of no monetary value

I've been teaching Preschool Special Education almost all of my working career. I spend my time with children who will not remember me. It used to bother me, but then I realized that I don't work for the children-- I work for their parents. If I can give a parent a good start down that long dark road of special educational services (and for some families it will be a forever road) then I'm doing it right. If I show them how it should be and what they should expect then I'm ahead of the game.  Sometimes they come back and thank me.  This came in my email yesterday:

"I have YOU to personally thank for getting into that program.  You personally were the only one who brought up the school.  Thank God you put it in my ear.  It is going great for Jay.  His facilitator has a Masters in Special Ed.  She is fabulous and is even willing to learn his play therapy. (appointments scheduled.) On a personal note, I have seen great improvements in Jay- in a wider range of interests, manners ("No thank you, " " I don't care for that…" etc.  He is growing by leaps and bounds and it is exciting to see him in a place that is equipped and used to kids like him.  They have a sensory room- as you know- and have lots of kids with sensory issues.  

God Bless you and thank you for caring.  Because of a kind and interested person like YOU- we found help for Jay.  I had not heard about it from anyone else…..really…thank you a million and know you have changed your lives.  Tonight when you go to bed, know that God is smiling at you because you have changed the life of a child.

All My Best,

(Jay's mom)"

Yeah, I'm wiping off the tears.

useful and flexible, that's me

I'm working!-- no, I've always been working-- I'm employed again and that is why I've been a bit scarce around here.

The Paid Job didn't extend into a second year because I wanted to work fewer days than they wanted me. I can squeeze in two, maybe three days away from home but more than that and our homelife would suffer. Last (school) year I stayed home and as the year went on I added enough PTA/school activities to be busy and useful. Sometimes too busy.

I kept my ear to the ground and one day a lead led to where I am now. I'm at a very nearby church preschool in a make-up-the-job-as-we-go position serving, basically, as the whole special education department. The plan is for me to help teachers identify kids and to make adaptations for them-- both for the child and the teacher.

I'm trying to be useful and flexible. Useful because they can barely afford me. I asked for a salary they agree that I deserve but that they're struggling to give me. It makes me feel concerned that I need to prove my worth.  Flexible because we're making this up.

To some parents I'm a gift- "wow! extra help for my kid for the same price!" But for others, I think I'm a threat- "Is she in the room because of my kid? There's nothing wrong with my kid!"  And since these aren't legally defined special needs kids, we've got to be careful.

I'd assume in a school of about 150 that a dozen or so will have some type of special need. Some may grow out of it and never have an official diagnosis, but some will begin to show more learning problems as they go. I'm hoping to identify both types of children. In my opinion, the diagnosis is really unnecessary unless the parent is using it to receive public services. The adaptations used to teach the child matter much more. If I can provide those now, before any diagnosis is ever acquired, I'm giving them a head start.

So, its been fun, but tiring. Just leaning over tables which are slightly too low to serve as comfortable adult chairs makes my back tired. (A doctor once told me to teach taller kids if I didn't want back pain.) Then there's trying to anticipate when darling little Joey will decide to pick dirt up off the floor and carefully attempt to insert it into someone's eye. Yes, today. Truly no dull moments in this one particular classroom. It feels like a game of Whack-a-Mole. The teachers are extremely competent, but there are multiple ...um... moles in the same class.

I originally thought that going back to work at The Paid Job would be great for blog fodder but I've decided that the chance of falling into a legal hole is too high. Even with names changed to protect the innocent moles, I'm uncomfortable. But yeah, they are funny.

me gustaría un poco de vino por favor

No, I don't really need any wine right now, thanks. It's only 9:45 am at the moment. This is my pride sentence however. The first I've learned in my new Plan to Learn Spanish in Ten Minutes a Day.

Pook qualified to enroll in a seventh grade Spanish class this year. Bug's new Magnet school teaches everyone German.  I decided I'd learn along with them.* Every night at dinner I ask the boys what they've learned but we just aren't getting anywhere. They seem to learn either "I dunno" or "how to count" and that's about it.  They are not proving to be qualified teachers for me.

CD found out about this program via this article. Memrise assumes that you can spend as much time learning a language as you do checking into FB.  Sure! I can do this!  I'm encouraging him to learn German to please Bug; he already learned some Spanish when he was in school. Neither kid is learning French, which I studied.

The program hooked me pretty quickly. My first sentence, read, written, spoken and understood, could bring me a glass of wine! If it weren't 9:45.


