Garanimals.

So. I might be holding a grudge towards Garanimals. Yeah, 30 years later? So what? Turns out they still exist. Garanimals have come up in conversations lately and I have them on my brain, so I checked out their website.

Here is what they have to say:

Garanimals was born in 1972 out of the idea that there is a positive connection between how children dress and how they feel about themselves.

The kid-friendly Garanimals mix-and-match separates provide a simple, coordinated system that makes clothes easy to pair and fun to wear. The Garanimals pairing system brings creativity and independence to young children as they select their own clothes and dress themselves. Through these small, successful decisions, children develop early feelings of self-confidence.

Raise your hand if you wanted Garanimals with an all-encompassing passion, a lust if you will, when you were younger. That's what I thought. If you have no idea what I am talking about, I have no time for you.

Turns out some of us fuller figured kidlets were too big to fit into them by the time we knew about them. Which only served to make one want them more. And, then, I don't know, tantrums may have ensued (while in-store) tears may have been shed, mothers may have been embarrassed, it may or may not have become an...gasp....incident.

I am not saying it was me that did this, in fact, it wasn't. But I can (even today) experience the fine, fine, line between tantrum and the opposite of what Garanimals says its purpose in life is. Children develop early feelings of self-confidence.....unless they are...husky?

I had a solution to the Garanimals Debacle. I chose to find my self confidence in clothes that fit...well, fit-ish. I distinctly remember....the year was 1976, mind you....my new faves. My version of garanimals without the stupid fat hippo tags and vapid looking giraffes. Blue and white striped t-shirt---horizontal stripes, baby, I ain't hiding the pudge...forget the vertical stripes for the slimming effect. It was reminiscent of a French sailor shirt without the boat neck. And then, brown saddle shoes a la Bert from Sesame Street. And the finale, the cherry on top of a huge friggin' sundae.....white denim bell bottoms....wait for it....with two back pockets BUT ON THE FRONT of the jeans...one blue with a white star in the center and one red with a white star in the center. I was hip, I was cool, I was the "it" girl of first grade.

I wore the shit out of those pants.

With my little first grade belly poking out in some pictures. Thank you very much.

On a crisper day, I might wear my blue knitted/crocheted (I have no idea how it was made, I just know it was hand crafted by someone??)....get ready, people......poncho. Two side ponytails, worn low, a huge five head. I can still feel the pride, the self confidence.

Stickin' my tongue out at you, right now, Garanimals.

Terms of Endearment.

This is not about the movie. Cripes, what a bawl baby fest. I will not willing watch that movie again......unless I am wallowing in self-pity and need something to kick start a sobbing jag to cleanse the system. You know the kind from when you were eight. Suckin' in the air, can't breathe, loudly sobbing. Ah, good times.

What I actually had been thinking about was actual terms of endearment. The standards: "Honey", "Sweetheart", "Dear". I really don't like "Dear". In fact, I despise it. It just seems patronizing to me. I am not sure why.....maybe a movie from the 50s or something?

I like and use "Baby". I love "Love". I love "My Love" even more. "Babe".

"Sweet Baboo" is a personal fave. A lot.

"Cupcake", "Sweets", lots of food oriented tags.

How do we get to them? The Sweet-Based names make sense, someone who brings sweetness into your life and you want to acknowledge that sweetness. (I like "sweetness" as a term of endearment also.....I get called that occasionally and it makes me melt. Not really sure why. And not really care why.)

When I lived in Italy, there were many for kids that I loved: Piccinino (Little Pigeon). Zuccona. (Big Squash/pumpkin) Tesoro Mio (My Treasure)

We kind of have those odd ones: We use "Pumpkin", too. Why? How did that get to be a thing? Pumpkins are orange. They are big and fat. They sit on the stoop. We carve them in October. How the heck do they imply love or endearment?

What terms of endearment am I forgetting?

Why Do I Open My Bigass Mouth?

So. Here's the scene. The past 5 days have been spent discussing the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians. The background, who said what when, who did what when, why, and why, and why, and causes and effects and why, and why. Today is the final day of the unit; and I have them work in groups on an online simulation/game. It rocks.

The goal is to get 100% approval ratings for both the Israelis and the Palestinians..... oh and the world, too. So, you know, that's pretty easy and all.

They play the parts of either the Palestinian President or the Israeli Prime Minister. As a teacher, it is always one of my favorite days. Exhibit A: Students engaged. For and hour and a half. Exhibit B: Said students working....gasp....together. And I mean, not just one student doing all the work and the rest texting each other on their cell phones. As a teacher, I hate cell phones. As me, I heart them. I am complex.

