I Will Make Him in My Image...

Back to school is in full swing, and we have been inundated with ads and circulars from stores hoping to cash in on the bonanza. I guess they must be trying even harder this year than usual because, just like in every other area, so many people are cutting back on their spending. Perhaps this is why we received a "Crewcuts" catalog from the J. Crew Company.

Now don't get me wrong, I have owned items from J. Crew, and I even step into their store from time to time. Mostly their clothes are too expensive for me, but I admit that they are well made. I might splurge on a coat or a sweater, especially if they are on sale, because I know the item will last for several years. However, the same cannot be said for kids’ clothes.

This crewcuts catalog is entirely for kids, and it is both hilarious and ridiculous. For obvious reasons, kids cannot wear the same clothes for years on end (unless, of course, you have a serious hand-me-down economy working at your house). Therefore, spending huge amounts of money on their clothes is a foolish waste.

Not only that, but the fashions in this catalog are so stuffy, and the materials so easily damaged that kids would be prevented from running and playing as they should. Who wants to stomp through mud puddles in their $148 Italian leather shoes? How about climbing a tree in your $98 silk skirt? I'm sure some kids do manage to sneak out and play in these clothes, but then they have to endure the shrieking from Mom about dry-cleaning bills when they go home.

But the worst, the very worst, part about this catalog is not the silly fabrics or even the extreme prices. The worst part is the "mini-me" quality to the fashions. Kids do not belong in cashmere cardigan sweaters with silk shantung shells underneath. They do not need wool blazers, or silk ties, or HERRINGBONE DRIVING CAPS! They are not going to cocktail parties or boardroom meetings! They are KIDS for goodness sake!

Pardon me if I've become a bit shrill. I think all my years teaching in the upper crust may be getting to me. Besides, I don't actually have any kids, so I shouldn't judge. Perhaps if I ever do, I will suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to buy them cashmere sweaters, white wool peacoats, and Italian suede boots. Yeah, and pigs wearing $165 silk dresses might suddenly learn to fly.

The Sleep Less Gene?

It seems that scientists are on the trail of a genetic mutation that makes a person require less sleep. A major sleep study came up with two women who just naturally need only about six hours a night. The authors were quick to point out that, unlike millions of other people, these two are actually fully rested after the shorter night's sleep. I wish, wish, wish I had this gene.

Think what a jump you would have on the rest of the world if you only needed four or six hours and then woke up fully rested. You could work, read, exercise, socialize, or do any number of other things, and still be bright-eyed when it was time for the rest of the world to wake up. Now that would be a mutation to be proud of.

Les Paul Dead

What you've never heard of Les Paul? You are probably still a fan without even realizing it. Name the major event in the history of Rock, and he, or one of his guitars, was almost certainly there. When I took The History of Rock in college (yes really) we learned about all his innovations to the electric guitar. He is credited with giving the instrument its "unholy" sound. One of his early converts was Buddy Holly, and there were many more to come. I guess we can't be too sorry for his loss since 94 years is a pretty good run.

The End and The Beginning

Summer has been so relaxing, so rejuvenating, and so simply glorious that I have been very much not wanting to see it come to an end. Sure, I've done quite a few errands, appointments, and house chores, but I've also spent a lot of time doing exactly as I please. Who wouldn't want to take a couple months off like this? Nevertheless, all good things must pass.

Yesterday I went to school for the very first time since went got out in June. I'm not actually required there for another week yet, but I prefer to ease into these things, and so I made a brief visit. I was pleased to note that my head did not explode as I walked through the doors. All that relaxation has worked its magic, and I really am somewhat prepared to get stuck in once more.

On the first day all I did was say "hello" to the office staff, pick up my keys, and head off to my classroom. It was a pleasant surprise to find that the custodians did not pile all my furniture into a leaning tower of horror (as they do some years when they clean the carpets). Everything was pushed to one side, but that was all. I did a little unpacking, and taking down of dust covers, but I only stayed for a couple of hours.

Today, I went and covered my bulletin boards with bright sari fabrics, and managed to not fall of the various precarious perches I used to do the job. Braving the spaghetti of cables and cords, I managed to set up one computer, but I still have seven more to go. I also ran out for lunch with a friend which seemed very decadent of us, but when we got back I saw that only an hour had passed. I am jealous of those people who always get an hour for lunch!

Tomorrow is more of the same. Bit by bit I'm getting closer to feeling comfortable about the start of the new year. I must confess that a small part of me is even finding a bit of that old enthusiasm, and hopefully that will carry me through.

Speaking Your Piece

For what it's worth, below is a copy of the email I sent to one of my state senators. I don't have any illusions about it actually being read by the senator, but I'm hoping that some lacky will put a check mark in the "pro universal healthcare" collumn as he or she sifts through the day's emails.

Dear Senator Murray,

I will keep this simple. Seeing all the yelling and screaming and carrying on in the news about healthcare reform, I feel the need to try and balance out at least one of those loonies. It is essential that we create a system of universal health care in the United States. I believe this is one of the single most significant issues of our times, and it is so important that this issue not fall by the proverbial wayside.

My husband and I have excellent health coverage due to our employment in public education and a major corporation. However, not all members of my family are so lucky, and it makes me ill to think that a person can work as hard as humanly possible throughout their lifetime, and still end up being financially ruined by a health crisis that occurs before they reach medicare age.

I am strongly in favor of a federal healthcare system, and I vote in every single election. Fight, Senator Murray; fight hard.

Sincerely,

Camano Island Camping

Over the last weekend, we did our annual camping trip to celebrate the birthday of Elder Niece. This time we visited Camano Island State Park, and found it to be a highly enjoyable destination for car campers. Our sight was on the upper loop, and it was roughly 200 ft from the edge of the bluff. The only thing between us and a view of the water was a stand of tall trees and a cliffside trail.

One night we watched the moon rise above the trees. There was singing around the campfire, and writing activities such as circular poetry and madlibs also filled the gaps. One day we walked along the shore and turned over the rocks to look at all the little crabs underneath. The nieces know how to catch these little creatures without getting pinched, and they carried several around in empty clam shells. There was also a "serious" game of wiffleball in one of the clearings, and I learned that I am still not good at playing sports.

Not only do they have camping at Camano, but also cabins. It turns out that the park has a little village with units that can be rented out year-round for quite reasonable rates. Reservations can be made up to 18 months in advance, so I am already thinking about a return trip. I would certainly recommend the place for a weekend away.

Vampire List

It seems that Entertainment magazine has a feature about the recent success of the vampire genre. On the whole, I thought it was fairly boring coverage (I read it at the gym I swear!), but the list of the top twenty made for interesting reading. There's is from most important to least.

