lessons learned from other people's families

1. Nieces and nephews are fun. John, get on that.

2. Smoked turkey is reeeally tasty, just like the turkey legs at the Renaissance Festival, but you may have to surrender said leg to said nephew.

3. Eating smoked turkey in Fort Worth, TX, after you have just watched the King of the Hill episode, is priceless.

4. Mom, please don't give away those clothes in the closet. I still want them.

Sorry I've been quiet. I have three non-functioning laptops. It's not that I don't want to email you back, I just get very small windows of opportunity.

weasel!

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and the suddenly flips
over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come."
-Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, Ann Brashares

grumble

After the cat knocked The Joy of Cooking off my shelf, I took it as a sign. That and a faint remembrance of making really good acorn squash in college brought me to the grocery story this evening, list in hand. Apples! Pears! Cinnamon! Orange Zest! Brown Sugar! Apple Cider! Check! I also bought the ingredients for a big 'ole pot of chili, which proved to be more difficult. "3 lbs chuck beef." Easy enough, yes? Of course not! There are like seven different kinds of "chuck" beef!! So I wandered back and forth of the slabs of meat for awhile, scratching my head, then finally bought the ground stuff because it looked familiar. Later Debi lectured me about cows eating other cows and fat content and blah blah blah. Whatever. I'm gonna eat my chili and I'm gonna love it. Moving on...

Tonight was acorn squash with apple/pear filling night, which smelled scrumptous in my apartment. That is, before I left the house, squash in hand. (Squash in tupperware, actually. Squash in hand would have made it difficult to drive.) Now that I'm home, it no longer smells like apple/pear/cinnamony goodness--it smells like GAS. And then I remembered why I never use the oven.

I figured it out!!

"I'm bored" in classroom notes does not actually mean that the student is bored; it means he/she needs a viable excuse for writing to student B, especially if student B is a hottie.

And to think I used to get so offended...

mysteries unravelled

Ok, I get now why I was failing at the seed stitch; I wasn't moving the yarn from front to back, resulting in a yarn-over every time (hey look! I can yarn over!). Judging from the ribby pattern that came out, I'm STILL not doing it right--I was purling the knits and knitting the purls instead of purling the purls and knitting the knits--but at least now I'm confident that I can. So far I've made two simple garter stitch scarves, one in a tight purple wool/acrylic blend, and one on bigger needles (making a looser, lacier effect) in blue heather wool. The big needles make the scarf go faster. I like the big needles. Yes indeedy.

It feels like learning a new language, complete with its own set of acronyms (but not as ridiculous as when I was a TFA CM with a BHAG accountable to my CMA, SD, FA and PDs...WTF?).

But still. Whenever they tell me to yarn over, I think of Super Mario Brothers.

homesick

Listening to Dad talk about making pot roast makes me want to buy a ticket and fly back to Maryland, ASAP. Then financial reality sets in.

Today's chain of events made me feel useless and inept. Usually, I consider myself neither of those two things. Amazing what a teaching job will do to you.

Sometimes, I feel so very far from home.

slowly, but at an accurate pace

It has taken me three months to figure out why E------ is in the gifted class. It's taken this long because E has a habit of coming in late, talking back, and not turning in any work. The work he does turn in is mediocre at best. I like to remind him that IQ means nothing if not used, and if he doesn't want to work hard, there are plenty of kids in the "regular" class who want his spot. This happens on a good day. On a bad day, I yell at him for disrespecting his classmates, disrespecting me, disrespecting his own intelligence, and then I tell him to get out.

And here is why I love the writer's notebooks that we use to start class: On "free day"s like today, they can (and must) write about whatever they want. Some of them have multi-page novels going on that read suspiciously like an action movie script. Others write poems; some make lists. S----- uses this time to write about the latest celebrity gossip.

E, on this particular day, has decided to write about turntables. I stop, sensing a fleeting opportunity, to remind him that we're working on a composition about hands, and a DJ's hands would make a great focus for his prose poem.

So he writes:

My hands were moving backward and forward. Gliding from the outside to the inside of the record. The feeling of warm vinyl making its way from my fingertips to my palm. My hand slowly but at an accurate pace is moving the crossfader from left to right. The tip of my fingers setting the cue points, setting the pitch and the tempo. My fingers were also setting the equalizer so you could hear that down south southern rap, Bass.

hi-lar-i-ous

"We're not letting you visit the Liberty Bell and [explitive] Plymouth Rock anymore until you get over your real American selves and start respecting those other nine amendments. Who do you think those [explitive] stripes on the flag are for? Nine are for [explitive] blue states. And it would be 10 if those Vermonters had gotten their [explitive] Subarus together and broken off from New York a little earlier."