----------------
*I said this about baseball too. When they were tots I thought I could learn how to throw and catch and play ball along side them.  Let's just say, it didn't work.

I kind of also said this about piano. I knew a bit and thought I'd get better as they got better. That hasn't happened either.

Me gustaría un poco de vino por favor!

mental status

I told CD the other day that I was two bricks shy of a retaining wall. Then I realized just how apt that phrase was as a description!

I started building this dang wall just about the time the work started on our kitchen. Since then either it has rained and made the steep slope inaccessible, or I've had plans requiring a morning shower, and then been unwilling to get hot and muddy later in the day. I've gone to the store for additional bricks already, but still find myself two bricks short.  It may never be done.


Paralleling this wall project is the kitchen project. We've been "almost done" for two weeks now. At least. I keep postponing photos because I'd rather wait until all the cabinetry is complete. And it.will.never.happen. There is still a hole in the wall where an outlet is not going in after all. There is molding missing from the ceiling here, the floor there, the cabinetry somewhere else. A few cabinet doors were the wrong size and got reordered. All little stuff. I swear, if they'd just put in an eight hour day once or twice, they could be done!

Thinking positively, the ugly tree roots exposed after the last ivy removal are no longer visible from the house. The wall is doing its job, finished or not. I can't fill it in with dirt because I've learned that roots rot when uncovered roots become covered. It was suggested that I put a larger brick row on top to make seating.  Possible.

The kitchen is usable. It has a stove, oven, sink, garbage disposal, dishwasher... all the good stuff. It has a counter, some cabinets and most of a floor. Nothing to complain about. Just two bricks shy.

bright copper kettles

I was looking around our living room realizing that I will soon need to pack up some of the Stuff. (Yes, construction starts soon!) I realized we have a lot of Stuff. I'm not a pack rat, and in fact I often toss things I then find I need again, so my mind immediately went to "what here can I toss?"  But then I saw this:

This is a carving made a long time ago by my father from one solid piece of wood. Now it has links and working gears. I've always loved fiddling with it and I keep it out on an end table so others can enjoy playing with it too.

I realized that most of the Stuff around me is important to me. Yes, there are probably a few things that won't make it back out of the boxes, but most of it will. I began to walk around my house looking for more of My Favorite Things.


My recipe file. This used to be my grandmother's. She was a great baker and I remember seeing the relative size of the recipe sections inside it when I received it after her death. There were an equal amount of cards under each category of "desserts" "cookies" "cakes" "pies/pastries" and "frostings/fillings." Yes really. The sweets took up most of the file. I suppose the cooking she did was by memory; a roast chicken didn't need a recipe card but baking usually does. I've tied up and put away a good number of her recipes to make room for my own, but the cut-out fruits on the top, matching her kitchen wallpaper, remind me of her every time I use it. (I seem to accumulate both cookie recipes and appetizers. She'd be proud.)

The Hummels on my dresser are from another grandmother. When she passed away, family members found multiple, conflicting lists of items she wanted to give away. Headache. I'm grateful to have these from her collection. Are they valuable? I don't know and I don't care. They're valuable to me regardless.

 The bear toward the right is my Teddy. I've had him most of my life and I'm happy to have him here in Bug's room, still nearby.  Next to him is Easter. (I leaned toward practical names) Her original dress, which matched the plaid in her ears, was left tied to a hotel bedpost somewhere between CA and IN in 1974. Sister M.D. made the jointed bear on the left. And the red overalls he gets to wear. My china doll is on the end.  Bug is sentimental enough to enjoy having them around.


This is a baby sized baseball hat. It used to fit my baby. I keep it hanging in my bedroom because Bug inherited that sentimentality from someone legitimately. I should have put something next to it to show the relative size. It fit him until he could sit independently, so still tiny (in that Bug was ever tiny.)


This takes more explanation. I don't even remember what year this is from, but I'll guess that Bug was three or four. I just remember that I was going to fly to Indianapolis with the boys and leave CD home alone. Bug was trying to express how much he would miss his daddy by stretching his arms wide. I took a long piece of masking tape and let him show me. He helped write on it "I will miss Daddy when I leave T H I S much." When the kitchen is finished and repainted should this be removed and the door repainted? Probably. But only if the tape comes off intact.

Rodgers And Hammerstein
My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into Springs
These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad.

sure, I can do that

Not working at the preschool this year has left more time for me to fill with other things.  And fill I have.

It only requires some email and organization? Sure, I can do that.

