my new fav holiday

Merry Fuckmas, Everybody!

Tourist lady: Man, there must be something going on in New York today!
Flustered man: It's called Christmas, bitch.

--Disney Store, 5th Ave & 55th

via Overheard in New York, Dec 26, 2006

Knife Writer: Hippo Jaws Turn Midget Into Midget Juice

Knife Writer: Hippo Jaws Turn Midget Into Midget Juice

was there ever any question?

How evil are you?

True Dat

New York: The Fugue State

Guy #1: You know what the best thing ever is?
Guy #2: No, what?
Guy #1: When you wake up in the morning and have absolutely no idea what happened the night before or how you got home.
Guy #2: Ummm, not so sure that is the best.

--Brooklyn bound F train

via Overheard in New York, Nov 10, 2006

conundrum

It's weird. I fluctuate between periods of fiercely guarded solitude, and intense social activity. For example—in the past four weeks, I’ve gone out/seen friends/been somewhat social exactly twice. I manage to keep in touch with everybody, but I don’t do anything. ANYTHING. However, when I manage to get out—I kind of go over the top. But that’s balanced with quiet homebody time. In bed by nine, awake at five—and productive around the house and school work stuff. I love that time.

But now—I’m all extroverted. Out on Sunday (not good on Sunday, but out). Out last night, out tonight, out Friday night.

And suddenly, the whole spinsterhood crap isn’t working for me either—even if I wanted it to, it’s not. It’s just weird, that’s all. I don’t know how this happens. How do I go from no social life, to almost too much social life?

writhing

So, occasionally, I'm a complete idiot.

Just occasionally, mind you.

We here in idiot land have a saying. Sometimes, my self mortifies myself. Oh, right now, writhing in mortification. I just, sometimes, make AWFUL choices. AWFUL. And the thing is--ironically, I spent most of the day calming a friend down who was mortified at herself. And then I go and...ugh, I'm just so embarrassed.

Granted, I could have been much worse that I actually was--but still! Oh...shit.

Writhing.

Mortified.

I want to go back to bed...

And spend, oh, I don't know, months there. Months. And not ever answer the phone again. Or be seen in public. Oh my. How....how? How can I even have friends? I am very lucky to have the friends I have, and that they love me even though I am so mortifiyingly stupid. I'm full of stupidosity. Yep. Oh my...

yeah, and that too...

I am 94% Asshole/Bitch.

I am one of those people that love to hear the sound of their voice. That and my lousy attitude make for a mixture as toxic next-day-mexican-dinner-ass-drip.

Take the
Asshole/Bitch Test
@ FualiDotCom

well, shee-yit, I knew that!

I am 28% Idiot.

I ain't too bright. But all those other idiots annoy the hell out of me. I may not be the brightest bulb in the bunch, but at least I know my limits.

Take the
Idiot Test
@ FualiDotCom

What would YOU do?

Um….



This is a poem one of my kids wrote. It’s an up-down poem. Um…



See, he asked me if it was okay. How am I supposed to say it isn’t, because I’d be, um…



Joyful Josh

Occasionally

Slaps his

Hummingbird.



I mean, COME ON!

The kids win...

So, two days ago, I was pissed and hurt at the small minded, pathetic people I work with. And--let me be clear, it's only a few asswipes that are awful, most of the people I work with are pretty darn cool, but there are a few...

But, then, yesterday, well, I was reminded why I'm a teacher. And I have to say, these kids...man, they are just awesome. Really. Their honsesty is heartbreaking and overwhelming.

You know, the other day, before all this stupid stupid crap started, I was walking down the hall. It was my prep period, and I wasn't walking Daisy, I was just on my way to the office to check my mail or something, but anyway, here I was, walking down the hall. I look into one room, and a teacher is reading to her students. The kids are enthralled. They are listening, and hooked. And then, I look into another room, and the kids are all working together, in groups on projects, and then another and they are all reading. And in each of these rooms, an adult is there, giving. Giving. That's what we do, and the kids, they need it. They want it. They are leanring. It is cool. My job is cool.

And if a few small-minded dorks want to be overly concerned about what I do on my 55 minutes, between 9:25 and 10:20, fine. They are losers. The kids...they're the winners.

Oh, you and your small, small life...part 2

Really? REALLY? You are telling me that one of the things that is on your list today is to complain about me? ME? And the fact that I walk my dog on my prep period. That (THAT? Really? THAT?) is something that bothers you? Oh, my. You really are pathetic. I mean, me walking my dog bothers you? And...why is that? I really can't figure it out.

SO, is it because you are fat? Or...is it because YOU don't ever exercise, and so you don't want anybody else to? I mean, I'm sorry, I'm just really struggling here. I can't figure out WHAT THE BIG DEAL is. See...other people leave on their prep period. They get coffee, they go to Burgerville or Muchas Gracias, they even go to the DMV. And that is all okay, right? So, now, me? I want to walk my freakin' dog, and you are going to have a problem with it? What the hell?

Okay. Fine. You freakin' win. I'll walk my freakin' dog on my freakin' duty free thirtyfuckinminute lunch hour. There. You freakin' happy, you small lifed loser? Seriously. I mean? What is the point here? It doesn't matter to do the dog if she walks at 10 or 11. It doesn't matter to me, either. She's still getting walked, and you're still fat.

But see...this is where I get confused. I thought we were teachers. I thought we were here for the kids...and that was the point. I thought, wrongly...it seems, that if I stayed here utnil six at night and planned a lot and worked longer, and actually worked toward my goal of being the best teacher I can be (which is truly my geeky, nerdy goal this year) that taking a twenty minute walk with my dog wouldn't really matter. How could I have thought that? Clearly, I'm an idiot.

What was I thinking?

And, buying a house is a good idea why...exactly? See...eight months ago, I was paying absurdly cheap rent. I was living in a GREAT neighborhood (okay, there were occasional shootings, but...it was centrally located. Right by stores, parks, bridges. It was great). Yes, the apartment sucked and smelled and was filthy with that old kind of filth, but it was CHEAP, and I had $1,000 more a month, basically. Now, I have to find a way to scrounge up the extra grand, and why? So I can pay for a house I'm too exhausted to enjoy? I can barely survive financially, and I'm eating ramen noodles and peanut butter (okay, actually, no--I'd rather eat middle school lunches than ramen noodles, but still) and I'm working every day of the week, sometimes very long hours. I am crazy poor, and so freaking tired, I actually think that buying this house was the worst thing I've done in a long time...

