So....There....Then

I Guess I Could Be Concerned...

2010-11-26T11:09:00.011-06:00

We got new stained glass windows for Thanksgiving! I know there are no gifts given for Thanksgiving...traditionally. But, we lucked out. They are really pretty, I guess you could call them etched more than stained glass as there really isn't any colored glass involved.

These are more simply decorated, not so ostentatious. More subdued, but very beautiful in their own simple, pure way. They kind of remind me of the glass doors that might be a doctor's waiting room in the 1940s. Or what I imagine would be in a doctor's waiting room in the 1940s.

This is why I am concerned. These new windows are courtesy of Mother Nature. When we moved in to this house it was 110 years old. Now it is closing in on 116 years (Wow. We have been here for almost 6 years. And wanting/thinking about/trying to sell it for 3.). The FIRST thing we did was to get storm windows. The windows are original to the house, neither of us knew (and still don't know) how to re glaze windows. At least, I don't. Someone else in this house may have some skills that I am unaware of up a sleeve or two...I wouldn't be surprised.

The line of thinking was such:
-Any windows we were to get would have to be custom made as the opening sizes is not standard to the modern era. Let's face it.....not the past century, much less the current one. Major bucks.

-The original glass has rippled since they were made. That really pretty, old fashion-y, hard to see clearly through kind of glass. You can't recreate that effect without time or wait for it.....Major bucks.

-The frames that hold said glass.....not so much in the greatest of quality for them. Years of water, and opening and closing, and frost, and wear and tear. These babies have seen better days. (My own individual line of thinking: Even if I knew how to re glaze a window, the entire frame for each window would have to be rebuilt because these are mostly shot. I don't know that we want me rebuilding something meant to keep out the elements.) Again, Major bucks.

So, we opted for custom made (because of the sizes of the windows.....no picking them up same day at the Home Despot.) storm windows. Thumbs up: keeping wavy glass for old fashion-y feel. Thumbs up: better protection and energy savings with new storm windows. Actually, any storm windows, I don't think there were even any on the house when we bought it, but I may be wrong.

Really nice guys, really nice work.

Where was I? Yes, back to why I am concerned. I have the idea from somewhere that.....while pretty to look at.........this is not a good sign. There shouldn't be this much and this thick of frost in between the storm window and the house window. This tells me that moisture is leaking out and cold is leaking in. I mean it is no shocker that in this old of a house, a brick house no less, that there might be some exchange of air with the outside.

Let's just say that my love for all things old is still close to my heart, but I think this is a growing experience where I have firmly put on the Big Girl Pants and decided that "pretty and old fashion-y" is going to almost always be trumped by "how much is this costing us in our heating bill?!?!".

I don't want to talk about the radiators either.

Same idea.

While I still like charm and character and probably always will....it will no longer be such a strong factor in the decision making process for me....as it was with this lovely home. I don't know that I can totally regret buying this house as it has gotten us started on our lives together.

However, the NEXT house with be chosen with Big Girl Pants on and a decidedly more frugal, realistic and logical perspective.

I Dare You....

2010-11-02T19:45:00.003-05:00

....to not smile while watching this. It makes memories of Terminal 5 while on the Incident with the students much less painful.

Settling In

2010-10-17T17:07:00.006-05:00

A period of adjustment....well, that is maybe not the right word. There are some things that have changed; some changes have been minute, others a little larger. You know me and lists,so let's start there.

1. As of Labor Day, I have finished losing weight. In memorable history, this has not happened before. I reached my goal. That felt really great to type. Since that day, a month ago, I have begun this foreign concept of maintaining my weight. I am still adjusting to this new mindset between "I have to watch what I eat, I am trying to lose weight." and "SWEET! I lost a crapload of weight; I can eat whatever I want and not pay attention anymore." Some days are easier than others, but overall, I have felt a shift in my perspective, my outlook, my attitude. And that feels really productive, if nothing else.

2. I am an aunt. He is pretty stinking cute. SERIOUSLY....on the hair.

3. Fall is rapidly becoming a fave this year. The photo at the top is the balcony off our bedroom.....I love when the cattails dry out and the sky is a brilliant blue. It has been unseasonably warm here this month, but today is cool and crisp and overcast. I roasted a chicken and made dinner rolls for Sunday Dinner. It felt like the right thing to do.

4. I have been focusing more on saving money and this has led to living a different kind of life in a series of smaller steps. I made laundry soap, I have started packing lunches for both of us, I have started buying only things on sale at the grocery store and usually mostly ingredients to be used to make things from scratch. I have learned to knit and discovered that I really, really enjoy it as a past time. Which has led to knitting surprises for Christmas gifts this year. I was asked by a colleague what my new learning skill was going to be after past escapades and trials such as the sausage making and sugarbushing to make maple syrup. I believe I will designate knitting to be this season's skill learned.

5. I still struggle with the urge to ditch everything when life gets hard and move to another country. I don't know that I will every not do this. It is my daydreaming subject, it is my thought topic when I walk in the morning, it is less of a plan of escape, more of a plan of adventure. I love travel, I love seeing new things and experiencing things that work differently than what I do. Lately, my urgency has calmed down regarding this past time. I consciously have been trying to choose a "Bloom where you grow." kind of perspective.

I am adjusted and content with my life today. I am blessed with a warm home, "interesting" neighbors, a loving husband and dog, a job that I really do enjoy when I stop to evaluate it, and an undying hope that I will win that Powerball this week.

100. Or...The True Story of How I Am Almost There....

2010-08-07T14:39:00.008-05:00

I find it rather fitting that I just saw this is the 100th post. This blog was begun as a way to help me lose weight by keeping me "honest". And yet, in my absence of quite a few more months that I liked to see, I am almost done with my weight loss....journey?

That sounds too touchy-feely, too hokey. I am 3.5 pounds away from actually being within my BMI range----a feat that has not been accomplished in adult memory. To date, I have lost 36 pounds and I like---really like---what I see in the mirror.

I went back to the tried and true Weight Watchers. Because IT WORKS. This time has been different than my last 3 (recorded online; there might have been an additional one in there where I didn't record my progress online) attempts at WW. It feels different and has, quite honestly, been the easiest thus far.

For me, it was just a matter of relaxing. There has been a lot of positive thinking in terms of "This will be a success; it feels different." Or more accurately, "This feels different; it will be a success." I get up and walk every morning for at least a half hour, sometimes more. Not walking has not really been an option. Snooze button has not really been an option. And I don't really fight myself about it as I have in the past. There aren't really anymore of in-my-brain discussions or even getting a little mad that I have to get up and walk crap. Part of why it feels different is that there is just......I can't explain.....there is acceptance that this is what I have to do. It isn't a punishment for being fat, it isn't a bad thing, it isn't something that I will quit cold turkey when I have reached my goal.

Walking is my deal of choice for many reasons. It's free, for cripes sake. I roll out of bed, maybe/maybe not with the hair brushing so much.....and I am out the door in 3 minutes, cranking the tunes and enjoying the peace of the morning. I get up before my husband is up, before the dog is up(although Lionel has taken to taking my spot in the bed....) and see my regulars in the morning. There is the lady with the gray teeth and the grandpa in shorts and a gray mustache on his bike---ringing his bike bell to warn me he is coming. (There is a post coming with more about him.) I am going to have to figure out an alternative for when there is ice in the winter, but other than that....I walk. Rain or shine. It wakes me up, I feel better, I have more energy and it is out of the way first thing in the morning. I start to stress if I leave it for later, so I just do it right away. Done and done.

"Doing" Weight Watchers feels different because I am not battling myself nor beating myself up. I have gained a couple pounds a week here or there but I don't use it as an excuse to eat everything. Because it feels different. I don't sweat the gains because I know I will increase my walking the following week, or watch my points more closely, or make sure to get my healthy oils in that week, or make sure I take my multivitamin every day that week. And I lose the next week. I am not looking for a number as a goal....even now, I don't know what my ultimate goal will be. OF course, my goal is to be within a healthy BMI (174), but then I think, "Well, maybe 170...a nice round number and a little buffer." Then I think, "165? A little bigger buffer." We'll see how I feel at 170, to stay at 165 may be more work than I want to live my life by.

This time feels like when I quit smoking and it has felt like this since the very beginning. I just decided that I was no longer a smoker and pretty much quit cold turkey, October 1, 2001. There were maybe one or two regret cigs, but they tasted awful by that point and I didn't really enjoy smoking any more. Same deal with the couple weeks that I have gained. They felt bad; I felt bad. Not mentally---I knew what I was doing, I accepted the fact that I wanted a free-for-all couple days and more importantly....I accepted the fact that there would be consequences and I would have to make compensations the next week. And then I DID! What's more, I just felt physically crappy eating crappy food and lots of it.

I really don't obsess about it as I have in the past. I only weigh myself once a week. The previous times I would be tracking every morning and then that sometimes dictated what kind of day I would have, mood-wise. Once a week, my weigh in day on Monday, and that is it. I look forward to Mondays, honestly. Partly because most Mondays, there has been some sort of weight loss----sometimes a surprising amount.

I also don't obsess about points as I have in the past. I track my points, even when I eat something crappy (That I decide to eat and not beat myself up for the choice and just enjoy it.) It is about the total picture of the week. I have extra points each week and for the most part I dip into them each week. Some weeks are deeper dips than others. When I go into my exercise points, after blowing by all my weekly points and daily points....I usually have stayed the same or gained a little. But again, I compensate the next week. I am not going to lose all my weight in one week; a marathon, not a sprint.

Lastly, I am not really using the Weight Watchers recipes or fat-free products, or any thing that allows me to eat as I once did just with fewer points. That is not how my husband and I live. That is not something I want to sustain. I like the taste of real whipped cream. If I know I want to have chocolate pudding, with whipped cream and raspberries.....then I have to eat fewer points during the day to account for it. Then I can enjoy it. I have found that I prefer to have points that I have to eat at the end of the day rather than the other way around. It makes me not stress. For example, today I met my brothers for lunch and ordered broiled walleye, not realizing it would be broiled in butter. Well, that butter ate up most of my points and I now have no points left for the day. Which means that I will dip into my weekly points for dinner tonight. I still haven't had my healthy oils for the day. Which means sauteed veggies in olive oil is for supper for me. Maybe some popcorn after supper if I am still hungry. And now, I have learned to ask how food is prepared before I order. I am a little stressed that I don't have points, but have also learned a valuable lesson not to be repeated. I have let it go and accepted that this is today's gig.

In the end, it has come down to decisions and the mental part of weight loss. It has always been this for me. I have been concerned about my weight for most...strike that...ALL of my life. As a result, I have read many books, learned many things, and know a lot about how to lose weight. Yet, I never have been successful for any period of time or with this large of a loss. It feels different because I am actually doing the things I have learned and stopped freaking out about all the static that was my downfall before---every time. "What if I gain it back?" (I won't; I am going to be honest with myself when I gain and get on top of it the following week) "I am not losing weight fast enough." (So what?!?! I am still losing weight overall and am going to continue to do the things that have been working for me in the past.) And on and on and blah blah blah. I don't care about the excuses or negotiations anymore.

It just feels different and I am really really proud of myself.

To continue...

2010-07-31T06:48:00.002-05:00

Here is the list I started yesterday. (To recap, I started making a list of all the things I would like to do, maybe not so much with the expectation that I achieve all ofthem, but who knows, right?)

1. learn how to twirl a baton
2. go a national park
3. make beef bourguignon
4. knit a sweater
5. publish something
6. go to Italy with my husband
7. successfully train a dog to come when called
8. espalier a fruit tree or two
9. connect and use a rain barrel
10. re upholster some sort of furniture
11. go to Scotland with my mother in law
12. grow potatoes
13. See Led Zeppelin should they ever reunite
14. get a pair of custom made shoes
15. go to Montreal
16. learn how to make chocolate
17. build our own house
18. learn how to make ricotta cheese
19. Learn how to make a hard cheese
20. make all Christmas presents one year
21. slow dance with my husband and not try to lead
22. go to Africa
23. sail
24. do the splits
25. take a spur of the moment plane trip to wherever is cheapest one weekend
26. learn how to make soap
27. watch an Alfred Hitchcock film
28. go to Napa Valley
29. go to Paris again...with my husband, without 40 high school kids
30. live in Italy with my husband for at least 6 months

On my walk this morning, I thought of a couple more:

31. go to an opera
32. make a souffle
33. go dogsledding
34. climb Mt. Kilimanjaro
35. learn how to tie five useful knots
36. learn how to belly dance
37. go to New England

I'll keep adding as I think of them---what are the first five things, in no particular order, that you would put on a similar list??

Life List?

2010-07-30T16:22:00.004-05:00

I was surfing the interwebs today while monitoring an e-bay bid for someone in the house (Seriously in love with summer tasks....for reals.) and came across this post.

I like the idea. Those of you that know me, KNOW that I have lots of ideas, schemes, visions of grandeur. I have a lot of things in my noggin that don't always spill out my mouth---things that I will do or accomplish "someday".

I like the idea of writing them down---why....what a fabulous idea. I love lists. I love organization and perhaps it will help me focus on the stuff that I really want to do and not worry about the stuff that I think I want to do because I think other people will think it is cool that I did it. That is a pretty lame reason for doing something, but I think many people can get sucked into it. I recently had a convo with a good friend about living a more authentic life, being a more authentic me. Christ, it shouldn't be that hard, right?

I haven't shared yet, but so far I have lost 32 pounds. That's pretty awesome. Since April. Again, pretty awesome. I have struggled with this issue my whole life and there is a blog post somewhere in my head forming about it, but that is for a later day. Suffice it to say, I am re-organizing myself in more ways than one.

I am only going to work on this list for 5 minutes......I am curious to see what I come up with.

1. learn how to twirl a baton
2. go a national park
3. make beef bourguignon
4. knit a sweater
5. publish something
6. go to Italy with my husband
7. successfully train a dog to come when called
8. espalier a fruit tree or two
9. connect and use a rain barrel
10. re upholster some sort of furniture
11. go to Scotland with my mother in law
12. grow potatoes

Hmmm....that was harder than I thought! I had lots of things pop into my head that should just go on a regular to do list like "paint the living room". I also had things that popped up that I felt weren't specific enough or quantifiable like "get better at ______". You can always get better at most things, yeah? When do you cross it off your list then?

Five more minutes?

13. See Led Zeppelin should they ever reunite
14. get a pair of custom made shoes
15. go to Montreal
16. learn how to make chocolate
17. build our own house
18. learn how to make ricotta cheese
19. Learn how to make a hard cheese
20. make all Christmas presents one year
21. slow dance with my husband and not try to lead
22. go to Africa
23. sail
24. do the splits
25. take a spur of the moment plane trip to wherever is cheapest one weekend

That one took more than 5 minutes, but I wanted to round off at 25. I am going to keep adding to this. I like it. I like it a lot.

26. learn how to make soap
27. watch an Alfred Hitchcock film
28. go to Napa Valley
29. go to Paris again...with my husband, without 40 high school kids
30. live in Italy with my husband for at least 6 months

I guess I had a few more in there rattlin' 'round.

I Need to Evacuate the Randomness from my Brain.

2010-07-24T07:50:00.022-05:00

Here is one way to do so: make a list. I think I have blogged about my undying love for lists. This is not one of those lists. I do love lists where I can cross stuff off. Sometimes it is just a one liner cross off. Sometimes, it is an all out black out so that you can't even read what was just completed. I really haven't ever used check-offs. Nor have I used squiggley wavy lines through an item. I must admit to having used color coding for items yet to do and items completed.

In some areas of my world, I am uber organized. Others.....not so much. Spice cabinet? Organized and labeled.
My office desk at school for the first six months after moving to a new office? Still in boxes. Meh.

1. I love when Lionel snores and dream barks. (Folks, this is a King size bed.)

2. I have lost 32.5 pounds since April as of last Monday.

3. I just got rid of one bag of clothes that were ratty and two bags to sell at the secondhand store. That was so much fun....new wardrobe to fit the new body.

4. I bought a Meyer Lemon Tree and the first lemon is forming with five more blossoms on the way.

5. It has been way easier to lose weight this time around. Like freak-me-out-easier.

6. We have an intricate system of moving colder air around our house. Window unit plus the "Hawaiian Breeze" fan on the first level. The Breeze may be Hawaiian in nature, but the sound is akin to a jet engine at take off. That sucker is loud.

7. I rarely have reaction to mosquito bites. Which is good in Minnesota.

8. I haven't done anything to prepare for school starting like I thought I would (And that is on my summer to do list....) other than put the school calendar dates into my planner. Oh, I also went to school and GOT the planner. See? I am accomplishing things....

9. I am completely fine with the level of accomplishments in number 8. I am enjoying my summer and nap schedule.

10. Sometimes, I don't recognize myself in the mirror---my face looks thinner. I do a little inner I-am-proud-of-myself-dance when that happens.

11. I am learning how to knit this summer. I feel like I am 72. But I really like it. I am making my second hat right now. We will not be discussing the first hat----felting incident gone wrong. So very wrong.

12. Benchwarmers was a stupid movie, but I cannot control myself at the part where the guy who hates the sun has to go outside to get the girl scout cookies....I am laughing out loud by myself right now. With the Samurai sword and the screaming and the sticking the hand out to test the sun. Who is that guy again? The butterfly guy from Chuck and Larry??

13. Still laughing.

14. I took a mozzarella cheese making class Wednesday. I thought it would be starting from "scratch" and milk. Nope. I feel a little cheated as it was started from mozzarella curds. Essentially, the instructor heated up the curds to melt them together to form a fresh mozzarella ball. I think it should be classified as less "making" and more "reconstituting". Truth in advertising, my friends, truth in advertising.

15. What was the point of calling cards in a social sense? "Hey, I was here."? It seems weird.

16. In the battle of Me v. Spiders? I am losing. I thought I got all the cobwebs last week....month? Turns out not so much. I tell myself: "The house is 115 years old, spiders are going to live in your house with you." (The truth is, I don't necessarily fear spiders....I just have Spider Karma Issues. Like if I kill one, all the Spider Buddies will gang up and come and crawl all over me while I slumber. Someone else in my house doesn't help matters by talking about laying spider eggs in/on me while I sleep....)

17. I made a Plum Crisp last night. It was pretty good...the plums were ripe.

Ah....more space has been freed in my head. And now, off to walk the beast before it gets Africa Hot and Carribean Humid.

Uhmmm....hi. Hi.

