Well, I made it 9 days before blowing it altogether.
Oh, well.
I'm not going to stop blogging this month. I wanted to start NaBloWriMo to help myself write every day. And I do think about blogging every day, even if I don't do it.
But I didn't. I missed two days.
I have no excuse! I am lame!
Except that I've been very ill with horrible bronchial crud, and last night was our anniversary and we went out to dinner.
But still.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Stressing out
Why do I stress out over other people's stuff?
We are scrambling during October, because we have to have all of our special ed paperwork done by November 1, even if the paperwork isn't due until Nov. 30th. Everyone around the district is doing this, so our situation is not unique.
Still, I get overwhelming stress when I'm going through the list that Downtown sent us, and finding mistakes. I found no less than three items that were current (not overdue as they had on their list), and they hadn't processed paperwork that we had sent down over a week ago.
Furthermore, I get upset when I come across paperwork that is overdue that was on Slacker's caseload. Slacker is the dude who didn't do his paperwork last year, and now since we are all scrambling, I have to do it. Or the new folks at the school have to do it. Or people at other schools who are finding his 8th graders from last year.
I sent him an email, telling him what his slacking had done to me. I didn't ask for anything--I simply told him the effect of his actions. Of course, he hasn't emailed me back, and I don't expect him to. Ass.
So my question is this: I only have a few meetings this month (5 total, I think). It's more than usual, but I can handle it. Why do I get all stressed out over other people's stuff?
We are scrambling during October, because we have to have all of our special ed paperwork done by November 1, even if the paperwork isn't due until Nov. 30th. Everyone around the district is doing this, so our situation is not unique.
Still, I get overwhelming stress when I'm going through the list that Downtown sent us, and finding mistakes. I found no less than three items that were current (not overdue as they had on their list), and they hadn't processed paperwork that we had sent down over a week ago.
Furthermore, I get upset when I come across paperwork that is overdue that was on Slacker's caseload. Slacker is the dude who didn't do his paperwork last year, and now since we are all scrambling, I have to do it. Or the new folks at the school have to do it. Or people at other schools who are finding his 8th graders from last year.
I sent him an email, telling him what his slacking had done to me. I didn't ask for anything--I simply told him the effect of his actions. Of course, he hasn't emailed me back, and I don't expect him to. Ass.
So my question is this: I only have a few meetings this month (5 total, I think). It's more than usual, but I can handle it. Why do I get all stressed out over other people's stuff?
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Gotta see the sky
My daughter has become proficient in bedtime stalling techniques.
"Snuggle?"
"Bath!"
"Read this?"
The most effective one of all, though, is, "Sky?"
We go out front, sit on the steps, and look at the sky, and we talk. We talk about our day, and what she's going to do tomorrow. We talk about the moon, and how bright it is, or if it's hiding, we wonder where it might be. We talk about the color of the sky, and the weather.
She's got me pegged.
"Snuggle?"
"Bath!"
"Read this?"
The most effective one of all, though, is, "Sky?"
We go out front, sit on the steps, and look at the sky, and we talk. We talk about our day, and what she's going to do tomorrow. We talk about the moon, and how bright it is, or if it's hiding, we wonder where it might be. We talk about the color of the sky, and the weather.
She's got me pegged.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Caterpillars
I grew up in a humd climate. Out in the boonies, essentially. I wasn't a farmer, but it was a farming community. And heavily wooded.
I am so grateful for having that opportunity as a child. What a luxury, to have the freedom as a child to run where I wanted, explore what I wanted, and not have to be within sight of my parents. We lived in fear of everyone's parents--it was a small town. Any breaches of conduct would make their way to my parents' ears before I made it home.
The fall leaves in my hometown are spectactular.
I'm not fond of insects, but I do have fond memories of finding caterpillars. Crawling around in bushes, climbing fences, running through the fields, were all prime opportunities to find one. They were the big, fat, orange and black ones. Does that mean they turned into monarchs? I have no recollection.
Can you feel those tiny little feet, rippling, rippling over your finger? Watching the furry thing contract with a big back hump, and straighten out? They weren't as soft as they looked.
How long could I sit there with one of those? On a cool fall day, with the trees' leaves changing, a breeze blowing by? It must have been hours at a time.