Exhibit C: By the end of the game, they "get it". They understand that you just can't blow everything up, you can't give Jerusalem to one side and expect no repercussions, you can't "make" them get along. Much like me, the issue is complex. The issue might be a little more so than moi.

So, this was the first year that I offered extra credit for those groups that could succeed in getting an approval rating for BOTH sides of at least 30. My first thinking was: "No way." But two groups did it. I had one of the groups getting up into the 70s and 80s for approval percentages and it was nearing the end of the class. Other groups were giving up as they were in the negative approval ratings and were coming over to watch the group that was now in the 80s and 90s. Here's where I made my mistake. I open my mouth and said, "If you can get 100% approval for both sides, I'll make cookies for the whole class." As soon as I said it, in my head, I said, "Shit. Why did I go and say that?"

So. Yep. Uh-huh. So right. With 30 fat seconds to go before the bell, the majority of the class in a U-Shape around the group, cheering them on, giving advise, reasoning out pros and cons of each action, glancing nervously at the clock, they did it.

A cheer goes up from the peanut gallery, slaps on the back, "way to go"s all around and one soul says, "Ms. SoThereThen, you really are gonna make us cookies, right? You weren't lying, right?"

What do you say to that? "Yeah, I don't have any eggs. (Which I don't. Crap.)"

So, my last class, which is also the same content...World Studies, had heard about said incentive. So. Yep. Uh-huh. So right. Have to be fair. They also got one group that had 100% for both sides. So, now I am making cookies for two classes. Which isn't all that bad as I had promised someone in our house that I would make "Not Bad" cookies. (I used whole wheat bread flour last time and apparently that equals less than tasty.).

So, I am off to the store for eggs.

The funny thing is, I am at the District Office tomorrow for a meeting all day; the students are going to think I am avoiding them. I can just tell them I had to take the day off to make them cookies.

Try As I Might......

I cannot fathom life without this dog. I can't. You can't make me. She is the pea to our carrots, she is the jam to our peanut butter. But Ol' Girl is pushing maximum age, especially for her breeds.


She had a tough day today, was the report I got upon arriving home. She just can't seem to get comfortable, sleeping a ton over the past couple weeks. Most of the pictures we have of Sophs are during slumber. Parents of pups might think because that is the only time she is still and will sit long enough for a photo. Falsies. It is because that is what she does ALL THE TIME. Snoring, gaseous excretions, old guy lip smacking in her sleep, and running man dreams.


I am pretty sure that part of her lack of hearing is on purpose, but some of it has to be real. The fake part? Yeah, she is a total sleep fibber. Exhibit A: She no longer comes upstairs and sleeps in our room at night. That began a year ago as the stairs were just too steep for her to navigate down. We could help her back end up, but she was too scared and shaky to come down on her own and too stubborn to let us help her safely (i.e. carry 100 pounds of dog down the stairs. Kinda glad it worked out this way.)


When I come down every morning about 6:30, she makes no sudden movements, no noise. I get her breakfast ready, and our breakfast ready and do puttery stuff and then the last thing is to go and wake her up...most days. Sometimes, I let her sleep in because she can and I am a nice human. But, when I lift her blanket off her, and she is fighting waking up.....hand to God, it's like she is a teenager. Burrowing under the blanket, snuffling, exasperated huffing, puffing, sighing, sneezing, every manner of communication to explain her displeasure. And this is before her eyes are open. She pretends she is still sleeping until she realizes that I am not going away because of all her shenanigans.


Then, the games truly begin. I might try and "help" her my lifting the blanket corner a little, as if I was a magician and going to pull the tablecloth off the table and leave the place settings there. Ala Kazam! In her youth, she would spring up and make me feel really crappy that she thought I would do something so mean-spirited. Then, in her middle ages, I used it as a threat to get her ass up. Now, it doesn't even make her flinch and even if it did, there is not much spring left in Sophers.


Now, she just uses the momentum from me lifting up one side to turn over to her other side. If she could have toddler noodle limbs, she would. We do a little dance of me trying to "help" her get up by lifting up her limp ass and her flopping back and forth trying to burrow under the blankets and away from my meddlesome ways.


Eventually, I win. Then there is what I used to think was the dramatic march to the front door to go outside (Now, I think she is just old.). You know the type, parents of humans.....Resigned, defeated, she is making me go on the Bataan Death March AGAIN. But, usually it is with human children going to bed and fighting it or human teenagers going anywhere with their parents and fighting it. With Sophie, it is becoming awake in the morningtime.


