Ok...I've read everybody's blogs and commented where I found something vaguely appropriate to say. I've cleaned out junk email and done a survey. I went through the mail from the real-life mailbox (mostly junk) and done a load of laundry.
I am tempted to reread the blogs to see if anything new's posted.
I have homework to do and I just don't wanna do it. I just can't make my mind settle into it, much less open the required books, plug in the flashdrive, put paper in the printer, and ink, or anything else required to do this chore. If I was one of my kids I'd get on my case about this. I just don't wanna do it. I know I will be sorry tomorrow.
sigh.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
On Posting
Ok. It's happened again. I published a post, and it didn't show up. But then, there it is on the list on the side, but not in chronological order.
I't s On Writing. Can you see it?
I't s On Writing. Can you see it?
Saturday, October 20, 2007
White Tornado
Does anybody remember the White Tornado? Not sure, but I think it was an old Ajax commercial from when I was a kid..you'd open the bottle, a white tornado would come out, swoosh around your house, and leave everything sparkling clean in its wake.
When my older kids were little, I'd suddenly yell out "white tornado!", and we'd go scurrying around the house, picking up, vacuuming, dusting, etc. Usually this was when someone was about to drop by, with little warning.
Well, right about now, I'd really like the original kind. With my school/work schedule, and DH & I working opposite shifts, the house is in desperate need of a white tornado to swoop through. I saw a spider in the bedroom this afternoon, in the corner of the ceiling, so I dragged out the vacuum and went to work...did all the ceilings, corners, etc. in the house. Then, I saw how dusty it was behind the dresser, so DH & I started dragging everything out, shaking stuff outside, cleaning behind everything, etc. with the windows wide open. (It was one of those gorgeous sunny days.)
I feel so much better about my bedroom, now. And I'm outta time...the real life schedule is back, and the rest of the house is still waiting to be rescued.
Where is that white tornado, now that I really need it?
When my older kids were little, I'd suddenly yell out "white tornado!", and we'd go scurrying around the house, picking up, vacuuming, dusting, etc. Usually this was when someone was about to drop by, with little warning.
Well, right about now, I'd really like the original kind. With my school/work schedule, and DH & I working opposite shifts, the house is in desperate need of a white tornado to swoop through. I saw a spider in the bedroom this afternoon, in the corner of the ceiling, so I dragged out the vacuum and went to work...did all the ceilings, corners, etc. in the house. Then, I saw how dusty it was behind the dresser, so DH & I started dragging everything out, shaking stuff outside, cleaning behind everything, etc. with the windows wide open. (It was one of those gorgeous sunny days.)
I feel so much better about my bedroom, now. And I'm outta time...the real life schedule is back, and the rest of the house is still waiting to be rescued.
Where is that white tornado, now that I really need it?
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Re-Discovery of Blegchhh!
"How is student-teaching going?" you ask. Well...I am in a kindergarten for now...going to a high school placement soon. I love the school I'm in, my cooperating teacher is great, the relationship between teachers is wonderful and supportive, there is a strong home/school connection and much outreach to the parents/community. I have survived my initial official observations, and have more to come. I have submitted my resume (which I am constantly revising) to some districts, and went on my first job interview yesterday. There is definitely light at the end of this particular tunnel (and it is NOT a train.) All looks well.
But...
I am also re-discovering Blegchhh. Yes. Blegchhh. That is the official term (which I have just invented) for the feeling one gets while working with very small people, who are as yet naive to the social graces of:
covering one's mouth when one sneezes
covering one's mouth when one coughs
using a tissue, when appropriate (as opposed to one's sleeve, or someone else's...)
discarding said tissue in an appropriate container
WASHING ONE'S HANDS THOROUGHLY, so as not to spread icky germs
These same small people are quite affectionate, and not averse to giving spontaneous hugs and kisses, thereby further spreading icky germs.
Blegchhh has been invading my psyche and my personal space. I am aware of its particular greenish cloud out of the corner of my eye, creeping up on me. As these small people, and others, around me in this new work environment complain of headaches, tummy aches, fatigue, and a general feeling of malaise, I have an almost uncontrollable desire to swallow large doses of Vitamin C, echinacea and goldenseal, and whatever else they put in those Airbourne tablets. (I do find that sparkling beverage a bit nauseating, but better to chug it down, and have eight ounces of prevention, so to speak, then massive doses of DayQuil/NyQuil and other OTC remedies later.)
