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 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.

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.

Captain's Log, Stardate 5102007

spaceship one and two
Originally uploaded by zboog.

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.

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!

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.

Grandpa

June 16 Drunk Bowling Alex's Shirt
Originally uploaded by Danarah.

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.

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.

New haircut

IMG_0633
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

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*

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 look a little poochy?!?!

Jacket by Levis and Scarf by Pucci
Originally uploaded by Catnip Intoxicating.

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.

Humbug!

One of the tests I'm supposed to have has to happen between days 8 and 12. The day of our class was day 2, so the nurse said to call right away to schedule my test. Normally you have to call on day 1, and it was already after hours on day 2, so I was already pushing my luck. But by day 4 when I hadn't gotten a call back, I called, and they said "Oh, we haven't gotten your paperwork from the main clinic." I call the main clinic Friday afternoon and she says she'll check on it. I get a message today that they've re-sent the paperwork and called to make sure the other clinic has it. I call other clinic and listen to their craptastic music and information, then get cut off. I call again and get a woman whose English language skills are somewhat less than fluent. (But hey, she speaks at least one more language than me, right?) She at first says they don't have my paperwork, which is about to piss me off, because I've just been assured that they do, so I say "That is not accurate. I just got a message saying that you do." She puts me on hold to check, and ta-da, it's there. But then, between the two of us, we can't seem to agree on how many days EIGHT is, and I'm on this fucking phone call for 20 minutes before she offers me a test on day fifteen. She had to motherfucking ASK me if this was Monday. Anyway, because the call was 20 minutes long, we were having this discussion as the kids filtered in to my class for 5th period. I decided that I was not going to be able to break the language barrier in time to get an appointment in the next three days in the afternoon. So it's going to have to wait until next month.

If there's a bright side, it's that I'm really busy this week anyway. If there's another bright side, it's that the test often temporarily boosts your fertility, and I'm going to be all fertile this month while in a tent in the cold hundreds of miles away from my husband. So we'll save it for next month when it might have a positive impact. So far, 2007 has been nothing but missed chances, this-wise. (Everything else is fine.)

No Child Left Unterrorized

DCP_0050
Originally uploaded by pedagogicapprentice.

Some students from the leadership class came into my third period yesterday to encourage all our students to do their best on the standardized tests they'll take next week.

Sounds like a nice, positive visit, right? No. These kids SCARED THE LIVING SHIT out of my students. "You guys all know we're a program improvement school, right?" No, they don't. "Well, what that means is that 'cause our school has been, like, bad... if we don't do good this year on the tests, they can shut us down, all your teachers will get fired, and all the fun stuff at school, like art programs, sports, and music, that would all be gone. You'd come to school and it would be just, like, two hours of English, two hours of math, two hours of science... Anyway, so everybody do good, okay? Do your best on the tests! Encourage your friends to keep trying! Bye!!"

And silence fell. The looks of horror on my students' faces betrayed that this may, indeed, have been a motivating speech. Immediately, they wanted to know if it was all true.

Here's the problem: yes, it's essentially true. If a school gets to year five of Program Improvement, something has to change. It doesn't neccessarily mean the state will take over the school and close it (if it did, the state would rather suddenly have a lot of schools to run next year), but some drastic measures have to be taken. A school can, for instance, turn its management over to a planning committee. It can split up into smaller theme-based schools. It can file for a charter to act as a semi-private school. It can (as has happened here once, although under slightly different circumstances) be sold to a private entity to become a charter school. And in the case where it happened, the teachers were indeed fired (surplused to another school in the district) and had to reapply if they wanted their job back at the charted (most didn't).

So CAN the teachers all get fired? Yes. Although it's a distant possibility compared to the very real threat that the students could lose art, music, etc. That's the one that really bothers me. It seems like it's so simple ANYONE could understand. Kids acheive in school when they are motivated. Kids are motivated by things they enjoy, not some distant threat that this will go on their permanent record. Art, music, drama, ceramics, marching band, sports, dance, web design, etc. are the REASON many kids come to school. Taking them away one by one does no one any good. There is such a thing as the law of diminishing returns. At one point, someone said "Gee, the kids aren't learning enough in one hour of math class. Let's give them two." And even though there wasn't much data supporting that it worked, they immediately went to "Gee, the kids aren't learning enough in two hours. Let's give them three." Can you imagine having to sit through THREE HOURS of math class? If this were my schedule when I was fifteen, I guarantee that I wouldn't have just had what we call "my little rough patch." I'd have dropped out of high school.

Wow, I'm on a rampage. I actually have more to say about this, but maybe I'll do it from home later.

Censorship

mushroom
Originally uploaded by galatea_.

Twice lately, the song "Caress me Down" by Sublime came on the radio. I noticed that they edited the line "And then she pulled out my mushroom tip." They just removed the last two words. Now, I'm kind of anti-censorship in general, but I have a specific concern about this. First of all, this is clearly a euphemism, not an actual naughty word or even a medically accurate term. Are we going to be censoring all euphemisms? That's going to make the censors' jobs very difficult, and make music even less listenable. But second, why is "mushroom tip" unacceptable when I hear the word "bitch" on the radio every single day? I don't even listen to rap -- on the rock stations they play songs with lines like "Hey, you're a crazy bitch." I have never heard it censored. Why is "bitch" okay but "mushroom tip" not okay? I don't understand. Is it a sexist thing? It's okay to call women names but not name men's genitals, even in a roundabout way?