I hate this house.

I wish I still paid $500 a month rent...oh, the good old days.

Portland Public Art: September 2006

Portland Public Art: September 2006

The Fee Feasible Prophecies

The Fee Feasible Prophecies

drunkmunky

drunkmunky

you MUST ignore the double chin, and focus on how cute the horse is

This is Wake. She is four months old.









And Priscilla (well, her nose at least) and one of the llamas. I don't know his name, but I call him Ernie. He answers, and we have long conversations. His job, at the farm, is to protect the goats from the coyotes. He does a real good job, too.

Oh man...

When the Student Is Ready, the Teacher Will Appear

Skinny construction worker: All I know is...
Obese construction worker: I told you I don't wanna hear it!
Skinny construction worker: Listen, I'm just gonna say this once, and I'll let it go.
Obese construction worker: I said I don't wanna hear it!
Skinny construction worker: Nobody, and I mean nobody, should sweat when they eat. There, I said it!

--McDonald's, Wall St

Overheard by: Robert

via Overheard in New York, Sep 3, 2006

Well, that's a good point, but...maybe they shouldn't be eating at McDonald's then...I mean, I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'...because, bottom line, eating at McDonald's says a lot about your eating habits. Crap, tubby, pack a lunch with some vegetables. Let's see what kind of sweat you can work up with that celery.

Speakin' of--me and that cholesterol problem? We're doing just fine! Been hitting the gym, watching what I eat, quit smoking--hell, tomorrow will be 2 months! Damn! The weird thing about not smoking: I'm not hanging with my smoking friends so much, so, as a direct result, I'm not drinking so much, as well. This is good, especially for the wallet and the waist, but it is a little less fun. I mean, it's obviously more responsible, and I know there isn't all that much attractive about a drunk-off-her-ass almost-forty-year-old, but sometimes, just sometimes it's fun to be an ass, you know? Sometimes it's a drag to be the grown-up all the time.

That said: I'm hoping to tie one on tonight. I mean, school starts on Tuesday (oh, so freaking excited, by the way--I mean, I can't wait! The room isn't ready, and all the copies aren't made, and for some reason, I'm not even stressed out, but SHEESH I'm excited about Tuesday! Oh, such a nerd!) and once that happens, I'm not so great at taking time for myself. I have a hard time unwinding, so tonight, I might be obnoxiously drunk. Oh boy.

With the start of school, I realized that this has been the suckiest summer I've had. Usually, I do some big huge camping trip, or at least hike my arse off--but not this year. Hardly camped and didn't really hike. I mean, I know there was family visits and farm stuff and Daisy almost dying, and all, so...the lameness of this summer is a little understandable. Oh--and the whole being-flat-ass-broke bit, too. I'm just hoping that it was an anomoly, and it won't happen again.

cyanide and happiness

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

The Quality Control Alliance

oh sweet jesus!

The Quality Control Alliance

Ok, what is going on here?

So, I recently put an ad on craigslist for a roommate. Ok, fine. I got four inquiries in a matter of hours, and the room isn't even available yet. I'll wait, and when it gets closer to the time, I'll repost, but I might hang on to one woman who has a banjo and a dog named Sugar, but-I digress. The whole point of this posting is this e-mail (below). What follows is a real response to my ad, and I am left simply scratching my head. Please, read:

Dearest, I am glad hearing from you so soon. I want to tell you that I am happy and willing to be your roommate if only you can help me hold the room until I come back this month being August. I am a home girl right from my native country in Nassau Bahamas.

(okay, I stepped in and deleted this, because it was crazy long, and bugged me, but yes--it was a scam--I contacted Craigslist about it. Very weird).

Update: So, obviously, Melanie is moving out, but we have talked, and...it's good. We are still friends, but living together just isn't working. She has admitted that she doesn't really live well with any of her friends (yet, she's moving in with another--good luck, Akasha). We had a teary little talk, and she's still coming out to the farm (oh yeah, I'm at the farm this week--love the farm!) and Ziggy will still stay at the house sometimes, and all that is good. Especially since Daisy gets blue without her Zig.

Suckshine

A coulple years ago, Melanie and I hiked Mt. St Helens, pretty much right before it's most recent rumblings began. August 11, in fact, 2001? 2002? Anyway, it was a pretty hard hike, and the other girl with us had asthma, and was having a hard time and the whole way up, I was very positive and encouraging, staying by her side and motivating her to keep going. (Melanie had no patience for that kind of nicety, and went ahead and met us at the top). The two of them nicknamed me suckshine, because I have this tendancy to muster up some sort of postitive energy, even when things totally suck.

So--I'm going to try to do that here--really really try. I mean, what's so bad, right? I've lost a friend, who really didn't treat me all that well in the first place, so now, let's say, I've got the absence of abuse, which is good, right? Um, yeah.

Also--now I've got more room to store all my crap, right? Uh-huh.

And....um, there's a lot more room in the fridge without all her beer in there....yeah, that's good.

Oh, and because I'm all upset about this, it's kind of like a break up, and I've lost 7 pounds! YEAH!!! There it is. Way to go, suckshine!

Oh, why the hell not turn this into drama central?

See the happy drunk girl in the cowboy hat? That's me. The other one? That's Mel. That's our Easter party, right after I bought the house. What fun! A ton of people, a ton of vodka, beer, and many misconstured hook-ups. Ah, good times. Those were the days...

So, yep. I gave Melanie her 30 day notice. It's really going to suck, and I really need the money, but she is really awful to me, and I'm just not going to let her treat me like crap. I am not at ease in my own house, and have been avoiding it for the past two days to stay away from her, and that's just crap.
And, it really does suck, because we've been friends for a while, and we've been pretty darn close, but it is very hard being friends with somebody who is goddamned determined to be miserable, and watch out if you aren't, because she'll do her best to make sure you are, as well. And you know what? I have a hard enough time being happy on my own, without some negative vortex of self-pity trying her best to drag me down too!



