Diet....a four letter word. I want and need to lose weight. You know, I've gained 5 lbs a year here and there and never thought about it much. After all...what's a few pounds in a year? Well I tell you what it is. After 12 years it mounts up to 60 pounds. Holy Moly!
I have 2 lunch buddies that eat pretty healthy noon-time meals. I think I do too but one is thin as a rail. My father, who is from south Georgia would call her "slats" after the thin board that you use to put under box springs to keep it off from the floor. My other friend is just an average size man who is a vegetarian and hates, hates hates doctors. He takes good care of himself so to avoid ole sawbones.
But back to me. I've really changed my outlook on food and myself. Something I haven't mentioned yet on this blog is that my daughter, Amanda, who I have told you all about, was killed in a car accident several years ago. If you have read some of my blogs, I know you must have thought, "Good Lord....this is a dark soul!" I only had one child and she was my everything. I was a single mom for most of my time with Amanda. We were very close...maybe closer than most mother and daughters because for most of her life, it was just the two of us.
When she died, you know huge part of me wanted to go with her. I spent nights counting out lethal doses of pills and doling out extra cat food for my kitty cats in case I just couldn't go through one more day. I let myself go because I didn't care about being healthy. I just really wanted to die. I prayed to die. But now, something has changed. I let her go to be happy in the next plane. I want to think of her in her heaven. I didn't want to keep her chained to me because of my overwhelming grief. I could feel her trying to cheer me up but she just couldn't do it because I am the only one who has the power to do that. Happiness is, after all, an inside job. Now she's flying some where beautiful; somewhere as beautiful as her soul and I hope she can look down from time to time and see that I am still green and growing. I will make her proud of me.
I have been watching what I eat and walking more. Since Christmas I have losts 16 pounds and I'm pretty proud of myself. So...now it 16 down and much more to go but it is a step by step process and it's a contest between me and me. I need to not lose faith in myself and I want to use this blog to keep track, to keep me accountable. I am going to be honest about my cheating and I have to get my dvd player hooked up so I can start working out to the Zumba Dance CD that I bought off of QVC 4 months ago.
Okay then. I have confessed and come clean with my readers so cross your fingers and wish me luck. I want to live. There - I said it. I really want to live and I want to do it with zest and with good health. And who knows...maybe even a companion one day. But it will happen in small steps. Mama always said, "inch by inch, life's a cinch. Yard by yard, life is hard". So I will baby step into life!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Friends
We all have friends and people we know from work, church, and through other friends. I have had a streak of bad luck...well maybe a dark cloud following me is more like it. It's been in Biblical proportions. I won't bore you with the details but it has really been bad.
As I finally begin to pull the nose of this crashing plane up, I can see behind me are some really stellar friends. I didn't know just how wonderful they were till I was headed upward because I look back and see one crazy person in all that I said I did. I was anxious, depressed, morose, even morbid. That has to get old but my friends helped me sail through the storm.
I can only say thank you and, God forbid, if one of you find yourself in the pits, please use me to vent on. I speak blessings over all of your names. Thank God for real, in the trenches, friends.
As I finally begin to pull the nose of this crashing plane up, I can see behind me are some really stellar friends. I didn't know just how wonderful they were till I was headed upward because I look back and see one crazy person in all that I said I did. I was anxious, depressed, morose, even morbid. That has to get old but my friends helped me sail through the storm.
I can only say thank you and, God forbid, if one of you find yourself in the pits, please use me to vent on. I speak blessings over all of your names. Thank God for real, in the trenches, friends.
Monday, December 20, 2010
cats
Now I realize that most people fit into one of two CATegories; you are either a dog person or cat person. I use to be a definite dog person. Cats would send me into severe bouts of asthma attacks, itchy eyes and runny nose. But a dog - well a dog can take a walk with you, they're at the end of the driveway just waiting for you, and recognize your car's engine sound long before he sees you. My dogs always grinned when I came home. Most are loyal, affirming, and protective.Also, if someone sees a big dog in your yard, they think twice about trespassing. They don't seem bothered by a cat.