I am flitting today. I started by discussing the kitchen plans with CD. He's concerned about the lack of an integrated desk, so I started looking online for better kitchen desks to replace what we have now. And small file cabinets.

I received an email. The school supply lists for 2012-14 are back and approved. I need to make lists for each grade to send home with the order forms. Not a problem. I can do that.

I went to the calendar to see how much time I had before we needed to send the lists home. I was reminded that CD and I had also been discussing the dates of our Washington DC trip this summer. I began looking at the calendar for that purpose. I emailed a friend who lives there for her opinion. Then I went to our U.S. Representative's website to see what tickets we need him to procure for us.

Then I got an email from our kitchen designer which reminded me that I was off task. But I also got an email from a friend who we're having dinner with on Saturday. Did I know a good restaurant in a different part of town? I began to look.

I clicked on the wrong tab and saw the half finished swim team website I've been working on. I remembered that someone had sent me a few additional photos yesterday, so I went to look to see if they'd be appropriate.

Back on email, I had a response from my DC friend. I went back to the calendar. If we moved the trip earlier, would the kids miss two swim meets or just one? I went to look at last year's calendar and the new website to see if I could tell what had happened last year.

A load of laundry buzzed. I dealt with it and then returned to the (yes, overcrowded) desk. What was I working on? Hard to tell. I looked at desks and file cabinets again. And White House tours. (What do you do with your purse and camera which you can't take in there with you?) Where do our two Washington DC friends live in regard to each other and the attractions we want to visit?

While on maps, I checked out a few options for dinner. Our friend wanted seafood but this is Valentines weekend, and traditional restaurants like that are going to be packed. I emailed her my vote for something less mainstream.

The laundry buzzed and I started a new load. There were very few whites so I went upstairs for towels. Seriously? I hadn't showered yet? I hopped in.

Back to the desk and computer. The playground committee for church will be meeting this Friday. Could I look at some websites and comment?  Sure.

The third grade wants plastic folders next year. They come three hole punched in sets with random colors or with prongs in specific colors. I'll have to check with the grade chair before I can print this out. I email her.

The baseball team has practice on Thursday. I'll be the Photo Day chairperson again this year. It's a simple job. It only requires some email and organization.

I can do that.

five

My first post of Pook and Bug was five years ago, today.  I had lots of family stories in my head and was looking for a way to express them. A written paper journal was an option, but in the past years I'd become a follower of a couple of blogs and the idea had been simmering to start my own. 

I started reading, commenting and writing to a blog called Parent Hacks what seems like ages ago.  Asha, the author, suggested I start my own blog.  I said, rightly so, that I just didn't have any spare time to give to it.  I knew I'd give it time and I really didn't have any wide open windows.  Heck, Bug was a newborn; I didn't even have any cracked windows!  But once he was in school three days a week I decided that I could fit it in finally. Ideally I would work on it when he was at school. Instead, I found that often he was sitting on my lap while I typed but hey... parents can't be picky.

Our life is simpler than it was when Bug was in preschool and Pook in grade school. I can ask them to do things and they're capable of doing them.  Attention and compliance are different issues. They're still funny kids and they still do wacky things. I still like sharing our lives.  I barely remember those early days. I'm grateful that I can look back in here, whether the post brings back a memory or merely becomes a story to review. At least I have those. I need to videotape (what an outdated word) my boys more often just so I can remember their little boy voices. There won't be much more time. Unfortunately I can't bottle the smell of their still-sometimes-sweet heads.

So I have no exciting five year announcement. No proclamations. No specific goals for the future. I'm not a resolution writer or even much of a goal maker. I write when I think of it, not too often really, but as often as works. Topics come to mind and then flee my colander-brain. I probably should write ideas on paper so I'll remember them. But I don't.

Mary commented on my first blog post. I give her credit for the existence of a second post.  Harriet encouraged me to keep it up. Mir showed me that sharing family stories could be helpful to others, not to mention, entertaining. I included and then improved my photos of the garden because of Frances, and of foods because of Joy. Others have promised me that they follow my writings and have helped me stick it out over the years. I appreciate you.

Please leave a "hello" in the comments. I'd like to know that you're there as I start into a new year of Pook and Bug.

sample sized

I just got a sample of an antibacterial hand cleaner. I put it in my bag to use in a pinch. That's what I do with samples; I put them in Useful Places to save for Important Times.  I have a stash of great tiny products in the bag we call the Baseball Backpack, many in my purse, lots more in that little-compartment-that-holds-things in my car.