2010-07-10T14:17:00.009-05:00

We got Lionel a year ago last Monday. I think he weighed 20 lbs? We are estimating he weighs 160-165 right now. I bet his head alone weighs 30 lbs. The dog is big. As I type, he is laying on the dining room floor meticulously unraveling and obliterating a rope pull toy.

You have to feel bad for the kid, he destroys almost any toy in five minutes. Stuffed animals with squeakers? Gone--3 minutes. I got him a stuffed alligator toy with 16 squeakers, half were non-functioning before we were out of the Petco parking lot. He loves--LOVES---tennis balls, but now they are too small for his maw. I am afraid he will choke. Kong Brand does make a bunch of bigger toys that are covered in the tennis ball fuzz. He loves to delicately peel back the fuzz with his front teeth. AND they have squeakers. He still has to be watched with those; he goes for the squeakers first, gets those out, then goes about chewing off chunks of the rubber. We thought he was just Cookie Monstering it (chewing and the pieces fall out the side of his mouth) but today I caught him chewing a sizable piece of the tennis ball like it was chewing gum.

The only, ONLY, toy that is has not been able to destroy is the black rubber Kong. The red one? Shredded.

Poor Form.

2009-12-12T07:39:00.006-06:00

I procrastinated. I avoided. I meant to. I didn't realize how long it had been since I posted. I thought it was maybe late October. I knew it was bad when I couldn't remember what my log in password was to Blogger.

Poor form.

Let's see:

-The test. Remember when I said I would be embarrassed if I didn't pass the test because it was all social studies content and I TEACH social studies and I should pass with flying colors and I don't need to study, it's social studies content for Cripes Sake? (Should it be troubling that I just read "sake" as Sah-Kay".....as in the Japanese alcohol and it is not even 8 am? Hmmmm.) Back to the test. Yep. Didn't pass. I thought I did just fine, the writing could have gone better (But I thought that about the GREs last spring and that was my best score, so I didn't get too wrapped up in beating myself up)...but the social studies content stuff I did fine. I think. I have also been meaning to send the fax requesting the test results to see just where I bombed it. There was other stuff on the test that I could have been more prepared for. Eh. I can take it again next year....and I don't know, maybe study for this next time? It will always be there.

-We put up a fence. You don't even know---well, some of you do---how gleeful this makes me. A bit of privacy from the many, many, many children that live in the cul-de-sac we share with 8 townhomes. Don't get me wrong....I like kids (teacher---remember?) but not 25+ screaming and crying and whining and yelling and crashing bikes and trying to destroy anything and everything with a plastic baseball bat.......all 20 feet from our house. Personal fave: Playing Frisbee with a metal garbage can lid. I kid you not. If I wanted that, I would have moved into a house next to an elementary school. Or a penitentiary. So, a privacy fence to block sight and much of the sound-----the true test will be this spring when it warms up-----does a world of wonders.

-Lionel is huge. He is almost 8 months and we estimate just under 100 lbs. Leviathan. He still tries to walk under the dining room table even though he clearly can walk up to it and his chin is above the table top. There is zero struggle to rest his chin on the table or take something from our plates, should he so choose to do. We are thinking he will stop gaining height soon and just start filling out. He is lanky. He also celebrated Thanksgiving the traditional way by getting neutered. You're welcome?

-School seems to not be kickin' my ass so much anymore. We may or may not have had a conversation about "not having to hit a homerun everyday" with school. MY response was "Oh, believe me, I am not trying to do that. I am just trying to keep my head above water and not give worksheets and show movies everyday." I think something sunk in, or I got into a groove, and it doesn't seem to be taking all my time. Many changes this year:

1. A new schedule going from 3 class periods to teach to five class periods (60+ more students' work to grade)

2. 2 brand new classes to teach that I have never taught before, and 1 class I have taught before, but not on this schedule (Also switching the pacing from semester to full year classes) and not with the new textbook. This is the largest part of the the time commitment. Planning is fun, but not all the time. I mean ALL the time.

3. Teaming where four teachers share the same 150-ish kids. So, we have lots of meetings about our kids that are struggling, misbehaving, going through traumatic experiences, meeting with parents, meeting with the counselor, meeting with the administration.

There are lots of meetings.

4. Freshmen. New to our school, previously we were 10-12, now we are 9-12. Three classes of them. On a good day, in a good mood, I love their energy and enthusiasm. I love their puppy-ness. Lanky, awkward, goofy, sweet, insightful, still "get into" school, naive, fresh. On a not so good day, when I am in a not so good frame of mind, they bug. That lanky and awkward turns into clumsy and accident prone, goody become irritating, sweet becomes not so, and so on. They become less fresh and become more of energy vampires. I have said a lot of things I never pictured myself saying while teaching high school. For example:

-"Were you unaware that he was coloring your arm yellow with a marker?" (Literally, the entire arm was colored yellow from a sharpie. Fingertip to ELBOW. The response to my query: "I wasn't really paying attention." SERIOUSLY?!?!?! You have no space to complain about it unless you are numb from the shoulder down. In which case, a yellow arm is the least of my concerns. Go to the nurse.)

-"At what point did you all agree that it would be a good idea to play "Ninja" in my classroom?"

-"There is NO air shanking in World History class! Period."

-"No, you actually are not allowed to cut her ponytail off."

-"Seriously. Even if she says it is okay. No. End of discussion. This is a World History class room, not a hair salon."

-"SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?" There are lots of these. Not that I would ever picture myself not saying this......it is the frequency with which I say it and the tone of actual (not fake, just for effect) disbelief that is adopted upon utterance of said phrase.

-"Alright. Who is carpet bombing my room with flatulence?" Lies; I didn't ACTUALLY say this. But, believe me, there has been a stretch of two weeks here where some has had some serious gastrointestinal issues. I know who it is, but how do you have that conversation??? I know, because they have been audible---during the time I am lecturing and they are all blessedly quiet----so I know who it is by the studied, rapt attention of the perp as well as the tittering going on in the immediate vicinity. (You want to make an entire room of 14 year old boys giggle? Have someone fart. Done and done.) My response: "Alright, enough. I am aware of it. Let's move on." Everyone else who is unaware of what is happening (very few of the students): "What? What happened? What are you talking about?" And then all looking around like prairie dogs popping out of their holes.

Pray for me. Just.....pray for me.

Hmmmm...

2009-09-20T11:52:00.002-05:00

So. I registered for the foreign service exam....step one in a process of a lot more steps.

An intriguing option for a new career path. Living overseas again intrigues me. I was invited to take the test which is a good sign. The test, from what I have read, is pretty heavy on Social Studies content---US History, US Economy, World history, current events, geography......it really shouldn't be a problem and if it is I should be embarrassed to not have passed it. There is also a writing portion, again, not worried about it. I took the GREs last spring and writing was my best score.

We shall not discuss my math scores.

Test date is October 3rd. I am excited to get moving on it.

People. It's Power to the People Time...Just Do It Before Sunday.

2009-09-11T17:18:00.011-05:00

Folks, I need your help. I have a great friend who has been working hard at setting up her own business. She works out of her home, she works hard and she works a lot. Now, many people hate when others ask for this kind of help, but I can vouch for her, she is top notch.

She has been working hard the past couple years, and is doing okay, but this vote could really help her out. It is through American Express and NBC. The winner can get $50,000 in marketing money to help support their small business efforts in these tough economic times. It is really difficult for small businesses to get grants. And that is what this is; it's not a loan, it is a grant. To a small business owner, manna from heaven.

Here all I need you to do:

1.) Go to this page: (Sorry for no hyperlink, for some reason, it shows up when I am editing, but not when I publish the post. My sincere apologies.....you'll have to do it the old fashion way: copy and paste.)

http://shinealight.ivillage.com/sbo-profile/?ProfileID=8283

2.) Do the quick registering in order to vote, up in the upper right corner of the page.

3.) Go back to the "simply homemade" (The same link above) page and click on the "Endorse now" button with the flashlight at the top of the column on the left.

That's it. Clickety-Click-Click.

So simple.

If you want to check out what she simply home makes, just to make sure it isn't some lurid site specializing in niche market porn, there is a link to her website on the page linked above.

I assure you, it's all above board, people.

Power to the Peeps. Here is your chance to make your voice heard. Don't squander it.

2009-09-07T08:04:00.003-05:00

Seriously? I am so in love with this dog. Someone in our house has made the comment, "You really like taking pictures of his snout, don't you?"

Yes, yes I do. I am not really sure why.
The jowls?
The whiskers on the front that tickle you when he comes in close to sniff you?
It doesn't matter. I like it all.

He is growing so fast. He is still all legs and paws and ears. People think I am starving him because he is so skinny; not true people. Giant breeds have really delicate joints, especially when they are puppies. You can't let them pack on the pounds too fast because it can do serious, permanent damage to the joints. Also, too much running and gallivanting around.

With him? Really not a problem most of the time.

I mean, he IS still a puppy. He likes to play. He likes to chase after moths and catch them (it is hilarious---he really stalks them and gets a hunter pose, even though mastiffs are not hunters, per say.).......when he does catch them, he is as surprised as we are and he dutifully eats them since he has them in his mouth anyway.

He is still a puppy and figuring out his world. Sniffing is huge. In this picture, the neighbors were having a pool party....some new smells. 13 and 14 year olds. Lots of them. Lots of squealing--a noise he had been unfamiliar with coming from this side of the house. The other side? He's got those neighbs down like a textbook. Lots of kids, lots of high pitched screaming and shrieking from those kids. He doesn't even bother turning his head. When we are outside, he will just look at them when they are making noise and then look at me like, "Why, mama, why?"

And his is a total doofus. He still sleeps on his back, but now his jowls flap open to expose his new white big boy teeth.

His paws are huge. They keep getting bigger and he can't catch up.

And then.........the crash. The drugged out look when he can no longer go on. The dropping on the floor or yard wherever he is and instantaneous sleep. He fights it most times, especially if he is having fun.

He is getting really mastiff-y. I love with puppies sit on their butts. I hope he always does this because it slays me everytime.

He is growing into more of his brindle. He will be mostly black, like his dad, but he has gotten more of the fawn color.

He does love laying in the sunbeams in the morning. Sniffing...surveying his kingdom.

School starts tomorrow. I am gonna miss hanging out with him during the day. That, I know for sure.

Growing...

2009-08-05T21:53:00.001-05:00

Our garden, our dog, my impatience to find out what I am teaching this year (in less than five weeks...) my love of our life at this house.

Garden:
Just pickled the first pickling cukes from the garden. Eh. I think I could have done better, but I am definitely getting better at just diving in and not worrying about it being perfect.

This could potential be a problem. Botulism and what not.

Dog:
Lionel gained 20 pounds in 4 weeks. Enough said.

School:
Frustrated.

My love of our life in this house:
We have been working on sprucing up the "Grounds". We took down two apple trees......and by we, I mean, not me. I was brush duty. Lopping off branches, hauling branches, loading branches, unloading branches, raking branches.

Which is fine because no one wants to see me try and operate a chainsaw. And theoretically come out of the experience with all limbs still attached.

I'm just saying.

You're welcome.

Tonight, we worked on the creek bed and getting a lot of the brush knocked out. And by we I mean mostly not me. I was primary pickler at the time and also supper maker. I can't believe how low the creek is. Or that we have a creek. It looks really good already---way better.

Plus, with us taking the house off the market, I have been in the process of changing my mindset on staying here for a while longer.

And directing all my concentration at winning the powerball so we can put a fence.

Saturday Morning Update.

2009-07-25T08:43:00.007-05:00

So far this morning, we.....and by we I mean Lionel with me observing---and occasionally intervening....have done the following:

-Come downstairs all by ourselves:

Bunny Hop from SoThereThen Gal on Vimeo.

-"Helped" (Attacked) bring the hose up from the garden to the house

-Chewed on all the toys in the house

-Chewed on the leather ottoman (That may have gotten us an ear bite from me)

-Drank all the water and shared with everybody via the drips from the jowls (He got those this week....he is really starting to look like a mastiff)

-Defended the homestead from the Evil Angel Bulldog:

Defending the Homestead from SoThereThen Gal on Vimeo.

-Tried to dig a hole to China (Another ear bite when we didn't listen to the mama dog growl from me)

-Tried a second time to dig a hole to China after we were told to knock it off (another ear bite.....five minutes after the first bite. Attention Span or just Short Term Memory Problem? Nah, just being a puppy.)

-Sat and watched the runners and walkers go by in a race around town

-Investigated the culvert at the corner of the property.....not too much though, cause it was dark inside and a little scary

-Defended the homestead from the Trifecta of Fiendish Foes:
*Sundry Rocks (Stellar bit of luck that we have a gravel driveway!)
*Bark-Slash-Sticks-Slash-Things-That-Can-Come-Off-Trees-Including-Leaves
*Pine cones
(Hand to God, I have my hands in his mouth or prying open his mouth at least once every 3 minutes when we are outside)

-Had a light breakfast of kibbles---just 1 of the 2 cups for the morning feeding. We'll finish it when we wake up from our morning crash.

Snuggied up to the radiator for said nap. Our legs and as much of our body that can fit, is shoved under the radiator. We can't fit under the Hoosier Cabinet any more.

We need to rest up for our second Puppy Playtime at Petco today at 3.

Seriously, this dog is hilarious. We went to puppy playtime on Thursday and I was a bit concerned when he wouldn't come out of the corner of the bigdog pen for the first 40 minutes. There was a pretty aggressive puppy that Lionel would have NOTHING to do with except when Aggresivo tried to engage him in "playing".....it was more of an attack/fight. Lionel bared his teeth for the first time to defend himself successfully. Which was good; that is the whole purpose of puppy playtime. Learning how to behave like a dog and get along with other dogs.

Once the aggressive dog left (Got kicked out......in a passive aggressive Minnesota way. The trainers didn't ask the owner to take the puppy, they waited until the owner finally clued in that the puppy was terrorizing everyone and asked: "Should I take her home?" The response: "Uhmmmm, yeah, you know, I think that might be a good idea. She seems to have had enough today."), things got better.

Lionel started trying to play with the toys first and then worked his way up to actual other puppies. Two golden retrievers, a 1/5 his size, were clowning around and Lionel started barking.

And then wagging.

And then he got up.

And then he was playing.

And all the puppy parents cheered for Lionel.

And then, 10 minutes later, puppy playtime was over and someone---I am not naming any names but it starts with a "Lie" and ends with an "O-Nell"---didn't want to leave the store.

So, we go back today to a different store. Big plans for the day, and for the evening as he absolutely CRASHED when he can home.

He is still crammed under the radiator, but now he is dreaming and barking in his sleep. I love this dog.

All this, before 9 am.

The Italians Are Coming! The Italians Are Coming!

2009-07-18T15:05:00.004-05:00

I just like saying it as if I was Paul Revere. I am pretty sure there will be no gun play upon their arrival. The family I nannied for almost 20 years ago is all grown up, mostly. The father is coming with the two boys as the eldest is going to a attend a couple courses in Ann Arbor and the youngest is traveling with dad to come visit after they see the eldest off on the train from Chicago.

Wow. Good thing I am not an English teacher. That sentence is a wicked run on.

The youngest was 10 months old when I arrived. He is now in high school.

I refuse to admit, officially, any sort of aging on my part.

June. A Few Highlights.

2009-07-15T20:23:00.011-05:00

Seattle, Washington. I was so excited to show my family this as I loved visiting in college (crap...20 years ago.). Somehow, it wasn't the same. I don't know why I am surprised. It's been 20 years, but, it seemed like just yesterday. Wah.

Blueberries, Tongass Rainforest, Sitka, Alaska.

Mosquito Bay--through the trees, Tongass Rain Forest, Sitka, Alaska.

Hubbard Glacier, Alaska.

Docks in Sitka, Alaska. I pretended that we were moving here and life would be dreamy. Then.....I realized that there is a lot of down time in small towns and Alaska is really far away.

Just kidding. I would move to Sitka for a while in a heart beat.

Ketchikan, Alaska. There were lots of diamond jewelry stores. I think maybe I was done being on the ship on this day. I did like this little area, though.

Monkey Puzzle Tree, Buchart Gardens, Victoria, Canada. One of the highlights of the trip for me. This place was flipping amazing. I really, really liked it.

Sunken Garden, Buchart Gardens, Victoria, Canada....this was a surprise. You would never know it is there.....the amount of time and effort put into these gardens was mind boggling.

Himalayan Blue Poppy. Buchart Gardens, Victoria, Canada. Poppies. We Already established that I heart them. But blue??!?!?!? What will those crazy kids come up with next? I may or may not have bought some seeds to bring home regardless of the fact that they probably won't grow in zone 4. A girl can dream.

A cedar.....I think. A flippin tall tree, at any rate. Same place.

We went on a family cruise to Alaska. Second family trip in 39 years. Plus various spouses. That's a lot of family time. It went much better than I expected..........AND I won $500 the first night in Bingo. That doesn't stink.

Lionel Live.

2009-07-11T18:02:00.010-05:00

Hiccups. from SoThereThen Gal on Vimeo.

MY favorite is when he goes for the camera and hiccups right into it.

When we got him six days ago, he looked like a black lab puppy. He still does but today, or maybe yesterday, a mastiff wrinkle became more apparent on his snout, right behind his nose. We took him to the vet on Wednesday and he had gained 12.5 pounds in three weeks. Lionel---toddlergoofball. With the attention span to match as the next video demonstrates:

The Attention Span. from SoThereThen Gal on Vimeo.

He Might Be Lionel.

2009-07-07T12:35:00.007-05:00

Mastiff Mug.

Superman Style Sleeping.

Baby Teeth.

The Sleep of the Dead, Toddlers and Puppies.

Our Newest Addition.

Poppies. I Heart Them.

2009-06-04T19:07:00.006-05:00

A poppy. What a fun name. It sounds hoppy and happy. It is one of my top three favorite flowers. This beauty was waiting for me when I came out to water before school this morning. Glee-producing...that is how much I love them. If I could have had them in my bridal bouquet, I would have. My mom said that they didn't do well as a cut flower. Boo and hiss.

I love the crinkles. I love the hugeness and boldness of it all.

I love the papery look, but when you touch it, it is petal soft.

This one should be open tomorrow morning....as I was walking into the garage to put the camera away so I could go to school (the boys have been using it in the garage as they document the restoring of the Torino)---I noticed this:

How many people can say their outfits coordinated and downright match their garden flowers? Huh? And I didn't even plan it. My poppy and I......we are one.