Also interesting to note -- they did censor the Spanish. They blanked out "chinga," a word that would without question be blanked out in English, too.

Might have to hulkify

The Incredible Hulk #1
Originally uploaded by Eduardo Macarios.

9:00 am -- The English teachers pull out of the larger meeting to talk about department issues. First thing the megalomaniac says is "Well, let's talk about the observations. I observed Mockula last week..." I roll my eyes unobserved. IB coordinator guy interrupts him. "Well, I personally prefer that the observations and the conversations about them remain private." So we talk about other stuff.

12:00 pm -- IB coordinator asks if we can talk about "the Megalomaniac situation." I go to his room and we spend the lunch period talking privately about the fact that Mega is paranoid, particularly about the program, and has done this to a number of other people over the years, with it almost always ending in a yelling match. After the yelling match, he's more likely to be persuaded, and things go back to normal. I tell IB guy that I'm not into confrontation and I'd prefer to just be passive, ignore him, and let it go by. He says that may make it worse -- that this guy LIVES for confrontation and won't let it go. I have only gotten really angry at people, angry enough to yell, a couple times in my whole life, and I don't like it. I avoid confrontation partly because I can be so incredibly cutting and just plain mean that I don't like myself later. I get all adrenaline high, find a weak spot, and just dig in. I feel like my dad. I don't wanna. But it looks like it might be inevitable.

I can't believe it's going to come to this. What a cocksucker.

Jeans for Justice

new shades
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

Hi all. Incidentally, I got prescription sunglasses the same day I got my new glasses.

It's probably too late for most of you -- I assume most of you are dressed already -- but today is Jeans for Justice day, a day set aside to bring attention to rape and sexual violence. We wear jeans because of the Italian Supreme Court decision in 1999 that a woman who was wearing jeans could not have been raped (because jeans are difficult to get off, therefore she must have "helped"). It's just a day to remember that 1 in 4 women have been raped by someone they know, and that no matter what you wear or where you go, it is not an invitation to rape.

Off my soapbox. I had a cool day at work yesterday -- some of the autistic and orthopedically handicapped kids came in to meet my 4th period drama students. I had been a little nervous about how it was going to go, but it was great. My students were friendly and welcoming and not too weird about it (although I kind of wished they would sit down near the student in the wheelchair so he didn't have to crane his neck to look up to them so much). But it was really satisfying to see my kids interacting with the other kids so well, and seemingly so enthused about the project I have given them.

We had our infertility clinic last night (and is it just me, or should they call it the "Fertility" clinic? If I went to math tutoring, they wouldn't call it the "you suck in math" class. They'd call it "Pathway to success" or some crap). Any, I was surprised at how many people were there -- close to 50! We got some swag (a sample cup) and managed to entertain ourselves. Most of the information was pretty basic, but it was good to find out that they worked on treating stuff aggressively, and all the preliminary tests can be done within a month, so I can schedule a consultation after that stuff. One of the first tests we'll do (next week) often has a positive effect on fertility itself, just as a sort of side effect, so that's cool. (I'm trying not to get too graphic while at the same time not keeping you all totally in the dark. I hope this all makes sense.)

We also got a couple good laughs in. My very favorite part was when the nurse practitioner was explaining that Propecia, a drug used to treat baldness, was bad for sperm. A woman raised her hand and asked, "Is that baldness of the head?" I will never know how I managed not to fall out of my chair laughing.

Sweetie's favorite moment (which he's been misquoting at me since) was when the baldness-of-the-head lady's husband spoke up. We were informed that one of the... specimens had to be collected manually. One of the men's specimens, if you get my drift. And manually in the Latin sense. Anyway, this guy pipes up to ask why. Now Sweetie's been using his deepest voice to impersonate this guy, wandering around the house going "Why can't my wife just suck me off?" (Which is NOT what the guy said. He was just wondering why it couldn't be collected by another method. Sweetie is the one who added the specific method.)

New spectacles

new spectacles
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

I got these yesterday. I'm super-cute, I know! I went to the office to pick them up and the lady saw I had two cases. She picked these up first and says "Ooh, so these are your funky ones..." I try them on and she opens the other case. "And these are your sunglasses!" You could totally tell she thought these were my "fun" pair and that I had some more sedate, frumpy pair in the other case, but oh no! These are my day-to-day glasses. I'm rad. I feel like batgirl!

Special guest blogger -- Mockula's Mom!!

What’s In A Name?

Over dinner last night, my daughter and I had a discussion about unusual names. Then this morning I read an article written by a friend of hers that discussed why she retained her maiden name when she married and how it upset her when people called her by her husband’s name. I started thinking about the names that I have used during my lifetime. My maiden name was “Eiserman” and all through school, teachers and other people regularly pronounced it “Oozerman,” “Easerman,” etc. These pronunciations occurred even though during much of my childhood, we had a president named “Eisenhower” and everyone seemed to know how to pronounce that name correctly.

When I was 21, I got married, and adopted my then husband’s surname, Synhorst. This was in 1970 when some women were retaining their maiden names when they married but it was still not common. In addition, I was actually looking forward to changing my identity because a relative with the same last name had started his own little local crime syndicate and was regularly getting mentioned in the newspaper. I think I had also naively hoped that this name might be easier to pronounce but that did not work out as planned. Nor did the marriage. My daughter was 7 years old when I separated from her father. During the divorce proceedings, I decided that it was time to change my name again. However, I was really tired of constantly spelling and pronouncing my name to everyone. I had a conversation with my co-workers one day about this subject and one of them (my current husband) suggested that I adopt the last name “Steele.” It would be simple and memorable. I was leaning toward “York,” which was my mother’s maiden name. It was easy to spell and pronounce and I had great affection for my maternal grandparents.