I am so grateful for having that opportunity as a child. What a luxury, to have the freedom as a child to run where I wanted, explore what I wanted, and not have to be within sight of my parents. We lived in fear of everyone's parents--it was a small town. Any breaches of conduct would make their way to my parents' ears before I made it home.
The fall leaves in my hometown are spectactular.
I'm not fond of insects, but I do have fond memories of finding caterpillars. Crawling around in bushes, climbing fences, running through the fields, were all prime opportunities to find one. They were the big, fat, orange and black ones. Does that mean they turned into monarchs? I have no recollection.
Can you feel those tiny little feet, rippling, rippling over your finger? Watching the furry thing contract with a big back hump, and straighten out? They weren't as soft as they looked.
How long could I sit there with one of those? On a cool fall day, with the trees' leaves changing, a breeze blowing by? It must have been hours at a time.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Colors
This morning, in my very small class of 8 students, 4 were wearing red t-shirts. I took note of this, because the students wearing them were not the stars of the class--in fact, had histories of getting in trouble.
So I made note of who they were, on a slip of paper, and put it in my pocket without telling them. I did, however, ask, "What's up with the red?" so they knew I had noticed.
You see, they think teachers are stupid. At least, they act like it.
So a few minutes into first period, our "security" guard comes to my door, and tells me that they have a tip that some girls are going to fight, so I should keep my ears open for that. Also, she told me that a lot of kids were wearing red, and to be aware of that. Okay. Thanks. I'll be aware.
First period ends, and I walk into the hall. I always have a recess whistle on my school keys, and apparently for good reason. I found myself in a sea of red, which was clumping right by my door. I was practically included in this bizarre huddle of adolescent humanity. It smelled faintly like pot and incense and unwashed bodies. I heard one of them say, "Someone snitched on us!"
I blew my whistle. "Get to class, people! Let's go!" I said in my usual, hustle-it-along manner. Right then, another clump, this time of girls, congregated right in front of me. "Get in that classroom!" I barked, and they jumped and skittered away.
It became very apparent that the hallway I was in was to be their staging area. I pulled out my ace in the hole:
"I will personally give every one of you lunch detention if you don't get in a classroom. NOW!"
Empty hallway. Bell rings.
All kids wearing red were systematically called to the auditorium.
When third period ended, I had some time off. I wandered down to the auditorium to see what was going on. It was a sea of red and black--apparently, two factions had decided to show themselves that day. At the back of the auditorium were no fewer than 7 police officers and school security personnel. I estimated that there were 80-100 students sitting there.
It was one helluva day, but we as a faculty did it: there were no fights at our school today.
So I made note of who they were, on a slip of paper, and put it in my pocket without telling them. I did, however, ask, "What's up with the red?" so they knew I had noticed.
You see, they think teachers are stupid. At least, they act like it.
So a few minutes into first period, our "security" guard comes to my door, and tells me that they have a tip that some girls are going to fight, so I should keep my ears open for that. Also, she told me that a lot of kids were wearing red, and to be aware of that. Okay. Thanks. I'll be aware.
First period ends, and I walk into the hall. I always have a recess whistle on my school keys, and apparently for good reason. I found myself in a sea of red, which was clumping right by my door. I was practically included in this bizarre huddle of adolescent humanity. It smelled faintly like pot and incense and unwashed bodies. I heard one of them say, "Someone snitched on us!"
I blew my whistle. "Get to class, people! Let's go!" I said in my usual, hustle-it-along manner. Right then, another clump, this time of girls, congregated right in front of me. "Get in that classroom!" I barked, and they jumped and skittered away.
It became very apparent that the hallway I was in was to be their staging area. I pulled out my ace in the hole:
"I will personally give every one of you lunch detention if you don't get in a classroom. NOW!"
Empty hallway. Bell rings.
All kids wearing red were systematically called to the auditorium.
When third period ended, I had some time off. I wandered down to the auditorium to see what was going on. It was a sea of red and black--apparently, two factions had decided to show themselves that day. At the back of the auditorium were no fewer than 7 police officers and school security personnel. I estimated that there were 80-100 students sitting there.
It was one helluva day, but we as a faculty did it: there were no fights at our school today.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Memo to Manager Dude
To: Manager Dude
From: Me
Re: Your absolutely bizarre requests
Dude, seriously, you have GOT to be kidding.