The worst part...I know how she treats people once she feels she has a right to treat them like shit. Not that she hasn't already been treating me poorly, but it's been a passive aggressive kind of shit, but now...she'll bust out the big guns baby. All along, she's been looking for a reason to hate me. I guess we're there now. Aw hell...

oh please

huh. Well, it looks like I need a new roommate!

Also, it looks like when you get a backbone, and tell somebody it's not okay to treat you like shit, you lose friends. well...

Portland Public Art: Baby Graveyard in North Portland

Portland Public Art: Baby Graveyard in North Portland

Sing it, Olivia!

So...

Recently, I realized I'm getting older! I mean, I never really thought of my (undisclosed) age as old or anything, especially when I saw other women of my age being fit and hip (to some extent). But lately, I've realized that I'm invisibile. I'm serious! In bars, restaurants, shops, and most of all, the gym. And see, that's what this is really all about. Over this summer--actually, for the past 6 months or so, I've watched all of my friends gradually gain weight. Now, Jasmin is pregnant, so she's got an excuse, but the rest of us--really! We're growing our own personally food/beer babies, and it's gross.

At first, I actually thought I was immune. I was going to Kung Fu and seriously kicking ass. I wasn't really gaining weight. But, turns out, I was (read did). And now--I'm the heaviest I've ever been. Down right fat, I tell you--but that's me, I've got body image issues (Thanks, Calista!). But really--the heaviest ever. But--the difference is, I joined the gym. And I actually go. And I work out. A lot. For, like, hours. And, it's working--I've lost 5 pounds (yay!) and I feel better about myself, which is good, blah blah blah, but the thing is--I'm completely invisible. No, it's true. I fit right up there with all the old Asian ladies that are there (except that they're Asian). I mean, in the yoga class, I'm the old, middle-aged, fat lady who can't do the poses, and has to modify them, BECAUSE SHE'S OLD! (but see, I know the truth--the real reason I can't do the poses is because my lower back is so messed up--which actually could be because I'm old, I guess). Sigh.

But then there's the back issue (trust me, this all ties together). So, I go to the physical therapist, and she gives me all these exercises, and I do them, and actually, they are working--there is less pain. I've actually slept past 4 am twice now! Yay! I mean, it's a drag when your back hurts so bad that it actually freakin' wakes you up in the morning--wait, is 4 am the morning or is it still the night? Anyway, that's improving. But, while I was there, I got my bloodwork done, because back in January, there was a slight concern about my cholesteral level (have I mentioned that my top three favorite foods are BACON, CHEESE and BACON, EGG and CHEESE sandwhiches?). It was "moderately high" the last time.

Um, this time: high. Damn. And the scale isn't lying, either, and I realize that one: I'm overweight, and two: I've got high cholesteral. Crap. I'm a heart attack waiting to happen (see? get the ONJ reference?). To top it all off, the day my test results come back, the gym calls with a free fitness assessment. So, I'm not one to ignore the coincidence. I get it done, and yep--I'm in the "very poor" column for body fat, and the BMI, well, let's just say, it ain't good, either.

Oh boy. Well--the sweet young ex-marine fitness trainer says he can get me to a size six again. We'll see. And, I'm working on changing my eating habits. More yogurt and veggies and less, sob, bacon and cheese. Oh boy. I'm doing all the right things...I'm now one of those old farts that the cholestral advertisments are targeted to. blech.

Whatever. We're off to Goat Rocks for another camping excursion--me, my fat ass, the dogs and Mel. Should be fun. I'm eating bacon when I camp, damn it. I just am.

Oh, and incidentally--it's offically over a month since I quit smoking.

smoking!

Wednesday One-Liners Could Quit if They Wanted to

Guy: Okay, here's the plan: we paint your van, then you have sex with Susan, then I'll have sex with...someone else. Then we both smoke a lot of weed...

--1st Ave

Teen boy: Yo, I just stopped smoking weed, cause, like, I heard it was bad for you. So I started smoking cigarettes again.

--G train

Queer on cell, taking deep drags of cigarette: No, I'm not! I told you I quit. [Exhales] Umm, that was just me blowing my bangs out of my eyes.

--Outside Bally Fitness, 50th St

Smoker: I read somewhere that if you quit smoking by the time you are middle aged your body can still recover, and I thought, "Great I still have a couple more years to quit." Then I read what they define "middle aged" as. I'm fucked!

--Upper East Side gallery

via Overheard in New York, Jul 26, 2006

Some updating...

The summer birthday party/house guest party/whatever party is done. Whew. Over forty people came--kids, dogs, friends. There was a break-up, a hook-up, (not me this time!) and a butt-load of drinking, dancing, and all around merriment. Except me. I had a pretty crappy time. No...that's not REALLY true. It was fun, but I just felt like all I did was clean up after people because I was completely paranoid about Daisy getting into chicken or something. It was fun, I guess. And Richard did and EXCELLENT job on the grill. But, I'm thinking, I'm done with party throwin' for a while.

The house guests: Very fun. Actually, Akasha was here for a few nights before Richard and Jenna came, and that was great fun, too. And Richard and Jenna are so very cool, so even though the house is small, it was just fine. Interestingly, it actually feels smaller now that they're gone...but that could be the friction between me and Mel, and I don't know what that's about, but I've vowed NOT to talk about it or say anything negative or mean because it is highly possible that I'm just a tad stressed out about the parents visiting...

Which, is done. They leave for the coast tomorrow morning. Whew. Five of the longest, hottest, most deep-breath-breathin days of the year, that's fo'shizzle.

Ribbit.

AND--I still haven't smoked. Oh yeah. Three weeks today.

Actually, that's a lie. I smoked a big ole pork butt last week, and at this very moment, I'm smokin' some ribs. Richard taught me how to do all that. I'm smoking the ribs to take camping--Oh, I can't wait!

Tomorrow, it's the farm, then Thursday is Mel's birthday, and then EARLY Friday morning, heading out to Meditation Point, and nobody else better be there!