But when I was going to college at the University of Florida, in Gainesville., I lived in a single-wide, delapadated trailer that someone just left on the 20 acres of land that my brother bought years ago. He built a beautiful home on that land and turned three or four acres into a blueberry farm. After a tough time in my family, my brother offered me the trailer to live in, free of charge, if I went back to school. I took it as a challenge and moved out into the middle the tiny town of Cross Creek, the place where Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings grew oranges to support her while she wrote The Yearling.
After much cleaning and creative decorating, the sad little trailer took on the ambience of home. Little did I know then that I, too, was in for some transformation. Looking back, I should have put two plus two together to see that the previous owners of the transformed trailer were not going to give up so easily and just let me move in without a fight. I'm not talking about humans or ghost. I'm speaking of mice - many mice!
One night, as I laid on my bed (which was just a matress and box springs on the floor as the room was too small for the frame) I felt myself falling asleep. Another two seconds and I would had been snoring. This night, though, I was brought back from dream land by the pitter-patter of tiny mice feet. Oh my God! I was so afraid as I laid on my mattress so close to the floor. I opened my eyes to see a mouse coming right at me. I screamed just before he came straight to my room.
Instead of turning around and running for his life, the mouse (that in the dark looked more like a rat!) took a 90 degree left turn into the bathroom next to my bedroom. "Get up and shut your door while you can!" screamed my mind but my body simply betrayed me. I was paralyzed with fear.
All of a sudden, the panick was broken by the sound of splashing. "What the heck?" To make a long story short, the mouse had jumped into the toilet and couldn't get out. I forced my body to jump up, take the baseball bat that I kept next to my bed, and headed into the bathroom. I reached around and flipped the light on and stretched tall to see down into the toilet without getting any closer. It was the mouse in the toilet alright. I reached with the bat and closed the lid and began flushing like crazy. After about the 20th flush, I gingerly opened the the lid, again with the bat, and peeked in from a distance. No mouse! Yes, the poor thing had been swallowed up.
While there was never another toilet situation, there were tell-tale signs of mice in the home. I tried everything: poison pellets, steel wool stuffed in the excess area where the holes were bigger than the pipes that went through them, traps, etc. Sometimes, I would awake to the sound of "snap" and know that another mouse bit the dust and a mess would be waitin on me in the morning.
Finally, after discussing my problem with others, I decided that I needed a cat. I explained to my friends that I was highly allergicto cats but that I was desperate. We decided on the solution. Verly Dean, a friend of mine, had an Uncle John that had had accumulated a yard full of cats.
With antihistimines in hand, I went to Uncle John's to pick out one of his surplus cats. John recommended a cat named Vester. Vester and I headed home and I took him into the trailer. It wasn't long before I had no more mouse problems. I welcomed Vester to sleep at the foot of my bed and eventually he would crawl up in the crook of my back. I realized that I had never even had one sneeze since Vester came to live with me, not a teary eye nor a wheeze in my chest. How could this be?
I've often thought about Vester as the years have gone by, and now have six cats living with me. These six cats are my family and we know each other's little ticks. They are a comfort to me and, unlike a dog, I don't have to rush home after work to let them out. They use the litter box and play with each other during the day. Cats can walk around precariously placed items such as crystal vases and candlesticks and not even stir the dust.
Two of the cats like to be out at night while the other four sleep with me in my king size bed. They know which part of the bed is theirs and several of them even take their paw to wipe the tears off my cheek when I have the post-meopausal good cry. They purr when they are happy to let me know they appreciate me. Cats are very self-sufficient and I like the fact that they get it when I'm not in the mood to be cordial. They don't get offended and hurt as a dog does.
Yes, I use to be a dog person, but thanks to mice and Vester, I'm now a die-hard cat person. If I had a fence, I might own a dog again. I like walking and it's more fun if you have a dog to keep you company along the way. But if I had to choose between one of the other, I'd choose a mouse-catcher!