Last year, at our school, we had a teacher who did not do his work. He did not finish all of his special education paperwork before he left. As you know, being a sped professional yourself, this causes frustration and anger for those left behind, as that paperwork, by law, must be finished on time. Of course, this now falls to us.
And, according to the edict handed down from on high a week ago, we must all now have ALL paperwork that is either overdue, or due in October and November FINISHED by November 1. We have to get all our paperwork done a month early. This is causing more anger and frustration, as we are all now stretched to the limit, barely functioning as teachers, unable to plan for lessons because we are having about a quadruple amount of meetings than we are used to. This is happening all over the district.
So you email me, and say that, because some dude at my school didn't do his paperwork, I have to go to the high school where the student is, and do it?
Dude, are you high?
Let me know,
groovygrrl
From: Me
Re: Your absolutely bizarre requests
Dude, seriously, you have GOT to be kidding.
Last year, at our school, we had a teacher who did not do his work. He did not finish all of his special education paperwork before he left. As you know, being a sped professional yourself, this causes frustration and anger for those left behind, as that paperwork, by law, must be finished on time. Of course, this now falls to us.
And, according to the edict handed down from on high a week ago, we must all now have ALL paperwork that is either overdue, or due in October and November FINISHED by November 1. We have to get all our paperwork done a month early. This is causing more anger and frustration, as we are all now stretched to the limit, barely functioning as teachers, unable to plan for lessons because we are having about a quadruple amount of meetings than we are used to. This is happening all over the district.
So you email me, and say that, because some dude at my school didn't do his paperwork, I have to go to the high school where the student is, and do it?
Dude, are you high?
Let me know,
groovygrrl
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
First day of school, take two.
I have had two first days this year. One in August, and one today.
Today, my teeny, tiny little girl went to school. You see, she has a speech delay, and has been receiving private speech therapy all summer. I recommended her for a public school evaluation in June, but of course they couldn't do it, as it was summer.
Right at the beginning of the school year, then, the ball got rolling for her evaluation. It happened pretty quickly, and was handled well. Of course, I teach special ed myself, so I was rather critical of the process.
Did they move faster because they knew I was a special ed teacher? I will never know.
In any case, her evaluation was finished in September, and since then we've been waiting for her paperwork to "go through." Much like digestion, yes. It went through last week, and I talked to the teacher on Friday. On Monday the girlie went to school just for a few minutes to visit, and then today she went to school for real.
I was an emotional wreck on the inside. On the outside, I was "too busy to worry." Ha. That is a lie, for future reference.
Papa picked me up, and we drove to her school in the afternoon. We got there a little early, and her class was outside on the playground. It was so precious to see her running around with other kiddos in her class. We didn't want to take away her play time, so we sat on a bench across the street and watched her. It was amazing, how independent she seemed. I was sad to think that she could be at school and not need me or papa. It's the strangest feeling, to be both sad and happy and proud at the same time.
She is so worn out tonight, which we expected. I think one more episode of Spongebob, then a bath, and then bed.
Sweet cutie.
Today, my teeny, tiny little girl went to school. You see, she has a speech delay, and has been receiving private speech therapy all summer. I recommended her for a public school evaluation in June, but of course they couldn't do it, as it was summer.
Right at the beginning of the school year, then, the ball got rolling for her evaluation. It happened pretty quickly, and was handled well. Of course, I teach special ed myself, so I was rather critical of the process.
Did they move faster because they knew I was a special ed teacher? I will never know.
In any case, her evaluation was finished in September, and since then we've been waiting for her paperwork to "go through." Much like digestion, yes. It went through last week, and I talked to the teacher on Friday. On Monday the girlie went to school just for a few minutes to visit, and then today she went to school for real.
I was an emotional wreck on the inside. On the outside, I was "too busy to worry." Ha. That is a lie, for future reference.
Papa picked me up, and we drove to her school in the afternoon. We got there a little early, and her class was outside on the playground. It was so precious to see her running around with other kiddos in her class. We didn't want to take away her play time, so we sat on a bench across the street and watched her. It was amazing, how independent she seemed. I was sad to think that she could be at school and not need me or papa. It's the strangest feeling, to be both sad and happy and proud at the same time.