Okay--this actually is the lamest summer ever, but that's okay...I've got a lot of farm time up ahead, and that will make up for the lack of camping, and there's two nights this weekend, and that will be good. And I'll sleep in the hammock tomorrow night, and listen for the coyotes. Yay.

Bitter and black

Because I have nothing to write about right this moment...(well, I do, but it's bitter, bitchy, nasty shit that I'm going to just keep to myself for the moment, in hopes that it burns itself out)

Stolen from my friend Betsy, who stole if from her friend Tori...


Type your cut contents here.

your car: Hooopty Subarupty Forester

your hair: Anarchy hair

your mother: please, not now...

your father: Same as above

your favorite item: sheesh. I mean, a thing? Dunno, really. A Thing? I don't have a favorite thing. They're things. Now, if you were to say favorite dog, or something...

your dream last night: I NEVER remember by dreams--but last night, I did, and it was an awful school dream, where I had to teach a 90 minute social studies block--ACH, the horror!--to 90 kids in there different classrooms, and it was the first day of school! I was a mess, and it was awful. AWFUL! I tell you! Awful.

your favorite drink: Usually, PBR, but at the moment, water.

your dream home: On a farm.

the room you're in: office at home

your pet: DAISY, and Boo and Max.

your fear: money stuff.

what you want to be in ten years: Somebody else.

who you hung out with last night: The fam, and then Jenna and Richard

what you're not: stable--not financially, mentally or emotionally (but I AM honest)

your best friends: Mel (?) Sarah, Shelby, Lala,

one of your wish list items: hmm...back to the things...a pair of Keens, maybe?

your gender: Female

the last thing you did: water the garden

what are you wearing: as little has possibible--skirt, tee, flops

your favorite weather: hot hot hot

your favorite book: Too many to list

the last thing you ate: Yah halla lamb shanks and veggie mezzo platter, meat pies, yum

your life: a freakin' mess

your mood: bitter and black. I hope it changes, it's not my style

my apologies

To those sensitive types who read this (but honestly--if you know me, then you should just expect this type of thing sometimes). I found this on Overheard in New York. A site I peruse frequently, and send the funniest quotes to Sarah, but this, really--I think it just deserves to be posted.
Regardless, They're Pretty Much Dead-Set On Calling It 'Paris'

Girl: Paris Hilton has a fragrance?! What's it supposed to smell like, unwashed crotch?

--Manhattan Mall

Overheard by: Rainey

via Overheard in New York, Jul 15, 2006

Funny thing--So, one day, at school, I'm on duty (that's middle-school-speak for standing in the hallway and hoping against all hopes that there are no fights, because when there is a fight, you inevitably lose your coffe trying to break it up--but the idea is that just by standing there, walking around, talking to the lovely little children, they
won't fight, but that doesn't always work, but usually, but ANYWAY) talking with another teacher and our illustrious principal walks up. Now, this guy is a big guy, and he really doesn't get the supervision thing--so, he's standing right smack in front of me, and I can't really see around him, but I suppose that there are generally no fights while he's around because of his sheer hugeness. But, he tells me about this site that he heard on OPB. I go to check it out, and it's really funny. I send it to the other teacher who was standing there, and he replies instantly--"This is not middle school appropriate." Well, he was right, obviously (see above) but what a prude! I mean, sheesh. And, that guy, he's not really the prude type. I mean, he's not middle school appropriate. And you know what--if I ever start living the middle school appropriate life, somebody shoot me.

I mean, I can be appropriate--really, I can, and I am appropriate at work, but I really don't want to live a rated PG life. snore...

How does this happen?

I mean, I go from absolutely bored (now I remember why I always work in the summer--I'm completely bored if I don't!) to insanely busy!

Mel's friends from the ATL (read Georgia) are coming into town tonight and are staying through Monday. So, there's crazy cleaning going on--and then, we're having a HUGE summer party on Sunday, so there's cooking and planning and all sorts of shopping and crap going on too.

On top of all of this, another friend is going through a break up, so she's been kind of staying here, as well, which is cool, but it cuts down on the alone time, and the time where I do things that are loud (like--I don't know, weed wacking or something--or playing the out-of-tune piano) and I end up hanging out with her a lot, so other stuff just doesn't get done.

But then...then...the folks are coming to town too--next Friday--so there's even more cleaning to do. Dang this house is clean!

And there's all sorts of birthdays and camping and farmsitting (oh--so can't wait for that! Horses and cows and llamas and chickens and goats and pigs--and maybe even BABY pigs!!! or maybe this year I'll help Priscilla deliver her pigs, like last year--what a story that was!) (that's the farm) and appointments (oh yeah--physical therapy, here I come!). Holy moly. Not only am I not bored, I'm freakin' busy!

Hopefully, the pt appointment will help, and I'll be able to sleep, and hopefully, people will come to our party (I always have this fear that people won't come--does everybody have that fear?).

We have cute little grab bags for the five people that are having a birthday this month, and we're making a TON of chicken and I'm making a carrot cake, and something chocolatey--but I don't know what, yet. And deviled eggs and pasta salad. I'm so excited! Ugh! can't wait. Oh, and a cobbler--a berry thing. Yum! But sheesh--I'm gonna be tired!

Bulletproof Bracelets

Bulletproof Bracelets

What kind of smart are you?

Alright--I took this dang quiz, that I tried to bring here, that measures your smarts, and it messed up the whole dang page. However, if you to to the link you may be able to find the quiz--but the bottom line is that I have 0% applied intelligence (but 60% natural smarts) What the hell does that mean? I mean, I know I lack some smarts in obvious places--oh! The decision making part of my brain--that must be the applied intelligence area! Huh. Can you improve that? I'm gonna try...I'm also gonna take that quiz again and change a few answers and see if my smartness quotient increases. But that just leaves me wondering about the other 40%...