And now Blegchhh has invaded my home. Even though I have been faithfully scrubbing my hands with soap and hot water after every "small people" session, and after touching doorknobs and other public items in the workplace, and regularly using the antibacterial gel in my totebag, my poor DH and Little Sir are down with symptoms of the not-so-niceness I've been hearing complaints about. I was up at 3:30 a.m., dispensing preventions and cures, and then started a big crockpot of homemade chicken soup, with lots of vitamin-rich veggies.
Blegchh is not going to win, here! We will triumph!
But...
I am also re-discovering Blegchhh. Yes. Blegchhh. That is the official term (which I have just invented) for the feeling one gets while working with very small people, who are as yet naive to the social graces of:
covering one's mouth when one sneezes
covering one's mouth when one coughs
using a tissue, when appropriate (as opposed to one's sleeve, or someone else's...)
discarding said tissue in an appropriate container
WASHING ONE'S HANDS THOROUGHLY, so as not to spread icky germs
These same small people are quite affectionate, and not averse to giving spontaneous hugs and kisses, thereby further spreading icky germs.
Blegchhh has been invading my psyche and my personal space. I am aware of its particular greenish cloud out of the corner of my eye, creeping up on me. As these small people, and others, around me in this new work environment complain of headaches, tummy aches, fatigue, and a general feeling of malaise, I have an almost uncontrollable desire to swallow large doses of Vitamin C, echinacea and goldenseal, and whatever else they put in those Airbourne tablets. (I do find that sparkling beverage a bit nauseating, but better to chug it down, and have eight ounces of prevention, so to speak, then massive doses of DayQuil/NyQuil and other OTC remedies later.)
And now Blegchhh has invaded my home. Even though I have been faithfully scrubbing my hands with soap and hot water after every "small people" session, and after touching doorknobs and other public items in the workplace, and regularly using the antibacterial gel in my totebag, my poor DH and Little Sir are down with symptoms of the not-so-niceness I've been hearing complaints about. I was up at 3:30 a.m., dispensing preventions and cures, and then started a big crockpot of homemade chicken soup, with lots of vitamin-rich veggies.
Blegchh is not going to win, here! We will triumph!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Pink Panther
I have been reading blog entries and other things about writer's block (or "blog block" as "Six" calls it.) I don't exactly have writer's block...I have started several things, blogs, lesson plans for my portfolio, papers for college, and otherwise, but am having trouble finishing what I've started. So, we have drafts, works in progress.
But, I have been thinking...one of the things I love about having a 4-year-old is that I get to experience things I loved as kid all over again. I loved the Winnie-the-Pooh books, movies (especially the relationship between Tigger and Roo), and other paraphanalia. I liked slinkies and coloring books, building with blocks, dressing up in all kinds of costumes. And my favorite character was the Pink Panther.
Now, originally, if I recall correctly, he started out as a cartoon character who dragged the credits across the screen for the Peter Sellers movies (the real "Pink Panther" was a diamond.) I was really little, and probably saw the movies from the backseat of the car at Flanders Drive-In, and most likely fell asleep before the movies were over. But the Henry Mancini theme song really caught me, and my parents got a Mancini album, which we'd play on the hi-fi. (yes, I am dating myself, here.) Mom would put on a stack of records, and we'd dance around the house. My dad and I had a special little Pink Panther dance we would do. I loved it. Then, the Pink Panther got his own cartoon slots, which developed into a show, and so on.
Well, I was looking for something to keep Little Sir 4-Year-Old busy at the doctor's office, and found a Pink Panther coloring book. He loved it, and we have spent many happy moments sitting together going through that book. I am not the world's best artist, but I can color more-or-less in the lines, so we do ok.
Now, what is it about the Pink Panther that I love so much? It's definitely the music, without a doubt. But what else? He never speaks, but gets one-up on the bad guys, just like Road Runner. He's clever, a little sneaky, and knows how to get back up after being clobbered. Now, if I was taking some psych. class or something, maybe I'd do some sort of paper analyzing all this. For now, I'll be non-academic for a change, and just color with Little Sir. (Hey, do you know how many different versions of pink there are in a Crayola crayon box?)
But, I have been thinking...one of the things I love about having a 4-year-old is that I get to experience things I loved as kid all over again. I loved the Winnie-the-Pooh books, movies (especially the relationship between Tigger and Roo), and other paraphanalia. I liked slinkies and coloring books, building with blocks, dressing up in all kinds of costumes. And my favorite character was the Pink Panther.
Now, originally, if I recall correctly, he started out as a cartoon character who dragged the credits across the screen for the Peter Sellers movies (the real "Pink Panther" was a diamond.) I was really little, and probably saw the movies from the backseat of the car at Flanders Drive-In, and most likely fell asleep before the movies were over. But the Henry Mancini theme song really caught me, and my parents got a Mancini album, which we'd play on the hi-fi. (yes, I am dating myself, here.) Mom would put on a stack of records, and we'd dance around the house. My dad and I had a special little Pink Panther dance we would do. I loved it. Then, the Pink Panther got his own cartoon slots, which developed into a show, and so on.