One More Step Forward.

2009-06-02T18:34:00.003-05:00

So, we had a home visit for MidWest Mastiff Rescue on Sunday. I think we have decided to go the rescue dog route again. I must say it was an easy decision. A: Cheaper. (By a lot.) B: Good Karma. C: Sophie was a rescue dog and enough said. I have a soft spot for drama cases. Shocking no one.

I, of course, want to adopt them all. Again, shocking none.

But, we shall start with one. We have requested a female, puppy/young dog. Sometime after July 4th after we are back from our travels so there are fewer transitions to said dog. I think/know I really want a fawn mastiff but, truth be told, I would take just about anything. Although, I am really hoping not a brindle like Sophs because I can still tear up at a picture of her and that might be too much. Or it could be really fantastic therapy. Something tells me that isn't the case.

I just want a dog in the house again. A lot. Frannklin, the bulldog, came for sleepovers this weekend and I had forgotten the sound of clickity-click on the wood floors and the messy water drinking and climbing up on the couch ordeal.

I miss her.

Many Sophomoric Things Could Be Said...

2009-06-01T20:57:00.008-05:00

Wurstmaching. That is a lot of meat that will thus become bratwurst. Ah, the Bratwurst. We have already grilled some of this batch and I must say that the boys did a very excellent job. I have yet to sample the cheddar and jalapeno version. This is loading up the sausage stuffer thingy. I am sure there is some official name, but no clue.

These are the casings for the sausage. Apparently, they must be soaked to make them pliable. Sheep intestines, I do believe.

The meat has to be packed in pretty good to avoid air bubbles in the brats.

Sausage stuffing contraption hooked up to the press that will press down on the meat that is packed into the stuffer that will squooge the meat out into the sausage casing....

But first you have to load the casing onto the sausage stuffer and oil it up so that it slides off easily....entering the sophomoric area (If we don't already have a day pass in sophomore land.)

Those casings are long! There is a finished picture at the end of the post. I was surprised.

Some trouble bubbles that were popped with a sharpish knife.

This apparently took some finesse. The person doing this job has to make sure that the casing doesn't get caught up on the loader tip and at the same time wind the stuffed casing into a coil.

Ta Da! This was one casing...I left before they were completely finished. They had two big tubs to fill up.

This is the same first finished product. After there were a couple coils done and in the tub, but before they were pinched off by twisting the casings into sausage shapes, I had a job. That job was to pop the air bubbles in the casings. I was steadfast. I was focused. I did NOT pay attention to keeping the coils neat and orderly. I was thorough in my bubble investigations. I might or might not have gotten a little yelled at for messing up the coils. They were pretty.

And now, they are yummy as the finished product.

Huh?

2009-05-31T21:50:00.003-05:00

I can't decide if it looks more like a potful of parasites or really poorly made linguine. Details to follow...

Parasitic Linguine, maybe?

And I Don't Even LIKE Geraniums.

2009-05-29T20:23:00.001-05:00

I was in conversation on a walk the other day and was asked what my favorite flower was. I listed off 5 or 6 in rapid succession and then just as rapidly, the same amount of those that I don't like. These are geraniums that I took a picture of at the gardens one morning on a walk with my mom. I guess I can palate these geraniums.

Flowers I do like, Tulips (Around my birthday bought from a store but not when they bloom in spring. Novelty in February, over it by May.), Blue/Purple Delphiniums (They are almost ready to bloom at my house--yay!), red, red, red poppies....no, wait, I lie. I like poppies in generally--they are one of my favorites, but especially poppies. Peonies, also ready to bloom. Butterfly Weed, the orange variety. Purty. Hollyhocks, but only the old fashion single bloom, not the double hybrid one (It looks too much like a carnation or mum.) Oh and lilacs (love the smell). And lavender. And lilies of the valley. Cosmos are fun because they look like a flower that a kid would draw.

Flowers on my Not Love List: Geraniums (everyone has them...), carnations, mums, marigolds (stink-eee.), most roses, petunias, impatiens (worked at a garden center and spent my days dead heading those buggers. Not fun.), lilies (stinky and funeral-ly.), and day lilies but not because they stink...because everyone has them. Oh, and anything I can easily kill. I lust for the positive reinforcement of a plant in my care successfully living to see another day of sun and potential overwatering by moi.

I am a picky gardener. One area where I am not wishy-washy in the least.

I Know........I Know.

2009-05-28T20:50:00.009-05:00

I have no real reason. "End of the school year" kind of holds water. Does "Spring fever" work? Sure, I guess. But, I am back to check in now........anybody out there?

Here is something for your viewing pleasure....I am not super into this kind of dancing, but this, this I liked watching. I like observing people doing what they love to do and do it well for that reason.

I just want to bite those dimples. Those of you that know me, know that cute babies and sundry cuteness in general make me want to bite. I am not sure why.

I don't think that I would ever actually bite a child with fatty sausage roll legs or this kid's dimples, but my husband has been known to throw out the precursory warning before seeing potential cuteness, "Now remember...what do we not bite even though they are super cute beyond belief?"

And I am forced to reply in a petulant, somewhat confused-somewhat embarrassed monotone, "Babies and cute kids. We don't bite babies."

And then he says, satisfactorily, "That's right. No biting babies."

And then we go. Is there a name for this? A clinical term? A condition like dry scalp or allergies that I could take a pill for and be a tad more socially functional.....or at least without reminders?

Maybe I shouldn't have stayed away so long...looks what it has led to: random confessions and a overuse of dot, dot, dots.

Name the movie: "Good day, sir.----I said Good Day!"

Hitchcock in Suburbia??

2009-04-11T17:34:00.005-05:00

Our neighbor has homing pigeons. Which means that, many days, we have homing pigeons. Up until today they kept their lurking to the garage roof, the house roof, or an occasionaly foray into the driveway for some pecking and scraping and general presence. Nothing more than a very minor nusiance as they disperse and sometimes scare you in their flight away from the human walking towards them.

Today was different. They became bolder. More sinister. More......present.

Just before I took the picture, there were four pigeons on the window ledge of our bedroom window. I was sitting on the bed, working on the advisory job work, and I heard them cooing rather loudly. I looked over and there were three. Just looking at me. From the window. Lurking. Menacingly. Stalking almost. I imagined them thinking, "Ah ha. NOW we know where you sleep. Very interesting." I may or may not be extrapolating and exaggerating, but they COULD have been thinking that, who are we to say that they can't have such birdy thoughts??

If you have been paying attention, you realize that I initially mentioned FOUR birds. I, of course, have no digital proof (I think it is all part of their master plan to freak me out)...........but the 4th is the ring leader. He is the one I am worried about. The 4th was hanging off the window screen in an attempt (in my mind) to get inside the house. All flappy with his wings and graspy with his claws....no talons......pigeon talons of death....just there. Making his presence and his posse known. Grasping the screen and then flapping his wings as if to fly off with the screen in an effort to return and better peck his way through the window. To me. As I lay sleeping tonight.

I might be imagining this, but you never know. Maybe they heard we were making maple syrup.

Winding Down.

2009-04-07T18:25:00.003-05:00

We have almost two gallons of syrup. How much does a person really need? Lest you think we are sugar fiends and syrup hogs, we are sharing it will those that came out to our house to help with the process.

And the meat smoking that is a week from Sunday...the bacon will be maple flavored this time.

I think I am ready to be done talking about, thinking about and writing about maple syrup.

You?

Now THAT Looks Like Syrup....

2009-04-02T22:01:00.007-05:00

Our new set up has produced much better results, for which we are quite pleased. The new brew kettle has almost solved the problem entirely. Instead of dumping boiling sap into another pot (much like you might drain pasta) to reduce further on the stovetop, we have been doing this.

Now, that catches a lot of the sugar sand as it has hopefully settled below the level of spigot. I believe we would have more settlement if we were to wait a period before siphoning it off, but we have so much sap to reduce it just seems like it would be taking too much non-boiling time. So, we have been filtering it as it comes out. Like this:

You can see how much gunk is caught by the filter. Which translates into less gunk for me to skim off the top of the syrup when it is just about finished/finished.

This is what it looks like in between the boilings: from raw sap to reduced sap before we put it on the stovetop in the kitchen to finish it off.

You can see a difference in the appearance: The first picture is our very first, sedimenty, batch. Cloudy, opaque and sedimenty. The second is our second batch that produced much better syrup. It is boiling clear, you can see the boil bubbles as they come up fromt he bottom of the pot, it just looks like boiling syrup, not boiling syrupy milky milk.

Which translates into this: first batch of syrup on the right, second batch on the left.

Look at the clarity! I feel like I am becoming a syrup nerd.......quite honestly, I don't even love maple syrup. There I said it. For me, I just wanted to learn how to do it and just try making it. I rarely order pancakes at a restaurant, preferring to go for the eggs and toast or omelet. I don't crave pancakes with loads of maple syrup. I detest maple flavoring, I never pick maple log doughnuts, I don't like maple in my breakfast sausages.....why am I doing this again? It is just one more thing in the learning hopper from which to draw. You know, if I am ever stranded on a deserted island and need something to do with my time.

It is just so pretty. So pretty.

Just to keep us humble, our third batch has some cloudiness, but not like the first. That's okay, as we will have to do something with the first batch anyway, what's one more jar??

I will share this with you: In the past, when people gave me homemade food gifts, my thoughts were, "Mm. Nice.", and then proceeded to mentally put my appreciation along with the jar and forget about it. After having made blueberry jam last summer, canned pesto, roasted the red peppers and dried the peppers, "helping" with the meat smoking, and now this syrup business....I don't think I can do that any more. I know how much work goes into these things. I am obliged to appreciate the fact that someone is sharing with me something that is precious to them as a result of the work and time that has gone into it. Unless, of course, it is like canned mushrooms. That's my line in the sand. Ew.

Sugar Shack, Sugar Sand and other Sundry Sugarbushing Tales

2009-04-01T21:02:00.013-05:00

Okay, so we may have been overreaching with the "pancakes for breakfast" scenario. I went to bed at 12:30 am the last night I posted. I couldn't do anymore reducing on the kitchen stove as the thermometer wasn't taking a reading because the level of sap/syrup was too low. So, we decided to wait until we had more sap reduced down, to bring the level in the kettle on the stove up. The boys stayed up until 3:30 am.

Which meant that, yesterday, I had more reduced sap to work with and so I put a pot on to boil right when I got home from school.

There was a lot of particulates or sediment in the bottom of the storage kettle after I dumped into the pot we already had reduced down, which will become more important later in our little adventure. It looks like calcification which turns out to be be somewhat true in that it is calcium deposits.

It looks like it would be hard and crusty from looking at the picture below, but it actually is more powdery than it looks. It comes off really easily with water. When it is in the sap boiling, it looks like talcum powder might look in a kettle of water when you swirl it around. It's called sugar sand.....our new friend.

So, back to boiling the sap. As it reduced down to a lower concentration of water and a higher concentration of sugar, it started to look different.

If you have ever carmelized sugar, it looks the same. The bubbles break differently, it takes on a thicker, slower appearance.

And......we continue boiling.

Meanwhile, out in the sugar shack, we have a new set up. Our sugarbushing partner decided it was time to use his brew kettle. Bigger. Meaner. And it has a spigot. I just wanted to use "spigot". It's a fun one. We could crank out more boiling in less time. The photos are deceptive. The kettle is pretty big.

This is a photo of straining the raw sap into the brew kettle; I missed taking it the first round of boiling. It is basically cheesecloth in a kitchen strainer to keep the bigger particles like dirt and gunk.

And....we continue boiling. As we got closer to being done, it started to foam. I was really glad that we didn't have much in the kettle once it had reduced down to more sugary than watery. It is at this point tht you really must watch it carefully. It expands quite a bit and you are almost done and cooking it longer than needed will burn it and ruin hours, hours people, of hard watching of stuff boiling.

You can see just how much it expands in less than a minute....I think. It seemed really fast.

It is done when the thermometer reads 104 celcius or 219 farenheit. Or the spoon test if you are familiar with jelly and jam making. I don't have a picture of this as I was too concerned about going past that and burning.

We decided to "can" our syrup in Mason jars as I said in the last post, so at this point when we are getting close to being ready for the jars and hours have gone by, I realize that I have not heated my jars. I quick throw them in the dishwasher and do a hi temp sani rinse. I also put the lids on the stove to heat while the last bit of syrup magic is happening.

We wanted to filter it one more time to get some more gunky stuff out. We tried the coffee filter method. It started out working okay. A pretty steady stream dripping out the bottom.

Look at how beautiful that syrup color is.

It was fun while it lasted. As the syrup cooled, it got clogged in the gunk and the filter. Then, I may or may not have knocked the jar and spilled a bit on the counter, down the dishwasher, onto the floor. Precious moments. Brought to you by me. I don't have a picture of that shining moment for you. But I do have this for your viewing pleasure. The syrup equivalent of getting your car stuck in the mud two blocks from your destination after a cross country road trip.

Eventually, we got it into jars, by keeping the flame just enough to keep the syrup warm, but not too hot. We tried cheesecloth, we tried various methods....but eventually ended up using a super fine mesh spoon, similar to a non-disposable coffee filter. It wasn't fine enough, but it was better than the roadblock we had. Which resulted in cloudy-ish syrup.

You can't really see through the jars as you might with maple syrup. As the jars cooled and things settled, it became clear how NOT friends we are with sugar sand. A new nemesis, in a different way than Doritos, perhaps? These pictures are in the order in which we processed them. You can see how they become progressively murkier at the bottom of the jar.

We have had better luck today and I will try and get the results on tomorrow. I have high hopes there will be no murk. No gunk. No clouds of doom. But apparently there WILL be drama by the way I am talking. Over and out. Gotta go empty the sap buckets.

Boiling Sap.

2009-03-30T20:02:00.004-05:00

There is so much. So much sap. Holy cow. We don't have small trees, so that is part of it, but I don't think we were prepared for how much we have gotten.

I got home from school and the boiling sap process had begun. I missed taking pictures of straining the sap with a splatter screen we got with our cookware set and a piece of cheescloth over it. The stock pot with thick walls is doing better, from the report I got upon arrival home, now that it is in the garage, protected rather than out in the driveway. It was reported that the wind kept affecting the flame. The sap starts out just looking just like water, but as the sugar content gets higher and the water content gets lower, the color begins to darken...seen here.

We, and by we I mean not me, boiled the sap for a couple hours and got it reduced down to a quantity that we could move inside to finish. For us, right now, that means my 8 quart stock pot. Which is boiling on my stove as I type. We are monitoring the reduction. And by we I mean me. The boys are outside in the garage, with the next batch of raw sap. They just came in to report that it is now boiling, after maybe 4o minutes on the flame.

We are planning on canning it in Mason jars when we get to the point where we have syrup. The sap is syrup when the temperature reads 104 celsius or 220 Farenheit. I am a little nervous about being in charge of the finishing as if I miss the point of syrup and it turns into Maple Sugar, I screwed up. OR worse yet, burn it and ruin it.

I will tell you that everyone here is pretty excited for breakfast tomorrow. Mmmm, pancakes, homemade syrup and breakfast links made by the boys in the last round of meating. If the aroma of the kitchen right now is any indication, yum. And Yum.

What Have We DONE?

2009-03-29T20:28:00.004-05:00

Remember when I said we were going to tap our silver maple trees? And we were going to make maple syrup? And how hard could it be? Well, we got a late start, and by we I mean me, on ordering the taps. Now I wanted to go all nostalgic and get the old fashioned kind of maple taps and pretend I was Laura Ingalls Wilder and all that old timey business. But, because we, and by we I mean me, were late in the ordering (Late like early last week) everything was sold out. So we got what are called drop line taps. Which is pictured above.

And actually, I think my procrastination might have been a helpful thing at this point. They are plastic taps and a rigid tube about four feet long comes out and we have put them into Ale Pails from a sugarbushing (I am pretending I am all in the maple syrup community and using the lingo. I could totally be using the terminology completely wrong.) partner in crime. He also makes beer and is a meatsmoking partner.

We tapped the trees last Monday, and by we I mean not me. I came home from school to alien looking forms. Then we promptly had a cold spell where the temperature dropped below 40 degrees during the day. No sap running.

Until today. Yikes, it got up to a measly 42, maybe 43 degrees. I picked up sticks in the yard, I raked the red rock back into the driveway from the winter of shoveling and then on a whim I thought I would check the sap buckets. This bad boy had 4/5 of the bucket full (That's a 6.5 gallon bucket, folks.). And that was at 2 pm.

There are two trees with three taps in them and five gallon buckets to collect. There are two trees like this with just one tap and a gallon-ish bucket. This baby was almost full.

!!!!!!

We went to my parents for birthday supper and came home around 7:30 pm and had to empty the little buckets AGAIN.

And we are not even in prime weather. Plentiful sap running is after the temperature drops below freezing overnight and then is sunny and near 60 the next day. Tomorrow is supposed be around 43 again, but overcast which could slow things down. We, and by we I mean not me, are going to have to boil sap tomorrow. We don't have any more containers. And the sap can't sit around when it gets to be in the 40s and 50s because bacteria grows and the sap will spoil.

So, we are making syrup.

And by we, I pretty much mean not me.
Things done so far:
-ordered taps---me.
-tapped trees---not me.
-set up buckets for collection---not me.
-bought boiling container---not me.
-bought cheesecloth to strain/clean sap---me.
-check buckets for sap level---me.
-possess inability to open ale pail covers---me.
-actually open buckets to pour sap into container bucket---not me.
-begin first boiling and actual production---not me.

Sap boiling and condensing into syrup has to be done largely outside. Two reasons, it goes faster when there is a bigger difference in temperature of the air and the sap boiling. Two, the steam is sappy and we have brick walls in our kitchen above the stove and that sticky, messy, oozy, gooey residue would never come off the uneven surface of the bricks. Not that we would even wanted to try. And by we I mean a big me.

Over and out. Sugarbushing Day Two coming soon. Unless we are inundated and can't see the light of day.

Step Two.

2009-03-22T11:25:00.003-05:00

Today we are going to meet with a potential Mama dog. Yep, we are starting the process of looking for a puppy in July.

Am I okay? Absolutely. Am I excited to be around a big-dog-slash-big-dogs? God, yes. I miss a canine presence in the house. I miss Sophie. But I know that doesn't get to change so I am excited to change the presence part.