On a different note--WHY do people think I want to talk to them? I mean, I know there are times when I talk to people--when I'm forced to, say, at work for instance, or when I need something (yes, I would like that with bacon--duh!), but why would anybody think that I want to have a conversation with them while I'm gardening in my flipping pajamas. You know what lady? I don't care if your yard men are coming or not. Do I even look interested in the slightest? Especially as I keep trying to walk away and YOU KEEP TALKING! I can actually pretty much safely say with 100% positiveness (yes, a word--I just said it so it has to be) that I have never looked like I actually want to have a conversation with anybody. One--I'm shy, and two--I generally really don't like people. (I mean, most people--I like my friends and my dog and the dogs my friends have--usually). So seriously--stop talking to me--and especially: don't talk to me if I'm in my pajamas and you're wearing a muu-muu. Ew, that's not painting a pretty picture!<

Question

Okay--let's just say, hypothetically, that you were planning a party. Not just a little "hey, we're having a BBQ" kind of party, but the kind of party where you lump a bunch of different occasions together, so you can celebrate them all at once, and you order meat from a COMPANY, and PRODUCE too, since you're buying so much of it, and you've arranged for extra grills to be delivered, and you're buying things in bulk and you're even decorating specifically for that event. You've HAND DELIVERED invitations, as well as sent out evites, and you've invited people you haven't seen for flipping years. Let's just say that this party has been planned for weeks, and then seven days before the party, one of (what you thought was) your good friends decides to have a party on the very same day. What would you do?

And, I mean, I'm trying to get over the damn high school aspect (but then she decided to have a slumber party on the same day I was having a slumber party) of it, but my feelings are very hurt. And I'm trying not to be overdramatic or a baby about this, but I really thought we were better friends than that. And I think that if somebody asked me to have a party on the same day as a good friend of mine, I'd say, "No, I can't, I already have plans." That's just me, I guess. And, I think what I'm hurt about is that that thought didn't even come into play.

Yay! For multiple reasons, yay!

Reason one--yay!--Look, just look, at that beeyouuutiful squash blossom. We actually have multiple wondermous blossoms, but that's the one that was on my phone, that's the one you get. We have, right now, ready to eat (just ask Zig) tomatoes, peas, and so much basil/mint/cilantro but then there are also baby things growing too! Now, my house is small, and slightly furry (what with the dogs and all, and I lose a crazy amount of hair, too, by the wayside), and almost all the furniture was free (except for the out-of-tune piano) and the yard isn't weeded or even green, for that matter, but the garden--sigh--the garden! It's amazing! And also, it's my first garden, really--(I mean, there was that community garden when I was with I Have a Dream that I did with the kids, and there were some lame attempts as a renter in various houses) and while the yard itsn't landscaped, and I don't have hundreds to blow on lawn furniture or decking--the garden is good. So, yay!

Number two yay! Birthdays and friends. Actually, their birthdays are tomorrow (today is actually Jane's birthday, but seriously, I don't really care that much, so...) but we're going camping tomorrow bright and early (unless Melanie has yet another bloody nose--ew!--in which case we're going to the ER and then we're going out for oysters, but let's just hope that doesn't happen) and the celabratory parties are tonight, so...Happy Birthday to Sarah and Lala! Yay!

And number three yay! Well, I've been a little reticent to mention it, because I'm afraid of the backslide--but all my friends know, and if I backslide, then I do, but I'm hoping i won't, but...It's officially DAY 5 with no smoking. And I'm talking no one little puffs of off Shelby's or lighting the butts out of the ashtray in the back yard (EW!) or even sneaking one with beers last night. None! AND--I haven't even killed anybody yet! I mean, not "yet" exactly. Just, not anybody. Nobody's died around me as a result of my awful grouch. Today, I'm not even feeling the grouch. Yay! And I've been to two parties, and still, no smoking. Granted, the first party I was chewing the awful gum--(AWFUL!)--like mad and not drinking and I left early because if I hadn't somebody actually might have died, but last night I had fun, and had a beer or two and I really didn't even WANT one a cigarette. Not even a little. I did eat a whole pizza, practically, and the day before I seriously (I'm not kidding--I weighed myself) gained 10 freakin' pounds in one day, but isn't that better than smoking? Please, please tell me it is. There were moments last night when I thought about it, thought that one wouldn't really matter--I mean, the gum has nicotine in it, too, and it wouldn't make a difference, right? But the thing is, I don't WANT to smoke. I mean, I really don't want to, so that's why I'm quitting. So, YAY! to day number five.

Finally!

All right--so, I've finally got some camping on the schedule. I kept trying to figure out why this summer has been so different from the other summers. I mean, most summers, I've camped before school's even out, and hiked all the freakin' time, too--but Daisy's been a big part of the not hiking bit--and we have done a little, and the not camping thing--well, I don't know. House stuff with me, Shelby AND Sarah, I guess--and Mel's working a lot more than, well, ever. Yeah, I guess that covers it.

But--I might go camping on Sunday (it's Sar's birthday) and I'm definately going later with Shelby and whoever else with the canoe out to Meditation Point (yay! my favorite place!). So yes, finally, some camping on the books. I'm a little iffy about Sunday, only because...well, I've got a BAD case of grouch.

And, I think, right now...I'm going to go water the garden, and then I'm going for a hike. Just a quick Gorge hike--really quick. It should help with the grouch...

Oh, this is bad...and yet, so good

Yay!

Yay! Oh yay! And yes, I'm a total nerd here, but come on! I'm a middle school teacher, I can't help but love this stuff: The His Dark Materials movie is actually happening, and scheduled for release in November! And you know what? Just because it has a little girl in it, doesn't mean it's a book for little kids--okay, it is a book for kids, but it's a GOOD one. Oh, yay!

Oh--okay, Novemeber 2007, but still! It's happening. Oh, I can't wait. I'll have to read them all again. Yay!

So here it is, July 3rd. It's a holiday weekend, and I've got no plans. Okay, it's not as pathetic as it sounds. I actually DO have plans...a BBQ tomorrow, and we're going to the river today. Well, I am. Daisy can't because she's awfully mean to little dogs and she doesn't really like to swim, so it's okay if she stays here. However, Ziggy, now, he totally loves to swim. And then Shelby's bringing her dogs as well, because little Dallas needs to swim with Zig. Ow hell, it's a full on dog entry. Now it is sounding a little pathetic.

So, the spot on the river we're going to is the most white trash spot ever. There is trash all over, and just all around grossness. But, it's close. We could drive a while and hit the Clackamas River, but then it's rocky, and the good spots are hard to find.