While I was still thinking about which name I would chose, I made a casual mention of this to my daughter. She immediately started sobbing and said, “first dad leaves and now you are going to change your name...no one will know you’re my mom.” In that instant, I decided that “Synhorst” it would be for the foreseeable future.

Fifteen years after that conversation I got remarried. By then I had an established career and due to my occupation, my name was occasionally mentioned in the media. I heard from several people that this was a source of concern to my ex-husband’s second wife. I had no desire to cause him or her any discomfort and in fact, never told them why I had decided to retain the name. But when I remarried, I had a decision to make. By then I fully understood why many women maintain their maiden names and actually agreed with the concept, in principal. So I had a choice; I could go back to my discarded, difficult maiden name; I could keep using my first husband’s last name (not really an option because I didn’t want to continue what I considered to be unfair to him and his wife); I could make up a name (it’s legal as long as you don’t intend anything criminal) or I could adopt my current husband’s last name, Santos. My current husband is of Portuguese descent and when his ancestors arrived at Ellis Island the name was changed from “DeSantis” to “Santos” for unknown reasons. I decided that “Santos” was perfect. Yes, it meant that I was taking another husband’s name but really, it wasn’t actually his family name either.

Now, when I speak to someone on the telephone, they have absolutely no idea what ethnicity I am. I am very fair-skinned and have hazel eyes and I enjoy confounding people who have some pre-conceived notion of who I am when they hear my name and then meet me. Finally, I have a name that people have no trouble spelling or pronouncing. I love my name.

By the way

it was eighty goddamn bucks for the power cord. For most of a hundred bucks, don't you think they could make better ones?

Out with the girls, more stuff

I think if you searched my whole blog for the word "busy," you'd have so many instances you couldn't look at them all. So I'll just say my life is "status quo" right now. Wednesday I took my car in to get my window fixed (it slipped out of the uppy-downy mechanism and then shattered). They had to keep it overnight, so I didn't go to ballet. That was fine, though, because I hadn't had a relaxing night at home in a while. I took my bike to go get our veggies and some dinner (a happy result of a miscommnuication -- I said I was thinking Mexican, as in I was going to buy ingredients and make it, and Sweetie said "Three Sisters?" which is the Mexican restaurant down the street, and then that sounded better to me, so that's what I had). Can the previous run-on count as a stylistic device? Anyway, Thursday I got the car back which gave me just enough time to make some dinner (quinoa and veggies -- sweetie likes quinoa because it pops like fish eggs) and get to my computer class. This week's exciting lesson? Using Word. We made columns. I know I shouldn't be so snarky about it. It's a required class for teachers, and I can see why now: everyone else in the class is like "Could you show me how you did that again? How did you get there? What's 'right-click'?" So it's clearly necessary. I guess I just wish I could prove my competency in some manner other than sitting in a classroom for at least three hours every week for ten weeks. Nine hours down, 21 to go.

Friday, I had a drink after work with a co-worker. It made me really pissed off, because I thought it was just to talk about an observation he'd done of one of my classes, but no, it was because he was "concerned" about the way I was teaching my honors class. He doesn't think we should be doing so many socratic seminars. Well, I set up the class that way intentionally, because I want it to run like a college class. We do other things, like talk about writing, do timed essays, etc., but yes, we primarily discuss, and I think it's a lot more successful than me lecturing all the time. He doesn't think so. And normally, who would give a shit about what some other guy thought (especially when every time I've been in his room, it's pretty much utter chaos OR the kids working silently and him at his computer), but this guy is the most scheming, gossiping, manipulative machiavellian little bastard. And what especially got on my nerves is that he had to work his way up to it instead of just spitting it out (just say it, fucker!), and then he couldn't offer any helpful suggestions. I asked him point-blank about four times "Okay, well what kind of methodology would YOU employ?" and he just kept coming back to his "concerns." What a dick.

Anyway, then I made dinner and went to the gym and that was pretty much Friday. Oh, I went to Target, but is that really blog-worthy? Must be, since I just did it! I needed some new chonies, and got some emo stripey ones that make me feel like a pirate! Sweetie says they give him vertigo. I also bought some socks for a sock chain letter I received. I have never before in my life done a chain letter, but this one is like a pyramid scheme of socks! If I just send out six letters, I will get six pairs of socks mailed to me! Mwah hah hah! And my only investment is ONE pair of socks! (Well, two, since I bought a two-pack because they were cute.) Oh, let the socks come rolling in!!

Yesterday Sweetie and I cleaned up around the house, then I went to the post office (to mail said socks and a CD I made for somebody), then to ballet. After ballet, I went to Grandma's house, because I had bought her a cute little tin of tea. It's been so long since I have seen her that I figured I'd better come bearing gifts. Her car was there, but I rang the doorbell and no one answered. I left the tea and a note, so I hope she finds it! (By the way, I know she's old, so I waited a REALLY LONG time for her to come to the door, but she didn't. Plus, she has one of those loud doorbells that goes DING dong DING dong.... Ding dong ding dong" so I don't think she could have missed it.)