But when I was going to college at the University of Florida, in Gainesville., I lived in a single-wide, delapadated trailer that someone just left on the 20 acres of land that my brother bought years ago. He built a beautiful home on that land and turned three or four acres into a blueberry farm. After a tough time in my family, my brother offered me the trailer to live in, free of charge, if I went back to school. I took it as a challenge and moved out into the middle the tiny town of Cross Creek, the place where Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings grew oranges to support her while she wrote The Yearling.
After much cleaning and creative decorating, the sad little trailer took on the ambience of home. Little did I know then that I, too, was in for some transformation. Looking back, I should have put two plus two together to see that the previous owners of the transformed trailer were not going to give up so easily and just let me move in without a fight. I'm not talking about humans or ghost. I'm speaking of mice - many mice!
One night, as I laid on my bed (which was just a matress and box springs on the floor as the room was too small for the frame) I felt myself falling asleep. Another two seconds and I would had been snoring. This night, though, I was brought back from dream land by the pitter-patter of tiny mice feet. Oh my God! I was so afraid as I laid on my mattress so close to the floor. I opened my eyes to see a mouse coming right at me. I screamed just before he came straight to my room.
Instead of turning around and running for his life, the mouse (that in the dark looked more like a rat!) took a 90 degree left turn into the bathroom next to my bedroom. "Get up and shut your door while you can!" screamed my mind but my body simply betrayed me. I was paralyzed with fear.
All of a sudden, the panick was broken by the sound of splashing. "What the heck?" To make a long story short, the mouse had jumped into the toilet and couldn't get out. I forced my body to jump up, take the baseball bat that I kept next to my bed, and headed into the bathroom. I reached around and flipped the light on and stretched tall to see down into the toilet without getting any closer. It was the mouse in the toilet alright. I reached with the bat and closed the lid and began flushing like crazy. After about the 20th flush, I gingerly opened the the lid, again with the bat, and peeked in from a distance. No mouse! Yes, the poor thing had been swallowed up.
While there was never another toilet situation, there were tell-tale signs of mice in the home. I tried everything: poison pellets, steel wool stuffed in the excess area where the holes were bigger than the pipes that went through them, traps, etc. Sometimes, I would awake to the sound of "snap" and know that another mouse bit the dust and a mess would be waitin on me in the morning.
Finally, after discussing my problem with others, I decided that I needed a cat. I explained to my friends that I was highly allergicto cats but that I was desperate. We decided on the solution. Verly Dean, a friend of mine, had an Uncle John that had had accumulated a yard full of cats.
With antihistimines in hand, I went to Uncle John's to pick out one of his surplus cats. John recommended a cat named Vester. Vester and I headed home and I took him into the trailer. It wasn't long before I had no more mouse problems. I welcomed Vester to sleep at the foot of my bed and eventually he would crawl up in the crook of my back. I realized that I had never even had one sneeze since Vester came to live with me, not a teary eye nor a wheeze in my chest. How could this be?
I've often thought about Vester as the years have gone by, and now have six cats living with me. These six cats are my family and we know each other's little ticks. They are a comfort to me and, unlike a dog, I don't have to rush home after work to let them out. They use the litter box and play with each other during the day. Cats can walk around precariously placed items such as crystal vases and candlesticks and not even stir the dust.
Two of the cats like to be out at night while the other four sleep with me in my king size bed. They know which part of the bed is theirs and several of them even take their paw to wipe the tears off my cheek when I have the post-meopausal good cry. They purr when they are happy to let me know they appreciate me. Cats are very self-sufficient and I like the fact that they get it when I'm not in the mood to be cordial. They don't get offended and hurt as a dog does.
Yes, I use to be a dog person, but thanks to mice and Vester, I'm now a die-hard cat person. If I had a fence, I might own a dog again. I like walking and it's more fun if you have a dog to keep you company along the way. But if I had to choose between one of the other, I'd choose a mouse-catcher!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Rapping
There she goes again
Thoughts begin without end.