In the car yesterday, we drove by a huge, beautifu, HUGE fawn colored Great Dane with a black mask. I was a little embarrassed at how excited I got. I might have squealed. People. I don't squeal. Really, I don't.

But I did.

And that's my point.

I am just hoping I don't embarrass myself further and bust into tears at the doglady's place. That would monumentally suck. And........for those that know me know that this a very real possibility. Crapenheimers.

Color and More Color. And Santa M&Ms. Weird.

2009-02-23T19:27:00.004-06:00

So. To celebrate my birthday in the traditional style, my mom and I went for a walk at the Arboretuem. 3 miles. In 16 degree weather. It was fun. No, really, it was. It was brisk and invigorating. I feel like you might not be totally believing me, but I lie not. It really went fast as we had not walked there for over a week and we gabbed the whole time. It was the perfect activity. And, bonus. They had an orchid display inside the building. So color. And more color. I do not crave color as I had two days prior.

A burst to be sure.

This one I just liked for the stripey-stripes. It is not a wow-your-socks-off-with-the-color but it still has impact. It looks like it has swollen adenoids, doesn't it? Or is it just me that see that bloating?

This makes me simultaneously think of Fruit Strip gum and a tropical fruit that smells like feet. Is that bad? If we can't be honest, what do we have?

I've always like pink and yellow together.

This one just scares me. It like it might be the signature flower of a Disney evil nemesis. A nemesis named Pantagrela....And she flies. and this is her signature flower.

Do you see the yellow M & M character disguised, or trying to be disguised, with his green shades and Santa beard? Maybe going down the water slide or else doing the marimba? Is it only me that sees it? Does something happen to your brain when you turn 39?

It Was Almost Gone.

2009-02-21T14:44:00.006-06:00

The huge mounds of snow that were dumped upon us had almost disappeared, thanks to an early February thaw. Muddy yards, brown lawns, dirty cars, all the suffering we went through a couple weeks ago....poof. We got maybe 5 or so inches of fresh snow last night. Crap.

I will reluctantly admit that I did enjoy the clean slate feeling. Cleaning things up around here with a new blanket of clean, white, sparkly snow. The Raccoon Baby in me can't fight the Syndrome. I am easily distracted, Mother Nature. Yet, now we have to go through it all again; the melting, the mud, the brown, the dirt. Eh. It is a part of the cycle, yes. And realistically, you have to be a total meth head to think that winter in Minnesota is over mid-February. Seriously? People laugh at you if you think this is reality.

You do not want the ridicule.

You do, however unrealistic, want THIS.
A little Spring Lovin'.

A little burst of color.

A promise of a tease.

Color, Baby. I miss colors other than brown, gray and white.

I am not sure that I can make it. I lie. I know I can make it and I know it happens every year. The Teasing Thaw. The Sweet-Ass-Pie-We-Made-It-Through-Another-Winter-Yay-Us!!! Feeling.

Don't get me wrong. I like winter. The walk this morning in the fresh powder snow, sunlight glinting on it all sparkly-sparks.

I am craving Spring. Not to the point of the dreaded Fever. But craving it nonetheless.

Tuplis shooting up out of the ground. That might be part of the reason I like them, especially around my birthday.......which means you only have one shopping day left, people. It's tomorrow. I think I like them the most in February when I get some for my birthday and it means spring......Spring......is near. Tulips I can take or leave in April when they are all over the place and everyone is yelling about them. But for my BDs....I'll take Tulips over most other flowers any year of my life.

Even my lunches are craving color.

I am not craving swimsuit season, though. THAT would be crazy talk. And we just don't talk crazy this early in the game around these parts.

I'm Back. I Think.

2009-02-15T12:21:00.005-06:00

I can't believe it has been five weeks. Poor Form, young (maybe not so young) lady, poor form. Super Sorry. Let me fill you in. GREs, Advisory Thingy, Sophie.

I have decided to take the GREs in March. Great, super, I have been thinking about getting my Ph.D. for the past year plus. So, this GRE thing is a step in the right direction, yes? Yes. Especially for the impulsive (me: I think I will get my Ph.D. Wait, the deadline is in a week for applications and I need to take the GREs? Eh. Maybe next year. Repeat.), Procrastinating (me: see previous.) and generally lazy. Ta-Da! Perfect description of me the past year regrading this. Maybe not taking action, it is more deciding to make a decision. Typical moi. Stew and fester and look at it from all angles, and stew some more and then decide to make a decision and then fester a little more and go back and forth and then.....make a decision. Christ. It is mind numbing.

So decision made to at least take the GREs is a step. In the right direction. It doesn't mean that I have ultimately decided to go back to school (Again)but at least I would have the option when impulsiveness strikes again. Done.

Also, this week I began the advisory thingamajig. Not too time consuming last week, but now we are really getting into it. And I like it. I really like it. So far. I didn't think I would like teaching about teaching this much. I mean, I knew I kind of liked it: When I got my master's I played with the idea of becoming a facilitator for the program but never did. (Shocker.) But I am really enjoying this, it makes me realize how much I have learned since first becoming a teacher.

Then there is the always time consuming preparations for President's Day festivities. I kid. There was a lot of general not being able to decide what to write about or just not feeling up to it. Eh. Winter.

Addtionally, and most sadly, Sophie. I have been meaning to tell you all and certainly have been, truthfully, working up the courage to write. I wanted my next post to be about her and how much of a part of our lives she is. Was. We decided to put her to sleep February 2nd. I thought that today I could write about her and not cry. Nope. Failed. Two weeks later the tears are still there...here, the knot in my throat, the wiping my snot on my sleeve (Ish, I know. Sorry, perhaps an overshare.). But these occurrences are happening less and less as I, we, get used to the absence.

It was, as many of you who have had to make such a decision, incredibly hard. I have never had to have my big girl panties on for this kind of stuff. My parents did the heavy lifting with our family dogs, or I was out of the country or something else excuse related. But as He Whom Shall Not Be Blogged About said: "If you get to be there for the good parts, you also have to be there for the bad parts."

And so we went. We made the decision the Friday before. Over a month of deteriorating health, mobility, muscle control and general Sophie-ness. She was the BEST dog I have ever had. Ever. A personality that is rare. And a hole in my heart exists that hurts multiple times a day. I write this not because I want sympathy or attention, but simply because I want to put into words what I am feeling and somehow get it out of my heart. And be done with it. I am not naive enough to think that I will stop missing her or being occasionally sad because I have now blogged about it, but I want to move on, past this mess. Not forget her, certainly not, but take one more step in the process of grieving and everything associated. Was she a pet? Yes. Was she a part of our family? Yes. There is no proportional response to grieving important parts of a family. She was part of ours and while she was "just" a pet, it doesn't make the hurt any less or any less felt.

Did we give her the best life we could at the end of her years? I don't think we could have done anymore. I really, truly, don't. And that made the decision humane, and just a little---a smidge--easier. It was fast. It was painless. We were both there. Done.

And on that note, I am done. We have talked about getting a puppy this summer when I can be home for Puppy Kindergarten and training. I look forward to it. We are Dog People. Capital letters. Mourning her and grieving forever does nothing to bring her back or honor her, in my eyes.

Over and out.

Tapping the Silver Maples.

2009-01-09T18:38:00.003-06:00

I think we might be going to try to make our own maple syrup. This winter/spring. I am pretty sure I might regret it. I am not so stupid as to say, "How hard can it be?"

Have you thoughts?

Shoveling and Sundry Items

2008-12-30T17:14:00.002-06:00

I gotta say it...Shoveling and I are so not BFFs. Our driveway is red rock gravel which is fine in the summer, pretty mucky in the spring, okay in the fall unless there is a lot of rain, but the winter.......not fun. In the beginning, it seems like I am shoveling half rock, half snow.

Right now, our current issue is the recent thaw of a couple days that has produced a beautiful, glorious inch to inch and a half of wonderful.....ice. Clear, smooth, and slippery as all get out. Both of us have had trouble staying upright on it. Which makes shoveling easier because it is smooth, but more difficult because well, you are on a sheet of ice.

I am such a complainer. Let's change the subject.

I have a new part time job. I am an advisor for curriculum for a summer exploration program for high school students at a fancy-schmanzy college out east. I am excited because it is a virtual job meant to be done over the computer. Sweet. I had to make contact with my advisee before the first of the year and set our three week work period. Let's just say that it didn't go well in my brain. I had to call back and change the date as when I went to write it on the calendar of plenty, I realized a scheduling conflict.

So, I called her back.

Which was great, as she had realized that she has a conference in the middle of that period, so we set it for a week earlier. As I hung up, I realized that I kept saying March but I meant February. Crap. Double crap. I knew I said March as I could hear my voice in my head. Mind you, I had just called her back the second time not more than 4 minutes after our first conversation. But, what if she understood March instead of February? Then, she is thinking she has a month more time before we get all Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.....and no one wants that.

So, I called her back.

I really know how to make a fantastic, competent, professional first impression. She is most likely hashing it over with her family over dinner. Stellar. Eh. Gotta let that one go. Wish I could take back those last 10 minutes, but oh well. We all do something similar every now and then. At least when she answered the last time I was laughing and saying something to the effect of I am not as incompetent as this in real life. (For those of you keeping score, she understood it to mean February 9th and not March 9th. Phew. An embarrassing moment for nothing. Great.)

On an up note, I still have most of a week left of break. Which is good because I have not done jack with the school work that I wanted to get done. I don't even remember if I brought home stuff to correct. That is how complete the mind break was. It has been fantastic.

I have been dreaming of Italy. No shocker there, but it has been like three nights in a row that Italy has figured into the dreams that I remember in some fashion. Hmmmmm. It doesn't mean anything portentous as I usually think about going through, traveling in, or moving to Italy in some fashion almost every day. It has not reached obsession status, although it sounds like it, it is more of a casual pastime, really. It is my favorite country I have been to and I like daydreaming about it as a moment of escape from school, families at Christmas, winter......shoveling.

Aim High.

2008-12-12T13:41:00.002-06:00

One must have goals. Mustn't one? (Say "mustn't one" three times fast. Does it sound like a rancid appetizer? No? Must just be me then. Huh.) So. Goals. Having them. Here were my goals today. Let's call them my "goals". As opposed to my "real" goals. My on the DL goals.

My "Goals": Get up, go to locally-owned, non-chain, coffee place that I heart. Preferably with my Sweet Baboo. Come home. Clean the entire house in, like, 2o minutes. Take the dog to the groomer to get nails cut. (I could totally do it if I HAD to, but the nail quick part kind of ooks me out. And, the groomer totally cut one to the quick and it looks like it hurts, but she is a professional and probably wouldn't start sobbing if it happened. Just sayin'.) Go work out. Lose 12 pounds in three minutes because of said stellar workout. Come home, shower and do something productive. Go to department Christmas party. Come home. Sleep through 3:30 am, unlike the last two weeks.

Now, those are my goals on paper. Let's look at my "real" goals. My "Answer Like a Guy" goals. (We play "A.L.A.G." a lot at our house. I tend to use a lot of words. Ones that might or might not need to be said out loud. I verbally vomit my thoughts as I think them and share my whole process of decision making. Which doesn't really work out well for the audience because I am not convinced that, if I had to, I could make a decision to save my life.

Seriously, like "K. You must choose a favorite color or we kill you. K. Go." And most likely, my answer would be something like this: "OH, oh my...okay. Uhm, my favorite color is green because I really like the different shades and my eyes are green and it signifies new life, but I also like red because it is bold and fiery and the color of watermelon which is also green so it sort of works out perfectly because red and green are my two favorite colors. It's like Christmas, but I also really like the silver at Christmas time with a bright, bright blue or another jewel tone. I can't really pick a favorite color because it is totally situational. Sorry. Kill me." At which point the listener-slash-killer in the story has killed himself.

The A.L.A.G. version: "K. You must choose a favorite color or we kill you. K. Go." Me: "Green. See ya.")

Back to my goals: Here's how it has gone so far.....let's call them what my "Goals" should have been because then this day would be a RockStar success:
Wake up and stay in bed next to the Space Heater. Watch the light and day emerge. Make a real breakfast of toast, eggs, and breakfast sausage. Screw the fancy coffee and make a pretty damn good cup of coffee. Make lunch for Sweet Baboo. I heart him, and I make his lunches with extra love most days. Correction: On the days I do make him lunch, it is with extra love. Check e mail for the first time in three days. (That is like a bajillion years in So...There...Then Time. Seriously.) Fart around and putter for about 45 minutes. Take Sophie to the dog groomers (Thing Number Two I will Never EVER Do To My Dog: Express the anal glands. Enough said.) Go workout. Decide to listen to music and read trash celebrity mag while sweating instead of the planned "Think Deep Thoughts About My Life". Worked out much better this way.)

After work out, came home. Checked my e mail. Farted around and puttered some more. What? I am really good at it. I did, purely for show, dust the buffet and the shelves. Oh, and watered plants.

Turns out that when my mom brought over a Christmas Rosemary Tree yesterday it was a double whammy good gift. We don't have a Christmas tree this year, so...done. And it also turns out I committed my 39th planticide. My rosemary that I transplanted from the garden to a pot so I could have it inside over the winter. Friggin' died. All on it's own. It was like it wanted to make me feel all bad and killer-y. The new Rosemary Christmas Tree came with a booklet that specifically said: "Rosemary is a plant that will not come back from too little water as a houseplant." Great. Is this common knowledge? That is my main approach to plant care. "Oops. Forgot to water the last two weeks, they look kind of droopy." Then I water the crap out of them and they come back to life and look good. (Usually. Thus the 39th planticide discovered this week.)

So. There. Then I went to The Crack Box(Target) and got a gift for the party tonight. Then, to pick up Sophs. Home for lunch and blogging.

That should have been my original plan. I think next time I take a PTO day I will have official plans to do whatever the crap I want. Which is what I end up doing anyway. Plans are overrated.

I might take a nap. I might not. It might matter, it might not. The point is, people, everyone should have a figurative day to hangout in their jammies with the footies on the bottom and play with legos. There doesn't always need to be something to be done or dealt with. Having said that, at some point today, I do PLAN on vacuuming up the half of a dead cricket that has been at the top of the staircase for the past week. I guess maybe we should have some goals. My original plan of ignoring it and it disappearing doesn't appear to be working out so much.

Fave?

2008-12-04T19:06:00.009-06:00

Baby shower last night. Book theme. And wine themed. The beauty of adopting? You can drink. Oh.....and the whole bebe thing.

I had been trying to get a handle on what might be my favorite children's book.....I cannot be forced to say "of all time". There is just no way, my friends. Let's go for random books that pop into my head that I am able to remember from childhood that I loved.

Near the top, for sure, is the classic: "Where the Wild Things Are." How can you not love this? Unless, maybe you were a scaredy cat. That's cool. Embrace it. (wuss.)

Actually, anything by Maurice Sendak. We did the musical version of the Nutshell Library in 5th or 6th grade. I can still remember what's-his-name singing "I don't care!" as Pierre. And "I'm Really Rosy". Ah, good times. Do you know the Nutshell Library? I almost got it for the baby shower.
Strongly recommended.
Always a fan of Harold and the Purple Crayon. I coveted that damn crayon. You lucky bastard, Harold.

I think it was called: Max and the Flying Machine, Except for I can't find the cover picture so that might not be the name. I can distinctly remember the pictures. This kid, whom I had previously thought was named Max, turns out it is anybody's guess. So, this kid decides to build a flying machine and he takes an apple crate and turns it on its side and scavenges all this junk to piece together a machine. And he ends up cruising around flying, but I can't remember if it was for reals or just in his imagination. I really liked it. When I worked at the before/after school care center, they had a copy and I was gonna stickyfingers it and have it "accidentally" appear in my bag to go home and then "forget" to return it. But then, one of the little people took it and didn't put it back in the library and so I couldn't find it. Maybe the Mystery Reader was a Junior Klepto. You never know, do ya?

I never had Goodnight, Moon. I don't get the appeal. Sors.
Those are just a few of mine......what was your fave?

2008-12-01T17:36:00.004-06:00

Remember in grade school or Sunday school or sometime type of school..........those chain link calendars? Strips of paper, interlocked and glue together and you rip off a circle for each day? What the frick are those called?

Okay, So turns out they're called paper chains. Brilliant. I just did a search for a photo and typed that in and now I feel like an imbecile for thinking there was some magical academic name for it. Christ. So. Here's the stupid picture ( It's not the paper chain's fault that I didn't know that is what it was called, I take back all my venom, Papes. Sors, Old Friend.): So. Another teacher who is also feeling swamped with lesson planning and grading this quarter has been counting down the days until the end of the second quarter. I have joined by asking on an almost daily basis how many the count is at. And I suggested that her student aide make us paper chain calendar. Which was done today. (Your tax dollars, hard at work. Can you hear them grinding away at the millstone?)

Which got me thinking: children, waiting for a particular day, asking how many days until said day, irritation mounting with each request for information, biting of inside of cheeks to keep from crying out in pain, Light bulb. What can I do to not go insane the next time "How many more days?" is asked?

Thusly and ergo... Enter, stage left. I think it is really going to help my colleagues keep from pummeling my head with a shovel within the next 27...no wait.....26 more days of school before the end of the quarter. (It isn't even midterm, people. That is friggin' next week.)

Garanimals.

2008-11-30T09:51:00.006-06:00

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.

2008-11-22T13:18:00.002-06:00

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?

2008-11-18T16:40:00.004-06:00

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......

2008-11-17T17:04:00.009-06:00

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.

2008-11-06T19:37:00.004-06:00

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?!?!

2008-11-04T21:09:00.003-06:00

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?

2008-11-02T15:53:00.007-06:00

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.

Okay, I Teach Geography and I Didn't Know This.

2008-10-21T17:08:00.007-05:00

Did you? I thought it was just a little bit cool. We learn something everyday.

The Equator Freak Zone

Plus, it is a cool website to browse around.

Down in Flames.....

2008-10-20T17:09:00.003-05:00

You know its a bad teaching day when a student says: "Ms. SoThereThen.......you going down in flames." And it wasn't a threat, but rather......a comment on my teaching for the day.

In my defense, it was last block and I had a pounding headache. (That really doesn't defend me, now that I think about it. But it makes me feel better on the inside. So.)

There was not anything supes dupes abysmal, I just kept making dumb mistakes. like spelling "pollution" (it just took me three times before spellcheck said I had it friggin' right!!!) like this:

polullution.

And then correcting it to:

poluption.