She is so worn out tonight, which we expected. I think one more episode of Spongebob, then a bath, and then bed.
Sweet cutie.
Insanity.
The only blog I could do yesterday was on NaBloWriMo. It hardly counts. However, I did blog.
This only illustrates why I am doing this project. My life is so ridiculously busy, that I can't find the time to sit down and write one paragraph.
Whatever.
My daughter is going to preschool today, for her first official day! It is also school photo day! Yaaah! I'm excited, but also depressed, because I do not get to go with her today. Papa is taking her, which is fine, but I feel terrible that I can't be there.
I hope she's okay.
This only illustrates why I am doing this project. My life is so ridiculously busy, that I can't find the time to sit down and write one paragraph.
Whatever.
My daughter is going to preschool today, for her first official day! It is also school photo day! Yaaah! I'm excited, but also depressed, because I do not get to go with her today. Papa is taking her, which is fine, but I feel terrible that I can't be there.
I hope she's okay.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Almost over
The day is almost over--literally. Only 40 minutes until midnight. And I'm finally blogging for the day.
My job is going relatively well, I guess. I'm not stressed out, really. I just work continually, with barely any breaks. I also often work late, which annoys me. Tomorrow I'm going to go in early and see if I can get some work done that way.
After school, I came home and made soap. It's the best swirl I've ever done. See for yourself, above.
I have to make at least 5 batches of soap this week, to keep up. Well, not even to keep up. I've got to start making shitloads of soap for the holiday "rush." I'm doing the craft fair this year, as well, so that's going to mean more production. I am gambling that it will also mean more money. Maybe I'll be able to pay all of the sales taxes I've collected all year.
Maybe not.
*******
DH is ill. It seems that he has been ill for several weeks. It's hard to say, because he hides illness and pain and things like that until they become severe. I believe he just has a bad cold, but things sometimes mutate. Ask my friend Ann--strep throat turned into a staph infection in her HEAD. This was the first week in August. She is still not healed. It's awful--she was in the hospital twice.
Of course, DH just whines and pouts, and talks about how uncomfortable he is. "Perhaps you should cancel your Day of Remodeling (Tuesdays) tomorrow, if you're that sick."
"Oh, no, we skipped last week. We can't skip another week."
"Yes, you can. You're sick."
"Naaaw....I'll be better tomorrow."
*sigh*
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Swamped!
The market was as I expected today: busy and spendy. Woo hoo! Let's see:
Payday weekend
+
Good weather
=
Good sales.
Coincidence sometimes shines on us.
Because of the good sales day, I am now swamped with soap making. I am out of Ancient Times, I sold out of Ladies' Lovely Complexion Soap today, and I have to make Bare Bones, Straight-Up, No-Nonsense Soap. I also have to start felting soaps, and making gift baskets.
That craft fair looms large! I am feeling The Fear of the Overworked Yet Underprepared.
Of course, I will be prepared when the time comes. No sleep until then, I guess.
Payday weekend
+
Good weather
=
Good sales.
Coincidence sometimes shines on us.
Because of the good sales day, I am now swamped with soap making. I am out of Ancient Times, I sold out of Ladies' Lovely Complexion Soap today, and I have to make Bare Bones, Straight-Up, No-Nonsense Soap. I also have to start felting soaps, and making gift baskets.
That craft fair looms large! I am feeling The Fear of the Overworked Yet Underprepared.
Of course, I will be prepared when the time comes. No sleep until then, I guess.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Da Bomb!
I did it! I created a blog for NaBloWriMo! Sign up and blog every day in October! Click on the link to participate!
Pleeeeeeeeze? I'll be your BFF!
Pleeeeeeeeze? I'll be your BFF!
NaBloWriMo
I am not the first.
No, I did a search for "NaBloWriMo" on Google, and came up with 57 results, I think. All of which are linked to only three sites, and many of them are repeater search results. Therefore, I will push forward with confidence.
You see, I am not a novelist. I don't have any aspriations to be "a novelist" as such. Do I have a novel in me? Of course! Good roughage.
Will I write the novel? Who knows? My best answer right now is "no," as I am not a fiction writer, do not write fiction very well, and do not have a rich uncle who will support my family while I dedicate my life to my novel. No, this will not happen. I have learned this about myself, and accept it. This is called, "wisdom."