Well, I was looking for something to keep Little Sir 4-Year-Old busy at the doctor's office, and found a Pink Panther coloring book. He loved it, and we have spent many happy moments sitting together going through that book. I am not the world's best artist, but I can color more-or-less in the lines, so we do ok.
Now, what is it about the Pink Panther that I love so much? It's definitely the music, without a doubt. But what else? He never speaks, but gets one-up on the bad guys, just like Road Runner. He's clever, a little sneaky, and knows how to get back up after being clobbered. Now, if I was taking some psych. class or something, maybe I'd do some sort of paper analyzing all this. For now, I'll be non-academic for a change, and just color with Little Sir. (Hey, do you know how many different versions of pink there are in a Crayola crayon box?)
Sunday, October 07, 2007
On Writing
Sometimes I get the itch to write. The death of Madeleine L'Engle, one of my favorite authors, has made me want to read any of her books I never got to, and re-read old treasures. I am currently reading Certain Women. It makes me think of so many characters from my life that I would love to put on a page, to save my memories of them, saving a part of them forever. Even if nobody other than me ever reads it, it would be worth the effort.
So, who would I write about? My maternal grandmother and my mom, without a doubt. They were such rich, unique characters, I could fill volumes about them. Does anybody remember Thyra Fere Bjorn's books? She wrote Papa's Wife, Papa's Daughter, and others in that vein. I'm not sure I'd write exactly that way, but sort of.
There are others who should get at least a chapter of their own...people who have had tremendous influence in my life, who have been there for me in a crisis, at a crossroads, without whom I may have made disastrous choices. (Dr. Z is at the top of that list!) Others, were just really good friends in times of awful pain. Some have been good friends who've made me laugh, who've made me see my life more clearly because of the pain in their own lives, who've made me feel more valuable, because they needed me, and who have shared different facets of my life, those little areas of my life that make me "me."
And it wouldn't be all women. Some men would be there, and some children, as well. I definitely would not have survived some of the most awful things in my life, if my children were not there for me to hold it together for, and to give me perspective when I needed it most. Some of the choicest bits of wisdom has come to me "from the mouths of babes."
At the very least, I should start writing this...jot down notes, outlines, lists, about specific people and what they have meant to me. At this stage of my life, it might take me a very long time to even finish one chapter, but I think just the writing of it will do me a world of good. Remembering one's blessings is a wonderful thing.
So, who would I write about? My maternal grandmother and my mom, without a doubt. They were such rich, unique characters, I could fill volumes about them. Does anybody remember Thyra Fere Bjorn's books? She wrote Papa's Wife, Papa's Daughter, and others in that vein. I'm not sure I'd write exactly that way, but sort of.
There are others who should get at least a chapter of their own...people who have had tremendous influence in my life, who have been there for me in a crisis, at a crossroads, without whom I may have made disastrous choices. (Dr. Z is at the top of that list!) Others, were just really good friends in times of awful pain. Some have been good friends who've made me laugh, who've made me see my life more clearly because of the pain in their own lives, who've made me feel more valuable, because they needed me, and who have shared different facets of my life, those little areas of my life that make me "me."
And it wouldn't be all women. Some men would be there, and some children, as well. I definitely would not have survived some of the most awful things in my life, if my children were not there for me to hold it together for, and to give me perspective when I needed it most. Some of the choicest bits of wisdom has come to me "from the mouths of babes."
At the very least, I should start writing this...jot down notes, outlines, lists, about specific people and what they have meant to me. At this stage of my life, it might take me a very long time to even finish one chapter, but I think just the writing of it will do me a world of good. Remembering one's blessings is a wonderful thing.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Surgical Woes
I thought I broke a tooth, or a filling, and called the dentist. He fit me in right after school. DH was on his way to work, and I figured he'd give me some temp. thing and reschedule a real appt.
Uh uh. I broke a top wisdom tooth. Yup. 'Way back there. One I'd had a root canal on. It was nice and brittle, and the roots were rotted. Great. It took him over 2 hours, contorting my head, face and neck in all impossible positions in a wrestling match with this impossible thing. Turned into a major deal. I got told, yet again, that my mouth is really small, and difficult to work in, and too small for all the teeth I have. (Yes, I have not been accused of being a big-mouth in a realllly long time.) And my teeth, even in this state, are really strong with deep roots...so, hard to remove. I am an enigma to myself, yet again.