Holy Crap!

So here it is, the end of June, and I haven't gone camping--not even once! What the hell is wrong with me? Okay, true, we did try to go camping, but then, you know, my dog almost died and crap, so we had to come back. But still! Shelby (that's her on the left) and I were going to go camping yesterday, but we both bailed because of how much house stuff we have to do--and it's almost freakin' July! We even picked a pretty remote, yet on the water--not too populated site to car camp in, because I didn't want to be too far away from a vet, in case, you know, my dog almost died again...which brings me to Daisy update:

SHE'S BETTER!!! Well, at least, she sure seems better to me. Her eyes quit bouncing up and down in her head (vertical nystagmus? or something like that) and she makes her little ugly face at Ziggy when he wants her toy



and her tail is back to its regular thumping power (okay, actually, the tail thumping, I could do without) and she only needed help once getting in to the hoopty yesterday! And she's sassy! She peed on Zig's tennis ball this morning. Sniffed, and peed. That's my girl.

I did some research on this metronidizole toxicicty thing, and some people were in a LOT of pain. (Boy, I hope she wasn't in a lot of pain--but, she did get that valium drip, so I bet it paid off...) But, they (and their brain lesions!) also recovered, so...even though I was poisoning my dog, she's going to be just fine. Sheesh.

And how pathetic is it that I like to take pictures of my dogs in the morning? They're just so cute. Okay, that's actually pretty pathetic. Yeah, I know...

On a completely different note, I was procrastinating all the house stuff I was supposed to do which is why I didn't go camping (actually, I did do a lot--I staked up the squash plants with big bamboo poles, and cleaned out the side garden area and planted all these yummy stepable plants, and weeded, and then I painted the office--I'm no slacker!) and I was looking at other people's blogs--and I noticed that a lot of people have themes. You know, like--"look how cute my kids/grandkids are," or "the politics of the country/planet/universe and what I think about them" of "My Battle with Menopause/Cancer/Grief/Insert your own ailment/tragedy". And then there are those fashion ones, and the touristy ones, and the ones that are affiliated with some business or band or nonprofit or something. Most blogs have a purpose. Mine doesn't. Should I get one? Oh, but anyway, my point is, I thought I'd add a little political spin--here you go!

It's a little political. I guess I could get more political with some commentary on this country--maybe another day. It's early, and I'm still in a somewhat good mood.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

Daisy and her woes...

So, the wonderful Miss Daisy has been working on getting better. She really has. The doctor at the lab thought she had a low grade kidney infection, so we extended her antibiotics for another two weeks. And--getting technical here--her urine was concentrating better (good dog!). Unfortunately, the poor dear ended up basically being poisoned by her antibiotics. Metronidazole toxicity, they said. But I didn't know that. I thought she was just sore from playing with Ziggy. And then it got hot and she's something of a drama queen, so I also thought she was just doing the "Oh, poor me," thing (I don't know where she would have learned that from).

So we figured we'd go to the river, and camp (that is her favorite thing--she told me so). I mean, she's been stiff and sore before, and she just looked a little stiff and sore, not NEAR DEATH or anything. But it got worse, and she couldn't walk and she was really stressed out and her eyes were all wide and panicky, so we came home. 100 degrees, in the car, my air conditioner starts blowing out hot air, and we're stuck behind a line of cars because of an accident. And my dog is overheating. But, we make it to Dove Lewis and take her in and they put her on an IV drip with Valium (um, can I get one of those?) and the kind, smart doctor asks me a zillion questions. At first she was thinking possibly a stroke, but after hearing about everything for the past three months, and the antibiotics, she narrowed it down to the toxicity thing. Basically, she gets dizzy, and then her body tries to right itself, and she just can't and her muscles work overtime to get there, and she overheats. But still--36 hours later and she's still in ICU.

However, in two hours, I find out if she can come home. Oh, I hope she can.

An Ode to Maybe: You know how I know you're gay?

An Ode to Maybe: You know how I know you're gay?

duh...

So, I now know why there are passwords for your blog. Drunk blogging. It's like a breathilizer for your keyboard. Good thing. Oh, I freakin' loouerfve summer. However, I hate typing.

Quick, get me a PBR!

You Are 10% Redneck

I'll slap you so hard, your clothes will be outta style. You ain't no redneck - you're all Yankee!

How Redneck Are You?

Wrong on so many levels...

At the end of the year, our students get their yearbooks. They are in black and white, and everybody signs everybody else's, as well as signing tee shirts and arms and jeans and faces. It's a real big deal out here in rural America. And it's only middle school. Well, as I've noted, it's a small town, and many people are related, not that it really stops anything, but...So, a student asked another teacher to sign her yearbook (see, there was a point). Of course, she agreed, and went to write something "nice" on the indicated ("Sign RIGHT here!") spot. She starts to write, but she glances around the page and sees the following:

"I'll never call you FIRECROTCH again, because you are the bestest cousin ever. We're gonna have a great summer."

Ew!

Is everybody else really that much more interesting?

Sigh. I could spend too much time reading other people's exciting lives.

Oh I'm reveling in my nerdiness

http://whipup.net/2006/05/24/30-minutes-to-a-recycled-sweater-bag/

A glimpse...

Memorable quotes from the daily life of a middle school teacher (some from adults!)

1. Johnny, please take your pants off your head.
2. Ew! There’s underwear in the hallway!
3. Teacher walks into the room, and Johnny is scratching his head. The rest of the class is watching him. She stops and looks at him. He says, “I have dirt in my head.”
4. Teacher: I need your attention.
   Student: Just teach the damn class.
   Teacher: Please step outside.
   Student: What? Damn’s not a bad word. Now, fuck, well, that’s a bad word.
5. Hey teacher! There’s poop sandwiches on the roof! (seriously, a student really said that.)
6. Student to teacher as she is passing out the final exams: Does this count as a grade?
7. Student poem: I am Evan.
   I am lazy.
   I am what I am. (There's a certain beauty to this simplicity)
8. Who threw that at me? This is NOT respectful!
9. Oh! I accidentally unbuttoned my pants!
10. (same period as #9—I have NO idea what was being referenced) Ew! It’s dripping!
11. Response to the journal entry “What have you learned this week?”: I’ve learned there are five season of MacGyver! Yay!
12. Student: Hey Teacher. What're your favorite movies?