1. Lestat, Interview With the Vampire
2. Christopher Lee’s Dracula
3. Bela Lugosi’s Dracula
4. Edward Cullen, Twilight
5. Bill and Eric, True Blood
6. Asa Vajda, 1960’s Black Sunday
7. Angel
8. Mr. Barlow, Salem’s Lot
9. Schuyler Van Alen, Melissa de la Cruz’s Blue Bloods series
10. Gary Oldman’s Dracula
11. Klaus Kinski’s Dracula
12. Zoey Redbird, P.C. and Kristin Cast’s House of Night series
13. Jean-Claude, Laurel K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series
14. David, 1987’s The Lost Boys
15. Miriam Blaylock and Sarah Roberts, 1983’s The Hunger
16. Blade, the Blade trilogy
17. Eli, 2008’s Let the Right One In
18. Countess Bathory, 1971’s Daughters of Darkness
19. Selene, the Underworld trilogy
20. Caleb and Mae, 1987’s Near Dark

Now I must confess that I am not familiar with all of these characters (hey, I'm not totally obessed!), but a few of them are favorites of mine. I certainly prefer the sexy vampires to the horrific ones. For what it's worth, here are ten of my favorite vampire characters in no particular order:

1. Lestat (of Rice's Interview fame)
2. Edward Cullen (of Meyer's Twilight)
3. Bill Compton (of Harris' Southern Vampire series)
4. Angel (of Buffy fame)
5. Spike (also of Buffy fame, but deserving his own number)
6. Dracula (how could you not include him?)
7. Nicholas Knight (of Forever Night)
8. Barnabas Collins (of Dark Shadows)
9. Nosferatu (because you have to give a nod to the pioneers)
10. Lord Ruthven (of Polidori's The Vampyre --- if only because it was the origin of the sophisticated vampire)

Bad Gardener

Earlier this summer, I happened to pick up some flowers in hopes of adding color to our back yard (aka the dirt patch). One combination I thought was quite fetching was a pair of young dahlias in striking shades of red and white. I planted them together in a single pot, and, for a time, enjoyed the two different colors of flowers and their fresh green foliage.

Not long ago, I happened to be sitting in the yard when it occurred to me that the pot of dahlias looked different somehow. It was still beautiful and full of blossoms, but now they were all red. Now some kinds of plants can change the colors of their flowers based on soil conditions and other factors. However, I'd never heard of dahlias being able to make a change. I pondered the question several times as I watered the garden over the next few days, but the color change remained a mystery.

Finally, one day last week, I found my answer. While bending in to pinch off wilted blooms, I noticed the skeleton of one plant all but eclipsed by the first. It seems that the white plant died without my even noticing, and then the red grew in to fill the space. This is how observant a gardener I am! This could be why our garden always looks sort of scraggly and under-loved. Ah well, at least I didn't kill them both.

Signs of Summer in the PNW

One of the most memorable sights of summer for me has always been garter snakes. They are common where we grew up in Oregon, and my brothers and I used to catch them all the time. We never did anything with them except to keep them in a bucket for a few hours in order to admire them. There are many stories about the escapades of Elder Brother and his pet snakes, but I don't think I will get into that here. This pic was taken at my dad's house earlier this year. However, garter snakes are also common up here. This one raised it's head a bit and looked at us (Elder Niece and I) while we took the picture.

I Hate Barbie Dolls

In breaking news (okay maybe not this very instant) it seems that the Mattel company, in its endless quest to make questionable choices, has found a fabulous new update for the Barbie doll line. Say "hello" to the Totally Stylin' Tattoo Barbie! She's now available from fine retailers. Your young child can choose from the many adorable tattoos to decorate her doll according to her taste.

For example, your little darling might choose the pink butterfly for her arm, or perhaps the name of Barbie's boyfriend as a "tramp stamp" on her lower back. Some might argue that these are supposed to be temporary tattoos, but that is not clear from the name or the packaging. I know, I know I sound like an old lady to be complaining about this, but I can't help myself. Yes, I suppose people should have the right to choose if they will have a tattoo or not, but I don't think they need to start contemplating that personal dilemma when they are four years old.

Hot Weather Dinners

The last few days in the Pacific NW have been scorchers. Places like Seattle and Portland are experiencing 100 degrees plus while the rest of the nation seems to be enjoying mostly 75-90. Clearly there is a great big bug in the planetary punch cards because this is not the way things are supposed to run. Now would be a good time to investigate the fashionable (finally!) topic of climate change. However, I think the majority of my readers are up to speed on that one, and really I'd rather discuss the all important issue: dinner.

Making dinner when it is so hot out is not something most people want to contemplate. Not only do you not want to turn on that stove or oven, but the heat also suppresses appetite. Many solve this problem by heading for an air-conditioned restaurant. We tried that a few nights ago, and the result was an absolute herd of people with the same idea. Therefore, on a hot night, I prefer to find my own ways of coping with the food question.

The perfect solution is salad bar dinner. My mom used to do this all the time when I was growing up. On any hot day she would make things that would end up being cold by dinner time. Our house was quite comfortable in the morning and afternoon, but by evening it would be sweltering. Cold dinner served on the shaded porch was perfect.

All sorts of things might go on the menu. Dishes such as potato and broccoli salad with garlic vinaigrette, deviled eggs, sliced peaches with cinnamon, Greek salad with real feta and olives, coleslaw, and iced cucumber salad with dill were all common. She grew all the veggies in her massive garden, and harvesting was part of the fun. We (actually I should check with my brothers to see what they remember) loved these dinners because they were delicious and because they were a departure from the norm.

Did I mention that we all sat down to dinner together nearly every night? That was simply expected of every family member who was home, and we thought nothing of it. Of course you would sit down to dinner, otherwise you might not get any food. Lest this sound too sickeningly Rockwellian, I'm sure there was plenty of name calling, potty humor, and argument. Nevertheless, it was nice.

So I've made several salad suppers recently. They are not nearly as good as my mothers. Not all the produce comes from our garden, but I am inordinately pleased when I can add a handful of our own tomatoes or a few leaves of rainbow chard. If this heat continues, I may start to run out of ideas, but then we can just move over to the wonderful realm of sandwiches...

Rules for Summer Living

Not long ago, we had a family dinner at our house. We ate a dinner of salads and deviled eggs, went very slowly for a walk, and even played in the sprinkler for a few minutes. It was a very enjoyable way to combat the heat. While there, Younger Niece (who often amuses herself with writing activities during boring times) gave me a list she'd been working on in the car on the way over. Here it is:

Summer Rules for Auntie J. (not my real initial)

1. Read two hours daily

2. Write a novel

3. Work on novel at least once daily

4. Make a garden grow

5. Learn to fly a rocketship

6. Play Fable 2 (video game) at least ten times a day

7. Make your Sim (another video game) character go to work in a jet

8. Make fifty gallons of blueberry jam

9. Do coffee experiaments on cats

10. Make fifty gallons of coffee and make Uncle M. drink it all in one day

I do have a list of things I need to get done before my summer break is over, but it reads something like this:

1. Dentist

2. Doctor

3. Haircut

4. Hem pants

5. Clean car

Who wouldn't prefer Younger Niece's list of goals and aspirations to my own? I'll have to call about those rocketship flying lessons ASAP.

How to Be a Good Husband

Dear Men,

Do women confuse you? Do you have trouble understanding why they do the things they do? Do you often struggle to see what it is that women want from you? Do you throw up your hands in disgust and walk away? Do you wish things could be different? Do you long for the day when your wife or girlfriend is actually happy to see you on a regular basis? Well now you can! All you need is the Superior Husband Program (SHP). This program, based on the many sterling qualities of my superior husband, is centered around ten simple rules:

1. When she talks, actually listen to what she says (try, always try, to take an interest!)

2. Respect her as a person (remember, she somehow got through childhood, adolescence, education, and perhaps even a job and independent living without your help!)

3. Don't try to fix every problem (sometimes she just wants you to offer comfort and support)

4. Show her that you are thinking about her (this does not have to cost a lot) when you are apart.

5. Be generous with your appreciation of the things she does for you (around the house for example) and stingy with your complaints

6. Do things together both old and new (and be brave about this)

7. Pitch in! (boy can you get a lot of credit for doing chores when it's least expected)

8. Tell the truth about what you are feeling and what you want out of life

9. Stand together (do any disagreeing in private)

10. Tell her that you love her in a multitude of ways (most women really don't get tired of this!)

You can laugh, if you like, at my naïveté, but it's all true. Nobody is perfect, and M is no exception. We both have our moments. However, he truly is a superior husband, and I am still quite thrilled to be his wife. Now I'd better post this quick before I get embarrassed and lose my nerve.