I have the greatest little emergency kit that even has a bee sting wipe in it. I have something that is supposed to warm your hands in an emergency.  It is so old that I doubt it would do squat, but I have it. And that, there, is my problem with tiny samples. They are so dang useful, or at least they have the potential to be so useful, that I save them.  I never use them. Ever.

See, if I used one of them, then when I was in an emergency, I wouldn't have it to use.  

Have I ever had an emergency?  Well, good question. I have certainly used the tissues and bandaids, but most of the time I figure we can live through the problem and get home. And at home we have full sized containers of any of the products we might need.

There are sunscreen samples that (I think) I was given during the 1996 Olympics. I never used them. I don't use them now because they are probably no longer effective. But! If that was all I had, and I was getting burned and had no alternative, then I would still use them. So they remain in the bag. There is a tiny thing of Neosporin. If I use it, I'll probably never have a sample of it again. So, I don't use it.

But, if you're ever in an emergency and are near me, let me know. I have just the thing to take care of you.

music edition

There are angels harking and heralding here. The boys' piano teacher asks each student to learn a carol to share at a party together. Since they need lots of time to learn new pieces, this means that the holiday music started immediately after Thanksgiving. I am grateful to her for waiting that long.

Bug has come on a midnight clear. It is less than glorious without his forgotten B flat.

Pook has been the one harking. ("Hark!" Harold the Angel sings, "I have lost my purple crayon. I have fed a deserving moose. And a hungry porcupine. I have fallen off a mountain. Cuz I forgot to draw the other side.")

But, they don't want to be recorded and posted here, so to comply with A-L's blog chain, I must discuss a different piece of holiday music.

Once I was in a crowded school cafeteria which was suddenly transformed as a parade of white clad kindergarteners surrounded the room, singing Silent Night in their tiny five-year-old voices. I can barely write about it without tearing up.  But everyone loves Silent Night, so today I will choose The Grinch.

Someday I'd like to memorize all the lyrics; they're so wonderful. Dr. Seuss freed me to sing with my kids. He taught me that if I forget the words, I can make up new. If I don't have a rhyme, I can make one up.

You're a mean one, Mr Grinch
You really are a heel
You’re as cuddly as a cactus
You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch
You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel

You're a monster, Mr. Grinch
Your Hearts an empty hole
Your brain is full of spiders
You’ve got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch
I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty nine and a half foot pole

You’re a vile one, Mr. Grinch
You have termites in your smile
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch
Given the choice between the two of you I’d take the a seasick crocodile

You’re a foul one, Mr. Grinch
You’re a nasty wasty skunk
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk, Mr. Grinch
The three words that best describe you, are as follows, and I quote: Stink, Stank, Stunk

You’re a rotter, Mr. Grinch
You’re the king of sinful sots
Your hearts a dead tomato
Splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch
Your sole is an appalling dump heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots

You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch
With a nauseous super naus
You’re a crooked jerky jockey and you drive a crooked horse Mr. Grinch
You’re a three decker sauerkraut and toad stool sandwich
With arsenic sauce! 

Each year, as a kid, I'd look forward to The Grinch Who Stole Christmas when it was on TV. We own it,  so our kids could potentially watch it anytime, but they keep it a once-a-year tradition too.  My favorite character isn't the Grinch; it's Cindy Lou Who, (who was no more than two) who is the only one to catch the guy in action and question him.


During this happy, festive, put-a-smile-on-your-face season, I can't help but like the Grinch. Charles Dickens personified the feeling in Ebenezer Scrooge, but we can't identify with him without really putting ourselves down. Scrooge is as financially stingy as emotionally stingy perhaps. The Grinch made being crabby during the holidays funny.  This weekend I will attend three different holiday parties on three different nights and I will smile. I will push down any inner Grinchiness and get into the spirit.



The blog chain is as follows. Come visit the rest of the list as they tell about their favorite holiday music too.

Harriet at spynotes
Hugh at Permanent qui vive
Jeanne at Necromancy never pays
Cranky at It’s My Blog!
Dr. Geek at Dr. Geek’s Laboratory
Lemming at Lemming’s Progress
Readersguide at Reader’s Guide to…
Freshhell at Life in Scribbletown
edj3 at kitties kitties kitties
My Kids’ Mom at Pook and Bug
joyhowie at The Crooked Line
Magpie at Magpie Musing
Dave at The Ideal Dave
and back to Harriet at spynotes

bucket listing

So how many things on this list have you done? Mine are in bold -  I made it just past halfway, to 50 51!. Amazing how many of them were done during my year in Luxembourg, my junior year of college.  There might be more from my childhood, but if I don't remember it, it probably shouldn't count.