Last night I got together with Monkeygirl and... hmm, I don't have a secret name for her. I am pretty sure she just signs her comments "Maria," so I'll go with that. Anyway, we went to an art show at the Toyroom Gallery, and it was realyl cool. I loved my friend Char's work, but I really liked some of the other stuff that was there, too. There were a couple pieces I'd have bought if it weren't for the fact that our house is really pretty filled up with art already. The theme of the show was sort of biomechanics, (my favorite piece of Char's was two prairie dogs standing at attention with little iPod dials and screens on their tummies and earbuds in their ears) but the ones I liked most were just these really vivid botanicals. They had a lot of texture and really vibrant colors... cool stuff.

Then we went to Old Ironsides for the Broadway show. It was local bands and artists playing showtunes. We were expecting more of a "Me First and the Gimme Gimmes" vibe, but a lot of the people took it really seriously and were just doing... showtunes. It was an odd mix. There's a Bee writer who I knew was a musician but I'd never heard him. Let's just say that he shouldn't quit his day job. At least not to do covers of showtunes. Ouch. But some of them were really good. It was also good people-watching. There were several girls who were clearly influenced by the Harajuku girls look, particularly the Lolita stuff. Interesting. There was also a guy who looked like and was dressed like Tiny Tim. I'm not sure what the appeal of that is. What was odd is that abotu half of the crowd (and the bands) have completely turned over and I don't know ANY of them. But the other half -- I walked in and was like "Oh, there's Jerry, and Cary, and Alison, and Morgan, and David, and Jim, and Noah, and Gerri..."

During a certain dark-god-of-local-music's soporific set, we went to the True Love cafe, which has indeed reopened. Mom and I went looking for it one day and couldn't find it, but it's on K street. We had some tea (and a coookie for me!) and talked more. It was great to just sit and shoot the shit with my girls. After a while it was late, and some kids who'd left prom early were groping each other on the couch, which made us uncomfortable (and the memory of which will almost certainly make them uncomfortable in about five years), so we headed home.

Monkeygirl got a new car, and it's RAD and she got a really good deal. Also, I forgot to tell her -- I got her moral character paperwork in the mail and filled it out and sent it that day. Yay!!

Okay, well now I've got to go, because I broke my power cord yesterday, and the battery's running low. I have to get a new one. By the way, fuck you, Mac, for making $60 power cords that are incredible poorly designed. I have now broken TWO of them.

Funky coincidence

Hey Robert Au, if you Google yourself, I hope this entertains you. You made me a mix CD years ago when we worked together, and I liked it enough to rip several songs to my computer. Then I put the CD away in my big binder of CDs and forgot about it. A few weeks ago, I switched all the CDs in my car holder to new ones, and decided the new car CDs would all be mixes. Yours made the cut. So I was driving down Broadway tonight listening to it (the cover of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero" was on), and I saw a car heading west (I was going east). It was a yellow VW Beetle, and because I look at these sort of things, I noticed the license number began "5AFR0." "Ha!" I thought, "Five afro, just like Robert's old license plate!" And I looked up and there was a slight little Asian man in the driver's seat wearing a Panama hat. I didn't get a good look, but I'll bet it was you. So, Robert Au, you were the object of some weird synchronicity tonight, and you didn't even know it. Happy Googling, Robert Au of the Sacramento / Elk Grove area.

Whee!

My eyes are dilated. I ent to the optomestrist today and had my exam (the fun viseo game where you click the beepy thing every time you see a light, the stare-down the road until they flash the red badness at you, the pressure drops, the "one or two? Two or three? " And then the dilation. I picked my new frames before I got fully dilated, which is good 'cause I'm pretty much blind right now (sorry for any typos). I got black dramatic cat-eye frames for my main pair and sunglasses with little flowers on the side fo rmy second pair. I almost went with these rectangular metallic hot pink glasses (and the lady said they looked good on me), but I change my hair color enough that they might not look as good with another color.

Anyway, that's all. I'm excited to get new glasses, and I'll post pictures when I get them (in a week or two).

I got a piece of mail from Suzanne today (I recognize her address labels), but can't read the letter, so I'm sure later I'll have an exciting read! Sadly, I can see th eTV just fine, so I'm watching a commercial for the Sonic Clean between Machine. Bah.

How I imagine this Dr. visit will go

So I have an appointment next Tuesday with the infertility clinic at my HMO. I am looking forward to it in a way, because it means we'll have really set foot on the path towards baby, I hope. On the other hand, it's a seminar, not a one-on-one appointment. You have to have a referral to even get in contact with the clinic, and once you do get to call them, there's only a voice mail that allows you to leave your information so they can send you a survey. The survey is a basic health information thing, something they could easily pull from my medical records, so I suspect it's a way of weeding people out. "Can they actually leave an intelligible voice mail? Are they competent and determined enough to fill out this survey and mail it back?" And now, post survey, I have to go to this class/seminar. I've been at a class at my HMO before, and I have a strong feeling that it, too, is going to be primarily intended to weed people out. They must have a surfeit of people needing (or believing they need) attention from that department. I have visions of the seminar going like this.