Stupid Summer Reading

Okay fine! I confess! I enjoy crappy magazines. In fact, during the summer I have been known to read everything from Allure to Ladies Home Journal to Redbook. The only place I draw the line is at purely gossip mags (those are only for reading at the gym or the doctor's office so I don't actually contribute any money or subscriber numbers to that yucky business) and those which focus entirely on sex (Cosmo, I used to love you, but then you became so single-minded!). Otherwise, most titles are fair game.


What is it about these magazines that is so satisfying? There is something about content that speaks to an old-fashioned part of my personality. Perhaps the articles address my insecurities. It's as if they are saying "you too can be a better wife/housekeeper/fashion plate/decorator/fitness/nut/friend/community member/etc in only ten easy steps!" My rational mind knows perfectly well what is going on, but that doesn't seem to matter. I still read all ten steps. I can hear the serious-minded women out there scoffing right now, but that is the best explanation I can offer.

I must not be alone. My grandmother, a PhD sociologist, was also a great reader of women's magazines. My father remembers her have stacks of them (a practice they would abhor) alongside her academic journals. Lest you think I might be in danger of growing soft-headed, I must defend myself by pointing out that I enjoy many serious reads such as Harpers, Discover, and The Atlantic. However, that is beside the point.

Therefore, scoff all you like, but I'll keep reading. There is nothing so summery as taking your glass of iced tea and your terrible magazine and sitting in the backyard. Also, while you are there, you might just learn some incredibly useful information about how to clean your grill, decorate with throw pillows, or be at peace with your in-laws. Who could resist wisdom like that?

So Much More Fun Than Tupperware

Today on Spacebook I got a targeted ad for a home sales party. I'm sure you know the kind. This is where the host offers you food and maybe a few goodies, and you're supposed to buy into the fabulous products they are representing. Tupperware made this practice famous, but you now find these types of parties for everything from cleaning products to rubber stamps to designer clothes.

So why was my ad special? It was for a tuna party. Yes, tuna. Bumblebee will cheerfully send you a party packet including "recipes, goodies, great food, and an amazing party!" I don't think that ad targeting must be working very well if it is suggesting that I be the host for a tuna party. However, I don't want to be judgmental. If you feel like hosting the party, please do be my guest. Just don't invite me because I'm pretty sure I have an important, um, thing I need to do instead.

Back

Ahh it feels good to be home! We've only been away for a week, but it feels like more due to the nature of our travels. First, several days before we left, I went into frantic Country Fair mode. The combination of camping and commercial endeavors means that you need a wide range of gear in order to get by. I spent ages building a vast pile in our family room to ensure that I didn't forget anything essential to our comforts or to the running of our booth. Of course this means I forgot lots of things.

At some point, I must go into each of these phases in detail, and with some of the photos I took. However, for the moment, here is a brief run-down of our adventure:

--- Tuesday night I washed the nieces and packed the massive pile into M's highly useful car

--- Wednesday morning we drove to Oregon stopping once for Subway (note, it was a fairly peaceful drive because I used luggage to create a tall barrier between the kids. I highly recommend this trick.)

--- Wednesday afternoon we went out to the fair and got our wristbands that allow us to stay on-site after the public gets kicked out for the night. Huge line for no discernable reason. Frantically tried to pour mosquito repellent on Elder Niece who is mildly allergic.

--- Wednesday night, we arrived at my Dad's, had a slap up dinner, and found various spots to lay our sleeping bags (it was really good to see my dad, and I'm only sorry we couldn't stay longer)

--- Thursday morning headed out to the fair with both brothers and their guests. Thus the great pack in began. This is where you carry everything from the massive pile to your booth which is located about 1/2 mile (roughly) away. Back and forth back and forth.

--- Thursday afternoon we set up our booth and our camping area which is hidden right behind. I'm happy to say that three teachers, two engineers, two economists, one editor, and two kids make a pretty good booth team.

--- Friday was a great day at the fair. We made a fair (har!) amount of money (good because we make a sizable investment in order to come each year) and I think most people had fun. The Tofu Tias and fudge (a Friday tradition) were divine.

--- Saturday was also a good day. We didn't make quite as much money, but then again we never do on Saturday. I also went to a music show with Elder Niece, M, and the two economists. Turns out everybody enjoys Beatles cover bands. One of my two most favorite aunties arrived that day too! It wouldn't be the fair without her. Cheesecake at midnight is another delectable family tradition.

--- Sunday was where everything came apart. In the morning, the thunder crashed and the rain came down, and I have never seen such a wet fair. Our booth is such that you can sort of keep things dry, but it's a constant effort. No words can describe the way the earthen path became a sea of mud. I'll just have to post the pics. It was a quite miserable day. The pack out was made far worse by the rain, the lack of people to help (several left early), and the extreme distance to the cars. I suppose what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

--- Sunday evening found us finally done with our fair exit and on the road to the Oregon coast. We stayed at the Overleaf Lodge, and enjoyed views of the ocean, clean beds, no drum tower while we were trying to sleep, and bathrooms instead of port-a-potties. It was heaven. There is nothing quite like going from the mud hell to a third floor hot tub overlooking the ocean.

--- Monday we walked on the beach, enjoyed the most amazing collection of tide pools, and relaxed.

---Tuesday we visited the Oregon Coast Aquarium and the Rogue Brewery (very close together so you can make the kids and Dad happy in almost the same visit) and then drove home.

What a long strange trip it's been. Now I have the very same mountain of stuff in the family room, but it all needs serious washing. Is the fair worthwhile given all the work and discomforts? That is tough to say. The assembly of nearly the entire family is quite wonderful, and in a normal year, I think that is the deal maker. However, the mud was another thing entirely. Let's just hope it really is on a twenty year cycle (my mom and I think the last big rain at the fair was in about 1989) and we won't have to deal with anything like that again for a good long time. At least I am once again reminded of how incredibly lucky I am to live my luxurious First World life. Okay, that's as much time as I can waste on blogging. Now I really must get back to the pile.

Welcome Baby A!

Wow, you go away for a few days, and the whole world changes. It seems that my friends, R and J, had a baby just a little early while I was away. It could not have happened to a nicer couple who are honestly two of the best people I know. Luckily for the baby, J has had lots of practice on her three cute nieces. Plus, unlike many dads, R has actually had quite a bit of hands on experience as well since he was around when my nieces were babies. Baby A is sure to receive nothing but the most tender care from her parents. Welcome to the world Baby A. We are very excited to know you.

You Know It's Summer When...

1. you no longer need the dryer in order to finish the laundry (I love that sundried smell)

2. you can go for a walk AFTER dinner, and it's still sunny and beautiful outside

3. the mosquitoes come out (I just got bitten ON MY BOSSOM! How rude is that?)

4. concert season begins at all the outdoor venues (yay for picnics on the grass!)

5. you actually see the garbage get collected

6. you encounter that strange beast known as daytime television (scary!)

7. flower and veggie gardens go crazy!

8. you can stay up until the terribly exciting hour of midnight!

9. you can go to the movies midweek (see #8)

10. you get to sit in the backyard, iced tea in hand, and read your novel to your hearts content

Hooray for Franken

Forgot to mention in the last post (although I'm sure it's been done elsewhere):

Hello I'm Stuart Smalley. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggonit I'm the junior senator from Minnesota.

Super Majority!

After eight months of finagling on the part of Republicans, a court has finally decided that Al Franken is, indeed, the winner in Minnesota. That is very exciting news for Franken and the people of his state. However, in much more important news, Franken makes senator #60 for the Democratic Party. This filibuster-proof number allows the Democrats to push through pretty much any legislation they would like. This reminds me of the days when the Republicans had the house, senate, and presidency, and they took out that wonderful "Contract on America." It's payback time! But I'm not partisan or anything!