1. Started your own blog (hi)
2. Slept under the stars (dang cold too)
3. Played in a band (I'll leave that one to friends and family)
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world (as a kid)
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped (not gonna happen)
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea (I've seen one from an airplane though)
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch (taking a class in something new doesn't count?)
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning (and even went back to the restaurant another time, safely)
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train ("slept" is usually an exaggeration for this)
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill (hasn't everyone?)
24. Built a snow fort (happy to be in the South now)
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice (didn't have the money)
29. Seen a total eclipse (still remember the pinhole viewer my dad made)
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run (watched Pook make one, last game of the season!)
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person (And yes, the boats are cheesy. And yes, you should take one.)
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language (school taught)
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (tough one, but I think I'll claim it)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person (Yes, but my friend didn't have enough money to buy herself dinner, so I sacrificed a climb up the Tower so she could eat. I'm just that good.)
39. Gone rock climbing (indoor climbing walls only)
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant
44. Visited Africa (I stand corrected and add this in. I was in Morocco that same college year.)
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance (I accompanied a student, it wasn't for me)
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris (although my favorite photo is from under it)
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling (both)
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies (but wasn't good at it)
62. Gone whale watching
63. Gotten flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial (perhaps this summer)
71. Eaten Caviar (didn't like it)
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone (see #11)
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person (I'd like to do this one again with the kids)
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican (and even saw the pope from a distance)
82. Bought a brand new car (still driving it, nine years later)
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper (circa 1970?)
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (I'll aim for only a lobster)
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous (what qualifies as "famous"?)
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby (two)
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake (maybe as a kid)
97. Been involved in a lawsuit
98. Owned a cell phone (huh?)
99. Been stung by a bee

Don't ask me why there are just 99, I don't know. :)

door to door

Now I've done it. I have dived into the pool called politics.  Me, who can't even remember what election was my first election to vote, when my kids ask.  Me, who takes notes to the polls so I won't forget who someone said was best, but then ends up skipping half the ballot anyway.

Elections, for the rest of you, are on a back burner for several more years. Maybe two, maybe four, but at least the yard signs are down and the robocalls are over. Not here. Our little newborn city is in runoffs. The mayor and three of the four city council positions are to be voted upon Dec. 4. 

I considered burying my head, but the more I've learned about the top contender for mayor, the more I want to help defeat him.  When I started asking about the possible mayors this summer many people would lower their voice as if they didn't want to be heard saying something bad. Then they'd say, "He's sort of a bully."  "He's a bulldozer."  Or, the hesitant, "Well, he does get things done.... But I wouldn't want to get in his way."  They didn't even follow it with "Bless his heart" like a proper Southerner does when insulting someone.  I met the other choices, found someone I felt represented everything he wasn't, and voted for her.  And she came in 2nd of four.

All this brought me to this day, mid November, walking door to door with Pook, canvassing for a mayoral candidate.  Phoning my neighbors. "Can Sandy count on your vote for mayor?" Noting on a spreadsheet the strong yes, leaning yes, undecided, leaning no, and strong no votes.

What I'm learning is interesting. First, I am not as isolated in my political values in this neighborhood as I thought. Second, most people are like I've always been- not wanting to do the research or get involved. Third, they are happy that they now know someone who has done it for them and they will probably vote for her just because of me.

Or, as Pook pointed out, they could be being nice just to get me off their doorstep.

group vote

The boys voted today. I've heard of people being told they couldn't bring their young children in the polling room with them, that no one under 18 was allowed in, but the poll workers here were happy to see my boys helping me. And help they did.

Our new city is in need of a mayor and city council-folk. I may have not wanted the city to be formed, but now that I've got it I care who runs it. Or maybe mostly I care who doesn't run it. But we put in our two cents. Pook touched the screen for mayor, Bug voted for the councilperson.

I got to vote for President, which in the grand national scheme probably counts the least. (Should have heard me trying to explain the Electoral College earlier....) But here in our little city? You bet every vote will count. I want to see real numbers tonight. Real 1,234 numbers. So that I can tell that each person was counted. All three of us!