However.
What I can do is blog every day. How many words, you ask? If you are asking, you are a NaNoWriMo veteran. I answer to you: it matters not. In my NaBloWriMo world (National Blog Writing Month--again, I didn't make it up, just thought I did and then did the search--there are no new ideas), to participate, one simply agrees to blog every day. That's it! Every day, one blog post.
Oh, okay. Let's set up some rules:
1. The post must be at least one paragraph (or 5 sentences).
2. The post must give actual information, and be at the least interesting and well-written, and at best, witty.
3. The post may not simply be a link to something you like ( I do this all the time, and I know it's a cop-out.)
Other than that, post away! Every day!
Starting October 1. That's next Sunday, folks. Pass the word.
p.s. the Gene Simmons photo is just to keep things interesting. I was tired of having the run-of-the-mill photos. Suggestions are welcome for future random photos. Hair bands from the '80s, anyone?
A Tale of Two Feces
**Warning Warning Warning**
Parental Blog Forthcoming!
Parental Blog Forthcoming!
Our Advendtures in Potty Training are just getting started, it seems. Our baby girl has been peeing in the potty since the end of June, which was a thrill in itself. She now runs to the potty all on her own, takes care of business, and can pull her pants back up when she wants. When she wants to run naky, then that's what happens.
Until we catch her, and say, "Where are your panties?" Like we have to ask.
So Papa decided, a couple of weeks ago, that it was time to potty train In Earnest, i.e. go for the potty BM. Oh, yeah. We knew it would be a struggle. He tried for several days in a row, constantly mentioning Pooping in the Potty.
"Miffy?" our baby would ask. She wants to play Miffy on the computer.
"No, you have to poop on the potty, " The Behaviorist Parent would reply. On and on and on, until we would give in and give her a diaper. While diapering her, we would mention, "If you poop on the potty, you'll get ________." Fill in the blank with whatever reward would work for that day.
Last week, Papa was Adamant. (No, not Adam Ant, he was adamant about refusing diapers. Just stop that.) The diapers were gone, and he was serious. Of course, our precious babe decided, instead of actually moving her bowels on the toilet, she would withold the bm as long as possible.
"As long as possible" is "two days," for those who don't know.
So I'm sitting at the table, internetting, and in comes the girlie, on tiptoe, bare-butted, clenching, and making a peculiar noise. "Eeeeeerrrrrrnnnnnnhhhhhh," is an approximation of it. Make sure it's high-pitched and nasal.
"Run to the potty!" I urged, and she did. Trotted, mostly, but she made it. Lo and behold, she sat there and pooped on the potty! Hooray! Big reward time!
Here we come to the tales:
Tale 1:
Later on, Papa walks into the kitchen, and stops. He lifts his foot, and says to me, "What is that? Check that out," meaning the small, brown something on the floor. I reply, " I don't have to check it out, " and clean it up. So, Papa was the proud winner of the day. Don't you know? The day your daughter first poops in the potty, the first person to step in a butt nugget in the kitchen gets a year of good luck, and a wish!
What did he wish for? I think he wished he'd never stepped in it.
Tale 2:
Later than that, girlie's room still smelled. What the? Why? Whazzat? I went on a poop search, and came up with a LARGE NUGGET. So, when she had run to me, clenching, she had already had the experience, only on the floor of her room, under one of her toys. Or, she covered it up. In either case, you must understand my COMPLETE AND UTTER DISMAY when our smaller dog found the nugget right when I did, and proceeded TO EAT IT.
*still reeling*
*reels some more*
***practically faints***
Parenthood is NOT for the faint of heart.
Until we catch her, and say, "Where are your panties?" Like we have to ask.
So Papa decided, a couple of weeks ago, that it was time to potty train In Earnest, i.e. go for the potty BM. Oh, yeah. We knew it would be a struggle. He tried for several days in a row, constantly mentioning Pooping in the Potty.
"Miffy?" our baby would ask. She wants to play Miffy on the computer.
"No, you have to poop on the potty, " The Behaviorist Parent would reply. On and on and on, until we would give in and give her a diaper. While diapering her, we would mention, "If you poop on the potty, you'll get ________." Fill in the blank with whatever reward would work for that day.