I shit you not. Then, I kept mixing up letters in a word.......not when I was spelling, but when I was TALKING!!! Like my brain was moving faster than my mouth and the message got lost on the way out about the order of the letters.

Then, I spelled "fridge" like this:

fige.

What is going on?!?! I am losing all credibility. The students were having a bunch of side conversations (Usual, coming back from a four day weekend) and I felt like I was herding cats. I tried to re-group by saying, "Let's keep the ball rolling and keep the wheels from coming off the cart that is this class...." and that's when I got the Smackdown.

"It's your fault, Ms. SoThereThen, we can't concentrate with how weird you're being. (I kid you not.) It's your teaching. You're going down in flames today."

Which made me bust out laughing. It was true and while there are some that would gasp at their audacity, I think it is okay. It was in a jesting, kidding way. I laughed and then told them that there job is to still be focused. I will turn my ship around eventually, but they still have tasks in front of them regardless if I am being loony or not. And that worked. And they worked. And it was fine.

Going down in flames....ha! That's funny; if only they knew how some days were held together by a fine, fine filament of a threat......I meand thread. I eamn, I mean threa. Thread. Those typos are NOT, I repeat NOT, on purpose. My brain is on vacation. I need to be done with words today, I think.

Drying peppers....the lazy way.

2008-10-17T10:16:00.010-05:00

I have a crap load of hot peppers. Mostly because a salsa pepper plant was mislabeled as an Italian Roaster plant at the nursery. It was also quite productive. There is no way we could go through the amount of hot peppers that the garden produced. It was a repeat of ZucchiniGate '04. I could put these on the radiator on a cookie sheet, but I can't have them sitting out that long as we have the house on the market and I don't want to deal with them should we have a showing.
Some are still green, and I might roast those. My housemate when I lived in Santa Fe would add roasted green chilies to her chicken soup. It was phenomenal. These two pictures were taken after I took out the red peppers to dry.
The last batch I did about a month ago, I took out the veins and the seeds. I am going to leave them in this time as see what happens in terms of drying. The heat of a hot pepper is in the veins and the seeds, so I already know this will be a much more heated batch. I cut the stems off and cut them in half. I arranged them willy-nilly on my favorite half cookie sheet from my mother in law, cut side up. Putting them in the oven on the lowest setting is what we want. We are trying to mimic the sun naturally drying the peppers.
This is after two hours at about 180 degrees.
After three hours. The edges are curling, the color is deepening and my whole kitchen is starting to smell like roasting peppers, even though we are not roasting.
I took out the small peppers before putting the sheet back in the oven. I don't want to burn them. I am going to let them cool down to check if they are brittle enough. I can always put them back in. What we are looking for is dried, completely, all the way through. We don't want them to mold. That would be bad. Very bad. I have to wait for them to cool completely in order to check that. While they are still warm, they are kind of bendy and leathery. Once they cool, it is a much more accurate check.
This is after four hours.
This is after five hours. Same temperature. I usually set the timer for an hour, just so I don't forget them and end up burning the house down. That would be bad. Very, very bad. I would probably get in trouble for that. I, apparently, am not to be trusted with candles either. I love candles.
These are the few that I took out a while ago, and it is the next day. You can see how they are a little translucent. We like that. Not all are going to be like this, especially if you leave the veins in, as some pepper varieties have thicker, meatier walls than others. I have four different varieties in this batch. I am not a Militant Freakshow about keeping the varieties separate. I don't think I will use even all these, but we have a friend, with whom we smoke meat, who makes his own meat rub mix. I can always get in good with him if I show up with a jar of dried peppers for him to grind into a powder for rubs.
This is after six hours and, again, the next day. On first look, I think they were in too long. But, it is a test and we shall see how they crumble.
These are the few that I left out. They are such a purty color of red. I like putting them in glass jars an putting them up on the shelf with my dried beans and other supplies that are also in glass jars.
I ended up putting a few peppers back into the oven for a couple hours. They were kind of sticky when I went to crush and crumble and I thought they had too much moisture (Ish. Hate that word.) still in them. I got a half jar of crushed red pepper flakes...correction: chunks. I like it chunkier, you can always crush them up into tinier pieces or even put them through a spice mill or coffee grinder to make chili powder. If you use your coffee grinder, run a couple batches of white rice through first to clean out the coffee.

Weekday Morning.

2008-10-16T11:57:00.008-05:00

This is the kind of fall morning I love. A little bit of frost in the front lawn in lower areas, the lake calm, still, a couple ducks resting momentarily....the trees across the lake changing, crisp air (it was 36 at this point: 8 am) bright sunshine, leaves on the still green grass. And I don't have to go to work on a school day. I love that.

I can do puttery stuff that doesn't relate to school. As it should be on a no school day. I am drying hot peppers from the garden (different than roasting; a post is coming on that.), I pickled eggs, I made a farm breakfast for us, I cleaned out my cabinet of cookbooks. I went through and organized all the recipes I had in a three ring binder: got rid of the ones that I know I will never use, have used and didn't like, bothered me because they were old Weight Watchers recipes and didn't taste good (There are some really good ones that I have kept) and put them into categories. Then, all the annoying loose recipes, magazine pages and cards from friends that were all crazy unorganized were put into the binder as well. I found four recipes that I thought I lost.

This kind of activity is as satisfying as making lists and crossing things off them. I am preparing the nest for winter. I sure love fall.

Phoning It In.

2008-10-15T18:25:00.005-05:00

I heart test days. We have a short week because of MEA (Statewide professional development convention......I have never been. Our district doesn't require it, so I have never really been motivated on my own to go.) and today was the last day of the week.

It is usually the day where I give a big world map test re-take and then the kids don't have homework over the long weekend. I always hated the teachers that would assign a huge project or paper over a long weekend. I try not to be "that" teacher too often.

Some kids have already tested out and passed the test, so they had a study hall. The ones that were taking the test, were a little stressed. A few were "sick" and a few were not accounted for. In addition, many of the students that passed the first one, were taking the PSATs today, so it was nice that they were not missing anything crucial by being gone.

Every block--the whole block, 90 minutes, was used by at least one student. Blessed quiet. Blessed productive-ish work. The majority of the kids did better, some much better, on the second test. Some did not.

From a teaching stand point, there was a whole lot of not much direct teaching going on today. AND......I was able to get them all corrected before I left, so I ALSO do not have homework. Not true. The end of the quarter is in two and a half weeks, I will be teaching a new class (Western Civilization) next quarter and I have read exactly one section of the first chapter. Yikes. It takes a lot to plan and prep for an entirely new class. So. That is what I will be doing over much of my long weekend.

That is really, truly one of my least favorite parts of being a teacher. I get extremely jealous of those folks that can leave their jobs at their job. When they metaphorically punch the clock, they are done.

Eh. I won't have the alarm going off at 5:30 tomorrow morning. I will probably still friggin' wake up at 5:30, but I don't have to get up then. Yay.

The Smoking.

2008-10-14T15:58:00.008-05:00

A year ago (?) we began smoking meat with a couple of friends. Seriously. It just tastes so much better. I also would like to point out that I use the term "we" loosely here. This is the first smoking of 3, maybe 4, that I have even seen. Up until this one, it has a cult-ish, secret initiation type vibe as it was much talked about, and unseen by mine eyes. I saw it mostly because it was our turn to host it at our house and foot the electrical bill. (Which was so not as bad as I thought it would be.) Turns out the actual smoking consists of checking the thermometer a bunch of times, futzing around with draft holes, and drinking scotch. And maybe or maybe not shooting air rifles at targets. Now I realize that not everyone is going to do this as it takes a lot of time to prepare and a ton of time to smoke it. Not that I would know, a fact for which I am extremely pleased. Here are a couple shots from the last smoking, or meating. I like both terms interchangeably.

I believe in this picture, there is some rubbing of briskets. I have never tasted anything so good meat-wise after tasting this for the first time. I have no idea how much they smoked, but I think we ended up with three briskets in our freezer, which is a little too few for my comfort.
This was stuffing the casing for the salami. Which, by the way, was phenomenal. As a sidnote, the immature gal in me giggles at this picture. I had no part in creating it or planning for it or the actual smoking of it. And that's the way I like it. Because I was useless in the process, I can gush and ooo and aah over this meat. I'll provide food and booze for the smokers until the cows come home. I have heard allusions, stories and other sordid tales that the womenfolk (Throw in a facetious air quote here, please) might be invited (again......air quotes.) to help this time. Ironically, we might be put on overnight shift. Ah, no. You really don't want someone in charge of a 24-48 hour process whom has a great deal of trouble making it past 9 pm on a school night.
These are three pork bellies (I seriously never knew that pork bellies really existed. I just thought it was something made up for "Trading Places".) Again, Iwill never go back to store bought bacon if I can have any say whatsoever about it. These are actually hanging in the smoker.
These are briskets on the left in front and also on the right with the fat cap facing the other direction. Behind those: summer sausage. We have given away a couple sausage bits, but I don't think we have personally eaten any of the summer sausage we made. I'm not really a summer sausage fan. Country sausage, sure, love it. Bratwurst sausage, yep you betcha. Summer? Eh. Reminds me of those Hickory Farms Christmas packages/boxes that my dad would get every year with the mini jars of jam and mini pinwheels of cheese. Most sausage I like without complaint.

Attempted Lockdown.

2008-10-13T21:01:00.010-05:00

When Sophie isn't sleeping when I am home.....which is like 92% of the time I am here---she is after all, a bajillion years old--she is usually putting me on Lockdown. This consists of following me from room to room. If I sit on the couch, it is sitting right next to me on said couch. At least until she wants the spot where I am sitting. Then, she will bark or come and give me the prison stare and THEN bark. Specifically blowing her death breath in my face whilst barking.

If I am moving around from room to room too much for her liking, she may give up on the one-on-one D, but will position herself strategically in the house, say..........in the hallway where she can see the den, dining room and both entrances to the kitchen.....oh and the door to the basement. I guess in case I get real creative and go to the basement to sneak out the Bilco door. So.

Lockdown might mean that if I am at the dining room table, she will come and lay on her side so that her body is up against my chair so she can feel if I move my chair to get up. Then she is bolting up out of a dead sleep to see where it is I think I am going.

It also might mean that if she sees me put on my sunglasses, pick up my purse, or get my keys....putting herself bodily between the door and me.

It might mean looking at me in an Orphan way.....or at least what I interpret is orphan-esque. It might just be gas. Or stifling a yawn. (Occasionally, if I come back into the house right after such an exchange, she is already up on the couch snoring. So. There's that.)

Whatever it is, I love her to bits and I don't mind that she gets a little crabby at me for not being around last week. Plus, we have Thursday and Friday off this week, so I will be around more than usual. So. There.

Protesting.

2008-10-12T10:35:00.004-05:00

I am fighting the urge to make a list to quell the looming sense of overwhelmed. I am protesting the fact that the world doesn't stop if something like last week happens. The friggin' grass still grows. Clothes still get worn and need to be washed. Food still gets eaten and needs to be replaced by grocery shopping. Sophie still sheds hair that needs to be dealt with. Good lord, does it need to be dealt with. Hair balls the size of oranges hover and float as you walk by stirring up a faint breeze. Sometimes, if you make a large enough breeze and maybe don't look so closely, they just vanish. Disappear in a puff of smoke. (Did you see that? I just lied right to your face. They don't disappear. They never, ever, ever disappear.)

Maybe the first thing I would put on my list, and I am most certainly not going to make a list....but, if I WERE to make said list........the first thing I would probably put on it is to brush my teeth. For sure. Aim high, love, aim high.

I have conceded that I will most likely not be correcting papers today. Which is fine, I am okay with that. This past year I have loosened my death grip upon myself and the completely nutso obsession with correcting things and getting them back to students as soon as humanly possible. Why? Why would I feel this need? There are those high strung students that have to know yesterday what they got on the test they finished last block, there always will be these students. I was not really one of these students, so I can't really identify with this obsession......so why do I feel the need to ease their stress immediately at the cost of my having my own time of an evening? Nutso, I tell ya, nutso.

I have also arranged for the two neighbor twins to mow the lawn. Of course, it is supposed to rain today and I have yet to bring down the key for the garage. All in good time, my good man, all in good time. So mowing the lawn is off the list that I am not making. I don't even know where a pencil is in this house and everyone knows that if you make a list it must be in pencil. Pencil just sounds better on the paper than pen when you are decidedly crossing off a completed task.

If I were making a list, which I absolutely refuse to do, I would probably put a bajillion loads of laundry on the list somewhere near the top. Fine, I kid. Maybe three-ish loads of laundry. That doesn't seem so bad.

I had defrosted one of the two hambones from last week's baptism (We are "witnesses"....not of the Jehovah variety, but of the baptism variety. Easy mistake. I've never been a witness before. I grew up Roman Catholic. We had godparents. But then I quit Roman Catholicism. So, who knows what happens in religious type circles these days.). So. Ham Bone. I was going to make split pea soup today. Except when I went to look in the Hoosier cabinet, no split peas. So, I would have to go to the store...and that would definitely mean making a list because we have put the kibosh on going to the store for "just one thing". That is when the Impulse Buying Monkeys starting flying out my butt. Not really, but I tend to spend more than if I had a list. (I love lists. I really feel like making a list, but I have already declared today a list free Sunday.)

A colleague of mine lent me her Steam Shark or her Shark Steam or some weird name because it doesn't really look like a shark so I am not sure where Euro Pro came up with the name, but that is neither here nor there. Anyway, in order to not be a schmuck, I should use it and return it this week. But, first I would have to sweep and then swiffer........dog hair and dust respectively.....before I could Steam Shark. Can I make that a verb? Before I could Shark? Before I could Steam? Before I could Sharkenate?

Where do I begin? With gin? I keeeeeeed. It's only 10:57 in the morning for cripes sake! Everyone knows that 11 am is more acceptable. Imagine how much I would get done on my hypothetical list if I put gin at the top. I bet I would have a lot more fun doing a half assed job on all things listy.

My head swims less with a list. I can see progress instead of being overwhelmed. I can cross things off. And then forget about them instead of trying to remember everything like the storm window that needs to be repainted before it can go back up on our second story bedroom window from when we had the air conditioner in this summer. That kind of crap that gets forgotten and then suddenly someone is up a friggin ladder in a blizzard. Swearing. A lot. Christ. That does need to get done before that stellar moment appears.

I wouldn't need to put going to the hospital on my list. I won't forget to do that. Hopefully, a jailbreak has been thwarted today.

Surfacing.....

2008-10-11T18:09:00.005-05:00

I have missed you. I have missed being able to blog. I have missed a normal day. I have missed downtime.

We have had a week of a lot. My dad had complications from a surgery a month ago surface late Thursday night. Admitted to the hospital. Friday, had a heart attack while in said hospital. Monday had triple by pass surgery. Thursday back into surgery to deal with said complications from last month's surgery. Today, out of the ICU.

A small, tiny, almost inaudible cheer goes up from the crowd. Cautiously. I am quite convinced that he will be okay as his stubborn is coming back, his color is coming back and when I told him he was a little crabby yesterday--in a lighthearted teasing way--he kind of giggled.

I love that man. We don't really tell each other, much less enough, those private heart feelings.......but man, do I love that man. He is my idol in so many ways. Generous. Kind hearted. Intelligent and wise...you don't always get that package deal, ya know? Goofy. Goofy, goofy and goofy in the best way a person possibly can be.

I am very glad that he is still around for a while. Things feel like they can be getting back to normal again soon. I can see the wheels turning, "I don't care what the doctors say, I am out of the hospital tomorrow."

I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he attempts a jailbreak. Mooning everyone in his hospital gown onthe way out. Only half on purpose.

How Could Your Mood Not Be Improved....

2008-10-03T20:33:00.006-05:00

....if this was a daily view for you? It doesn't even have to be Florence to be mood enhancing, I would settle for almost anywhere in Italy as a sure fire mood alterer. I've always really liked this panorama of Firenze. Of course, living there is different than being on vacation there. But, conveniently, my brain blocks out all the headaches that go with living in another country. Even when I am there. It just seems less irritating???

Actually, sometimes the little buggers of daily life can sometimes get blown up in another country. You crave normalcy. You crave things "working"....or at least the way in which you area used to them working.....good or bad, you know what to expect in your home country and are usually not disappointed.

But.....that's the adventure. That is the exciting part. Sure. It is also the pain-in-the-ass part, but I kinda like the different-ness of it. The confusion. The "mystery" of how to do something that natives don't even think about, and you are confused beyond words. Learning the ropes, becoming an old hand at something that was once a frustration; I like that process of becoming accustomed to the differences and not being phased by them anymore.

I can't imagine a time in my life where I won't want to live in another country because of this reason. It doesn't mean I hate America, it doesn't mean I have an unfulfilled life, it doesn't mean I am running away from problems or issues or past mistakes.......Listen, some people play golf. I daydream about travel and living abroad. It is a hobby that I occasionally have been extremely fortunate to be able to live out.

Dunk Tank Update.

2008-10-02T16:14:00.005-05:00

It. Wasn't. That. Bad.

Mostly, well all, because they heated up the water. They ran a hose from the school kitchen, hot water tap on full blast, and filled that puppy up. (Tax dollars at work, folks. I certainly am not complaining in this case, mind you.) That first dunking was like a warm bath by the time it was my turn. The second, however, was much more pleasant. MUCH. Because.......once you are wet, then the cold air isn't so pleasant. Really, not at all, if I must be completely honest. But there were so many kids that were hell bent on dunking a teacher that I spent most of my turn IN the water rather than perched above it. Which was rather nice.

Although I think cheaterpants who pretend to be coming up to pick up the thrown balls and really they are there to hit the seat release lever with their hand should get in trouble. Really big trouble. I'm not talking expulsion here, but a very firm talking to by someone. Who isn't dripping wet. Being dripping wet just makes said student giggle with glee. There was no chagrin, no remorse, no regret. Just giggling. Gleefully. Maybe even in the neighborhood or a cackle or two.

Dunk Tank.

2008-09-30T16:29:00.006-05:00

Not a typo. For the love of Jane, what on earth would possess me to volunteer to sit in a dunk tank during Homecoming week, in Minnesota, outside, when the high is supposed to be 57 degrees? Why I ask you, I beseech you.........WHY? I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow.......if I make it. I already have kids saying they are bringing in bags of cash. Great. Fantastic. You played baseball? A pitcher? STAR pitcher, you say? Wonderful. Congratulations.

Maybe it should be drunk tank. Cripes.

Gladiators.