Let's say it's a nurse practitioner, maybe two of them, leading the seminar. As you come in, they give you some paperwork to fill out and maybe a folder of stuff to read. After a few minutes, when everyone is settled, they begin.
NP1: Welcome ladies and gentlemen. We're glad you could make it tonight. I'm Nurse Ratched.
NP2: And I'm Nurse Nightengale. First, is everyone here for Conference room one? The seminar on infertility?
(One man in the back gets up to leave, starts to take his folder, then thinks better of it and leaves it. He exits.)
Ratched: Okay, great. Well, that means that everyone in here wants to acheive conception, to have a baby. Right?
(One young couple looks startled, then hurriedly exits.)
Nightengale: Well, we're going to start by looking at some of the basic things you need to know before beginning on this journey. We'll talk about the timing of intercourse, how to track your fertile times, and some of the methods we might use to help you on your way to parenthood.
Ratched: That's right. Now, first, let's talk about intercourse. I'm going to assume you've all been having sex?
Seminar participant: Like, sex, sex? With my husband?
Ratched: Correct.
The couple look at each other, shrug as if to say "who knew?" and shuffle out.
Ratched: Now, it's important that the male partner ejac...
Woman in comfortable shoes: The who?
Ratched: The male partner?
Woman in comfortable shoes, putting her arm around a woman with very short hair: Well, I don't know about that. (Turns to her partner.) C'mon, babe. (They leave.)
Ratched: Well, it's important that the male partner ejaculate inside the female's vagina. (Nightengale puts a diagram on the projector screen. Two more couples leave, blushing.)
Nightengale: And it's important to note that if you are using any kind of birth control or contraceptive... (Here she advances the slide show to reveal a picture of a diaphragm, sponge, condom, female condom, spermicidal jelly, birth control pills, and the logo "Depo-Provera.") ... that you will likely not be successful. If you have been using any of these methods, we recommend stopping the use of these and continuing to try without them.
(Three more couples get up and leave.)
Man in the front row: Could you go back a slide? (Nightengale does.) Now, the vaginer, that's the one in the front? (Nightengale nods.)
Man in the front: Well shit, Tonya, if you'da told me that I could be sittin' home right now instead of at this thing!
Tonya: Well I didn't know!
(They continue to bicker as they pack their things and leave.)
Nightengale: Now, if you've been having intercourse with no contraceptive, it may be a matter of timing. Did you know that there's only a very short window of time for a woman to become pregnant each month? (A slide shows of an ovum working its way down the fallopian tube.)
Twenty-year-old with expensive highlights in a J. Crew twinset and pearls: "I know all this, and we've been trying for almost TWO MONTHS. I want to know what the next steps are.
(I consider tearing her throat out with my teeth, but am interested in the answer. Two hours later, we will leave with a piece of graph paper to begin charting our basal body temperature, which we will have to do for two months before we can be seen individually by a doctor.)

The big sleep

I must have been run down yesterday, because we got home from dinner at 6 (yes, we eat early) and I crawled into bed to read, fully intending to get up and go to the gym at around 7:30. But instead I woke up at 8:15 when Sweetie made a loud noise. I got up and fiddled around on the computer until 10, then went to bed again and slept until 7:30 this morning. I actually woke up several times before that, but thought "Am I still sleepy? Yep," and went back to sleep. So all together, that's almost 12 hours of sleep. Guess I needed it!

Fuckity

First, I'm tired.
Second, allergies hit today. (And I have BAD allergies.)
Third, the Aztec festival was today, and may I say "Thank god it's over?" The first part of the morning was great -- there were a ton of activities for the kids, including several carnival-type games ("kick the ball in the Aztec's mouth," "Spear the Hello Kitty pinata with a javelin"), soccer (in place of "tlacthli" for which we don't have a court), food (fruit, brownies, tamarind drink, chicken wraps, salads, grilled meats -- it was quite a spread today. Then we headed to the auditorium. Here was our mistake. We were supposed to have Aztec dancers (30 minutes), a sophomore play (25 minutes), a junior play (20-30 minutes) and approximately 8 5-minute freshmen plays. Which means, as you can see, that we needed just over 2 hours. It's better to overschedule and cut something (as sucky as that sounds), than to have 300 kids all gathered and have nothing to show them for the last 15 minutes.

Well, as it turns out, having the kids cooped up for 2 1/2 hours of anything is probably too much to ask, but having them sit for 2 1/2 hours of mostly-couldn't-be-heard plays was just.. fucked. My sophomores could be heard, because they had been practicing projection, but the juniors and freshmen were all but inaudible. And then the crowd got restless and talked, which made it harder to hear, resulting in an ugly vicious circle.

The Aztec dancers were the highlight (they were FANTASTIC), but there were drawbacks there, too. For example, I didn't know they were going to burn something (sage?) on stage, and as the auditorium filled with what I'm sure was sacred smoke, we called the custodian to take it outside before the alarm went off and we had to evacuate. I hope we didn't offend them (or the gods). Also, they're probably not used to getting ready while a play is going on a mere 20 feet away, so there was a lot of talking, some shouting, and some drumming. They also said they'd stay after and answer questions in the lobby, but they took off and I never saw them again. Later, I found out that some of the students had asked them to be quiet, too. I have great students, but I can just imagine that their requests, especially if they were repeated requests, came off as impolite. Which would suck, since the dancers were nice enough to volunteer their time.

Anyway, it was a long goddamn day and I am very glad it's done. All that's left on my agenda today is to eat Lebanese food and go to the gym.

Oh, and of course the whole baby thing isn't going well again. Duh.

OOh!

OOh!
Originally uploaded by Bunny Lady.

Now we are using the internet. So I am on task. It is 7:36. I am hoping I can go soon. My work is all done. I am still furtively working on the Brilliant Idea.

duh,

duh, esquire 1
Originally uploaded by 1115.