****
update:
Our local election resulted in runoffs all around. The folks the boys voted for both made it into runoffs however, one by only 100 votes. This means that for the rest of you, the political signs will come down and the calls will stop. For us, I expect it will increase for the next three weeks. Help!

my civic duty

I live in a city. Did you think I lived in Atlanta? Yeah, I did too. I will continue to tell people that I live in the city of Atlanta. But in reality, I did not live in a city, and I didn't move either. We've been voted out of our area of unincorporated county in the Atlanta area and into New City. 

I don't like change and I didn't vote for it, but CD did and I can see how it might be good. The New City will include about 40,000 residents. This is being promoted to emphasize our new local control. It is possible that to many people this means "We don't have to let our tax dollars pay for poor people." Hopefully it will mean improvements to the places I spend most of my time. Our county isn't particularly functional. Don't ask me about our school system; I'd post about it, but it would make me too depressed.

Part of me says "whatever" but part of me figures that if I'm going to have change, I'd better keep up with it and give my two cents if I can.  So I've been reading the city's' web postings. I read articles in all the local papers about the upcoming commissioners' elections. I suggested to CD that we walk to meet one of the mayoral candidates when she was nearby. I even attended a debate among the four candidates for my neighborhood district's commissioner. I was impressed enough with one of the mayoral candidates to put her sign in my yard. I never put political signs in my yard.

Our dear pool is one of three pools in New City. The impoverished county has been ignoring them and two were never opened last summer. Our swim team, peers with the Bad News Bears, wants to continue under new leadership. I am on an executive board of parents who want to advocate for our team and pool. I have put my name on a Parks Department email list.  I am doing my civic duty.

third grade

Welcome to the Third Grade! As moms of Third Graders, we must have a united front. We must be prepared for school this year.

Here is your supply list. Please have these items last week or expect consequences.

1. patience
2. poster board
3. distractions
4. a 25th hour to the day
5. wine
6. patience

Here are a few of the first projects you will need to do. Extra credit will be given if there are no tears. From either of you.

1. It is Friday afternoon, an hour after school has let out. Your third grader just announced that he left his paperwork for "the big project" at school. You have no way to get the papers. Solve this problem while making dinner preparations and answering urgent email.
2. Your third grader needs to make a collage of pictures "all about me." You recycled all the old magazines this morning. Your printer is on the blink. Again. Solve this problem in color.
3. It is bedtime on Sunday night. Your third grader opened his door so you would hear him sobbing. He apparently just remembered "the big project." Get him to sleep before you fall asleep. Every minute counts against your grade.

There will be pop quizzes and meltdowns at random moments. There will be more poster board needed at unexpected hours of the day. You must always be prepared for these. Each time you use phrases such as "Are you serious?" and "I told you so" you will be penalized.

Again, welcome to the Third Grade!

easy bake oven

Vidalia season. Time to pull out the worn out recipe for Vidalia onion pie. That would be recipes in the plural. At least one for quiche. A few called pie. Another, with a cracker base. Another, all scribbled upon.  Honestly, it doesn't matter which one I used last time. I always do the same thing. I mess with them.

No, let me rephrase that. First I mess with them, then I complain that they never turn out.  This year will be different.  The kids hear me mention "Vidalia pie" and get excited. "Are you making a quiche?" "Oh, I love Vidalia pies!"  See what I have to work with here? The pressure is tough.

I decide to start over, and I go online. Food Network has a five star recipe. I'll go back to basics and ignore all the scribbles for changes I've previously made.

Excellent.

Two pounds of onions. How much does an onion weigh? I bought five. That'll do.

"Do not brown the onions."  Huh? Are they completely wacko? Of course I'm browning the onions. I'll put them in the crock pot and I'll give them all day. What a great smell!

Oh, one commenter skipped the crust. That would solve so many of my problems. I hate making pie crust.

Really? Only three eggs? But then it becomes a side dish, and I don't have time to plan something else. I'll double it.

Hm. A cup of sour cream. I have most of a cup. But certainly not two. I'll add some milk.

Well, if it called for three tablespoons of flour, and I'm doubling it, that's six. But I used milk instead of the extra sour cream, so maybe just a little bit more.

I don't have much Parmesan. Maybe Swiss. Oooh, I have that wonderful Jarlsberg; that will be fabulous.

Preheated to 450... no, still not hot. Still not hot? What?! Why is that $%#& oven still not hot?  Well, I've done this before. I'll turn on the broiler until it gets hot and then the residual heat will be fine.