Last week, Papa was Adamant. (No, not Adam Ant, he was adamant about refusing diapers. Just stop that.) The diapers were gone, and he was serious. Of course, our precious babe decided, instead of actually moving her bowels on the toilet, she would withold the bm as long as possible.
"As long as possible" is "two days," for those who don't know.
So I'm sitting at the table, internetting, and in comes the girlie, on tiptoe, bare-butted, clenching, and making a peculiar noise. "Eeeeeerrrrrrnnnnnnhhhhhh," is an approximation of it. Make sure it's high-pitched and nasal.
"Run to the potty!" I urged, and she did. Trotted, mostly, but she made it. Lo and behold, she sat there and pooped on the potty! Hooray! Big reward time!
Here we come to the tales:
Tale 1:
Later on, Papa walks into the kitchen, and stops. He lifts his foot, and says to me, "What is that? Check that out," meaning the small, brown something on the floor. I reply, " I don't have to check it out, " and clean it up. So, Papa was the proud winner of the day. Don't you know? The day your daughter first poops in the potty, the first person to step in a butt nugget in the kitchen gets a year of good luck, and a wish!
What did he wish for? I think he wished he'd never stepped in it.
Tale 2:
Later than that, girlie's room still smelled. What the? Why? Whazzat? I went on a poop search, and came up with a LARGE NUGGET. So, when she had run to me, clenching, she had already had the experience, only on the floor of her room, under one of her toys. Or, she covered it up. In either case, you must understand my COMPLETE AND UTTER DISMAY when our smaller dog found the nugget right when I did, and proceeded TO EAT IT.
*still reeling*
*reels some more*
***practically faints***
Parenthood is NOT for the faint of heart.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
In a rut
Finally!
I type this on a Saturday morning, from home. A day off. Sorely needed, and definitely earned. I am going to make eggs and sausage and English muffins for breakfast, when the time comes. I'm drinking strong coffee, and enjoying a peaceful morning.
I have missed this.
*breathes deeply*
So! I was talking to a friend at work the other morning, and was trying to put my finger on the feeling I've had for the past few days. This school year is different, definitely--the ambience in the school has changed. It's more scholarly, somehow. The administration tries to make things very clear, regarding what is their job, and what is our job. This helps tremendously.
But I've still been feeling something like unrest, or agitation, or...I couldn't quite put my finger on it. So I was talking to M. the other morning, and it suddenly became clear. She said:
"I just feel like I'm in a rut. I'm not passionate about this anymore. I enjoy the kids, I relatively enjoy that part of my job, which is the important part. But something is missing. It's not enough. I'm bored!"
At which point, I realized that was a good explanation of how I feel, too.
I'm not exactly "bored" with my job, but those who know me know that I'm not super-happy with it. I know this puts me in a group comprising of, oh, 99% of the population. Which is fine. I don't hate my job this year, which is an improvement, but after being at school with an administration that's supportive (relatively), and in an environment that is more school than thug life meeting house, I now realize that I still don't really like it all that much.
And I'm trying to allow myself to know that is okay.
I am learning the lesson about the greener side of the fence, I guess. It's like...It's like someone who loses a lot of weight, say 100 pounds. That person feels better, buys new clothes, and enjoys a lot of new attention from their old friends and possibly new friends. And then you ask that person, "So, is your life really different?" They think about it and say, "No. Losing weight didn't really change my life. It just changed my appearance. The daily crap is still there."
That's what I'm feeling. The situation has changed, and it's better. But the daily crap that I have to deal with is still there, and I still don't like it. I'm in a rut, and need to get out.
Toward that end, my blessed web guy has been working on a new project for me. I would like this new project to make enough money to support us. I would like to be self-employed. More and more, I'm moving in that direction. When will I get there?
One thing is for certain: like that car up there, if I don't get out of the rut, I won't be going anywhere fast.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Flickr and Sharing and Design, oh, my. *pukes*
Okay.
This is what goes through my mind, after working the past 25 out of 26 days. (And the one day I didn't work, I stayed home because people were sick)
I sit and think to myself, "This is what causes road rage--people being short of temper because they have had no sleep, no time to relax, no quality time with family. This is the reason people freak out in the grocery store if a blue-haired old lady buts in line and checks out 16 items in the 15-item express lane. This is the reason people are so rude to each other. It must also be the reason for tabloid tv--people don't want to even expend the energy to watch a tv program that asks them to think at all."