2008-09-28T09:55:00.004-05:00

Ah. Il Colesseo. The Colosseum. Home of the Gladiators, Christians, Lions, Slaves and Russell Crowe. Even though it is in different shape than it once was in its heyday; it still is magical. You can picture it, your mind's eye filling in the floor, seating area and imagining it as it once was.

Further, thinking about what actually took place there gets your mind thinking. Horrible, tragic ends of lives were met here. Without most spectators blinking an eye, I can imagine. We in modern, more "civilized" times, cluck our tongues at the barbarian-ness of it all. I say, judge not lest you be judged, Mr. and Mrs. 21st century.

We still are fascinated by others' suffering. Financial ruin, celebrity fallings and missteps, humiliation of the mighty and not so mighty. Look at our abundance of reality TV for the sake of real and created drama, often consisting of one's humiliation, shame, or misfortune. Is it all an attempt to make us feel better about our lives in some small (I use this both figuratively and literally)way? Natural disasters, the war, your neighbor's dirty, ugly secret.

I think that might be a small corner of the reason that we got rid of TV. News, reality TV, vapid sitcoms, whatever. The argument could be made that if you don't say anything, it won't change. Couldn't getting rid of it all together being a statement in and of itself?

Teenagers beating up older people caught on video camera, school shootings, celebrities who are famous for being famous or drinking/drugs or misbehaving, whatever it is. It is enough to just want to move to somewhere else.

But....we can't and we don't, for the most part. We play the hand we are dealt. And there is goodness in the world, their is righteousness here, and there is kindness. Check this out if you get a change today. I mean, chance. Hmmmm. Maybe if you need a change today?

Never, Ever Run Away. Capital R, Capital A.

2008-09-27T08:34:00.007-05:00

We are going to step in the way back machine to revisit an episode from childhood. It is not morbid, not disturbing, nor anything that will make you silently weep for me. Nothing like that. I must have been 4 or 5, maybe 6 but probably no older and was mad at my mother for some reason. Perhaps I was not allowed to do something or I had gotten scolded for something I probably shouldn't have been doing...the reason, specifically, escapes me. It may or may not be selective memory at this point in time. So. I decided that I wasn't going to put up with it anymore and I was running away. Overreaction? Yes. Melodramatic? Check. True? Yep.

I had at the time a suitcase (I believe it was called a train make up case or something) that was little, opened at the top like a jewelry box, had satin lining the top and bottom and had a mirror installed inside the top lid. It was blue and it....was....cool. So, it became my Running Away Bag. Now, the letters have changed at this point as I have created....already....different dramatic scenarios in my head. Running away, making it on my own, I'll show Mom, maybe making it big in Hollywood, being taken in by a mega wealthy kind family, you get the picture. So.

I pack my Running Away Bag with the absolute essentials according to a 4/5/6 year old. Toothbrush (dental hygiene always important...you'll note I forgot the toothpaste.), Barbie Doll WITH a change of clothes, coloring book and crayons (not the big 64 pack, just the regular 12 count box) and a change of underwear. Probably a cookie or two. Or ten.

I walked across the backyard, through the neighbor's back yard and realized, as I was walking down the next street over....I had to go to the bathroom. Uh-oh. Not BATHROOM, just bathroom. Now the dilemma begins. I was mad at my mom, and a stubborn brat that day. I had never gone poddy outside, so that would be interesting. But...I was mad at my Mom and I was determined I was not going back to the house. I had made a clean break, always look forward, there is no going back (Mind you, I was two backyards away...it wasn't like I had walked miles and miles.)

At that time, the other side of the street was still prairie grass and no houses. The grasses were tall, I was shorter than I am now....I could do it. Big girls went poddy outside if they had to go. I was an independent woman, no one could tell me what to do, NO ONE was the boss of me! So, across the street I went. I found a clump of tallish grass, pulled down my shorts and worried (But not too much) about peeing on my shoes and started peeing. Buzzing ensued. Huh?

Seems I had taken up camp right on top of a ground hornets' nest.....or whatever flying, stinging insect lives in the ground. RIPPED my pants back up, running and screaming the whole way (across the street and two backyards) home, followed by---what I imagine today a cloud that looks like the cloud that follows Pigpen in the Peanuts---screaming and crying for my Mom.

Who, quite frankly, could have been a little more relieved to see me after I had Run Away. Yes, she had no idea that I had, in fact, Run Away, but she could have "sensed" it, grieved, sat on the back step (if we had a back step) crying and wringing out her handkerchief scanning the horizons for her lost, beloved daughter. (Really....it is pretty shocking my mom is not a drinker. I cannot fathom dealing with my drama from her perspective.) So. Let's just say that absolutely none of that scene happened.

What did happen was she started screaming at me and (from my perspective) slapping the crap out of my arm, my head, my back, my stomach. I am thinking, "What gives? How the hell did she know I was even Running Away?" From her perspective: Daughter. Running at her. Screaming bloody murder. Crying like all get out. Bees/hornets/stinging things sticking out of her skin, flying all around her. WHAT THE HELL DID SHE GET INTO??

She is screaming in a continuous rotation, "WHAT?!?!? What happened? Where are all these coming from? WHAT??? I can't understand you when you are crying and screaming!! Get inside! Go! Go! Get inside!" Repeat. All the while, me with the wailing siren kid scream of unintelligent babbling. Maybe a air-sucking sob or two. Or ten.

At this point, we are now inside the house, with the swarm still swarming. My mom has a flyswatter in one hand, a dishtowel in the other, flailing around like some sort of Transformer Superhero who secret skill is Windmill Arms of Death. (Still screaming at me: WHAT DID YOU GET INTO???) Little bastards never knew what hit them. She swats at me, she swats at the air, she swats at the ceiling, the door, the chair, the stove. They were everywhere. Me still crying, sobbing, sucking in air, standing in the middle of the room, arms hanging limply at my side, snot running down my face, bees/hornets/stinging things buzzing around me and occasionally dive bombing my head.

Once Windmill has gotten most of them, we are headed towards the bathroom, maybe it was the bedroom. I am still screaming/crying/sobbing. Clothes off. Still screaming. They were inside my shirt, in my hair, thankfully, I don't remember any in my shorts or grunders. That would have been...not good. My mom is checking me over for stingers still sticking out, and I am instructed to get into bed. She leaves and comes back with a bowl with baking soda and water mixed into a paste.

Later, I am laying in bed arms and legs spread out, covered in white baking soda paste-y dots all over---mostly arms and legs but also my stomach and neck....and face....and feet. My mom pissed as hell that I scared the bejeezus out of her with my screaming and crying and swarm of pain following after me. When I confessed to running away, she softened up. I think she was confused and I can no longer remember the reason for the Running Away in the first place, so I don't remember her reaction to that information.

She stayed with me for a while until I fell asleep (worn out from all that Drama.), caressing my head (where there wasn't a paste-y dot), soothing me and telling me it would be okay. Occasionally, she would have to climb up on the bed to swat at a errant insect buzzing up in the corner of the ceiling.

I am picturing my dad coming home from work and asking how our day was and getting this story, peeking in on me playing on my floor with my Barbies, covered in baking soda paste dots. Ahhhh, parenthood. At this point, my younger brother was around, I don't remember what he was doing. but from my mom's perspective, two kids and the Flying Stinging Insect Incident makes for an unusual (Usual??) day. If I was five or six, then she could have possible been pregnant with my younger brother or he was a very tiny baby.

Really. I am surprised my mom doesn't drink.

She Surfaces....

2008-09-26T17:04:00.003-05:00

I feel as though I have been underwater and far, far away. It has been two...three(?!?!) days since I last blogged. If you're Catholic, you KNOW you just thought of confessions. (I was raised Catholic and actually lied in my first official confession. I guess I was already doomed to hell after that...anything subsequent is just icing, right??) I didn't realize how much I missed checking in with you.

Why the delay? Well, there were stitches to remove from my head, a birthday dinner to prepare and serve, and yep.......already.......wait, wait for it.....Parent Teacher Conferences last night until 8pm. Plus, and here is where you will be jealous of my superior intelligence.....back at school this morning at 7:15---after a 12.5 hours day yesterday. I decided to crack down on foot dragging test maker uppers. Those students that delay and delay hoping the test that they skipped in the first place will go away. I gave a test on Wednesday and told kids they could make it up Thursday as I would already be at school for conferences. But, I had to offer a morning option for those with jobs and extra curriculars. So, I just tacked on the next morning. Without thinking. Friday morning. After conferences. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. I was the one who was dragging.

So, I shall complete a meme I lifted from Goldfish, who lifted it from Sunshine ( I feel like I am talking about the Strawberry Shortcake Mafia....I am no better with the appellation of So There Then Gal). It looked fun, you and I can get reacquainted and we shall merrily go forth. Thanks Goldfish (And indirectly Sunshine).

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet, current car): Sparky Cavalier

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME (fave ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe): Chocolate Slide..wait. That sounds way too close to a bathroom incident...I'm gonna lie (It's not like it will be the first time.) Chocolate Mule

3. YOUR NATIVE AMERICAN NAME (favorite color, favorite animal): Green Dog

4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, city where you were born): Marie Edina

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME (the first three letters of your last name, first two of your first name): Berhe

6. SUPERHERO NAME (2nd favorite color, favorite drink): Yellow Sparkling Water (SERIOUSLY?!?!?! Why the bathroom theme??)

7. NASCAR NAME (the first names of your grandfathers): Matt Reinhard

8. STRIPPER NAME ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy): Beautiful Swedish Fish (STU-pid.)
9. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (your fifth grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter): Schmidt San Diego

10. SPY NAME (your favorite season/holiday, flower): Spring Poppy

11. CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now): Watermelon Jeans

12. HIPPIE NAME (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree): Oatmeal Linden

Over and out.

Ruined Names...

2008-09-23T19:42:00.004-05:00

One of the casualties of being a teacher is that names get ruined.....forever. If we had decided to have kids, we'd be severely limited for name choices. There are names that I will never be able to utter without a student's face flashing in front of my eyes. Sorry to break it to ya, but it is almost never the good kids that stick out this way. It is the kids that make me question my sanity in career choices on a daily basis, if not a minute by minute crisis intervention inside my head. Those are always the ones whose names I remember.

There are also the multiples. I usually have a couple Brittanys ( or Britany or Britney or Brittney....arrgh.) in a quarter, if not a class period. Then there are the Ashleys, Amandas, and Alyssas. Kaylas, Kylies, and don't even get me started on the Kristen/Kirsten conundrum.

Boys are usually pretty straight forward: tons of Mike/Michaels, many Jakes, Joshs or Jacks, each class is always good for a Cody/Kody or two and maybe a Casey for good measure. I realize names are cyclical...but from a teacher viewpoint.....they all hit at once and I feel like a frazzled parent somedays that runs through all the kids' names (and sometimes the pets' names as well) before they hit on the right name for the kids that they are talking to or yelling at depending on the situation.

Can we just make a rule that you spell your name in a manner that doesn't take me twelve minutes to sound out like a first grader before I figure it out... Ctefani? I realize that you are forming your identity, but I am less concerned with how you are spelling your name today/this week and more concerned with how you are doing with the curriculum. Sorry. ( Disclaimer: I have never had a student with this spelling, I actually knew someone who spelled it this way when I was in junior high. I wonder if that was a phase or if she is still spelling it that way?)

Drama Queen....

2008-09-22T19:03:00.011-05:00

When it comes to the botanical world....I love myself some drama. Sure it can be said that everything doesn't have to be all showy....take a look at vegetables. Great for you...good looking? Not so much. Although, I do like the look of carrot tops, for some reason.

Nope. For me, the bigger the drama, the more I usually like it. I like the unique, I like the colorful, fragrance.....I have never really been into smell. In fact, if it "smells" I probably won't like it, with a few exceptions. Roses? Sure, they are pretty to look at, but the smell turns me off of growing them. It's too powerful, don't like it. Marigolds have a double whammy against them, as do geraniums--in my book. It may be the reason is that everyone and their Aunt Gertrude has them, I don't really like the tiny petals and I think they reek. They stink to my nose parts.

These above are zinnias, but not ones that I have ever grown. I like them because they aren't trying to be showy. I know I just said I like showy, but I am capricious, I can change on a dime, at the drop of a hat. I might like this in a flower garden of just green flowers. For....wait for it...the dramatic impact of a variety of flowers all in the same color family.
This one I believe is called something like "Angel's Halo". It is a green bush/tree that has a wispy-flowery-stem-y thing most of the summer. Then in fall, the berries arrive in this floating halo configuration. I really like it, it makes me want to eat the juicy berries, but I would probably die. Actually I have no idea if they are poisonous, I just wanted you to think I live on the edge of danger most of the time...even on my walks.
These are globe amaranth. I just like them because they look like Dr. Seuss flowers. Or gumdrops. Or both. I like their compact simplicity.
I can't remember what these are, I looked at the label tags that you can see, but have since forgotten. I like the drama of a mass of color. Bright, obnoxious color. The kind you can't ignore.
Here's are some up closer. I want to say Mexican something something for the name, but who knows? I cold be totally making it up. Wouldn't be the first time.
This is one of my all time faves. Morning glories. They bloom in the morning and are a vine that crawls over anything and everything. It is pretty much a weed. But I like it.
This is a variety of hibiscus that can grown here and weather the winter. I don't know that I would choose white if it were going into my garden, but it might be kind of cool if it glowed in the night light.

I really don't like most flowers that smell. Except lavender, I do like lavender. And wisteria. In small doses. I don't know what it is about smells. I hate, hate, hate going down the laundry detergent aisle at the store. All the scented stuff. I have to breathe through my mouth.

Air fresheners. Don't get me started. I get car sick when I am in my dad's car because he always has some sort of air freshener hanging somewhere.

Drama. If I can't find it, I create it.

A Good Day.

2008-09-20T16:24:00.005-05:00

No one says that anymore. "A good day to you, sir." "It was a good day." Today...today was a good day. For no particular reason, which is the best kind of good days. I walked with my mom and her friend this morning--a beautiful morn, crisp-ish, fall weather, yet warm enough to wear shorts, bright sun, fall leaves beginning to appear yet summer flowers sort of still blooming. Then I went to the co-op to buy bread flour because we are out and they sell it in bulk. I love the bulk food section at the co-op. All these things that I might like to try, but you know what.........I don't have to buy a big honking bag of it. I can take a taste size portion. It just makes so much sense.

Then to the cobbler. No one says cobbler anymore unless they are talking about desserts. I am here to bring it back. It just seems so much more civilized to say cobbler rather than shoe repair guy. Then, home to clean, roast more peppers, cook steel cut oatmeal for the week (We reheat it each morning: supes dupes good.), pickled some eggs (I hope these turn out better than the last...they were gross. Way too sweet, like there was a cinnamon or clove flavor or something. Ish.), still doing laundry, work on the powerball project, went to the goodwill to drop some stuff off, made pizza dough for supper, dug up the rosemary plant from the garden to pot so I can have it indoors this winter, walked Sophs, and just in general puttered. Tonight, we eat homemade pizza with homemade pepperoni and fresh mozzarella and roasted peppers. Then, we'll maybe watch a movie and just enjoy the evening. Tomorrow we are off to Fargo for family portraits, so it is good I got all that done. I am gonna gag pretty soon with all this positiveness oozing from me. But I do love me a productive day of puttering. Things that needed to be done, but that I was in the mood to do; serendipity, my friends, serendipity.

You can bet your sweet ass I made a list, though.

Grown Home

2008-09-19T16:43:00.003-05:00

This is a grown house, designed by Lois Walpole for the place where I do some of my walking. It is really quite interesting. Obviously for decoration here, not for actual living. Most everything is living and formed into the shape of something you might find in an actual home. Such as a bed. Like deeeees:

Or a table and chairs, like so:

I find it all interesting because I picture fairies and elf-ish type characters (fun fairy tale ones, not the Hobbitt-y ones) living in places like this for real. I picture myself shrinking down so that this would be from their perspective, and I would be fairy sized and this could really be my home. And my fairy friends could come over and have tea and crumpets at this table and it would all be so very wonderful.

Do you think I should cut back on the cold medicine or the gin first?

Time Travel

2008-09-17T18:56:00.009-05:00

If you could time travel for real, 'when' would you go to? This may or may not be the social studies nerd in me to even be asking the question. I have a couple times: I couldn't pick one. And these are in no particular order. And this wouldn't be just a jump back in time and then return. You'd have to get a real feel for it; if you wanted to, I might consider letting you stay in that time if you really liked it. I'm cool like that.

--Roarin' 20s for sure. Just to see all the things going on; new inventions (cars, movies, radio, telephone, light bulbs, electricity--all that was brand new and changing fast), Great Gatsby type parties (Yeah, I am pretty sure I would be part of the upper class....right. I am now?? It's like the version of everybody thinking they were someone famous in a former life...if you are into thining you had a former life), plus changes for women with the vote and fashion and new freedoms in society. I would just want to see it all unfolding.

--But, I'd want to get back here before 1929 and all the whole Great Depression thing that comes after. That I will keep in the history books, please and thank you.

--1860s with Westward Expansion...everyone moving west to claim their homestead. The conflicts, the hope, the new beginnings. I want to see a town spring up overnight and see how people survived out on the prairie. The American Dream, right? I'd love to be there to chronicle it all from the immigrants' perspective, the Native Americans' perspective, the older than first generation Americans' perspective.....go sit in a Mercantile General Store somewhere and just people watch.

I think that is why I like playing this mind game of "What would you..." or "What if...". In this case, I like watching people and making up their stories for myself. It would be fun to add in the factor of a different era.

---Ancient Greece or Ancient Rome. Of course, again, as part of the upper class. Why make it miserable? Sure, I could get that perspective as well, but why not dream big, yeah?

---The 60s in the United States. All the changes, all the conflict, all the upheaval, all the drama. I love drama and change. They might or might not be two of my favorite pastimes, it could be argued. Plus, again, with the people watching.

---Victorian England. Just because. I am not a huge fan of conventionality, strict moral edicts, restricted society or that ilk. But it would be cool to be walking around in it knowing that I could leave.

If I Were a Melon..