A Ho Hum Book Review

Can someone please tell me what is so hot about The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society? This is a newish novel by Mary Anne Shaffer, and I keep seeing rave reviews about it in all sorts of places. I read this book, and I don't get it. It's a little book about a little island. The set-up is unique and so is the title, but otherwise it is just a sort of cute little story. The reviewers are treating it like great new lit, and I really cannot see what all the fuss is about. Perhaps I've spent too many years in the YA trenches, and I just don't get "real" literature anymore. I expect something remarkable before a book goes on my best loved list.

Birthday 09

Thanks to all the kind people who remembered me on my recent birthday. I am one lucky girl to have such thoughtful friends and family. M, in particular, outdid himself (you would not believe how talented he is with a carrot cake!) The Nieces also played a special part in that they brought me a light-up birthday crown, multi-colored birthday star necklaces, a big pink "birthday girl" button, and a coconut drink holder for my birthday beverages. They dressed me in all my finery, and then they proceeded to chase me around the yard with silly string. Now that is a birthday.

Oregon Wildlife

Over just one day in the Oregon countryside, we saw these animals:

A brindle-brown fox trotting through a new-cut field of hay.

A tall, thin jack rabbit with loooong ears and legs racing through a stand of fir trees (it reminded me of Hester from The Golden Compass).

Coil upon coil of garter snake sitting on a warm patch of brick. He lifted his head and glared at us as we came close (pic to come later).

A small herd of deer munching grass on the side of the road.

About ten million cows.

College Anniversary

This month marks the tenth anniversary of my graduation from undergrad. I absolutely cannot believe that much time has passed since I wore the silly gown and followed my departmental placard across the commons. My impression of campus is still completely fresh in my mind, and I think I could go back and find any classroom in any of those old buildings. I definitely feel nostalgia for those years since college was one of the most satisfying times in my life.

No, I didn't spend it partying (I turned 21 two weeks AFTER graduation) it was the actual learning that was so much fun. Yes, yes, I know that sounds depressingly teachery of me, but it is the simple truth. I loved that time at the end of every term when the new schedule of classes would come out. I would run down to the bookstore to pick up a copy on the first day they were available. Paging through those smudgy, newsprint listings was nothing short of thrilling. What should I take next term? There was never enough time for it all. Granted, I may be romanticizing things just a teeny bit. After all, hours of homework every night is not something I can pretend to miss.

Blood Sacrifice

Recently, I was visiting the doctor (no, not for a pre-natal visit!) when she mentioned that she would like me to stop by the lab for a blood test. This was no surprise since doctors find my blood to be quite fascinating, and I never seem to have an appointment without some quality time in the phlebotomist’s chair. I dutifully submitted to the blood-letting, and then went on my merry way.

Three weeks passed, and I noticed that I didn't get any test results. I logged in to my online health records, and there was no test listed there either. Finally, I called the doctor's office, and the assistant answered the phone:

Me: Hi I'm calling about my test results?

Her: Okay, let me pull up your file...

Me: It was on X date, and I stopped in for a blood draw after the appointment

Her: Hmm, I don't see it here. What were they testing?

Me: I'm not sure (yeah I know I suck for not asking), she just asked me to have the blood drawn, and I thought I would know when the results came.

Her: Oh it was one of those tests.

Me: ???

Her: That test was just for the doctor.

Me: What does that mean? It was my blood.

Her: Yeah, but she was just checking something, but it's not like an official test.

Me: But it's my blood!

Her: Yeah, but you don't need to worry because she was just checking on one little thing. Everything's just fine, so no need to worry. It just wasn't an "official" test.

Me: Gah!

What the heck is all this? How do they decide what's an "official" test and which ones are "just for the doctor?" Don't most people assume they will get results when they have a test? I guess not. No wonder people get so frustrated at the high-handedness of the medical establishment. Next time I'm asking really clear questions about what the tests are, and when I can expect the results.

May 19th vs June 19th

May 19th

6am ------- get ready for work
7am ------- arrive at school, scarf oatmeal, review daily plan
Period 1 --- language arts class
Period 2 --- social studies class
Period 3 --- prep time (plan, make copies, mark papers, answer email, etc)
Period 4 --- study skills class
Lunch ----- scarf food, mark papers, answer email
Period 5 --- advanced language arts class
Period 6 --- advanced social studies class
After school --- various meetings and planning tasks

June 19th

6am ------- sleep
7am ------- sleep
Period 1 --- sleep
Period 2 --- drink tea, read paper, go to gym
Period 3 --- gym, shower, read book
Period 4 --- clean house, watch tv
Lunch ----- linger over soup and salad while reading book
Period 5 --- read book
Period 6 --- go for walk in sunshine
After school --- read book

At Last

Praise the lord and pass the margaritas! The 2008/2009 school year is now a thing of the past! Yes, yes, I know, I don't actually have much use for God or tequila, but it's the thought that counts. Suffice it to say that I am VERY excited about the summer. It could not have come a moment too soon because this school year, while politically much more peaceful than last, was kind of tough on the student end of things. I think I will celebrate by going out to lunch, taking a nap, and spending tomorrow reading some "penny dreadful" novel from cover to cover. Ahhh life is good.

Google Art

Be sure to check out google today. I love the different kind of art they do to celebrate various days and events. Somebody there must be a big music fan.

The Kindness of Children

Sometimes we "old" (hey compared to them!) people have sort of a dim view of America's youth. To some, they seem shallow, spoiled, and just plain annoying. That all may be true of some teens, but I am here to say that the other kind exists as well. I know this may be a shocker, but there are teenagers out there who are smart, dedicated, courteous, and kind. What's my proof? Well, I could quote stats about volunteerism, school attendance, or psychological surveys, but I think a more concrete example may be found in my classroom.

Not long ago, I was away for a family wedding. When I got back, the kids greeted me with their usual enthusiasm (they have a lot) and then we got back to the business of running a classroom. One kid asked for a ruler, so I went back to my desk and opened the ruler drawer. Just then, all the kids jumped up from their desks and crowded around. I knew something was up, and sure enough, there was a wrapped package sitting in the drawer. This turned out to be a brand new music player.

It seems the kids remembered a conversation we had about music. They asked me what kind of IPOD I had, and I told them that I didn't have a fancy music player. I thought nothing of it at the time, but the kids remembered. They organized, campaigned while in other classes, and collected enough money to buy a Zune. One kid even had the task of asking my favorite color.

Now I know many people may miss the point in this story. This may sound like an example of over-privileged kids buying favor with their teacher, but that is really not what happened there. These kids were already doing great in terms of grades, and they really had no reason to offer any kind of bribe. They did this out of the kindness of their hearts, and that, not the tech toy, is what made such an impression on me.

P.S. Lest you worry about my professional morals, I did check with the Big Boss, and he said it was okay to keep the gift.

Down with Modern Symphonic Music!

The Ades piece we heard last night reaffirmed my belief that, unlike cheese, the younger a classical piece is the MORE it is likely to stink. Yes, yes, I know this may make me sound like a philistine, but that's just been my experience over the years. I understand that composers need the chance to continue musical innovation, and it would be a tragedy to music if new work stopped and we just listened to Beethoven for the rest of eternity. I also know that Beethoven and others were considered avant-garde in their times as well.

All of that does not change the fact that the bulk of this modern music is just not fun for listening. "Ha!" you might say "but you already admitted to being a musical dumbo! All the cool people enjoy this stuff! Why should idiots like you dictate what gets played?!" Weeeelll that may be true, but the announcements the conductor made before the Ades music began made it clear that he expected a lot of the audience to dislike what they heard. Go ahead modern fans, comment away. I am not alone.