All this wondrousness was experienced with Little Sir sitting looking on, working on his new Curious George puzzle & coloring book. (Had I known this was gonna happen, I'd've gotten a sitter, or made DH stay home and/or come with me!) I was very conscious of not letting all my emotions and physical discomfort too evident, so as not to scare this 4-year-old away from dentists permanently.
The simplest things can turn into such a mess with me. Happens all the time.
So now, half of my face is swollen and distorted, my throat hurts, can't swallow, can't talk, and even with Tylenol 3 w/ codeine, I am in serious pain. (Makes ya wonder what I'd be like without it.) I hope tomorrow is better, but I'm sure my neck will need some help,even after the mouth heals.
Here's the tip of the day: Take good care of your teeth, and they'll take care of you.
Uh uh. I broke a top wisdom tooth. Yup. 'Way back there. One I'd had a root canal on. It was nice and brittle, and the roots were rotted. Great. It took him over 2 hours, contorting my head, face and neck in all impossible positions in a wrestling match with this impossible thing. Turned into a major deal. I got told, yet again, that my mouth is really small, and difficult to work in, and too small for all the teeth I have. (Yes, I have not been accused of being a big-mouth in a realllly long time.) And my teeth, even in this state, are really strong with deep roots...so, hard to remove. I am an enigma to myself, yet again.
All this wondrousness was experienced with Little Sir sitting looking on, working on his new Curious George puzzle & coloring book. (Had I known this was gonna happen, I'd've gotten a sitter, or made DH stay home and/or come with me!) I was very conscious of not letting all my emotions and physical discomfort too evident, so as not to scare this 4-year-old away from dentists permanently.
The simplest things can turn into such a mess with me. Happens all the time.
So now, half of my face is swollen and distorted, my throat hurts, can't swallow, can't talk, and even with Tylenol 3 w/ codeine, I am in serious pain. (Makes ya wonder what I'd be like without it.) I hope tomorrow is better, but I'm sure my neck will need some help,even after the mouth heals.
Here's the tip of the day: Take good care of your teeth, and they'll take care of you.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
By the Way...
By the way...I did find my Martha Clara post...it isn't in sequential order, date-wise, but if you look along the side column of entry titles, it's there ... from Sept. 24. I don't understand this, but such is the Mysterious World of Technology.
Monday, October 01, 2007
A Tribute to Fresh Tuna
I just had a wonderful dinner, and thought I'd share...
Bought enough fresh fish Sunday to take us through the middle of the week. (I hate supermarket shopping, and do as little of it as possible...do the farmstands and fish man, instead, whenever I can.) Tonight's entree was fresh tuna. I came home around 8:30 p.m., exhausted, and not energetic enough to make anything elaborate. I threw Little Sir (who barely touched his dinner at the babysitter's) in the tub, then threw the fresh tuna steaks in a frypan, lightly buttered enough to not stick, then generously sprinkled teriyaki over them. When half-way done, I flipped them over, and threw some frozen peas in with them. A true lazy woman's dinner. Made a quick salad, grabbed Little Sir, dried him and handed him p.j.s, put fresh Portuguese bread and grape juice on the table and "Voila!" I was done.
I thought my last minute-thrown-together-dinner was delicious, but then, I was so hungry and tired, I was past caring. Little Sir, on the other hand, is about the pickiest eater I've ever seen. He devoured everything on his plate. Then he asked for a banana for dessert. I am a happy Mama.
There's enough left over for DH's dinner tomorrow. (He is working the night shift.) It just doesn't get any better than this.
Bought enough fresh fish Sunday to take us through the middle of the week. (I hate supermarket shopping, and do as little of it as possible...do the farmstands and fish man, instead, whenever I can.) Tonight's entree was fresh tuna. I came home around 8:30 p.m., exhausted, and not energetic enough to make anything elaborate. I threw Little Sir (who barely touched his dinner at the babysitter's) in the tub, then threw the fresh tuna steaks in a frypan, lightly buttered enough to not stick, then generously sprinkled teriyaki over them. When half-way done, I flipped them over, and threw some frozen peas in with them. A true lazy woman's dinner. Made a quick salad, grabbed Little Sir, dried him and handed him p.j.s, put fresh Portuguese bread and grape juice on the table and "Voila!" I was done.
I thought my last minute-thrown-together-dinner was delicious, but then, I was so hungry and tired, I was past caring. Little Sir, on the other hand, is about the pickiest eater I've ever seen. He devoured everything on his plate. Then he asked for a banana for dessert. I am a happy Mama.
There's enough left over for DH's dinner tomorrow. (He is working the night shift.) It just doesn't get any better than this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)