(Completely biased and not suitable for children.)

And we'll all float on anyway

So, I'm moving.

I pause here, realizing that I just told a class of seventh graders that starting a sentence with "so" is generally unneccesary. The tone of this blog, however, is conversational, and I'm going to do it anyway. So, deal with it.

Yes--moving! I'm trying to make it as difficult as possible for family and old friends to track me down. Actually, the new place is much homier: it's in an historic neighborhood, half of a duplex, NO upstairs neighbors (if I never have to hear the thud thud thud of people walking above me while I'm trying to sleep, it will be too soon), and plants and windows for personal wellness. I'm excited. Kitty is excited. Actually, she has no idea, but she WILL be excited when she sees all those plants to eat.

This makes four homes in four years, and my second apartment living on my own.

Later, I'll show you my brand spankin' new home-knit scarf.

No Such Thing As a Free Lunch

The announcement a few weeks ago said, "Students, starting this week the cafeteria will be serving FREE breakfast in the cafeteria before school for ALL students."

"Hmmmm," I thought, and then thought nothing more of it. Free/reduced meals are not unusual at my school.

The Houston Press seems to think there's some funny business going on with Aramark, the food service contractor.

And they don't even KNOW about the "grilled cheese sandwiches" (two hamburger buns flipped upside down with a slice of American cheese in-between) or the green applesauce and green pear slices that have become standard lunch cusine this year.

As a result, any child with a dollar to his/her name opts for the hot cheetos with nacho sauce and jalepenos instead (aka "heartburn boat"). And a blue raspberry slushie.

(I wish I were kidding.)

But NEVER FEAR!!!--tomorrow's meal, according to the lunch menu, promises:
Baked Chicken Nuggets with *heart friendly* wheat role
Charbroiled cheeseburger
Oven-Browned french fries
Chilled Vegetable Stack
Pineapple Tidbits
Fruit Punch, Milk

I'll let you know how it goes.

Where do you go...

...if you're a Texan man who likes to two-step with other men?

To the gay cowboy bar, obviously!

(Chicks are welcome, too. Ten gallon hat optional.)

Also, note to Houston DOT: can we please finish one big project before we start on another? I don't like the looks of that partially created bridge looming over the sad remains of 59. Eventually it will become faster to walk to work. (And thus we discover their real objective...)

"Pick any strand and snip, and history comes unravelled

This is how Tony begins one of her more convoluted lectures, the one on the dynamics of spontaneous massacres. The metaphor is of weaving or else of knitting, and of sewing scissors. She likes using it: she likes the faint shock on the faces of her listeners. It's the mix of domestic image and mass bloodshed that does it to them; a mix that would have been appreciated by Zenia, who enjoyed such turbulence, such violent contradictions. More than enjoyed: created. Why is still unclear."

-Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride

"I recognize you--you vote here all the time!"

Apparantly twice = all the time. They ran out of stickers at the poll (which I guess is good), so this will have to do. Today I did my small part to make the very red state of TX slightly more purple (mulberry, even?)... but they just called Texas for the Bush column, which I guess is not unexpected. Maryland, I miss you today. Until I get some electoral votes headed my way (one or two out of thirty-something would be fine), I refuse to pledge to the Texas flag.

What???

or... Adventures in Grading:

Jose asked, "Do you really want to hurt me?"
Mr. Diaz asked, "Do you really want to make me cry?"

1 point off for repetition of dialogue words; 2 bonus points for Culture Club.

and...

Adventures in internet: Looky where Azi's feet wound up! Does anyone speak German? Where is Brendan when I need him... (oh, that's right, at Harvard. Jerkyface.)

easiest parent conference ever

"...Actually, and I am sorry for the short notice, but I'm withdrawing K---- today; we're going to try a charter school that we feel can better suit her special needs. I apologize for any inconvenience she may have caused you."

(later, in cluster meeting)

"I wish all parent conferences were that productive: 'Excuse me, I'm having some problems with your spawn of satan child.' 'Ok, I'll withdraw him right away.' 'GREAT!'"

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It's pomegranate season!! (Click the link for maximum juicy goodness, minimum frustration: stolen from mightygirl last year.)

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When the Starbucks people know your name and your drink and you know their work schedules, maybe it's time to clean the pot...