2008-09-17T18:56:00.005-05:00

How sweet would this be? If I were a melon, this is how I would want it to play out. Hanging around, in my hammock, soaking up some rays, getting all fat and juicy. No dirt napping for moi. I love the idea of trellising melons (if you are dyslexic and transpose the "m" and the "l", you get lemons. How fun is that?). Watermelon is my favorite fruit. I might have to try this in my garden next year. I am hoping to be in our next house by planting season, cross your fingers, K? I have big plans. My first successful year with tomatoes has motivated me more than I thought it would. The canning/freezing trend is one I see continuing at our house. I'd like to branch out and am truly considering seed catalogs this winter to peruse in the snowy tundra of Minnesota. I shall read them and pine for spring. But for right now, it is 7:05 pm and still 74 degrees....it is absolutely beautiful out. Later.

Ah, Italia...

2008-09-16T21:17:00.004-05:00

Fashion choices aside (hey it was the early 90s...man, those shorts are high waisted.), I like this picture. It is one of our day trips to Venice when I was working in Padova. Maybe 20 minutes east on a train and you are in Venice, or at least the train station. Then, you either walk across a bridge, hop a vaporetto (basically a city bus...except for the the fact that it is a boat.) or catch a water taxi and you can go anywhere in Venice.

I love Venice. Simply because there are very few places like it on earth, and it is my favorite water city simply for that fact and the fact that it is in Italy. We would go for the day when we lived in Padova. I felt very cosmopolitan. It became a common, normal thing to do:

"What do you want to do on our day off this week?" "I dunno. I guess we could go to Venice again." Who says that???

You go, you walk around, you shop a little, you people watch, you cannot get lost people. It is an island. I mean you can get disoriented---sure, you can get frustrated if you are actually trying to find something...but dollar for dollar, you cannot find a better place to just meamble, I mean--meander. I actually like meamble better. You are ambling and meandering: walking at a slow, but steady gait, sort of with a purpose but in no general direction. A perfect description of how to best take in Venice on your first trip.

Venice at Carnivale was the only time in my life I have been physically picked up and moved without my consent. There were so, so, soooo many people in the Piazza San Marco (Where this picture was taken in the spring time after Carnivale had come and gone). People were pushing and not really shoving...but trying to move. I was literally picked up off my feet and moved about 2 feet. I can't imagine the claustrophobia if I were short. Seriously. You wouldn't be able to breathe. But it was worth it; the costumes, the drama, the people watching. Everything. I heart it. I love it.

Efalumps and Woozles.

2008-09-15T21:06:00.005-05:00

Winnie the Pooh video, I think...I can 't remember who I was babysitting or nannying years ago, but they loved this video that had the Efalumps and Woozles song on it. I watched it approximately a bajillion times. A rather dark and scary, psychedelic bad LSD trip video. Where some character (I can't even be sure if it was Pooh) was being chased down by the Ephalumps and the Woozles. I am surprised more children who view it aren't scarred for life.

This tree always makes me sing the song that is the soundtrack for that part of the video. I think it reminds me of Dr. Seuss and something that he would have drawn as a tree...and it has come to life. "Form of a Tree, Shape of an Elephant"---I realize that it was always some form of water, and never a tree...but that would not necessarily work here. I live by my own rules, people.

Maybe because it reminds me of Snufalufagus from Sesame Street? I have warped my childhood elephants all into one: Horton (Who Heard a Hoot, apparently) and The Efalump, and Snufalufagus. I am surprised Dumbo didn't make an appearance; although, not really. I never really cared for Dumbo. I mean the character is fine, I just never really got into the movie. (I hated the part where they dressed him up as a baby clown and made him deal with the fire flames.)

I had a bunch of Babar books when I was little that my mom would read to me or I would just look at, but they never really put a hook in me. He seemed nice, but kinda snootysville. Wow. Where was I?

Anyway, this tree is on my walk that I occasionally take, and I always end up singing a few bars in my head as I walk by. I have a couple things going for me regarding this:

1.) I am singing in my head and not out loud.

2.) You are the only ones that know about this, so far.

3.) I understand it is a tree and not some scary monster come to life. Which could be troubling if I were writing about that. I can pretty much predict a drop in readership should that ever happen. Or.....maybe a rise---checking in on the nut job who thinks trees are elephants.

Espalier. Espal--huh?

2008-09-14T18:38:00.013-05:00

So. I have an itchy gardening finger today. It has been raining for the past two or three days. A good, steady, cold, fall soaker. I could technically go out and harvest some stuff, but I probably won't as we have been to my parents the whole day and Sophs has me on LockDown and won't let me out of her sight.

I really wanted to dig up my rosemary plant to pot for over the winter, but the ground is way too wet to do so. I have peppers galore to also harvest, but won't most likely. I probably will just talk about all the things I could be doing in the garden, but won't actually get out there and do. Yep. That sounds about like how it is going to go.

If (when?) we should some day, get some land, somewhere, here is one thing I would absolutely want to do. It really could be done anywhere as the whole point of espalier is cultivating fruit trees is tiny spaces. I could start one in the spring, but probably won't as we are listing the house. Although, who knows how long it will take to sell it. I might think about it.
I could start it at the next house, that we are planning on being a fixer-upper...so we should be there for at least a couple years. And, if it is back in the city, it won't matter as the trees don't need the normal amount of space. That's the whole point. Here I am going on and on about espalier and I haven't really explained it.

It began in the Middle Ages in monasteries where there was limited space inside the walls for regular fruit trees growth. It is the practice of pruning and training the limbs of fruit trees (or other plants, such as some vines) to maximize space. You can train them up against a wall. This can help retain heat, which technically could help someone in Minnesota (me) grow a variety/species of tree that might not normal grow here. I think that a lemon tree might be overreaching it a bit, but perhaps a variety of apple or pear not usually seen here? Basically, it is growing a tree in two dimensions instead of three. Here is a picture I took yesterday when my mom and I went on a walk at the Arboretum. We occasionally make the trek there, walk, and go home. It is really neat to see everything on the Three Mile Walk route as it changes for the seasons.
I love the way they look. This one is a Honey Crisp apple tree. You can see one ripening on the middle trunk there. I cannot wait for Honey Crisps to be available. They have a short season, I am not even sure they are available outside Minnesota, but they are lovely. They were "created" (?) here at the Arboretum, by the University of Minnesota. Some crossbreeding/hybriding of various secret apples. I wait for them, I eat them, and I am not even really an apple "fan".

You don't really need a fence. This summer, when we were lunatic enough to take 40 high school kids to Europe, they had trees pruned in the medians that were sort of like this, but denser. Just regular trees, not fruit trees. I think the fruit trees need more support because of the weight of the fruit before harvest time.

I love the way it looks. All neat. All tidy. All fertile. It symbolizes patience. For me, that is challenging. But......that challenge is one of the reasons that I garden and one of the reasons I enjoy gardening. You can't rush it, no matter how badly you want to---there is no instant gratification. It is, by definition, a study in patience. Could this activity be my summer school version of Waiting 101 and Waiting 102 that I have failed miserably this---and every---year??

Lists.

2008-09-13T11:27:00.009-05:00

Some people have a security blanket. Some people have a talisman. I have lists.

I love to make lists. I have been known to put things on them that I have already done that day; such things, that had I started the list earlier, would have been on said list.

So. So what? They count. Yuh- huh, they do so.

I have purchased special mini-mini legal pads specifically for lists. I have specific pens I liked to use or really sharp pencils. I KNOW I am a freakshow about this; I don't care. I like lists. I like trying to figure out how much I can get done in a day (Have rarely succeeded to this date), I love, LOVE, El-Oh-Vee-Eee checking things off (Although I don't check them off. I cross them out with a thin line sometimes so I can still read what I did. Sometimes I cross them out so you CAN'T read what I did at all. A Blackout Bingo approach. Very satisfying.).

Sadly, I often have multiple list going at once. It drives some people in this house crazy, I know this, but I can't seem to stop making new lists. It is a fresh start, a new page...a new list of things to do. Eventually, I do finish a list either by completing everything or transferring the last or last couple things to a new or previous list. There are at present, three lists in rotation in my world.

My grocery list. Begun earlier...in fact, upon returning from the last trip to the grocery store. They didn't have the kind of soup we wanted, so I started the next list and put that on it first. I add to it as the week goes and we finish staples or supplies.

My getting the house read to put on the market list. This one is almost done; just a few loose ends. Yes, we put the house on the market two months ago, but I can still have a list about this. I checked the rule book.

My To-Do list for today. I actually did not "write" this one. I found a new tool. This has amped up my freakshow level quite a bit if I continue to use this on a regular basis. For now, I was just playing around with it. I downloaded Firefox to our Mac today; it has been a little slow with the Safari Browser and I was hoping this might change it. So. On the Getting Started page they had a link. I clicked. The skies opened up, people, and the Angel Choirs sang. Click Here.

Did the choirs sing for you? The Alleluia chorus? A website devoted to list making. And you can send them to your phone and get reminders and you can send them to your calendars (If you use them; which I would if I could be organized about it) and you can send them to your Blackberrys.......which I don't have. But if I win the lottery, I will buy one and I will need one because I will have lots of money to do lots of things with and I will need a lot of lists. Oh my. I need a second.

Let's just say I like lists and leave it at that, shall we?

What Do You Daydream About?

2008-09-12T17:52:00.010-05:00

Me?

The different ways that I WILL spend the PowerBall when I win it. This takes up a large portion of my walking time, my drive time, occasionally during class when the students are watching a video or working in groups, falling asleep, when I wake up and am lounging in bed, car trips, plane rides, probably in church if I ever went (that could be helpful, yes??)....pretty much a lot of the time.

It is fun. I don't daydream to escape my life; I love my life and where I am at. I do it because that is my personality; I have always daydreamed....pretending I am in a movie (What would the soundtrack be playing right now if this were really a scene? Things like that.), practicing speeches if I were to become President, playing "What If..." constantly. Things like that. I have had the same theme for about 5 years and kept telling myself that "When I win the PowerBall, I will be able to do just that." Then, last spring, things were set into motion that would begin to make that dream a possibility without having to win the PowerBall. It might take a little longer, but it can still happen. I didn't realize the power in that. Truly.

Seriously. I don't know that I have ever dreamt as much about something like this idea before in my life. Not whom I would someday marry, not what my wedding dress would look like, not what I would be when I grew up. And now.......it is actually coming to fruition.

It is scary. (What if it bombs? What if no one "gets" it?)

And powerful. (I helped make this happen...the kernel, the nugget of the idea was my doing. Not the whole thing, mind you. There is no way I could have set the wheels in motion on my own. I know exactly zero on starting this kind of endeavor.)

And inspiring. (What the hell else have I not been doing that I can just up and "do"?)

And mature (Wait. I can just have an idea and I can make it happen somehow? I don't have to ask permission?-----yes, I am 38, what about it? I still feel like a kid sometimes and I think that is a good thing. Young at heart, baby, young at heart.)

And passionate. ( I never would have even come close to persevering if it were something about which I was not this passionate. I would like to think that I would run with a good idea, but the truth is, I would have blown it off long ago.)

I am not quite ready to share "THE" Powerball idea, but I am just damn excited the meter is on. I'll keep you all posted.

Another Milestone?

2008-09-11T17:17:00.009-05:00

We heard back from the lookers. Seems they are looking elsewhere. And that is about all I have to say about that.

As of last night, Sophie, seen here in this updated photo:

...has stopped using the door that she always uses. She has been having trouble getting up the stairs. No more power from her back legs has been a reality for a while...she quit sleeping upstairs on the second floor sometime around Christmas-ish, was it? So. She now uses the proper front door through the porch as there is only one low step. No longer will she have to battle the 3 big cement steps at the side door.

I have mixed feelings about this, I guess. While I am glad I will not have to worry about her falling and hurting herself, or watch her fall or try and help up her back end while holding the screen door open like some Cirque du Soleil contortionist....it hurts a little tiny bit.

It's one more thing that she can't do. When the people came to look at the house this weekend and were a little bit early, they both commented individually at different times to the effect of: "Is she sick?"

Nope. She just moves that slowly and deliberately. I don't like to think about the next couple "milestones" too much. But, being realistic things that are unpleasant eventually happen. I get that. I know it is coming. We have had multiple conversations about when it does and the best way to view it (And that really helps to remind myself of when I get a bummed out perspective) is this: We rescued her when she was 9-ish. That was 4 years ago. Do we love her the best we can? Yep. Have we done everything thing we can to make the end off her years comfortable and happy? Check.

Done and done.

And to end on a note that is not as depressing as this post: She is laying next to me and about five seconds ago ripped ass audibly for an extended "gas bomber" of about...wait for it...no joke: 5 seconds. Count to 5. I think we can all agree that that is a friggin long time to expelling some air. ----------And now the perfume. Thanks, Soph.

Some Days....

2008-09-10T19:41:00.009-05:00

I love my job. Really. I am that much of a teacher nerd. Although, I would venture to guess that most teachers get into teaching for two reasons. One: because they absolutely love teaching. They are teaching maniacs. Freaks, if you will. The other, less subtle, reason. Summers "off".

Probably not so much for the million dollar contract and endorsement kick backs, yeah?

Back to me being a nerd. There are days when I leave my classroom, or I am standing at the whiteboard writing something, or I am thinking about how a lesson went and I think:

"I seriously get paid to do this for a living."

It happens a lot during the first couple weeks of school for a variety of reasons:

ONE: I forget over the summer all the small annoyances associated with this job (Every job has them). TWO: I get to know a bunch of new students and make cool connections with them; we get to know each other as people, not as "teacher" and "student". This is one of my favorite parts of teaching....

--seeing the shy kid raise his hand and commenting on it later to him how it was a really well spoken idea

--the Body Snatched Students start sleeping in and my Real Students start showing their personalities and testing me to see how much of their true selves they can be in my class.

THIRDLY: I sometimes feel like I am "play acting". Not in the sense that I am faking it, just that I feel like it is just so much fun to be a teacher, that it can't be real. That it can't really be what I "am". FOUR: I still feel fresh, not burned out as many of us our right before winter break or.......the middle of May when everyone is sick of everyone else and chomping at the bit for summer. I have a ton of energy and big plans for the year.

Don't get me wrong, I blow no smoke, my name isn't Susie Sunshine, I do not skip to my classroom at 7:30 every morning, and I don't put smiley faces on papers when I correct them. Inevitably, there is a yin and yang. Every up has its down. Any other relevant cliche. Inevitably, of course, there are days where there was maybe just ONE too many dramatic sighs, eyerolls or tooth suck. Those are the days where I might tend to think, just for a brief moment: "I don't get paid enough for this s***...."

Waiting 102: Pretty Much Failing the Class.

2008-09-09T18:55:00.003-05:00

We had a showing, as you know, on Sunday.

They came back for a second showing yesterday.

They torment. We have heard nothing.

Dear Nice Lady,

Please tell us you want to live in this house. You will really like the house. I met you because you came early and I think it would be a really good fit...the house and you. See how I am not even calling it our house?

I think it---the house---wants to be your house.

Can you hear that?

I think the house is pleading for you to call your realtor who will call our realtor who will call us and tell us that you also think it would be a really good fit....the house and you.

Think about it, K?

K. Enough thinking. Pick up the phone and start the circus.

Huh. I was thinking what a great movie moment that would have been if I had finished typing and the phone rang and it was our realtor and it all was coming true---just as I was creating it.

What's it like in my world, you ask?

Pretty. And shiny. And full of people who are too nice to torment me any longer and decide to buy our house.

(Dang it. It's not going to work, huh?)

K, call me back, K?

Pepper Roastin'.

2008-09-07T11:12:00.020-05:00

Remember this from yesterday? Today, we are going to look at one way to roast peppers...red, green, hot, mild, sweet. The whole sordid lot. There they are, top right, having been picked minutes earlier from my garden. I have found that they are easiest to peel after roasting if they are fresh. The fresher, the better.

My mother in law works at a hospital and gave me a surgical tray one year for Christmas. It was seriously one of the most useful and beloved Christmas gift ever received. It is about the size of a half cookie sheet, shaped like a jelly roll pan with higher sides and just perfect for this, or most any, cooking or baking job.

My broiler is in the oven as opposed to a separate unit below; turn that baby on and put all the peppers in for some roastin.

Now, there are a lot of different ways or locations to roast peppers.

In Bulgaria, every fall at my bloc apartment building, people would roast over open fires and do multiple humongoid bags in one day. They were making lutenitsa, among other things, which is a roasted pepper spread.

When I lived in Santa Fe, I witnessed (in a parking lot of all places) a huge hopper for the green "Hatch" chili peppers being roasted over, again, an open fire. This hopper was like a Bingo numbers cage on steroids. It was made out of wire and was on a rotisserie that could constantly be turned to jumble the peppers so they could all get flame licked.

I have also seen then done on a grill, but this seems to take longer if the grill on top is keeping the peppers from direct flame. Think of the time to roast a golden brown marshmallow vs. the nuclear option that produces a flaming ball of molten mallow.

In a pinch, I have also roasted a pepper over the gas stove burner with metal tongs. Don't judge.

This is after a couple minutes. They are not ready to turn yet, you want the side to be completely black. You may hear some popping; that is the skin of the pepper bursting open to release the steam that is being built up inside the skin. If you are able to be patient and sit and watch the peppers during this first stage, you will see the skin bubble and form a blister before it turns black.

Now, these are mostly ready to turn to a different side. You can see some of the pepper juice and water from inside the pepper that has leaked out through the burst skin. Unavoidable....or at least I haven't figured out how to avoid it. I am thinking that turning more might prevent the skin from bursting, but then I am not building up the heat in the oven because I am constantly opening and closing the door.

Maybe it wouldn't make a diff.

This is after turning multiple times to get all surfaces blackened. You can see all the juices that have leaked out have also blackened.

Time to carefully move them to the paper bag. They can be pretty fragile, especially if they are stuck to the pan.

Any paper bag that can fit all the peppers and can still close can do. I usually use a paper lunch bag. If you are going mega-batch, you could potentially use a paper grocery bag. This is a bag from the liquor store that is a little bigger than a lunch bag. (Gin, if you must know.)

They don't need any special treatment at this point, other than having the bag closed.

Then, let them sit in a place that is out of the way for 15-ish minutes.

Unless you are me and you forget them because you are also in the process of peeling a butt load of tomatoes at the same time.

No matter.

The beauty of using the paper bag is that I just rip it open and make a place mat for the peeling stage. The peppers are soft, pliant and still warm at this point.

You want to make sure that you are using a variety of pepper that has pretty thick walls....peppers that have a lot of "meat" on them. Then there will be something left after you have peeled the skin a way. If the variety is too thin, you peel a hole into the pepper when you peel and there is nothing left.