Nope, it is now 6:26 and we've been "practicing" the creation and movement of folders. I've been working on the Brilliant Idea. He's now explaining that you might want to buy computers that allow you to write to CDs. He's also tlelling us to format our CDs. This is something he recommended taking notes on.

"When putting information to my CD, I must format it first."

DUH...

DUH...
Originally uploaded by Flutterbye8567.

35 minutes into computer class two. We're still discussing how to create new folders and documents. It's really stressing some people out. I'll keep you updated when we learn something new.

Am I evil? & Damn the man.

Evil -- yes. There's a kid at school who hangs around my kids, and he only uses one side of his mouth and I think of him (only privately) as "Stroke-boy." Also, the second most flaming gay high school student I've ever met (the first was my friend "Jobina-belle," who prided himself on his glorious Donna Summer hair) is playing one of the leads in our Aztec play. Originally, I had just cast the role as "Obsidian Snake" and double-cast it, meaning two kids playing one part. But then we changed it so that this kid was actually another character who needed a new name. I chose "Flaming Spear."


Also, I read three disturbing stories today all about the government getting all up in my food business. First, in CA they're passing a law that restaurants cannot pre-set the tables. If they do, they have to put plastic covers on the wine glasses and stuff. Because possibly maybe potentially some germs could get on your stuff. Not that it's ever happened. But it could.

Second, they're requiring vintners to add "contains eggs/fish" on bottles of wine if they were processed with eggs or fish. Now, I can see if you were a hardcore-crazy vegan why you'd want to know this, but apparently this stuff has been completely filtered out and no one has ever had a documented allergic reaction to wines processed in this way. So, because maybe possibly someday it could happen, winemakers have to say "contains fish" on their Petit Syrah.

And finally, because almonds can possibly carry salmonella (as most foods can), the USDA is going to require that all almonds be either pasteurized (heat-treated) or fumigated with a TOXIC, known CARCINOGEN. That's right. Salmonella vs. cancer. Worse yet, almonds that are pasteurized will require no label indicating that they've been heat-treated, and no almonds will require a label about the cancer stuff. Good times, huh? This carcinogen is actually banned in the EU and Canada, so the almonds we export can't be treated with the stuff. Because it's dangerous. And organic growers would have to adapt to the same standards, even though it's been proven that salmonella doesn't live as long in organic soil as it does in conventional.

Anyway, I don't mean to sound all Republican, but what happened to small government? What happened to stay-the-fuck-out-of-my-wine-and-organic-food? It's creeping me out.

I's crazy dress day

crazy dress detail
Originally uploaded by jennasic.

So I'm wearing the psychedelic fried egg muumuu. I got it from my grandma several years ago. The background is brown and green, and it has these huge splotches of flowers (?) in yellow, white, teal, blue, orangey... Some of them look like fried eggs. It appears to be from the same era that the fabric in the picture to the right is from, but that picture is actually much more attractive.

It surprises me how I used to wear the craziest shit every day (some highlights include my renaissance dress over jeans, huge green sunglasses, a black leotard with a hot orange micro-mini, a pair of yello plaid gauchos... the list goes on and on), but now I find the need to explain my crazy dress.

A parent came in this morning to talk about her kid and I'm like "Hi! It's spirit week. Today is crazy dress day."

Anyway -- pretty busy. Ballet last night, band practice Monday, ballet tonight, computer class Thursday, river clean-up Saturday... and for the next two weeks I ahve appointments on Tuesday. Next week, in fact, I have TWO. Sheesh. Plus this week my kids are turning in first drafts of their big-ass paper, so I'll have a lot of grading this weekend (and the next five weekends after that!).

I read Bill Bryson's The Thunderbolt Kid, and really enjoyed it. But I would enjoy Bill Bryson writing about geometry, so there's that. I read the third in a series by Anne Lamott called Grace (Eventually): Further Thoughts on Faith. It was good, but having read the other two (Travelling Mercies and Plan B), it's all starting to sound a little familiar.

Now I'm reading What is the What, by Dave Eggers, It's pretty captivating -- it's about the life of a Sudanese refugee, and right now is sort of mingling the story of his childhood in Sudan and his current life in the U.S.

More photos

Kellen, Me
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

Okay, here are some more photos. We're home safe and sound. Oregon is beautiful.


Uncle Reza likes to beat up on Jacob.


Kellen helped me take this photo from the outdoor seating area at Roaring Rapids pizza.


This is one of the friends we visited in Portland (well, Beaverton). I somehow failed to take a picture of Leafy Greens, but he took one, so maybe he'll send it to me.


Is this not a cute kid? I swear, you could put a burlap sack on him and put the picture in the Macy's ad, and Macy's would sell out of burlap sacks.


This is my gorgeous sister-in-law, Maryam.


This is my other gorgeous sister-in-law, Michelle.


I thought this was a sweet picture of my brother-in-law Kirk, and my niece Maddy.


Look how beautiful and stylish my niece Kelsey is! She's also smart, mature, a great singer, and now she's driving!


I love this one. Caitlin, in the center, is a great athlete -- she outran us all while playing football! She also plays volleyball, as does Maddy, on the right. Maddy is very energetic. When they're together, they're always coming up with games, dance routines, etc.


This isn't the greatest photo, but it's the only one with both brothers-in-law. Bruce on the left, Kirk on the right.


We were over for breakfast, which is why Jacob is shirtless and wrapped in a blanket. Hossein, in the center, is my father-in-law. He looks cranky because, well, I think he was a little cranky.


