand that kids need to be attending school if they ever want to get out of the system? Seriously, I can't tell you how many kids I've had over the years who have missed school due to court dates. So, um, how about Saturday court? How about 2:30 pm onward court? How about scheduling this shit so the kids can still attend classes!!?? I know the kid did something wrong, but does that mean we should penalize him by making getting an education more difficult? Frankly, I suspect it's hard enough...

Speaking of the goings-on at Horticulturalist High, I have a co-worker named Bill Green. I usually try to give people fake names on here, but I don't think a guy named Bill Green is ever going to be able to Google himself and find this. So, are you picturing a Bill Green? You're picturing an old, stocky or overweight white man, aren't you? This Bill Green is in his twenties. White, yes, but otherwise not at all what I'd expect of a Bill Green. I don't know, I think if I had, like, the world's second most common name, I'd maybe go by William, or choose a good nickname or something. You're too young to be a Bill Green!!! Save yourself!

Incidentally, there are 170,000 Google hits for "Bill Green," and the same Google image search bears out my "old white man" theory precisely enough to be pretty funny.

PostSecret

Whoa, dude. I found the book of collected postcard secrets people had sent to this art project thing. I read the entire thing while riding the stationary bike at the gym. It was unbelievable, intriguing, and very moving. So in the spirit of that, I'm going to try to post a secret a day. I've already got 36 -- let's see if I can part with them all. I invite you to post your own, comment on mine, whatever.

1. I toyed with lesbianism when I was a teenager, and sometimes I still wonder if I’d have been a good lesbian if I’d just committed to it.

Sacramento, and smells at Slim's

We always say that Sacramento seems like a small town, and that ultimately you could play "six degrees of Sacramento" with nearly anyone who has lived in the area their whole life and find that you went to school with their cousin and their first boss was your great-uncle. So here's a perfect example of that sort of thing.

Step one -- I'm dinking around on MySpace and discover that the cashier at the grocery store I shop at graduated from the same high school I did the year before me.

Step two -- I'm chatting with her at the store, and I say "I realized you must know my cousin, Nelly Belly Mockula, because she worked here for years." She responds that she does; they used to hang out.

Step three -- The woman standing in line behind me says "Did you say Mockula?" I reply in the affirmative, and she says "Are you Albert Albert Mockula's daughter?" Again, I affirm. She says "I work with him at Horticulturalist High!"

Step four -- I turn to her, shake her hand, and introduce myself as a colleague, because I also work at Horticulturalist High.

Step five -- while we are all laughing, the bag boy comes over and looks puzzled. Still laughing, Grocery Clerk says, "Well, Mockula, meet Solid Gold Dancer." Laughing even more, I say "Solid Gold Dancer lives across the street from me!"

Sometimes I think I should shop at Raley's.


Okay, on to last night, which was great. I went to Martinez to meet my Elementary School Best Friend (ESBF) at her parents' place. We all talked, and then went and had dinner at a Chinese-Japanese place (I know, I was skeptical, too). Then we went to Slim's in San Francisco to see AC/DShe. We got drinks, then the opening band played. They were called "Ride the Blinds," and they were really good. They had a very '70s straightforward rock sound. It's hard to tell anymore when someone's doing the 70s sincerely or ironically, but with them I think it may have been sincere. I'm not gaga over self-indulgent solos, but I had to give it up to their guitarist and drummer, who laid out some of the best solos I have ever witnessed live. It was awesome. The second band, Elegantly Wasted, was okay, but seemed to be unclear as to what genre they wanted to be. It sort of had the same sound, but then nu-metal would creep in, and the lead singer had stringy black hair and probably eyeliner. And he GESTURED. I hate that. Like, when he would say "me," he'd take his hands off the guitar and point to his chest. And when he said "driving" he did the two hands on the wheel, turning it back and forth gesture. There were many like these, and it was quite dorky. As the evening wore on, the place got WAY crowded, and people kept smooshing towards the front. It was certainly not the worst I've been in, but as I get older, I get less tolerant of people smooshing up against me. And I am totally INtolerant of body odor in a crowd. Hello, WASH YOUR HAIR if it's going to be six inches from someone's nose! One guy in front of me had hair that smelled like Cup O' Noodles. And in the least-appetizing way imaginable. The whole place started to smell like vomit, Cup O' Noodles, liquor, sweat, body odor, and when the two middle-aged ladies walked by, powdery perfume. But AC/DShe was awesome. Better than I expected, actually. They reproduced the songs perfectly, and the songs translated very well to a woman's voice. And they were great show(wo)men, particularly the lead singer, who totally channeled the kicking, head swinging, microphone pumping rock-and-roll antics of some of the greatest performers in rock. It's a lot more fun than watching a shoe-gazer.