Twenty minutes. Got that. Now I can lower the temp (it will actually do this by itself since it isn't heating today anyway) and cook it another twenty minutes "or until done in the center." Ha! I know to set aside an hour for a quiche. I'm prepared for this one.

Or so I thought I was. I let the dish rest for five minutes, to the chorus of "I'm hungry"s, and then served up... raw egg on the bottom.   I turn the broiler on to heat the oven again, and set the timer for yet another twenty minutes.

It is now after 7pm. We make ham sandwiches for dinner. Everyone is crabby.

As we clear the table and decide to go out for ice cream, I check on the pie again. It looks fabulous. It has risen two inches and browned to a golden cheesy deliciousness.

Just like that, I've baked a wonderful Vidalia onion pie.

We'll eat it tomorrow.  I might need to make a few notes on the recipe however.

sofa surfing for the day

9:00 am - Phone my mother to see if she'll go to the farmer's market for me. Decide to let CD take Bug there for the day on his way to work.

9:30 am - Take pillow from bed to downstairs sofa. Move Pook to the right side so I can have the left.

10:00 am - Turn on last night's Braves game.

10:30 am - Swap sides of the sofa with Pook to relieve the cricks in my neck and hip.

11:00 am - Laugh when Pook tries to crawl to the kitchen to get us toast. Decide that laughing is not a good idea. Decide that having CD leave us is not a good idea.

11:30 am - Eat slice of toast with a light smear of apricot jam and sip some weak Gatorade.

12:00 pm- 2:30 pm - Doze.

3:00 pm - Play Kings in the Corners with Pook.

3:30 pm - Rest from the exertion.

Need I say that last night was more eventful?

dizzy, blurry and old

gala

I'd thought the "Spring Fling" was optional, in the don't-bother-with-it category, but then realized I was expected to attend if I was able. After all, the charity it was benefiting was my employer.  So I asked around a bit about dress code expectations- party dress, not too formal. I spent one morning trying on all the dresses in my closet that I never wear. I shopped around Atlanta for a new dress and found nada. The styles weren't working on me.  I found a casual skirt I could wear on Easter, for something new, but settled on my old little black dress for the gala.  It was simple- my black slingbacks are about the most comfortable shoes I own, so not buying a dress also saved me from having to buy new shoes that I'd seldom wear and probably not find comfortable.

Then Wednesday evening I got sick to my stomach. Although Thursday I went to work, I began to feel lousy by the end of the day.  Friday I couldn't decide if I felt well enough to attend the gala or if I even wanted to feel well enough.  I'd mentioned feeling poorly to a few people at work, partially to explain myself on Thursday, but also realizing that I was setting up an alibi in case I wimped out and decided to skip it. 

I ate a bit of food Friday which went down fine but didn't revive me.  When I stopped working on reports at one I warmed up some leftover lentils to eat.  They were good and left me feeling a little more energetic. The final deciding factor would then be the shower. If I finished it feeling drained and tired, I'd have the excuse to skip the gala- clearly sick. If I felt well, I'd call around and try to find someone to drive with.

I showered, shaved, lotioned... and felt well.  Patty, who lived near me was happy to share the ride, but wanted to leave early. Perfect. Just a matter of psyching myself into being excited about the party.  And part of me was. There are some very fun women who fit the "Party Girl" label who I knew would drag me onto the dance floor if I so much as said "hi.'  Having a good time would be a decision, not a reaction.

The other part of me dreaded looking old, dumpy, under/over-dressed, and most of all, having to stand around while other people socialized, but not knowing many people myself. The problem with teachers socializing outside of school is that we seldom get a chance to socialize during the day,  since we're always with kids. There are a handful I enjoy chatting with for the few minutes we have each day and I've helped in many of the classrooms, but I don't know anyone I work with very well.

I read through the auction book and pointed out a few items to CD. No, I wouldn't bid on the trip to Tuscany (starting bid $5000) but what about the week in Myrtle Beach (starting bid $450)?  What was a Braves baseball package worth, with either club seats or front row seats? He wanted the reverse of a charity auction, where instead of bidding up the price, we'd bargain the price down.   I told CD that he was cheap and that I loved him and that I might bid on things... but conservatively.

I put on my little black dress. Bug suggested that maybe I needed something under it. (Maybe a turtleneck? I'm not sure what he was intending.) Pook brought up the possibility that everyone else might be in jeans and sweatshirts. (Thanks, kids.)