I know I have ones of my mother-in-law and Anne, Hossein's wife, too. But I'll have to look through them for some flattering ones. (I'm not posting the one of Jan and I on the carousel, because it's not cute of me!)

Final day *sniff*

Well, we woke up and had breakfast at the Doug Fir. It was really yummy -- I had a Greek omelet. We got to sit right next to some serious white trash folks rockin' sweet mullets. Reza had to dissuade me from taking a picture of the reflective light fixture above our table.

We had an easy drive back to Eugene, where we made lunch plans with Maryam and found out our nephew Jacob was home "sick." We kidnapped him, took his phone (he's become very anti-social, taking calls while we're out to eat and stuff, so we held it hostage), and made him our slave. First, we went to my MiL's house to pick up some things Reza has had in storage, then we went to the Market of Choice to get sandwiches for tomorrow. It is the finest grocery store I have ever been in in my whole life. It has so many natural/organic/artisan/local/fresh foods, you'd think it was a natural foods store, but it's not. They have a stir-fry station, salad bar, deli, hot foods of various other kinds... They have a cheese counter that I couldn't get a photo of all at once, it was so big. They had chocolate available for tasting (I tasted 100% chocolate, but I doubt it really could have been, because it wasn't as bitter as baking chocolate, so it HAD to have some amount of sugar and cocoa butter in it -- not much, but some). In one area I was like "oh, soft drinks, but they don't have what I want." But then another aisle over, they had a bunch more kinds. And then two aisles over, there was an entire soft drink AISLE, including funky shit like Ting, Bubble Up, and Kombucha tea. In just one little section, they had Thomas Kemper, Stewart's, and Henry Weinhard's root beer. Okay, sorry, WAY too much attention to the Market of Choice, I know.


Then we met Maryam at Toshi's ramen. SOOO yummy. Here is a picture.
(Forgive the accidental product placement.)

Then we just ran Jacob around town, shopping at hobby shops and game stores. After Maryam got off work, we grabbed her and Maddy, and the five of us went to the mall. I got something I can't tell, because Mom reads the blog and it's for her for Easter. But it's cool.

Finally, we decided we'd all meet one last time for pizza tonight, so until then, we watched "Borat," (it was okay -- I get the parody but it just wasn't all that funny) and Reza and Maryam played video games. At 7, we went to Roaring Rapids pizza, which has video games, air hockey, a carousel... and pizza, of course. We played and talked for a long time, then made our way out to the parking lot, where we played and talked some more. We dragged out our goodbyes, because it's so hard to make them. It's funny -- I have a really wonderful family in Sacramento, so I'm not one of those people who wanted to find another family to glom onto, you know what I mean? It wasn't like there was some hole in my life that I felt needed filling. But as soon as I met the family here, I realized my family -- my real, true, heart's family -- had just doubled. Being an aunt and a sister-in-law and a daughter-in-law is a really, really cool thing. Anyway, it's really hard to leave. And I hate seeing Reza sad, and I feel like I'm making him leave, since he only lives in Sacramento because of me. Wow, my big travel vacation blog just got heavy. I'd better go to bed. Wish us luck on the drive home -- no snow, no construction, no accidents, and no speed traps.

Portland -- exhaustion

Morning -- showers and breakfast at hotel. Check out. Drive to Beaverton (yes, really). Meet Ms. Papaya, have lunch, talk, visit cats.

Portland. Go to Belmont area -- cool stores have vanished. Have incredible lattes & buy whole bean coffee @ Stumptown.

Try to check into hotel -- too early.

City Liquidators (giant junk shop) -- Sweetie finds Mason jar style drinking glasses & I get a Fiestaware platter in pink for $9.

Go to Chinatown & look at toys. I get a cow tofu toy.

Go to PSU, visit with folks in library.

Drop Sweetie and Mr. B off at B's apartment so they can play Geeks at War. (Sweetie keeps reminding me that it's NOT, in fact, Dungeons and Dragons). I go meet Leafy Greens. We get dinner, check into hotel, buy truffles (I tried the dark chocolate with rosemary and Port reduction), then go to Powell's, where I both purchase books and have a great bookish conversation, then go see his apartment and reminisce. Then I pick up Sweetie and we come to Jupiter Hotel. Let us just say that it is a good thing Leafy Greens has recommended the Ace Hotel for next time. It is loud. We are not even over the lounge this time, but we can hear it, and whoever is in the next room is listening to the TV at roughly the volume that my grandma and Sam do. I'm wiped out.

Quiet day

Today we got up and had the continental breakfast at the hotel. Then we walked down to the U of O campus and got coffee in the Erb Memorial Union (everyone calls it the EE EM YU, not Emu, as I would). We walked around the gorgeous campus for a while. It's fun to people watch there. One guy had a megaphone and was holding a demonstration of some sort. He was about the least inspirational speaker I've ever heard, though. It was like "I think it's wrong. But that's just my opinion. You can come up here and use the mic if you disagree, you know. Oh sure -- everybody just ignore me. Pretend I'm not here." We went to the U of O bookstore and sweetie got a new Oregon sweatshirt. Then we went to the Smith Family Bookstore and browsed for a long time. (I'm trying not to buy any books until we get to Powell's.) Then back to the hotel to rest up a bit and get some internet time. At 11:45, we met the teenagers for lunch at Toshi's Ramen. It was nice to get some time just with them, as they don't have to work so hard at being punks to their parents and annoyed by their sister and grandma. They're quite nice people, actually.