Teacher: Oh, you probably haven’t heard of them. They’re mostly foreign.
Student to other student, whispering: Oh my god! Did she say porn?

Sigh

I just want to say--I really like my house. I mean, it's nothing special. It's small, it's far away from where I'd ideally like to live (okay, not really--I mean, it's still in Portland, it's just away from the neighborhood I would like to live, but I can't afford ANYTHING there, so this is the house and the neighborhood I can afford). But what I mean is, I like that it's nice. It's always clean, and the garden--oh! the garden! It's huge, and there a ton of plants, but what I like--what I really like, is that people come here. They like to come here. It's a nice house to have people over, and people come over a lot. It's just nice. Tonight, Melanie's work friends came over, and I was in the middle of painting the office, but they brought wonderful food and we had a cookout, and it's just nice. It's a good house.

Lotte's Sketchbook

I found this on my friend Betsy's blog. Now, I'm not ashamed to say I have awful taste, but I occasionally like things that others like or others like things I like, but whatever. I like this Lotte. (you have to click on the title--I just figured this out! Wow, when I look back at my first post, it's pretty amazing how much I've learned about this whole blog thing! I'm feeling just a teensy bit smart today).

Okay--Daisy, the cute cute dog, and I are off to the vet once again for more ($) tests. What is great is that she seems just fine. Wonderful, actually. She seems better than she has seemed in months. I'm sure it's the antibiotics, but she must not have been feeling well forever, because she is so much better than she was before she was sick, if that makes any sense at all. We're going to discuss last week's x-rays, and do another blood test and who knows what else. Oh, and I have to bring in a pee sample. Yep. The joys of dog ownership. I'll just let you use your imagination... Hopefully, the diet change will tell them something and help them narrow down which disease she has, if any. I'm hoping for none. I wonder if the odds of none are better than the odds of the world ending last Tuesday--I heard they were 1 in 100. So, if you bet on that and win, what do you get?

After the vet, I have these grand visions of a hike--it's a little chilly and possibly rainy and I'm sure much of Portland is at the wonderously hideous Rose Festival, so the hills might be somewhat deserted--my favorite time to hike--but also, I'd like to paint the office, and pull out part of the parking strip and plant anything but grass there, and weed the front beds, and space out the leeks and plant the broccoli. Oh yeah, and grade the term projects from my kids. That, and search google for the papers that they nicked off the web. Oh, I'm so pessimistic and bitter.

Everyone needs a motto

I have two:

If it's free, it's for me.

and

It's easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Poetry not by me, and as nobody reads this, I assume it's okay to post with credit...

End of April
Phillis Levin

Under a cherry tree
I found a robin’s egg,
broken, but not shattered.

I had been thinking of you,
and was kneeling in the grass
among fallen blossoms

when I saw it: a blue scrap,
a delicate toy, as light
as confetti

It didn’t seem real,
but nature will do such things
from time to time.

I looked inside:
it was glistening, hollow,
a perfect shell

except for the missing crown,
which made it possible
to look inside.

What had been there
is gone now
and lives in my heart

where, periodically,
it opens up its wings,
tearing me apart.

Weird things about blogs

So, the weird thing is, once you tell everybody about your blog, you can no longer use it as a stream of consciousness on-line journal. For instance, I'm in the foulest mood a person could possibly be in--but because the people I'm pissed at most might just read this, well--now I have to be careful of what I say, mainly because I'm too hesitant to tell those I'm pissed at why I'm pissed at them. And, it's not like I--aw, hell, it's just complicated. And no, I'm not mad that one friend hooked up with another friend, (really, I'm not--as much as I think I should be, I'm just not) and I'm not really one to mince words about basic crap, but the thing is--relationships get goddamned complicated, and some people get really really defensive in just normal conversational crap, and it is HIGHLY likely that I'm just completely and utterly stressed out over Daisy's complicated illness (or illnesses as the vet is completely baffled over which ones she probably has) and the last eight days of school, but for pete's sake, how can one person be so full of bitterness and animosity that going to bed at 7-freakin'-30 seems like a good idea? What the hell is wrong with me?

Madeline, Black Lab Extraordinaire

Madeline, Black Lab Extraordinaire SO dang cute.

Seriously...

Look. She's cute. See? It's not TOO hard to understand why I'm so obsessed with her. Can you understand now?

Oh, and in other news: There isn't just ONE tomato. There's 3. Seriously. 3.

So--the cute cute dog got into the fridge two days ago. Yeah, she's smart like that, too. So, yeah. Fridge. She ate a whole bunch of mac-n-cheese, and some girl scout cookies, a loaf of bread, some flat bread and some corn tortillas (Um, yeah--we're OBVIOUSLY not on the Atkins diet!). Well, she's already been having some issues--and I've dropped over a grand at the vet to possibly identify some pancreatic problems. Possibly. So yesterday, I wake up, and the sweet, cute dog CAN'T move. She can't walk, she can't stand, she can't get off my freakin' bed. I completely panic. Cry, hyperventilate, pull my hair out, bang my head against the wall (okay, I'm exaggerating, but only a little). I call my wonderful VP, sobbing, and then the awesome woman a ride to work with as well, to tell them I'm taking Daisy in, and then cry some more. Turns out--after $300--they tell me she has gas. Well no shit. I knew that! Half my tears were because of her foul arse! Anyhoo--the vet also said she had some unresolved pancreatic issues and was suffering a pancreatitus (or something). Great. He wants me to come in today for more ($) tests. UGh. On the bright side--she's walking again--Yesterday, at 3:30, she stood up on her own, and walked outside. This morning, she tried to play with Ziggy.

Oh, and poor Ziggy! He just doesn't get it. He keeps TRYING to play with her, but she can't, and you can see he's confused. He's like: "What? She could do this yesterday! What's wrong with her? Is she broken? Let me try to attack her again--then maybe she'll play." Poor Zig. I think he needs a puppy.

MY GARDEN!