In a related note, I heard AC/DC's "Let There Be Rock" on the radio earlier in the day yesterday. I hadn't heard it in a long time, and suddenly it dawned on me where Jack Black's entire schtick comes from. "Let there be drums! . . . and there were drums."

Okay, Mockula's got a Sunday paper to read. Take care, y'all.

God Damn, I Smell Great!

Totally unrelated to yesterday's Clinique parable or whatever, I really smell good today! While I was in SF, I went into Gap Body (I know there's one in Roseville, but who the hell wants to go to Roseville?), and I had recently read that they had a new line of scents and body lotions out and that they were really nice. Well, they are! I bought Orange Blossom and Torn Verbena, and I'm wearing Orange Blossom today. I don't think I'm overpowering or anything, but it keeps sort of catching my notice in a pleasant way. It's sort of associated for me with this jasmine tea I used to drink, and I have nothing but pleasant memories attached to drinking a nice cup of jasmine tea. Once an hour or so, I'm transported to the tea gardens, or to my warm bed, or to the time I made a tea cake . . . It's great! It also reminds me of going to Casablanca restaurant and having the orange flower water poured out of the samovar into my hands. Just nothing but warm and pleasant . . .

I liked several of the others, too, and would have bought Kuzu if they weren't out. The magazine I read about the scents in suggested you could blend them to create your own fragrance, but I am kind of a one-note girl.

No, really, I mean, it's about gay cowboys, but . . .

I finally saw Brokeback Mountain. It was awesome and I recommend it. I went down to SF today and spent money. Had a really nice, relaxed day just getting stuff at H&M, having a little salad at the Nordstrom Cafe (I know, when in SF, I should actually go somewhere besides the familiar, but it was really really good and right off the BART station, and I was hungry), getting a cappucino and some Scharffenberger truffles (I'm determined to try them all, so today I had Meyer Lemon and Niblet something, and I still have sea salt caramel in my bag) . . . not much else, really. I stopped at Pooja's Indian restaurant on the way home on Monkeygirl's recommendation. It was good, and we had a nice dinner here at home.

In other news, I got a sample of Clinique's Happy to Be a while ago, but I was really skeptical about trying it. I thought it might be too flowery or powdery. I really hesitated in trying it, and whenever I did wear it, I found myself sort of sniffing myself all day to make sure I didn't stink, that it wasn't noticeable. Finally, my mom assured me it was fine, nice even, and I have now worn it on a few occasions and am more comfortable with it. The story of my 30th birthday went pretty much the same way.

I checked, and I still don't have any gray hairs. My three biggest concerns about turning 30 were as follows: I thought I'd have had babies already, like, maybe eight years ago. I used to have people who were suprised and impressed at all I'd acheived for my age, and that's going to pretty much become a thing of the past. It's 30, and that number just has a ring to it. I have located one positive already; by having ANY sense of fashion and eccentric punk-rock-ness, I'm amazingly hip for a 30-something. Like, I'm not a soccer-mom at all. That's cool, I guess. And the babies are coming, and all that stuff I achieved (like owning a home at 26, getting my master's at 28) is still cool stuff that a lot of people don't have, 30 or otherwise. Okay, I don't feel much like blogging anymore, but mainly because I've got two episodes of Scrubs to watch. And possibly a sea salt caramel truffle to eat. Take care, y'all.
CM

Not just a gay cowboy blog

Well, I'm the one always haranguing people to update their blogs, and here I haven't updated in ages! Shame on me. Anyway, there's not all that much going on -- I had a great and relaxing vacation, the best part of which was getting to hang out with my girls, and the second best part was chilling at home drinking coffee and reading my paper. I'm on a working-out streak. I read a tip that you should set a goal to work out every day, and then see how many days you make it, then next time strive to make it a longer streak. Well I'm already at like 9 days, I think, so it may be hard to make it a longer streak next time.

School has started again. Finals are in two weeks, which means grades are due, too. I'm going to have to really get to work, but it's been hard to use my prep period efficiently, because there's a sub in my room 6th period, and the kids have been really loud and bad, so it's impossible to focus. I may have to just ditch her and go to another room to grade.

I turn 30 on Friday. Still don't know quite what to say about that. I'll keep you updated. I went through several photo albums on Sunday and looked at photos of my mom with me as a baby when she was younger than I am now. It's an odd kind of time warp.

I'm trying REALLY hard to not let myself get so involved in work stuff that I don't do any fun stuff for me, so I started reading "Saving Fish From Drowning," which I already enjoy. In fact, if I want to read at all tonight, I'd better go. Sorry this wasn't more interesting, but I promise I'll come up with more to say. I can think of stuff already, I'm just pressed for time.

G'night, all.