Then we did a little shopping -- well, more sprinting in and out of shopping areas*, since Sweetie's not a big shopper -- and finally back to the house, where Maryam was making dinner. I helped Maddy a bit with homework (it makes me feel very successful that I know the times tables), and we just hung out until dinner, when Michelle came with a vegetarian dish and Jan came with salad and dessert!

Since we got here, there's been some vague talk of me playing volleyball with my sisters-in-law's team, and I sort of thought they were joking, but tonight sweatpants were provided and I was put into the car. I haven't played volleyball since approximately 1985, so I really didn't remember when to rotate, how and where to serve, what the rules are, how you scored points, or who got the ball when and why. So, basically I finagled myself into the least helpful positions and looked around to see if anyone ELSE was going to come hit the ball. It was effective, for the most part. My serve was really, really lame. But that's two new sports in two days! Next up... jai alai. (Dude, just kidding.)

*I did get to browse for quite a while at Black Sun books, where I got a lot of cool postcards. I cannot pass by a big mixed-up bin of marked-down postcards.

Sunday at the Coast

We had a great (and tiring) day today! Sweetie and I got up, got showered and everything, then had breakfast at the Glenwood, which was delicious. Then we went to the U of O bookstore, where we got some things for the Lankee cats and a new memory card for the camera. I've been wanting one for ages, because we could only take like ten pictures at a time! But I thought they were really expensive. No -- the one that allows you to take about 200 pictures was a whopping twelve bucks. So I have LOTS of pictures.

We met at the house at ten, then it took a little while to get on the road (and get something at Radio Shack to entertain the kids on the drive, to get gas & snacks, etc. The drive to the Oregon coast is a lot like the drive to the California coast. It looks a lot like Northern Cali, minus the redwoods. Very green, lots of conifers and spanish moss... The beach itself, Devil's Elbow, was nice -- rocky in parts, but a lot of it was just fine sand. It was in a little cove.


First, I had the kids help me build a sand castle. Not my best work, but I got hijacked to play football! I know it probably seems like I am a 31 year old red-blooded American, but I have never once played football until today. Baseball, sure. Soccer, yeah. I'm basically hopeless at sports, but I have some experience with them. But football, I don't know the most basic of rules. Like, you can't throw the ball at someone who's further down the field than you are. Who knew?


Then we went tidepooling. There were some cool caves (including one in which someone had graffitoed a tribute to Ronnie James Dio), and we saw a few sea urchins, but not too much tidepool life. I did get my feet soaked, though. It was a pretty cold day (up until halfway through our football game I still had two jackets, a hat, and a scarf on), but the cold wet feet didn't bother me much until, oh, four hours later when they were still wet and cold.

Next we walked up to the lighthouse and "haunted" keeper's house. It afforded us a nice view, and we kicked around up there a bit.

Then we drove to Moe's, a chowder house, for dinner. It was very kid-friendly and right on the water.

It felt like a long drive home (with cold, wet feet), so instead of hanging out, we came straight back to the hotel, where we both took a shower and I took a boiling hot bath until I defrosted. And that's where we are now! Well, out of the bath, but at the hotel. Sweetie is watching cartoons whilst I blog. Here's one last picture just 'cause I thought it was cute.

Vacay

I have to be brief, 'cause I'm frickin' exhausted.

Yesterday -- we hit the road at 6:30. We stopped once to pee, once to pee and get gas, and once to eat lunch (at Rogue River State Park, which was nice, but filled with staggeringly ugly teenagers on some sort of church camp trip), and then we reached Eugene, OR at 2:30. The drive was nice and easy, with no major weather or traffic (although there were patches of rain, include one heavy 2 second pour). We checked into the hotel and put our stuff down, then were heading out to go to my sister-in-law's, and we ran into my father-in-law and his wife in the parking lot, just checking into the same hotel! We exchanged hellos (and got presents!) and then went to my sister-in-law's. We hung out with the kids and talked with the adults. There was a brief shopping trip for a Christmas present for me (an extravagant one, and I protested, but I got quite spoiled anyway). For dinner, we all went out to Mexican (all 14 of us!). After dinner, we watched movies (me and my sisters-in-law, niece, and one brother-in-law), played video games (Sweetie, a brother-in-law, and 2 nephews) and did odd performance art to "Macarena" and "Barbie Girl" (two nieces). We left quite late.

Our sleep was interrupted by an air-raid siren. No, wait, it was just a noisy fridge. But there was a brief moment of panic when I thought we were going to have to evacuate. Then I was wakened with a start to incredibly loud Mexican music, because Sweetie had set the alarm for 6 (for some ungodly reason).

We walked to get lattes, drove around a bit, got a seeded baguette, then went back to the house. There was a grocery store expedition for donuts, fruit, more bread, feta... and we all grazed. Then we went to the Persian grocery store, which was closed, then said goodbye to FiL and his wife. Then we went to buy lots of groceries for dinner tonight. I wanted MiL to show me how to cook some things. The problem with cooking ethnic foods as a vegetarian is that you're often trying to replicate the taste of things you've never tasted. So MiL was very enthusiastic about showing me how to make stuff, and the Aloo (sour cherry rice with pistachios and almonds) was HEAVEN. For some reason ("it tastes bad") Sweetie doesn't like it. I think it's incredible! Then we all hung out and shot the shit. It got late again, and here we are.

Tomorrow we head for the coast!