That's what I thought, just today.
I have been working 7 days since August 16. The one day I took "off" was to care for my ill family. I have not sunk my butt in the bathtub since then. And I make soap! No, I barely have time for showers.
And because of the Judeo-Christian ethic instilled in me since birth, I sit and think, "You should count your blessings. You are smart enough to have a business that is moderately successful, and a job that has benefits. You should be grateful that things are going so well that you have to work 7 days." What kind of a twisted thought process is that?
I should be grateful that I have the privilege of working myself to death?
And in the next mental breath, I begin saying to myself, "When you were in undergrad, you worked 7 days. You worked for school or you worked for money, and you never had a day off. You can do this."
"Yeah," I reply to my quickly-becoming-demented self, "But I didn't have a kid, then. And I wasn't married. I could nap on any given afternoon, if I chose. I no longer have that choice."
So working 7 days will cause a person to rationalize with oneself. As if I had a choice in the matter.
And so I will continue to get up every day and work. I hope those of you who have two whole days off each weekend will forgive me if I forget to email or call you back. The markets will be over in about 8 weeks.
p.s. what's with the headline, you say? Yeah, I had a train of thought, but didn't get around to it. I was thinking that I don't have time to load my photos onto flickr, or change the design of my blog, or any other fun thing online, because that must be the realm of those who live in luxury. Which, of course, is anyone who works one minute less than me. Because today I am whiny.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
It didn't happen!
I worked the market! I've worked 7 days, again! This has got to stop!
DH told me tonight that he would work next Saturday. But something always comes up!
I'm so tired.
DH told me tonight that he would work next Saturday. But something always comes up!
I'm so tired.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Let's try this again
It's been a week since the flu infected our house. We are all better now, thanks so much for your kind words and worries.
So, tomorrow DH will work the market, and, hopefully, I'll sleep in. I'm worried about him working the market by himself, but hey, he's got to do it sometime. Because otherwise, I'll be working outside of the house 7 days per week, and he'll be watching DC (Dear Cutie) for 7 days per week. It will be good for him to get out of the house.
I've been thinking about new soaps I want to develop, as well as some higher-end products for next year. I'm doing a craft fair in November, and have to prepare for that. Maybe I'll get up early and make soap, instead of sleeping in. Sometimes being productive can be more soothing than being languid, in bed, under the covers on a cool fall morning....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....*szsznuh?* Whoa. Maybe not.
I was surprised that this morning was Friday. On the one hand, the past 7 days seem to have taken forever. On the other, I've been so busy and working so hard, that Friday took me by surprise. It's strange.
I think it's still the flu talking.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
More flu.
Now DH has the flu. DD does, too, but hers wasn't as potent as the adults'. Go figure. Because of this, I had to stay home from the farmer's market today.
It's kind of nice to take a break.
However.
When self-employed, as I am only in my secret life (ha), there are no paid sick days. I am giving up a helluva lot of money to stay home today. But there's nobody else to take care of these little sickos.
So here I am.
*stomach cramp*
Oooh. My flu is almost gone.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Martian Death Flu
I have the Martian Death Flu. I think it's on its way out right now. How do I know this? I can walk upright.
Yesterday, in the morning, while administering district-wide assessements to the students, my stomach felt queasy.
"How are you, Amy?" my friend Fred asked, in the hallway, as I walked to my class.
"My stomach feels queasy," I said.
Thankfully, I had time right that moment to find the bathroom, because if I hadn't, I might not be writing to you now. I might be under the covers, shivering with humiliation. And cold sweats.
I felt worse instead of better as the day progressed. I had to prop my head up on my hand while sitting at my desk. I got hot sweats, then cold sweats. I have no idea how I taught anyone anything.
My husband picked me up right at the end of school. I went home, changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and went to bed. I was supposed to go to Back-To-School night, but it was better that I didn't. I could barely move. I didn't walk--I trudged/shuffled. I drank a little bit of Emergen-C in some hot water. I ate 1/2 of one piece of toast. That came up this morning.