Surfing through memories
All about Amanda please.
Mind's going in a circle
Annoying as Steve Erkle
Thinking thoughts- I want to die
but other thoughts say, "don't comply."
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
Where did my mind go
It's not like I'm blowing snow.
It's not like I'm blaming
But my thoughts, they're not aiming
to good times that are stored there.
I guess those times are thin air.
The good times with her laughter
Me always chasing after
Amanda who was craftier
We swang from the rafters.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
Smoking weed kept her mind straight
Now she's in the Pearly gates.
Hanging with Lennon,
Maybe even Joplin.
Felt her all around me
Even though she's heavenly.
But I had to tell her
Put her Vans on, to dance on
Listening to her bands songs
Go and get her jazz on.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
In a moment my thoughts change
Seems like there's a big range.
They're old but you know they're all strange
Feels like I'm toting chains
Why is there so much sorrow
Too much for today and tomorrow
Was her death a true suprise
Or had I seen it in her eyes.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
I've been waitin' for the shoe to drop
Every since her head came out
She never slept throughout the night
Until she was gone from sight.
Always at the doctor
Can't even be a proctor
All I do is babysit
But too poor to say I quit~!
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
If it will be jst three years
Then I can wipe away tears
I can make it that long.
Even tell my bro so long.
Who wants to live forever
Without her, I say never!
My future has not my seed
but shrink say do good deeds.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
I will keep my mind on good thoughts
Even though my demons taunt.
Life is not always fair
So I wait to see her there.
Thoughts begin without end.
Surfing through memories
All about Amanda please.
Mind's going in a circle
Annoying as Steve Erkle
Thinking thoughts- I want to die
but other thoughts say, "don't comply."
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
Where did my mind go
It's not like I'm blowing snow.
It's not like I'm blaming
But my thoughts, they're not aiming
to good times that are stored there.
I guess those times are thin air.
The good times with her laughter
Me always chasing after
Amanda who was craftier
We swang from the rafters.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
Smoking weed kept her mind straight
Now she's in the Pearly gates.
Hanging with Lennon,
Maybe even Joplin.
Felt her all around me
Even though she's heavenly.
But I had to tell her
Put her Vans on, to dance on
Listening to her bands songs
Go and get her jazz on.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
In a moment my thoughts change
Seems like there's a big range.
They're old but you know they're all strange
Feels like I'm toting chains
Why is there so much sorrow
Too much for today and tomorrow
Was her death a true suprise
Or had I seen it in her eyes.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
I've been waitin' for the shoe to drop
Every since her head came out
She never slept throughout the night
Until she was gone from sight.
Always at the doctor
Can't even be a proctor
All I do is babysit
But too poor to say I quit~!
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
If it will be jst three years
Then I can wipe away tears
I can make it that long.
Even tell my bro so long.
Who wants to live forever
Without her, I say never!
My future has not my seed
but shrink say do good deeds.
It's these moments that spook me, make me want to kill me.
Lexapro, welbutrin, stomach hurts, I'm pukin'.
Tossing in my bed at night, wishing I was dreamin'
about her and her high kite, but instead I wake up screamin'.
I will keep my mind on good thoughts
Even though my demons taunt.
Life is not always fair
So I wait to see her there.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Never party with people you work with!!!
Okay...if you have been keeping up with this blog, you know how I dread the holidays. I actually breathe a sigh of relief on January 2nd of each year. However, I did really try to get into the holiday spirit on Saturday. I went out and got my hair cut and colored, did some grocery shopping, buying ingredients for my meatball appetizers for a party at a co-worker's home that I really was reluctant to attend. But I said that I would and that I'd bring meatballs so there you go.