Kids Email the Darndest Things

Recently, I was out of my classroom for a day due to a team meeting. This late in the school year, I was pretty nervous about leaving my students. They tend to get a little antsy when they have a sub, and that combined with summer fever was a dangerous proposition. However, I couldn't skip the meeting, so I wrote my sub plans and hoped for the best. That night, when I checked my work mail from home, I found this email:



Hi Mrs. Totheworld



I just wanted to check that you got my note? I put a note on your desk to explain things. I just wanted to say that I'm really really sorry and I just don't know how that could have happened.



Sorry,



Bobby



This kind of cryptic note used to have me tearing my hair and rushing back to work to see how bad it might have been. After several years of this, however, I have a much more Zen approach to these issues. I calmly wait until the next day, review the situation carefully, and THEN turn red, jump up and down, and threatened to throw students to the lions.

The Final Crunch

I have a dozen or so drafts in my blogging lineup that represent ideas for posts. However, I find myself with very little time to write these days. The end is nigh (about a week and a half) and so many tasks have come to call. From the tall to the small, there is lots of organizing, sorting, finalizing, grading, lifting, hefting, and other fun verbs involved. If only I were more organized as a blogger, I might have an impressive list of pending posts, but I'm not, so I don't. Oh well. Wish me luck.

Hot! Hot! Hot!

I am thrilled! THRILLED! by the wonderful warm spring we've been having. The last few weeks have been largely sunny skies and nice temperatures, and most of the time that is a very good thing. Maybe I will actually manage to grow some tomatoes to ripeness this year. However, in regards to school, warm sunny days can be a drag.

Today, when I arrived in my classroom, it was already 74 degrees. Now that really isn't such a bad indoor temp, but when you consider that no computers were on, the sun wasn't fully risen, and there were no hot humans in the room, it really becomes quite an impressive number. By 9am this morning, it was 82. With the largest class yet to come, we are up to 84 degrees and counting. The only upside to the increased temps is that their naughty behavior actually peaks and begins to come down the closer you get to 90 degrees. Of course, teaching a class full of limp noodles isn't exactly a picnic, but it may be preferable to having them bouncing off the walls. Think cool thoughts for me.

Politics and the Media

I just couldn't pass up this wondeful quote since it is so heart-breakingly true:

from Quotes of the Day

"When the politicians complain that TV turns the proceedings into a circus, it should be made clear that the circus was already there, and that TV has merely demonstrated that not all the performers are well trained."

Edward R. Murrow

Cute Kid Quotes

A family of our acquaintance has recently moved back into town (we are ecstatic with joy over this!), and we are enjoying their company once again. They have two young children, and it seems as though every time we see them, one or both of the kids says something incredibly cute. Of course it certainly doesn't hurt that they have adorable little accents as well. Here is a brief sampling:

Upon being told they could play for five more minutes before going to bed, the younger one replied "Hmm, sounds reasonable!"

Upon winning a tough game of Blockus, the older one crowed "Ha! ha! I've foxed you!"

Upon beating her brother in a video game race the younger one yelled "Look! Brother blew up! Yay!"

Upon watching her brother struggle with something, the younger one said "Be careful Brother, or you will break open your whole head!"

I could go on and on, but you get the general idea. Kids of a certain age are great fun to have as friends. This is especially true if they are borrowed kids, and you get to give them back at the end of the day.

Healthy Vegetarian Kids

Note: Keyword analysis #3 Raising vegetarian kids, healthy vegetarian kids, cooking for vegetarian kids, or a dozen other ways of saying basically the same thing.

Yes, for the 1000th time, yes, you CAN raise healthy vegetarian children. If I encounter one more person who puts on a vaguely disapproving expression and begins muttering things about protein and iron and "little bodies" and "strong bones" and then finishes up by saying something like "of course it's fine for the parents to do what they want, but growing kids need real/proper/decent/nutritious food" I am going to scream.

My brothers and I were raised on a purely lacto-ova vegetarian diet, and we have remained vegetarians in adulthood. One brother is 6'1" and the other is 6'4". We are all healthy and mentally acute (well most of us anyway!). We did not eat vitamin pills or supplements to get here, and we did not suffer significant social stigma in the lunchroom. Our mother fed us healthy, fresh, planet-based meals with a few dairy products on the side. I have never, in all my blood donating years, failed an iron test.

Sure, you might say, it's always possible to find an outlier to any situation, and maybe most vegetarian kids are shrimpy, sick, and stupid. Studies show that this is not the case. In fact, one study looked at the diets of teens and found that the vegetarians were actually HEALTHIER than their meat-eating peers. Vegetarians, over all, tend to eat less fat, less sodium, and more fresh fruit and vegetables. In addition, protein, iron, and B vitamin levels were found to be within acceptable standards. When you start looking at the research, the theory that vegetarianism is not healthy just doesn't hold water.

Now of course it is possible to become malnourished by eating nothing but French fries. Then again, it is possible to become malnourished while eating nothing but chicken nuggets too. In fact, any sensible person should spend time thinking about what they eat, and come up with a healthy balance of foods. All I'm trying to say is that a well-considered vegetarian diet can be just as healthy for children and adults as a meat-eating one. I'm living proof.

Beethoven's 9th Symphony

Keyword analysis entry #2: Beethoven's 9th

I cannot believe that I am getting hits from the simple search "beethovens 9th." You'd think there would be about a million music sites vying for the opportunity to tell about one of the most famous pieces of music in the world. Nevertheless...

Beethoven's 9th symphony (aka Symphony No. 9 in D minor) is one of the single best-known and most recognized pieces of classical music. Beethoven's last symphony, it was composed after his hearing loss had become complete. It is the choral section, commonly referred to as "The Ode to Joy", that is perhaps most memorable to the average listener.

Because many symphonic music directors are loath to overplay the "big hits", Beethoven's 9th is usually reserved for special occasions such as the winter holidays, the 4th of July, or other events. This piece is considered by many to be very accessible for listeners who are new to the genre of classical music. What do you think Symphony Club? Does that about cover it?

Why Go to the Symphony?

Note: This is keyword analysis post #1. It seems that a handful of people wonder why anyone would bother to attend a performance of classical music. For some odd reason, many of these searchers are from Texas. By the way, this entry SHOULD have been written by my friend R who is the maestro of all things symphonic.

So you're thinking of taking a trip to your local concert hall. Maybe someone is dragging you along, kicking a screaming, to see a show. Maybe you just won free tickets in a raffle. Maybe you just think it's time you tried out some of the more "grown up" cultural activities out there. Whatever the reason, going to the symphony is a great idea! Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the music!

Top Ten Reasons to Visit the Symphony

1. Many classic composers had incredibly cool hair. Look through the program to find new cuts and styles for yourself.

2. You can check out all other hot symphony goers who may be sitting around you. Perhaps you can meet someone new! This is especially likely if you prefer ladies or gentlemen of the blue-haired variety. This is doubly true at Sunday afternoon performances.

3. You can score free cough drops from the ushers! Just be sure to unwrap before the music begins.

4. You get the chance to shoot withering glances at people who forget to unwrap their cough drops before the music begins. You also get to do this to ANYONE who talks for ANY reason.

5. Enjoy this chance to dress up. No, no, penguin suits are only for the performers, and you should leave your Marti gras costume at home. Symphony attire can be anything from khakis and a polo to fancy dress clothes. Saturdays tend to be the most formal.

6. Snacks are the best. At least here in Seattle, you can get an entire dinner before the performance. During intermission, they have the best cookies. Just don't try taking anything back to your seat.

7. Oh yeah the music! I knew there was something I was forgetting! The music IS the reason that most symphony goers bother to come.