We arrived to a cheerful crowd near an open bar.  They were serving pink "Springtinis."  "Um, ginger ale please." The first people I saw were the Pope's parents. Since I email his mom every school day, I know her as well as any co-workers. I enjoyed talking with his parents, but it kept veering into shop talk and the Pope's school progress so I took an opportunity to move on.

This was a move which didn't fare well as I then spent the next ten minutes floating without finding a soul I recognized.  Finally familiar faces walked in and I latched on. I spent most of the evening near them. It didn't matter if we had anything to talk about anyway; the music was much too loud for talking. We went for food, ate some (awesome) shrimp and grits, and more ginger ale since diligent wait-staff had cleared mine away.

We were reminded to look at the silent auction items around the room, so I did.  My search for the Myrtle Beach paper revealed a still-empty auction form. I put down the starting bid of $450 and decided that our family would have our summer plans set by the end of the evening. (I also bid $65 for a $150 gift certificate to the World of Beer, but since I don't know if I won or not, don't tell CD.)

I picked up a Springtini, discovered they were being very liberal with the booze, and never had more than a few sips. The shrimp had not been a great idea for my stomach and grapefruit juice and vodka were not going to help. The "Party Girls" were dancing, as I expected, so I put in one dance before the band stopped for some auction action.

Patty came to see if I was ready to leave at that point and I decided I might as well. My stomach was not misbehaving, but not well either. We slipped out, mostly unnoticed. I was a bit disappointed- an open bar on a lovely night and I wasn't drinking or dancing. But there's always next year. And there might be Myrtle Beach.

to sleep, perchance to change time zones again

I know I said I was in Central Time Zone last weekend, but I think I was in some odd warp with a new zone an hour EAST of Georgia. Or maybe my in-laws have moved to Venezuela.  I have woken up every morning this week at precisely 5:45.

Last night I woke at 2 or some middle-of-the-night hour and had the wisdom to use the bathroom. The hope was that my bladder wouldn't wake me at 5:45 again.  No go. Perhaps it gave me one minute, since I lied: it wasn't 5:45 today, it was 5:46 this morning.

Five mornings in a row. How is this even possible? My bedtimes aren't that precise. I was asleep on the sofa by 10 pm one night and I know I was up till 11:30 another night. An hour and a half spread going to sleep and a one minute spread awaking?

To put this in better perspective, the alarm (on CD's side of the bed) goes off at 6:05. I believe he usually slaps it quiet. I'm seldom aware of anything until the next chance to wake up at 6:15. Even then, he climbs out of bed and I barely notice. The alarm that normally gets into my brain is the start of his shower about five minutes later. That's the one that includes the responsibility of making sure that little boys are getting up also.

The 5:45 self awaking means that I have only twenty minutes to fall back asleep before being woken again. Obviously it isn't happening. But tomorrow, my sleep-in-Saturday with no baseball until (wow!) 10:30, I will tell that 5:45 clock what I think of it and roll back over. I hope.

they moved my cheese, my cans of tomatoes, my frozen fish...

I'm off kilter. I'm surprisingly anxious and I'm breathing too hard.  This shouldn't be so upsetting. I should just deal with it. Or leave.  I grab the items on my grocery list, nothing extra, and get the hell out of Dodge.  My Kroger is being renovated.

They remodeled the two ends first and added space to both sides. It made for a messy experience, but everything was where it had always been.  Then. Then they opened up the ends, made a pathway to connect them, and began to remodel the middle. 

I freaked out. The store is huge, and the disconnect between the two ends makes it feel more so.  They've shifted all the produce from one end of the store to the opposite end, frozen stuff is somewhere, and the bakery is now on the left. Or something.  I didn't stay to analyze the changes.  I couldn't find my cheese.

I've been shopping at that particular Kroger because it is was small. No longer. I cook from whole ingredients and don't need a lot of prepared anything, which is what they're increasing.  Chef Somebody's Prepared Dinners.  I know many people enjoy the convenience, but why do they have to do this to my store?

I moved to Publix. So many of my neighbors swear it is better anyway. I decided to give it a month to see if I could get used to it. They certainly don't keep the cheese where I could easily find it.  I wrote down a quick summary of the items in each aisle. I gave myself the time to find items, and I asked employees for help locating things. I took advantage of their coupons and discounts.

And I spent, on average, $25 more each week.

So now what?  Do I go back to the panic-attack-inducing Kroger?  Wait it out at Publix until the Kroger renovations are finished and then buck up and go back? Pay for peace of mind at Publix? (I might have a new jingle for them there...)

All I wanted was my cheese.