After returning from shopping, I come in through the front entrance of the subdivision I live in. I live in the back and usually take the back, less formal and used entrance to get to the house. But on Saturday, after getting the heck burned out of the sides of my face by the beautician when she left the dye on my fair skin too long, and after shopping for food I don't need or for ingredients for meatballs to take to a party I really don't want to go to, I enter through the front of the neighborhood and notice huge signs that say, "Come join us for night of lights - all houses decorated for the holidays. Crap!
It hits me that I've been noticing everyone putting up the decorations - the kind you have to have ladders to to do- the Chevy Chase Christmas Vacation, stapling your shirt to the gutter, tree branches crashing to ground kind of decorations. I haven't even put up a wreath in years. I think, "I know I have a couple of crates of Christmas decorations in the garage. I run out and start going through the giant, rubber tubs to find nothing, nada, zilch! Crap!
I grapple for the keys and jump in the hyundai and zig out the back of the neighborhood and head for the nearest Target, which isn't so near. I actually have to get onto the interstate and weave in and out of tourist driving 10 mph, gawking & bum-fumbling around trying to get to the historic district. It's getting closer to the shortest day of the year so I'm thinking, "I gotta get some decorations schnizzle and soon.
Panicked, I began to sweat like a knocked-up nun. I mean I was sweating like a character on the first Aliens movie. I was actually seeing sweat beads stacking up on the knuckles of my hands on the stearing wheel. OMG! I looked in the rearview mirror and my mascara was running like Tammy Fay Baker's when she would talk about the dolls she bought for the orphans of Haiti in the name of Jesus!
I run into Hobby Lobby and they had" allada nada"! But they could re-mat a painting for me. I thought I was going to yank the ecto-knife out of the "framing specialist's" hands as she measured and remeasured the paint and frame ad nauseam. Crap-almighty!
Finally, I bring myself to go into Target, and was shocked that crap you would use for 3 weeks out of the year is extraordinarily expensive. Of course, no one else there is in a hurry except me. I get back to the completely opposite corner of the store where all the seasonal supplies should be and find a very limited amount of what I'm looking for: easy, tasteful, inexpensive. Crap!
I end up picking some wreaths to put on the front windows, these two glass balls that stick in your yard and gradually change colors and some electric candles to put in the front windows. I actually even pick up a 2 foot snowman that lights up to put by the front door. It seems to be something I can assemble in under 5 minutes. Hooks, where are the hooks you put on windows to hang the wreaths? I ask a stocker which only took 10 minutes to find, and she says, "Oh, you must be looking for suction cups - aisle 31."
These suction cups might could hold up lines of lights, but not a wreath. I bought, out of desperation, one of those hooks that you can hang with a sticky tab. They've never worked before, but as I said, I was desperate. Crap, crap, crap!
I get home and it's a quarter to eight. I'm suppose to be at the party by 9pm. Oh crap - the meatballs. Now I could've gotten the prepared meatballs, but nooooooo, I had to open my mouth about my home-made meatballs so I get into Edward Scissorhands mode and start chopping, stiring and molding meatballs into olive oil sprayed baking dishes. The kitchen looks like a catastrophe. Frickin crap!
I throw some jeans that are clean but wrinkled into the dryer with a handful of dryer sheets and start a bubble bath....just to help get myself calmed down. A brilliant thought pops into my mind, "I can just not go and say I fell asleep by mistake." But oh hell to the no....I said I was f'n going so I sure as sherlock have to go.
I chug down a xanex and slide into the bubble bath. Ahhhhh...now we're talking. I get out, smell the meatballs baking, Yum! I dry off, put on my bathrobe and check the oven. I make my sauce quickly and stir all the meatballs with the sauce all together. Back in one baking dish and back in the oven to soak up the heavenly sauce made of chili and barbeque sauce and a jar of red current jelly.
I grab my clothes out of the dryer and rush back into the bathroom to put on my makeup and do my hair. I get my outfit on and dash back into the kitchen to grab the meatballs and slide them into a thermal carrying case. I feel so middle American.