Once outside, and back in to check madam's food bowl for the choice morsels, it is back to bed. Saturday, I was home for the morning. We had gone to "Quantum of Solace" on Friday night and were home late. She went out for the last time midnight-ish. Saturday morning, I let her sleep in as I did lesson planning and puttered doing shores around the house. ELEVEN O'CLOCK, PEOPLE. That is what time she reluctantly hauled her butt out of bed. I. Love. Her.

No. It Is TOO Early.

Dear KMart,
I guess my question that I feel I am obliged to ask is: "Really??? Two days after Halloween?"

A radio commercial advertising their Layaway plan for the holiday season. COME ON!! I already have issues with the advertising industry and back to school stuff the day after the 4th of July (That might be an exaggeration....it may be a pooch too close to home, ya know? I'll give you that.) But, seriously, it is really necessary to begin holiday shopping two months ahead of the season?

I realize that it is survival of the fittest in these tough economic times and you feel you must do what it needed, eat or be eaten, whatever the saying is that was bandied about in a strategy meeting somewhere in KMarty land. Should you really be encouraging more credit spending? Haven't Americans proven that they can't handle the credit?

I am sorry to say that I wasn't really going to shop at KMart for holiday needs, but if I had considered it, this commercial would actually have the opposite effect from what I presume you desire. I would purposely NOT shop your aisles as a result of this tactic. I know that this stand, this rebellion, this consumer flounce of my own will have no tangible effect upon your establishment. There will be umpteen and a half other shoppers who will fill that void that might have been moi.

But I feel better having said it. I don't even want to know if you are playing holiday music in your stores already.

Signed,
Crabby McCrabberson

No TV?!!? How Are You Going to Watch the Election Results?!?!

I voted. I did my civic duty and carried out an important responsibility I have as a citizen of this nation. I am not being a social studies teacher nerd when I say that it makes me really proud to be able to do so; it is a privilege that we often take for granted.

I can get frustrated with the media coverage. I like the suspense. I like the intrigue.......fine---I.....like....the.....drama. I don't want to know who the predicted leader/next president is after 1% of the precincts reporting. How can they already be coloring in the little states different colors? I know, I know, I get the mathematics of it all, it is just.....come on, people. Can we just dial it back a little bit on the Freakshow-ness of it all???

I get that people are jazzed about this election; I understand that people are passionate about it all. Maybe because I am not as sure as everyone else is appearing that I can't get all amped up. Don't get me wrong, I love a good freak out as much as the next gal.

I just would like there to be a little more drama on this night. But that is just me.

What?

I have been gone. It was really, really important. I was updating the cold fusion process. I mean, solving world hunger. Me and Angelina...together. No? World peace-done. No? Avoiding planning for a new course to be taught? Yes. Lounging on couch with the stinkiest dog in my house? Yes. Getting back into walking everyday? Yep.

I had strayed from walking when my dad went into the hospital and then it was drama-crisis mode for a while and I told myself I didn't have time. Would I rather be at the hospital or would I rather be walking? Hmmm. If I am honest, and we are all about honesty here, my peeps, I could have done both. Tell me if this sounds familiar:

I really should _______________ before I walk. Oh, and_____________, that really needs to be finished. What am I going to make for dinner? I think I need to go to the store for the ingredients. If I walk before I go to the store, then I will be ravenous at the store and we all know that hunger and grocery shopping don't mix unless you want a meltdown from hunger-based crabbiness or you want a $500.00 grocery bill ($25 worth of chocolate to be eaten in car on way home). So I should probably eat something snacky and then go shopping, then make dinner but by then it will be too dark out. And, even though I sport the kickin' reflector-esque shoes for the fuller footed gal, it really isn't safe to walk when it is dark out. I could carry a flashlight, but I don't know where one is and I would look pretty foolish trying to exercise and carry a candle so that it doesn't extinguish, plus I am no longer to be trusted around fire (to be a later post).

That is about par for the course for moi. That's it. Changes on the horizon last week.

I'm back.

I always want to sing a few bars of "Back in Black" but that is the only part I know. Which is really lame. Not that I am a huge AC/DC fan by any stretch of the ee-madge, but I like to have a certain veritas to what I quote and what I co-opt.

Then, I always mix up the little girl in Poltergeist, Carol Anne, when she is looking at the snow on the TV screen and turns around and says: "They're heeeeeeeeeeeeeereeeeeeeee." All creepy like.
Except I keep wanting to say: "They're baaaaaaaaaaaaaack."
And then I think I confuse that with Jack Nicholson in "the Shining" saying something about Johnny and I just give up. And sing "I'm baaack." To the tune of Back in Black.

Christ. I need a drink.