8. Many claim that classical music is good for the brain improving an array of cognitive skills at least in the short term.

9. Many also claim that listening relieves stress, and thus can have positive physical benefits.

10. Last, but not least, music is good for the soul. I know, I know it sounds like a cliché, but I really think it's true. Not every composer will "speak" to you, but when you find the right piece, it will take you away completely. I recommend starting with Beethoven and working your way forward. Besides, Beethoven had some of the coolest hair of all.

Keyword Analysis

It's time once again for that fun, fun game bloggers like to play with the "keyword analysis" feature that is available on most visitor counters. This little item allows you to see how visitors managed to find your blog, and it also tells you what search terms they used in their query. Frequently people often seem to be looking for one thing when they end up finding another. Why they click on something that is obviously unrelated to their search is beyond me.

Years ago, for example, I got many, many hits on a post I did about gardening. It turns out that people were searching for an Australian band called the "Spiky Cucumbers," but for some reason they were finding me instead. I tried to find a site I could link to for the band, but alas there were none. Perhaps the strangest I've ever run across was the large number of people searching variations on "why your baby is pale." Why the heck they ended up with me is anyone's guess, but I did my best to suggest that they might like to take the baby to the doctor instead of simply googling for answers.

Anyway, the number of reasonable queries for which there must be a shortage of good answers seems quite high. Therefore, in the next few posts, I will attempt to create decent answers for common "mis-hits" on my blog. Regular readers might just want to skip these as they might be boring as all get out.

Blogger???

Why does the blogger editor have a different view than the actual blog?

Why does the "preview page" show one thing, but then the published page is totally different?

Why do pictures suddenly invent their own sizes and margins after being imported?

Why? Why? Why?

You get what you pay for perhaps?

NOLA Rocks! Part 4: Buildings

One of the parts I most enjoyed about our NOLA trip was the archetecture. Our buildings on the west coast are so young, that there isn't so much variation in the styles. In New Orleans, the fingerprints of history can be seen all over the city. A building in a more French style might sit next to one with Spanish touches. A very modern skyscraper might be found only a few blocks from a warehouse built in the 1700s. It's a wondeful mish-mash that gives the city such a unique feel.

Many of the pictures were taken on our coach tour, so they may be a bit blurry around the eges. The first two are houses from the famous (and incredibly beautiful) Garden District. Picture four was taken to show the iron railings and plantain shutters that are so common in this area (plus that little orange tree is just cool). The last pic may seem kind of dull after the others, but it is of a warehouse from the early 1700s. You can still make out some of the original signage over the doors.

Atheists Come Out

There are certain topics in the news that always catch my attention. Any article dealing with vegetarianism, for example, goes in my "must read" category. There are dozens of these issues that are particularly important to me, and they are the ones I flip (or click) to first before skimming through the rest of the paper. Recently this article about atheism could not be missed. It turns out that atheists and agnostics are everywhere, and more and more of them are willing to admit their beliefs even if it means discrimination by others.

Charts for the Masses

Reason #2,568 that I love M: He makes me charts and graphs.

Recently I was "asked" (ordered) to present information at a meeting with very little lead time to plan. It turned out that the information was not prepared properly, so the task of presenting suddenly required a lot more effort. I was faced with having to crunch the data myself, and with my knowledge of Excel (LOTS of highlighting and manually moving things around) it was not going to be a quick job.

Then, like the hero that he is, M. came to the rescue. With a few deft keystrokes, he had Excel quaking in its boots. Suddenly my mess of data was transformed into beautiful charts with clever sounding names. The presentation went off without a hitch. My boss was grateful, and my co-workers were impressed. I did confess that I had a secret assistant, and that got me a whole new kind of street cred, the superior husband boost!

End of Year Already?

We still have five weeks left of school, and yet kids are already beginning to lose it. Just this morning, before class began, I had one of my most capable and pleasant boys walk into my classroom, speak a few words to his friend, punch the friend in the nose, and calmly walk out. I spent a good fifteen minutes cleaning up the blood and reporting the offender to the office.

Yesterday, told one kid that he couldn't leave the classroom to visit another teacher, and he pitched such a fit that I had to ask the principal to come and remove him. I've also confiscated about a dozen toys and perhaps another dozen cel phones in recent days. Gum, running, and dress code violations are everywhere. It's as if all the usual rules have suddenly stopped applying to this class. I begin to have sympathy for those grim authority figure stereotypes who yell at you for the ridiculous infractions. Perhaps they have simply lost their minds after being pushed too far too many times.

Why are they doing this so early? I really don't know. This has been a tough class all along, but now they are really showing their colors. Perhaps this is just the result of extra stress at home since the economy has so many people out of work. That could be the answer, but it sounds like a bit of a cop out to me. There is definitely a PhD project in figuring out why certain classes have the personalities that they do. If I could figure out an antidote for the more hard-bitten groups, I would be one of the world's only teacher millionaires.

NOLA Rocks Part 3: Cemetary

Part of our grand NOLA trip was a bus tour around the city. While bus tours can be painfully touristy, they are a way to see a lot of things in a very short space of time. Ours was no exception. One of the highlights of this trip was a visit to one of New Orleans' famous graveyards. Number Three Cemetary was once situated a good way outside the main part of town, but as they city grew, the area was surrounded. Houses and other buildings now hem the yard in on all sides, and there is even a retirement home with apartments that look out over the graves.

One of the things that makes NOLA cemetaries so unique is the above-ground burials in crypts. This practice came about because the city is built over swamp land, and if one digs a hole, it soon becomes a pond. The early Catholic inhabitants of the city did not seem to think that sinking their loved ones into the swamp constituted proper Christian burial. Go figure.

The actual method by which the cemetaries are used is both shocking and fascinating. A family may own a crypt for hundreds of years, but the actual dimensions of the building (often the size of a garden shed) certainly could not accomodate dozens of bodies. The very first coffin put into the crypt is left there until the next person in the family dies. At that time, the old body is taken out of its coffin and put into a chamber beneath the crypt while the new coffin is put in its place. I'm not sure how I would feel about mixing together with all my dead grandparents, but it seems to work for them.

Benaroya Never Smelled Like This

Benaroya Hall, home of the Seattle Symphony, may not be a venerable institution, but it certainly tries. The soaring ceilings and elegant decor are intended to give you the appropriate feelings of gravitas that seems to be required in order to appreciate this type of music. After all, there are traditions to be upheld and rivals to be upstaged! We cannot allow our symphony hall to be less grand, less, imposing, less impressive than, say, the Arlene Schnitzer Hall in Portland or even the Hult Center in Eugene. What would the other symphonies think of us if we allowed our standard to relax? Other conductors might refuse to visit, our players might not get out of town gigs, high-brow culture in Seattle could ultimately collapse!

All joking aside, even for all its stuffiness, I really do enjoy my time at Benaroya Hall. The stringent behavior requirements of symphony attendance actually make sense when you think about the music. How can you truly enjoy a delicate violin solo if somebody next to you is talking about their bunions or slurping on a soda? It just doesn't work. Therefore, I've really trained myself to be extra careful with my behavior while enjoying an evening in the main concert hall. That is why I found it so very unnerving when we went that same venue to hear a totally different kind of music.

A few months ago, we actually attended a rock concert there. David Byrne, one of my perennial favorites, was having a show, and M was kind enough to grab a pair of tickets. We weren't even inside the building when I started to notice the difference. People with dreadlocks and hemp skirts generally do not attend the symphony, but they were in the crowd tonight. The throng milling around the entrance also included the very young and very pierced, and it noticeably did not include the seniors one would usually find. Nothing about this crowd worried me, but the disorientation was severe. It only got worse as the show began.