Now, where's the map I can't find the freakin' map. Crap again! I do have the phone number and call for directions and eventually get there with my meatballs, bottle of wine that I don't plan on drinking and three cold microbrew beers that I definitely plan on drinking. As I drive way the heck back over across town near where I bought the chessey decorations, I am listening to great music on my Ipad-touch. I'm feeling a little better, proud that I accomplished a great deal and look pretty good and finally find the house with all sorts of Macy Day Parade -size blo- up toys in the front yard. I go inside with my 3 beers and middle-American meetballs. There is no one there I feel like I can hang with. The entire school was invited but I see 3 teachers I know and maybe 6 or 7 other folks but the host was accommodating and shows me his train collection that I enjoyed immensely.
Some others are beginning to drop by...all the others are getting their buzz on. Ugh.... I am asking the wee-gods to show up and sneak me outside and guide me to "I don't give a shit land". but no luck- Crap!
To make matters worse people were getting mean. People start gossiping about people who they barely know. You know I teach and I respect all teachers. However, there is one habit that many teachers do. (Come to think of it, it's just not teachers). It's an enormously big pet peeve of mine and it's when co-workers keep tabs on each other. Why would I care if the teacher next to me takes off the last Friday of each month, or comes in 15 minutes late or leaves 10 minutes early?
But I'm for real, why do people get caught up in all that. I come in late because I'm not a morning person, but I'm here way before the kids need to come in. Then this 45 year old aid says, "Why are you guys so tired and stressed? I love my job" It's because we are forced to teach kids subjects that they can't learn because they read on a average of fourth grader but must pass a test written on a 10th grade level. If they dont...we lose some of our income. Can you say, "No Fair!" The one person who actually invited me is flippin drunk as a sailor on leave and her best friend is doing a chessy job at flirting with the jerk. He's flirting back with his holier than though bull=hunks...all there without his wife, bashing the past principal for flirting with women and its all just stinky and nauseating. It was way past time for me to leave.
All the way home, I was feeling like I might have mishandled some things, but shuck those jokers. Now I really know that no matter how much they seem to be fair at work, they are sloppy and dangerous with their words and attitudes.
More coming tomorrow. SEASONS GREETING!
kk
After returning from shopping, I come in through the front entrance of the subdivision I live in. I live in the back and usually take the back, less formal and used entrance to get to the house. But on Saturday, after getting the heck burned out of the sides of my face by the beautician when she left the dye on my fair skin too long, and after shopping for food I don't need or for ingredients for meatballs to take to a party I really don't want to go to, I enter through the front of the neighborhood and notice huge signs that say, "Come join us for night of lights - all houses decorated for the holidays. Crap!
It hits me that I've been noticing everyone putting up the decorations - the kind you have to have ladders to to do- the Chevy Chase Christmas Vacation, stapling your shirt to the gutter, tree branches crashing to ground kind of decorations. I haven't even put up a wreath in years. I think, "I know I have a couple of crates of Christmas decorations in the garage. I run out and start going through the giant, rubber tubs to find nothing, nada, zilch! Crap!
I grapple for the keys and jump in the hyundai and zig out the back of the neighborhood and head for the nearest Target, which isn't so near. I actually have to get onto the interstate and weave in and out of tourist driving 10 mph, gawking & bum-fumbling around trying to get to the historic district. It's getting closer to the shortest day of the year so I'm thinking, "I gotta get some decorations schnizzle and soon.
Panicked, I began to sweat like a knocked-up nun. I mean I was sweating like a character on the first Aliens movie. I was actually seeing sweat beads stacking up on the knuckles of my hands on the stearing wheel. OMG! I looked in the rearview mirror and my mascara was running like Tammy Fay Baker's when she would talk about the dolls she bought for the orphans of Haiti in the name of Jesus!
I run into Hobby Lobby and they had" allada nada"! But they could re-mat a painting for me. I thought I was going to yank the ecto-knife out of the "framing specialist's" hands as she measured and remeasured the paint and frame ad nauseam. Crap-almighty!