The same thing will happen if you roast too long on one side...there will just be charred everything instead of peppers that have been roasted.

These peeled very nicely. It is a huge mess, but totally worth it. There was actually one pepper that the entire skin peeled off in one huge piece. I was going to take a picture but my fingers were all gunked up.

Make sure to take the seeds and the top off. You can take the veins that run up and down the sides, but sometimes I leave those in. If you have some seeds that stick to the peppers, it is no big whoop.

You won't suffer any catastrophic side effects or anything.

Now, I just have to soak the pan. Most of this will come off with soaking and scrubbing. I pretty much just use this pan for roasting, so I am not too concerned with getting every little bit off.

If you are the type to be concerned with things of this nature, use an old pan or one you have already designated for roasting. Don't use your all time fave. You will have tragedy.

Multi-tasking.

2008-09-06T12:41:00.007-05:00

SO. Lots on my To Do list today. Here's part of it:

Roasting those peppers in the upper right, making Sugo (tomato sauce) from all those tomatoes, and a crap load of pesto to freeze from all that basil.

AND I just got a call that we have a showing tomorrow at 3:45pm. So, now I can add spiffin' up the plantation to my list of things to do. Nesty McNesterson is totally my mood today, so I got that going for me.

Plus, I can procrastinate correcting the homework assignments I brought home from Friday.

Comparisons

2008-09-05T16:54:00.008-05:00

Teaching is like traveling to another country. With each August countdown, there is a flurry of preparation, a mental whirlwind of checking and re-checking lists, sure---absolutely positive---I have forgotten some crucial item.

I lay awake the night before the first day of school as I do the night before a journey begins. Anxious. A thousand ‘what-if’s’ running around, bumping into one another in my mind, jockeying for position in the forefront of my brain. “What if I oversleep?” “Have I packed_________?” “Did I make that seating chart for second block World Studies?” “What was the word for ‘Thank You’?” “How will I deal with the myriad of mishaps on the first day of school that could make or break me for the semester depending on how I deal with them?”

Eventually, the confidence in myself as a resourceful traveler and a competent and resourceful teacher takes over and eases the traffic jam in my mind….each worrying ‘what-if’ finding its luggage on the baggage carousel and leaving the terminal of my head.

The alarm goes off and I am too focused, too busy to worry and stew on the ‘what-ifs’ of the night before. I have a new journey to begin today. There is a familiarity to this movement. It is a new kind of comfortable anxiety. It is the anticipation for the unknown ahead that is finally about to become the commonplace.

I focus on getting the necessary tasks done, checking in for my flight, making sure I have all my lesson plan materials for the first lesson of the year and then I wait. Wait for that first boarding call, that first bell to signal students to start trying to find my classroom.

The plane breaks through the clouds on its descent and I get my first glimpses of the new landscape that will be my home for the next couple months as my first students tentatively enter my classroom. The first view is still too distorted to be able to see what it will “really” be like---the area viewed from above is a patchwork quilt, the students still unknown and unrecognizable.

The bell sounds--signaling it is safe to remove your seatbelt and signaling the start of class—and I am full steam ahead. Again with the tasks of getting luggage, taking attendance, finding my lodging, finding a way to put the new faces with new names.

But in all the flurry and activity, in the back of my mind, I am taking in as much as I can. The license plates on the cars look different and the streets are narrower, that-girl-in-the-back-appears-to-be-easily-distracted-I should-move-her-seat-closer-to-the-front. The radio playing in the car lends a surreal quality to the normal activity of riding in a car, but it doesn’t sound familiar and the scenery flashing by I have never seen before, yet there is a familiarity to the people walking the sidewalks, living their lives. I am back in my classroom after being gone for a couple months and it is again filled with students and the teaching gig is familiar but it is all new faces I have never seen before….so it appears familiar, yet it is not. Again, there are a myriad of brief flashy thoughts that dart in and out of my mind as I go about my business of starting the journey, starting the school year.

That first night, I get into bed, exhausted, depleted from the effort it took to take EVERYTHING in, as much as I can all at once and still complete the tasks I had to do that day in beginning my new journey. With each successive night, I become less exhausted and more aware that I am less out of my element and more at ease in the surroundings.

After a couple weeks, I think back and reflect upon my first impressions…do I even remember them? What stood out as so different? It seems so ‘normal’ now. Were those first impressions of the city, of the students, correct or was I basing those impressions on a previous experience because it looked/sounded/acted the same? I have discovered how to navigate the new streets and alleys and I have learned everyone’s name and their personal quirks unfold daily before me.

Without me being conscious of it, a couple months have passed. Where did the time go? The anxiety is long, long gone and I am in full stride of living overseas or teaching in a high school and the newness has worn off. Right before winter break, everyone is chomping at the bit to have a week or so reprieve and have a chance to recharge and reevaluate how it is all going. After a couple months in another country, I want a break, a reprieve a chance to re charge. I don’t want to have to remember words if foreign languages, I don’t want to have to listen to high school students give excuses why they don’t have their homework, I don’t want to have to figure out the different system to send a letter, I don’t want to have to remind students to bring their books to class. The newness has worn off and I just want to be comfortable and in control of my life again.

Thankfully, this quickly passes and things turn to a more positive light and what was difficult before suddenly seems to be a breeze and everything just sort of falls into place with only the occasional road bump to break things up and make it a unique and interesting experience.

Before I realize it, I am at rehearsal for graduation reading the names of students that a few years earlier I wasn’t sure they would be walking across the stage or those that I can see great things destined for them. Before I realize it, I am packing my bags to return ‘home’, and yet this has become home.

It is bittersweet. I am happy to be returning to my family, to the States, to home and all things familiar and comfortable. I am happy that another school year has finished with its own unique successes and new relationships forged and deepened.

But.

In the back of my heart, I long to make the experience just a couple days longer, make one more connection, see one more light bulb go on. I realize that the closing of a chapter is happening. No matter how many times a student comes back to visit my classroom to say hi, or how many times I return to visit a country, it will never be the same. I close my classroom door for the last time and I step off the plane onto America soil. Already, as I get into the car to go home, I think……”next year”, “next trip”…..

Mannequins Ook Me Out.

2008-09-01T17:34:00.006-05:00

Do you get ooked out by mannequins? I totally do. I am not afraid of them or anything; I just really get sort of off balance around them. Madame Trussaud's does not sound like anyplace I would want to be. All corpse-y, waxy, looking-frozen-in-time-not-quite-right wax figures.

No thanks.

Historical displays like at museums that have life size beings to make it more realistic also ook me out. Their wigs or hairpieces are all just a little off and make me think of a mouse's nest.

At the Civic Fest '08 this past weekend, there was this:

FDR in his special car made with a ramp and space for his wheelchair. (How cool is the wicker wheelchair?!?!)

But the fake FDR? Couldn't look at it. I took the picture really super fast and didn't really worry about composition, lighting, aperture, etc

Wait.

I never worry about that stuff anyway.

CivicFest '08.

2008-09-01T17:05:00.008-05:00

The Republican National Convention is in St. Paul and Minneapolis is hosting Civic Fest. It is all things Presidential and my parents and I went Saturday.

My mom, with my dad behind her---directing, advising, critiquing---took this picture of me. I just wanted to show you, my peeps, how big this big*ss flag was. My father was concerned with getting the stripes to be parallel to the floor and my mom was concerned with taking the picture.

Each president had a display of information and whatnot regarding their presidency, their wives, the issues of their presidency, and their election ephemera.

This is part of Bill Clinton's case. I took the picture to show you the 3D hat in the upper left corner. I kid you not. Someone devised this hat to be extra special.

It looks like your everyday normal baseball hat. But, wait! The bill flips up to reveal the presidential seal, a silhouette of President Clinton, Vice President Al Gore, the Capitol......all displayed on your forehead in pop-up book, 3D fashion.

This was part of President G.W. Bush's case:

A commemorative plate with an inaugural dinner invitation, chadfetti, what looks to be a shot glass(??? I didn't notice this when I was there in person???), playing cards and various familiar bumper stickers and such.

I was struck by how much stuff....STUFF....we have compared to eras early presidents. Obviously, we are a much different society and this is just one facet of how differently we live. We are an industrial, consumer nation and that is reflected in the declarations we make and how we make said declarations of whom we support to be president.

Take a look at George Washington's inaugural dinner plate. A sunburst with a banner in the center surrounded by a chain linked wreath displaying the names of each of the first 13 states he was now responsible for leading successfully in democracy.

Stuff like that gets the history teacher all emotional. What must have President Washington been thinking at his inaugural supper?

What was President Washington worried about (everything??? I would be.)?

What was President Washington planning on doing his first day in office?

What was Martha Washington wearing and how was it received by the press......wait, was there press then?

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I Blank Ya, Tomorrow.....

2008-09-01T07:51:00.007-05:00

School starts tomorrow. The song from "Annie" popped into my head as I was typing the title and I couldn't really bring myself to type love, nor could I be the opposite of love about tomorrow.

I don't love the fact that my summer is officially over at 5:30 am Tuesday morn, but I am excited to start school. Maybe not excited as in jumpin' up and down and clapping my hand excited, but I do still have the getting back into school mode/frame of mind going on. There are things that I like/love about teaching still. Therefore, there are things that I can still get all amped up about at the beginning of the year.

I also know that I will not be teaching in high school for my whole career. I just know that I will hit a point that I am done. I almost was there last August. I could not get ramped up; in fact, I was pretty sourpuss-y until probably late November about teaching. I am working on an exit strategy within the next five or so years, just in case. Maybe I won't be ready in five, but it doesn't hurt to plan.

A wise friend once said: "Prior Planning Prevents Problems." Actually, I must give credit to her dad, but the kernel of wisdom rings true. Not that I really adhere to the logic for most of my daily experiences.........it is pretty much the opposite of Raccoon Baby Syndrome.

The Way Back Machine.

2008-08-31T23:21:00.017-05:00

Me: Circa 1952. Even though I am adopted, this makes me think of my Grandma Lorna. I think it is the hairstyle. Or maybe Betty. As in Crocker.

This is me Drunk in 1960.
Then I figured out how to straighten my face a little and I fit the glasses a little better.

I believe this was 1962. That hair was some pretty intricate sh*t. Not sure what I was thinking with the ascot scarfie scarf.

Pretty sure this was late 50s early 60s. Maybe the overzealous chair of some club only 5 people belonged to........Whoa. Way off, this one was 1970.

Ahhhhhh.......the bicentennial. This was my Farrah Phase. I worked so hard to get that top bang part to feather just right.

This was 1984. This totally looks like one of my roommates from freshman year in college for reals. Even though in 1984, I was only 14.

Ah. 1988. The year I really graduated. This, sadly, is pretty spot on.

Wow. I mean......wow. That is a lot of time I would never get back. That must have been a good 20 minutes with the can of hairspray and blowdryer. 1994, folks.

1996. This actual was palatable if you minus the earrings and Denim sleeveless.

And the hair.

This is really me as of two days ago.

This was so much fun. It is this website that you can upload your picture and then it gets put into different year's yearbook pictures. Jump into the Way Back Machine and knock yourselves out, my lovelies.

The website is here (thanks to The Daily Rant...check her out!)

Am I Wandering?

2008-08-29T17:21:00.013-05:00

I am starting to see the beginnings of "The Abandonment of the Militant Freakshow". (It sounds like a quasi-Renaissance painting.......)

Now, if this is deemed to be true......this, THIS, is the time that I prepared for when I began this blog. My wanderlust begins. I start to feel like I have been eating well, good choices have been made pretty consistently......The thought process: "One poor choice of what to eat or how much won't hurt anything." starts to worm into my brain.

Ah, poor food choices. How I love thee sometimes. Throwing caution to the wind and going back to the salad bar a second time. Rationale: Whatever! It's still a salad.....that's a good choice.

Why, yes, Militant Freakshow, it is. If you get the vegetables, not all the creamy pasta salads.

The poor choices that I confess here, to you, now---they were not necessarily plentiful, but added up, they could be labeled wanderlust from healthy choices....done.

Truth be told, folks: yesterday was the first major flub up that I have really had (And it was on a relatively small scale compared to past mistakes). Since the healthy eating journey began, I have not starved myself, I have not denied myself something I truly wanted, I have not suffered.

In fact, I have been quite proud of myself.

So. Why was yesterday a flubber? (Remember the Judy Blume book, Blubber? Wasn't it about a fat kid....) Well, because I didn't really want the second trip. Really. Even while I was going to get Round Two Plate, I had a conversation with myself, and I knew I didn't really want it. Yet, I continued. And that is why I consider it a poor choice. I ignored myself.

Now, if I was still hungry, and I was craving what I put on my plate then it would have been no big whoop.

There. Having purged myself of this incident here on these pages, I can move on. I already know that I am not going to continue making choices like yesterday because I have written it here. In the past, (Stop me if you've heard this one...) I would have used that as a reason to continue my demise and departure from the healthy living bandwagon.

In fact, if memory serves, at this point I would begin gnawing on one of the Bandwagon's wheels while eyeing a side panel to munch on.

I usually end up eating the whole wagon.

But, no more. Back on track folks. Riding shotgun on the Healthy Living Bandwagon once again. I kind of wish I had a kazoo. Thanks for a trip through my inner psyche. It helped.

Words I Hate.

2008-08-28T20:36:00.003-05:00

Moist.

I hate the word moist.

The "muh" with the "oy" and "stuh". The combination is not pleasing to my earholes.

I am not a musically gifted person, per say, nor am I really sensitive to audio things. Yet, I have determined---and I don't know why---that this word is like nails on a chalkboard of my mind.

Close runners up:

"Dank". Just sounds harsh......and also reminds me of bat caves with sharp teeth and beady red eyes. I mean, thanks Mr. Bat for eating all the mosquitoes, but I am sure am glad you are out at night when I am not.

Also, Rod. I repeat "Rod". If your name happens to be Rod, sorry if this offends...I have a distant relative whose name is Rod, he is not offended as far as I know. Regardless, the name doesn't really bug as much as the usage of the word rod in a sentence.

The shortness of the word, the abruptness of it. Describing something that might be longer or at least have some size to it, like a rod of steel----you'd think the name/word would be longer.

All three together: Makes me have a meltdown.

What words do you hate?

Body Snatched.

2008-08-27T15:36:00.011-05:00

Is it wrong that I like a brand new pencil?

Or a new packet of Bic Flair Pens....not just the black, red and blue pen pack but the Big Honkin' Colors Galore Pack? Like Deeeeees:

New folders? Crisp, undamaged.

Clean whiteboards, no crud on the classroom floor.....it all reeks of huge potential. A brand new year, a brand new start, quite possibly the best school year ever. Or so I sometimes tell myself in the high school girl voice a la Valley Girl speak.

Reality is delayed a bit even once school starts. I have one and a half, maybe two weeks in a good year, where my "real" students have not arrived yet. I have what I have termed as my "Body Snatched" students.

They brim with potential, they ooze positive attitude, they have also convinced themselves that this is going to be a new year, a new start, this is the year that they will do well in school. And for most of them, they do just fine. Then the "Body Snatched" students start to disappear and are replaced by the real students when the first test or project is due. Then, old habits of staying up late IMing friends or watching TV until 2 am or going and hanging out with friends instead of doing homework, whatever the reason.......the truth finally comes to light.

Every year it happens, and every year I wish it wouldn't. But, that would be living in a bubble and not in reality. I am already accused enough of not living in reality much of the time.

I will continue to try and help the Body Snatched stick around a little longer. That is my mission this year. I'll keep you posted.

Countdown to first day of school: 6 days and counting.

And it begins.

2008-08-26T15:49:00.005-05:00

Back to school folks.

I got just about zero done today. So, there's that. Helping out with a training, mentoring a brand new teacher, catching up with teacher friends from over the summer. I sometimes feel like it is a high school reunion and somewhat shallow.

Quick; summarize the past 2.5 months in 4 minutes. I don't think other teachers really care if my summer was fun filled and action packed..or not. You know the dynamic: You ask someone how they are in passing....say in the hall/street/office and you just want them to respond with a"Good." "Fine."...whatever dictates that you can keep moving and not feel the need to sit down and process it all or whatever.

I am hoping to get more done tomorrow and feel a bit more productive. Realistically, I always get done what I need to absolutely get done by when I need it done.

I am maybe...maybe not...mourning the passing of the beloved summer. We teachers get few benefits that are true benefits. Summers off is sometimes misleading as many of us continue our education to keep our licensure, or take a second job, or spend much needed time with kids and family. Some just need to be away from students to re-energize. They can occasionally be monsters and the end of the year is blessed relief.

Or maybe I just need a nap.

What a Difference a Day Makes........

2008-08-25T13:21:00.003-05:00

So. This was the status of ripe tomatoes as of yesterday morning. I had used about 5 times as many of the cherry tomatoes than are in the picture to makes some nice pico de gallo the other day. Super yum.

Then, partly due to fear of the neighborhood kids being tempted to perhaps pick the ripening fruit, I went down to the garden to see what might be picked a little early. Lo and behold, there was a lot more hiding under the leaves that was actually needing to be harvested. I picked a couple hot peppers, more tomato berries (The cherry tomato sized ones)......

PLUS......these ten beauties. I was actually a little shocked. For those of you that garden, read on. For those of you that are allergic to the thought of dirt under your nails, check back tomorrow.

Here is why I was a little shocked. In the past, I may have had this amount of harvest, but most of it was affected by blossom rot. This is where the bottom of the tomato turns black and ookey looking. You can still eat it, just not the black part. But, with the black part, I might venture to say that it is much less appetizing looking.

This year I took the advice of Buddha (an actual person, nicknamed Buddha, not THE Buddha) and mulched with meadow hay to "keep the roots warm". The advantages are twofold...other than keeping the roots warm.

1. No Blossom Rot so far. Blossom rot comes from uneven water, too harsh of weeding which hurts the tomato roots and other such calamities. With the mulch, the water doesn't evaporate as quickly, thus more even watering.....even if I don't water every day.

2. Substantially, SUBSTANTIALLY, cut down on weeding requirements. This department, again, is where we see Raccoon Baby Syndrome rear its ugly head. I am Supes Dupes Gung Ho in the spring and early summer (When it is not a bajillion degrees out and 500% humidity) about weeding. By late July and all of August....not so much. So, the fact that I am having to weed less..I still have to but I think I have only had two big rounds of weeding, instead of realistically what should have been twice a week..is really nice.

I love this summer.