Instead of the stirring strains of a Beethoven piece, we heard "Take Me to the River" and "Psycho Killer." The guy in front of us was actually wearing a mic to illegally record the concert. People began dancing in the aisles. It could have been any rock concert at any amphitheater or arena. Then came the ultimate in brain-bending moments. The smell. You know the "concert" smell? That aroma of illegal celebration? Anyway, I never actually saw anyone lighting up, but they were certainly there somewhere.

In the long run, I'm actually kind of happy when my expectations are so completely turned on their heads. Perhaps it will prevent my brain from moldering away into a series of impassable ruts. Nevertheless, if I hear Chopin the next time I'm at the Moore, doubtless I will be confused all over again.

NOLA Rocks Part 2: Boat Ride

Due to public transportation hiccups (DO NOT RIDE THE STREET CAR IF YOU ARE ON A TIMELINE!) M and I had to run for it in order to catch our ride on the paddle wheel steamer. However, I'm very glad we did as it was an unforgettable experience. Paddle wheel steamers used to be common in the United States as both cargo and passenger ships. However, the invention of new technologies has made them all but obsolete. The Natchez, a sternwheeler, still plies the waters (as they say) around New Orleans, but it is confined to ferrying tourists. While the boat itself was built in the 1970s, it's steam boiler system was taken from a much older ship, the Clairmont.

The boat ride is an entertaining and relaxing way to get a good look at what happens along the shores of the river, and you also get an impression of just how much boat traffic there is in that area. Lunch, dinner, and drinks are also served, but I would stick with a drink and take it out onto the deck.

Pic #1: Boiler room on the boat (M became suddenly eight years old when we went in)

Pic #2: The wheel!

Pic #3: An abandoned school in the lower 9th ward.

Cooking for Big Kids

Not long ago, I had one of those sudden realization moments about the nieces. They were staying the night with us, and I was making dinner for the four of us. Without giving it much thought, I cooked enough for two normal portions plus about one more portion to be divided between the girls. You probably know what a kid's plate looks like. That night it was maybe half a cup of tofu, half a potato, and a little hill of peas. Often, the dinners of little kids end up looking like something from nouvelle cuisine because they just have such tiny stomachs. I was used to this.

After just a few minutes of eating, I began to realize my mistake. Food was disappearing at a much faster rate than I'd expected. Before M and I had taken our first few bites, Elder Niece was already chasing the last few peas around her plate. Younger Niece began eyeing my potatoes with a dangerous gleam in her eye. I got myself back in the kitchen as quickly as possible for fear that they might eat M in my absence. Lucky I'd cooked extras for the next day's lunches! Seconds were devoured at much the same speed as the first round.

It seems that the nieces have reached a new stage in their lives where the "hollow leg" effect begins to take over. Never again will I make the mistake of serving them tiny children's portions of anything. You'd think Elder Niece being taller than her grandmother would have tipped me off to these changes, but sometimes I have trouble accepting how fast these things happen. Weren't they sweet little babies about five minutes ago?

Excuse Me M'am May I See Your Pass?

One thing you realize really quickly in teaching is the need to wear many different hats in a given day. The hat I like the least is probably the police helmet. Part of our time is spent keeping the peace in the hall, organizing audiences, and generally looking out for any signs of trouble. A few months ago, I had one of these "policing" moments that went above and beyond the norm.

It all started when I was heading down to the office during my prep time. When class is in session, the halls should be pretty much deserted, and those kids who are out should have passes from their classrooms. I noticed a girl moving without much "purpose" (as we like to call it). She did not seem to have a pass, but she did have a large wad of gum that she was chewing with bovine intensity. She seemed a bit too old to be one of our students, but some 8th graders can be deceiving. I checked for a visitor badge, but she didn't have one of those either.

Me: Excuse me; may I see your pass?

Her: What?! I don't HAVE a PASS! I don't EVEN go HERE!!!

Me: Oh I see. So you checked in at the office and you have a visitor sticker?

Her: NO!!! My mom is a TEACHER here, and I came to see her! I don't need a PASS!

Me: Nevertheless, you still need a pass. You also need to spit out your gum.

Her: I said I DON'T EVEN GO HERE!!! MY MOM TEACHES HERE!!!

Me: Nevertheless

Her: OH MY GOD (yes, she really said that) I DON'T BELIEVE THIS! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!

Me: Nevertheless

Her: YOU CAN'T DO THIS! TELL ME YOUR NAME! MY MOM IS A TEACHER! TELL ME YOUR NAME!

Me (telling my name): Nevertheless

At this point she stormed off, and I went down to the office to report the problem. Just as I was finishing explaining the event, here she came around the corner with her mom (an assistant, NOT a teacher) in tow. As the mom frantically tried to explain the daughter's horrible behavior to the principal, I turned to head back to my room. Once I'd turned the corner and was out of sight of the front office, several staff came up to high five me. I was confused. Then one explained that the girl I'd caught was something of a regular in the Front Office. "She's an absolute menace" said one. Ah yes, that's me Officer Teacher, catcher of menaces. Ugh!

Spring is Like a Perhaps Hand

By e. e. cummings (1925)

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

NOLA Rocks! Part 1

Okay, I must confess that I've sort of been avoiding writing about our trip to New Orleans. The reason is the magnitude of the task. New Orleans is not a place where descriptions can be short and sweet. It is steeped in history, overflowing with charm, and bursting with fascinating people and places. We loved our visit, and I will do my best to communicate why.

First things first. We arrived on a Saturday, stayed at the Hotel Monteleone. It turns out that there are some good things about an economic downturn, and getting to stay in fancy hotels at cut-rate prices is one of them! M, in his trip planning brilliance, got us the flight and the hotel for a very good price, and so we were able to stay for five full days instead of just doing the long weekend. We did several activities per day, but we still didn't quite manage to see all the things on my list. Still, I think this is a good problem to have.

It occurs to me that I don't really need to tell this as a story. You, reader, probably don't care that much about the order of events, so I will just tell about things in vague categories. Food, for example, was a major part of our trip (please forgive me if I can't quite make the pics behave):

Coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde are a must. They cost only $1.83 for each item, and the cafe is open 24 hours a day. It's far easier to get a seat on the patio at midnight than it is during the mid-morning rush. That was only the beginning.

My favorite meal of the trip was at a place called The Gumbo Shop in the French Quarter. Not only did they have vegetarian gumbo, but several tasty sides as well. M also enjoyed many wonderful seafood dishes. Every place we tried seemed to have some version of oysters, muscles, or different kinds of fish.

Don't forget the desserts! There were many tasty options including these strawberry crepes.

I am the People, the Mob

By Carl Sandburg (1918)

I am the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world's food and clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history.
The Napoleons come from me and the Lincolns.
They die.
And then I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.
I am the seed ground.
I am a prairie that will stand for much plowing.
Terrible storms pass over me. I forget.
The best of me is sucked out and wasted. I forget.
Everything but Death comes to me and makes me work and give up what I have.
And I forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red drops for history to remember.
Then--I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the People, use the lessons of
yesterday and no longer forget who robbed me last year, who played me for a fool--
then there will be no speaker in all the world say the name:
"The People," with any fleck of a sneer in hisvoice or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob--the crowd--the mass--will arrive then.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost (1916)

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Lovliest of Trees, the Cherry Now

By A.E. Housman (1896)

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Crossing the Bar

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1889)

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar

News

The RIF fairy has finally come to our town, and she is not pretty. The RIF line has been established, and roughly the bottom 20% of our teaching force is gone. I ended up being safe by hundreds of places. Whew, one thing off my worry plate. Now we are on to the excessing and re-assignment phase of affairs.