Finally, I bring myself to go into Target, and was shocked that crap you would use for 3 weeks out of the year is extraordinarily expensive. Of course, no one else there is in a hurry except me. I get back to the completely opposite corner of the store where all the seasonal supplies should be and find a very limited amount of what I'm looking for: easy, tasteful, inexpensive. Crap!
I end up picking some wreaths to put on the front windows, these two glass balls that stick in your yard and gradually change colors and some electric candles to put in the front windows. I actually even pick up a 2 foot snowman that lights up to put by the front door. It seems to be something I can assemble in under 5 minutes. Hooks, where are the hooks you put on windows to hang the wreaths? I ask a stocker which only took 10 minutes to find, and she says, "Oh, you must be looking for suction cups - aisle 31."
These suction cups might could hold up lines of lights, but not a wreath. I bought, out of desperation, one of those hooks that you can hang with a sticky tab. They've never worked before, but as I said, I was desperate. Crap, crap, crap!
I get home and it's a quarter to eight. I'm suppose to be at the party by 9pm. Oh crap - the meatballs. Now I could've gotten the prepared meatballs, but nooooooo, I had to open my mouth about my home-made meatballs so I get into Edward Scissorhands mode and start chopping, stiring and molding meatballs into olive oil sprayed baking dishes. The kitchen looks like a catastrophe. Frickin crap!
I throw some jeans that are clean but wrinkled into the dryer with a handful of dryer sheets and start a bubble bath....just to help get myself calmed down. A brilliant thought pops into my mind, "I can just not go and say I fell asleep by mistake." But oh hell to the no....I said I was f'n going so I sure as sherlock have to go.
I chug down a xanex and slide into the bubble bath. Ahhhhh...now we're talking. I get out, smell the meatballs baking, Yum! I dry off, put on my bathrobe and check the oven. I make my sauce quickly and stir all the meatballs with the sauce all together. Back in one baking dish and back in the oven to soak up the heavenly sauce made of chili and barbeque sauce and a jar of red current jelly.
I grab my clothes out of the dryer and rush back into the bathroom to put on my makeup and do my hair. I get my outfit on and dash back into the kitchen to grab the meatballs and slide them into a thermal carrying case. I feel so middle American.
Now, where's the map I can't find the freakin' map. Crap again! I do have the phone number and call for directions and eventually get there with my meatballs, bottle of wine that I don't plan on drinking and three cold microbrew beers that I definitely plan on drinking. As I drive way the heck back over across town near where I bought the chessey decorations, I am listening to great music on my Ipad-touch. I'm feeling a little better, proud that I accomplished a great deal and look pretty good and finally find the house with all sorts of Macy Day Parade -size blo- up toys in the front yard. I go inside with my 3 beers and middle-American meetballs. There is no one there I feel like I can hang with. The entire school was invited but I see 3 teachers I know and maybe 6 or 7 other folks but the host was accommodating and shows me his train collection that I enjoyed immensely.
Some others are beginning to drop by...all the others are getting their buzz on. Ugh.... I am asking the wee-gods to show up and sneak me outside and guide me to "I don't give a shit land". but no luck- Crap!
To make matters worse people were getting mean. People start gossiping about people who they barely know. You know I teach and I respect all teachers. However, there is one habit that many teachers do. (Come to think of it, it's just not teachers). It's an enormously big pet peeve of mine and it's when co-workers keep tabs on each other. Why would I care if the teacher next to me takes off the last Friday of each month, or comes in 15 minutes late or leaves 10 minutes early?
But I'm for real, why do people get caught up in all that. I come in late because I'm not a morning person, but I'm here way before the kids need to come in. Then this 45 year old aid says, "Why are you guys so tired and stressed? I love my job" It's because we are forced to teach kids subjects that they can't learn because they read on a average of fourth grader but must pass a test written on a 10th grade level. If they dont...we lose some of our income. Can you say, "No Fair!" The one person who actually invited me is flippin drunk as a sailor on leave and her best friend is doing a chessy job at flirting with the jerk. He's flirting back with his holier than though bull=hunks...all there without his wife, bashing the past principal for flirting with women and its all just stinky and nauseating. It was way past time for me to leave.