If you look very carefully you can see the tomato! Yes! An actual tomato is growing. Already! It's the size of a, well, of a cherry tomato! Whoot! It's actually amazing that things are growing in that dirt, when you consider all the glass, car parts, trash--oh yeah--even a toilet brush!--that was in that dirt. I think the people who lived there before just plain old burried their trash. And their cars. I mean, why waste time taking it to the dump, right?

Okay, you can't REALLY see the tomato, but it IS there! Really. I'll do a close up soon! Then you'll believe me!

Big Waste of Time

Big Waste of Time

You and your small, small life

Okay, here's the thing: If'n you wanna start some crap with me, fine. I can take it. Seriously. I'm tough, and I don't take stuff personally, and honestly--while I love the kids and all, it's just a flippin' job. I let it all melt away in my carpool, so while you're stewing and steaming and your head is spinning around, we're talking about grilling, and squash and peas. So seriously, I could care less about you being short, and miserable, and your father treating you like a rat when you were little, which is why you don't speed now (whatever--your logic is skewed, and kids aren't rats or dogs, but you haven't figured that out yet, which may be why they don't respect you, but that's a whole other rant, I'm afraid) but my point is--IF you absolutely insist on picking a fight with me, the week when I decide to cut out BEER and CHEESE and SMOKING just might not be the best one, dork.

Okay...I'm getting there. The garden is semi-planted, and there's only 18 days left of school. Turns out, you don't get much stuff done, when you're drinking mojitos (what I now fondly call HO-jitos. Oh yeah...)

What are they thinking?

Oh, and another thing--so, the other day, I meet some friends at Amnesia (what? where? I don't think I've ever been there...) and somebody at the table said he threw up after watching Hostel. The next day, a student came up to me and told me he watched it. He's 14. That's sick. I mean, this is a movie, that, from what I can understand, is violently disgusting. The people I've spoken to about it say that most people in the theater left, and yet, some parent lets their child watch it? I mean, I don't have kids, and I know I shouldn't judge--but that seems pretty dumb...

So, this whole house thing is so stressful. I'm lucky I live with a great friend who is clean and respectful and who really likes to live in a neat house. I, however, am so flipping exhausted all the time. I'm sick of work--both jobs--and I can't wait for summer. I only have 8 more weeks of school, and I seriously can't wait for this batch of kids to leave--I mean, this is only my fifth year teaching, but if I had another year like this next year, I'd be done done done.

It's not like I don't freak out EVERY year, and decide I'm done and be on the lookout for new jobs (this year it was trying to get something with I Have a Dream, which is amazing, and I've done that before, and I'd do it again, but...) but this year has been so tough. All the teachers that had these kids in the previous years have said the same (well, all that I've talked to, at least) but it doesn't make me feel like any less of a failure, but whatever, it doesn't make the next 8 weeks any shorter or longer. The bottom line: I've got 8 more weeks with these kids, and I seriously can't wait for that day--the last day--to come. It's a little weird, because every other year, I've always started getting a little nostalgic right about now. This year, I'm crying on the way home every day. (I feel bad for Hillary, who I carpool with--but it's not like she hasn't had her tears...).

Eventually, I'll load the pics from our Easter party. And the pics from the past couple of weeks, where we've painted and moved in and done a bunch of work. I DO like the house, it's just stressful and I'm completely freaked aobut money. Whatever. It WILL all work.

Things I'm stressed out about/crying about on the way home from work:
1. This whole PBS thing--I'm stressed out that I've got minutes and a calendar to send out on e-mail by like, tomorrow. It's a ton of work. This is what I was crying about. I'm totally committed to the program. I wish I could step down from the fascillitator thing and know it'd continue on--and it probably would, but I'm so invested--and I'm not usually a control freak, really I'm not--but the momentum is strong, and I think I do a good job (I hope so, at least). I mean, the whole team is up against a pretty resistant staff--and who could blame them, I mean, it's not like they know what we're doing or anything--some staff meetings would help, I'm thinking...

2. money. nuff said.

3. Daisy. Cute as she is, she's stressing me out--allergies, possibly sick, the whole look-I-know-how-to-get-in-the-trash thing, chewing, digging...ack

4. School--planning, grading, the usual. Man, I can't wait till this crap is over!

so silly

This thing--it's just silly. I mean, it's basically a journal for me, since nobody reads it. I've sent the link to people, and still, not one stinking comment.

I'm almost completely moved in. ALMOST. There is still the cleaning, and maybe one or two more car loads. It's amazing how much crap you get rid of when you move. Luckily, my upstairs neighbor at my apartment is a saint, and donates stuff to everybody that needs it while she's busy saving the world (I'm not kidding, here--she's an actual saint), so everything I don't want, don't wear, don't need or don't have space for goes upstairs and either she takes it or donates it or makes some sort of peace medal out of it. Really, a saint.

I'm still completely overwhelmed by the amount of tasks there are with owning a house. I mean, once I get past the whole moving in crap, there's the whole finishing the painting crap, and then there's the whole YARD crap. That's a lot of crap. I need help...

Spring Break

So...my house is my house, and it's something of an easter egg inside--yellows, greens, and purples. I should know better by now than to trust MY judgement. The dogs love the yard, but I made the mistake of taking them out together and got dragged down the street horizontally as they enthusiastically chased another dog. It was awful--I've got bruises and scrapes and the humiliating memory of my pants uncerimoniously being pulled down as I tried to control the situation! Ugh!

Whoo Hoo!!!

Here's the house I just signed on today....as you can see, it has TONS of personality! Oh boy. And, it's huge, obviously.

whiskey tango baby

Do I need a degree?

I'm just wondering if I need an additional advanced degree to figure out this dang blog thing! Seriously!

I'm not very good at this blog thing, and I'm just going to start trying to be better at it, dang it! Why? Dunno. It seems like a cool thing to do, and maybe, just maybe, if I vent out into the ether, I won't be such a raging weirdo all the time (I'm being polite, because weirdo is NOT a word I'd use to describe me).

Okay--this is my new favorite website. Thanks NPR. And maybe, just maybe, the picture posted too? We'll see...

www.overheardinnewyork.com