986

986
By Emily Dickinson (1886)

A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides --
You may have met Him -- did you not
His notice sudden is --

The Grass divides as with a Comb --
A spotted shaft is seen --
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on --

He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn --
Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot --
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled, and was gone --

Several of Nature's People
I know, and they know me --
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality --
But never met this Fellow
Attended, or alone
Without a tighter breathing
And Zero at the Bone –

Still No News

Today was supposed to be "the big day" for news about our lay-offs. However, at our staff meeting this morning, we were not really told anything except how the process will work once they know all the numbers. At the staff meeting tonight, the board is supposed to release the RIF line. That is where they sort all the teachers by seniority, figure how many have to go to meet budget targets, and then they draw a line somewhere on the list to determine who goes and who stays. I "should" be safe from the RIF line because of my seniority, but I may have a change in what I actually teach if they need to move around those who stay behind. Now the new target is May 1st for the next level of concrete news. We shall see.

The Noiseless Patient Spider

The Noiseless Patient Spider
By Walt Whitman (1881)

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood, isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my Soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my Soul.

How Do I Love Thee

How Do I Love Thee
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1850)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints, ---
I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears, of all my life! ---
and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.

The Raven

The Raven (first four verses)
By Edger Allan Poe (1845)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,

'Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Concord Hymn

Concord Hymn
By Ralph Waldo Emerson (1837)

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled;
Here once the embattled farmers stood;
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps,
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream that seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We place with joy a votive stone,
That memory may their deeds redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

O Thou who made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
--Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raised to them and Thee.

The World's Dumbest Car Scene

Okay, I must confess that sometimes, especially on vacation, I do read schlocky novels. Right now I'm reading The Villa which is a murder mystery set in Napa Valley. This is certainly not literature, but it's done a decent enough job of keeping me guessing without being too embarrassingly bad in the writing department. Then I came to the thrilling climax with the run-away car. What follows has been deeply paraphrased for the sake of space:

Person 1: OMG! The brakes! I don't have any control!

Person 2: OMG! What will we do?!

Person 1: I will steer this speeding car along this curving road that has a cliff to one side!

Person 2: You won't make it! Look at those s bends up ahead!

Person 1: OMG! Try pulling the emergency brake!

Person 2: It doesn't work either!

Person 1: OMG! We're going to die! (car fishtails wildly around bends, tires squeal, other cars honk in protest)

Person 2: What about shifting? I'll try down shifting through the gears. Hold on, this is going to hurt! (crunches car into fourth)

Person 1: (whacking head on steering wheel) OMG! That hurt! We're still going waaay to fast!

Person 2: Here we go again (shifts into third, then second, then rams it into first with a horrible twisting of metal, but the car finally stops)

Person 1: OMG! I think someone is trying to kill me! Thank goodness you knew what to do!

Sure, it's a badly written scene, but there have been many badly written scenes in this book. What makes this scene hilariously bad is the one key omission. Did you spot it? At no point, in all that frantic action, did anyone suggest the driver take her foot off the accelerator. Sure, the author could have claimed the pedal was jammed, or that the car was going down hill, but she didn't and that makes all the difference. I can hardly wait to see what will happen when they finally catch the killer. Maybe it will be as unintentionally funny as this part. I guess this is what happens when you try to write 27 books per year.

She Walks in Beauty

She Walks in Beauty
By George Gordon, Lord Byron (1815)

Note: Did you know that, notorious rake, Byron was the father of Ada Lovelace? I didn't until quite recently. I'll have to do a little more research, and then do a separate post about that connection.

She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Kubla Khan

Kubla Khan (excerpt)
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1816)

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
a stately pleasure-dome decree,
where Alph, the sacred river, ran
through caverns measureless to man
down to a sunless sea,
so twice five miles of fertile ground
with walls and towers were girdled round.
and there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree.
And here were forests as ancient as the hills,
enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Crimes Against Capitalization

Let me start by saying that I frequently comit crimes against punctuation, spelling, and grammar. I know this. It stems from my unwillingness to treat my blog like a professional task. Nevertheless, I do know conventions crimes when I see them. On our vacation in New Orleans, I saw such an interesting example of a conventions crime that I had to take pictures to share. Perhaps there is some sort of capitalization rule for wine descriptions of which I have not previously been aware. I especially love "elegant California Creaminess."

I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud

I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud
By William Wordsworth (circa 1800)

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Waiting for Mssr. Guillotine

We are back in school today after one week off for Spring Break. While M and our friends and I had a fabulous time in New Orleans (more on that later) the big topic of the day is lay-offs. With less than ten days to go before Pink Slip Day, the anxiety level is ramping up. Some of my co-workers know for sure, due to their lack of seniority, that they are gone. Other people are pretty sure to be gone, but they may get called back if they get lucky. Still more people are wondering if they will avoid the lay-off entirely. Without knowing exactly how many teachers are being cut, it is impossible to tell for sure if you will be one of them. Nine days left.

The Tyger

The Tyger
By William Blake (circa 1790)

Note: Would someone please explain to me why geeks seem to like this poem so much? It's certainly a good one, but computer people seem to have a particular passion for it. Is there some sort of joke that I'm just not getting?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Gather Ye Rosebuds

To Make Much of Time
By Robert Herrick (circa 1620)

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

Twa Corbies

Some medieval bard must have thought that yesterday's poem "Three Ravens" was overly melodramatic because this parody appeared during the same era. It has the hawk and the hound and the lady fair all running off and leaving the poor dead night to the crows.

Twa Corbies (A parody of “Three Ravens” by an anonymous poet of the same era.)

As I was walking all alone,
I heard two crows (or ravens) making a moan;
One said to the other,
“Where shall we go and dine today?”

“In behind that old turf wall,
I sense there lies a newly slain knight;
And nobody knows that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound and his lady fair.”

“His hound is to the hunting gone,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl home,
His lady’s has taken another mate,
So we may make our dinner sweet.”

“You will sit on his white neck-bone,
And I’ll peck out his pretty blue eyes;
With one lock of his golden hair
We’ll thatch our nest when it grows bare.”

“Many a one for him is moaning,
But nobody will know where he is gone;
Over his white bones, when they are bare,
The wind will blow for evermore.”

Three Ravens

This poem was written to show how loyal and devoted the hawk and the hound and the "doe" were to the knight. Why burying the knight had to kill the "doe" I'm not exactly sure. Maybe she's supposed to have died of grief.

Three Ravens
Anonymous
Written down in 1611, but probably sung for many centuries before.

There were three ravens sat on a tree,
downe a downe, hay downe, hay downe,
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
with a downe,
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
They were as blacke as they might be.
With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.
The one of them said to his mate,
Where shall we our breakfast take?
Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a Knight slain under his shield,
His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their Master keepe,
His Hawkes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare him come nie
Downe there comes a fallow Doe (note, this really means a woman!),
As great with yong as she might goe,
She lift up his bloudy head,
And kist his wounds that were so red,
She got him up upon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake,
She buried him before the prime,
She was dead her self ere euen-song time.
God send euery gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a Leman.

Another Ancient Poem

No, I did not mention to the kids the name of Sappho's home island. All I told them is that this poem was found written on a crumbling piece of parchment, and that the first and last verses are probably missing. Some words are the translator's best guess because pieces of the original material were actually torn away.

Ancient Greek Poem
Sappho (circa 600 b.c.e.)

Now she shines forth among the Lydian
Ladies, when as the sun sinks low,
The rosy-fingered Moon
Surpasses all the stars.

The light spreads over the salty sea
As over the many flowered fields
The delicate dew falls, they bloom ----
The roses and tender anthrusca and
The flowering honey-lotus.

And she, often wandering back and forth
Remembers gentle Atthis with longing
And eats away at her tender heart for your fate.