All the way home, I was feeling like I might have mishandled some things, but shuck those jokers. Now I really know that no matter how much they seem to be fair at work, they are sloppy and dangerous with their words and attitudes.
More coming tomorrow. SEASONS GREETING!
kk
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
I'm tired!
I'm exhausted. Being a public school teacher is not only a mentally and emotionally draining job; believe it or not, it is an outrageously physical job. Imagine standing up in front of class for 25 out of 45 minutes and then walk around, bending over in a 45 degree angle to read over a student's shoulder or write an example on their paper for the following 20 minute. Now during this time, you are looking around, scouting out trouble or slackers, talking, thinking in many academic genres simultaneously while at least pretending to love every child and spark an interest in each child. Not to mention, a teacher must be ready to answer 100's of random questions and come up with information when you find a "teachable moment".
Toward the end of that class, I start to think of how I'm going to end the class on a positive note so each student leaves the class feeling good about themselves and the subject matter. I want each boy and girl to be excited about what we are learning. I'm also already thinking about the next class and how to head of troubles that may be brewing. "Let me make a quick note to call Paul's parents about his behavior. Where's my pen? Any of you kids take my pen by accident?"
"Ringgggg~" End of the period. "Have a wonderful day and remember that your rough draft is due Friday. = Love you and do your best!" Now let me stand at the door to guard the busy, quiet hallway as sstudents move through the intrasystem of the school to get to their next class and have a social life in doing so. By third period, I really have to pee. God help the days that I have an upset tummy. I just couldn't be futher from a restroom. I try to limit my fluid intake so feel thirsty often.
Finally it's lunch. I scurry out the "draggers" - you know, the kids who move at a snail's pace and you only have 25 mins for lunch once they leave and have to be back before they return from lunch to great them with an enthusiasticv smile. "Oh crap, I forgot to go to the bathroom." Okay, I can hold it for as long as I need to. Just 90 more minutes before my 7th period planning. OMG - no wonder I suffer from kidney stones so often.
Seventh period arrives at last and I can get some papers graded and go to the restroom. But then a sad face sticks it's face inside my door. A real problem is with it. I need to forsake my bladder and listen.
What after school activity do I ahve today??
Did I say teaching school is exhausting?
Toward the end of that class, I start to think of how I'm going to end the class on a positive note so each student leaves the class feeling good about themselves and the subject matter. I want each boy and girl to be excited about what we are learning. I'm also already thinking about the next class and how to head of troubles that may be brewing. "Let me make a quick note to call Paul's parents about his behavior. Where's my pen? Any of you kids take my pen by accident?"
"Ringgggg~" End of the period. "Have a wonderful day and remember that your rough draft is due Friday. = Love you and do your best!" Now let me stand at the door to guard the busy, quiet hallway as sstudents move through the intrasystem of the school to get to their next class and have a social life in doing so. By third period, I really have to pee. God help the days that I have an upset tummy. I just couldn't be futher from a restroom. I try to limit my fluid intake so feel thirsty often.
Finally it's lunch. I scurry out the "draggers" - you know, the kids who move at a snail's pace and you only have 25 mins for lunch once they leave and have to be back before they return from lunch to great them with an enthusiasticv smile. "Oh crap, I forgot to go to the bathroom." Okay, I can hold it for as long as I need to. Just 90 more minutes before my 7th period planning. OMG - no wonder I suffer from kidney stones so often.
Seventh period arrives at last and I can get some papers graded and go to the restroom. But then a sad face sticks it's face inside my door. A real problem is with it. I need to forsake my bladder and listen.
What after school activity do I ahve today??
Did I say teaching school is exhausting?
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