Our daughter climbed into bed with us at 5am. She had it, too. I put her in the tub and stripped her bed, putting everything into the laundry. This was another indication that I'm feeling a bit better--I could do this physical activity.
My husband informed me that he had it last night, as well. I hope this is the last of this we'll have to see, and I hope they don't get it as badly as I did. I have to attend an all-day training for student services teachers today---I hope I make it through.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
As god is my witness.
I hate sitting out in the rain.
But there I was again, this morning, sitting under my tent at the farmer's market, selling my soaps, and shivering. It was cold, it was windy, and it was raining. And there I was.
Since no customers were there, being in their right minds, I sat on my chair and thought. I have to tell you, I like working at the markets. I don't mind setting up and tearing down--my body is used to it now. I don't mind being out there when the weather is cool, warm, or hot. I don't mind if it snows!
But if it is raining, I am pissed off. I don't like it. It makes me miserable.
So I was sitting there, thinking, and hating all of it. This is what I thought:
I am going to pay off our credit cards and sell this business, and with god as my witness, I'll never sit out in the rain again.
It won't happen anytime soon, let me tell you. It rained for an hour, and then cleared out. However, because it was so cold, the people stayed home.
These markets have been so slow! Hopefully, when the weather starts to regulate itself, the people will come back.
Since no customers were there, being in their right minds, I sat on my chair and thought. I have to tell you, I like working at the markets. I don't mind setting up and tearing down--my body is used to it now. I don't mind being out there when the weather is cool, warm, or hot. I don't mind if it snows!
But if it is raining, I am pissed off. I don't like it. It makes me miserable.
So I was sitting there, thinking, and hating all of it. This is what I thought:
I am going to pay off our credit cards and sell this business, and with god as my witness, I'll never sit out in the rain again.
It won't happen anytime soon, let me tell you. It rained for an hour, and then cleared out. However, because it was so cold, the people stayed home.
These markets have been so slow! Hopefully, when the weather starts to regulate itself, the people will come back.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Bloggy Bloggerson
Jeezy creezy. See what happens when school starts?
I disappear.....
IF I have time, I'll write more later. I'll write about school staring, and my very first interaction with a student, and the incredible people who are running the school. They just might make me excited about teaching again. We'll see.
At any rate, this is all the time I have for now. Seriously.
I disappear.....
IF I have time, I'll write more later. I'll write about school staring, and my very first interaction with a student, and the incredible people who are running the school. They just might make me excited about teaching again. We'll see.
At any rate, this is all the time I have for now. Seriously.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
End-of-Vacation Log
Can you believe the end of vacation is here? Can you believe:
- I have worked at the farmer's markets 24 times?
- I have sold approximately 720 bars of soap over this summer?
- I have sold close to 1,000 bars of soap since the end of April?
I'm going back to school, for just a few hours, tomorrow. Trying to set up my office, as they made me move it this year. If I can get some of that kind of stuff done, then the first few days won't be as hectic.
I am sure going to miss my cutie. This was a great summer break.
Friday, August 11, 2006
I love Bollywood even more.
Nimbooda
Okay, this one I actually like for aesthetic reasons. The costumes and colors, the dance is spectacular...love it.
Okay, this one I actually like for aesthetic reasons. The costumes and colors, the dance is spectacular...love it.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Monday, August 07, 2006
Book review: The Well-Fed Self-Publisher
I have read Dan Poynter's The Self Publishing Manual three times. I have written and published an ebook, just to get my feet wet in the whole, scary, ISBN process. I have planned all along to self-publish my teacher book.
So when Peter Bowerman released his long-awaited The Well-Fed Self-Publisher, I figured it would be a book to fill in the cracks of my knowledge. After all, Dan Poynter is, "THE grandfather of self-publishing." I didn't expect to learn too much more--after all, Dan Poynter's book is comprehensive. However, the book's subtitle, "How to Turn One Book into a Full-Time Living," is so seductive, I can't imagine a writer who wouldn't be at least intrigued.
There was no question, though, about whether or not I would buy Bowerman's book. Oh, I would buy it, that's for certain. I am one of thousands of loyal followers of his series:
(click on any book cover to buy them)
So I knew I would buy it, thinking that it would be a good additional reference to have in my self-publishing ventures. It's a tax-deductible expense, after all. I did not think that it would surpass the other self-publishing references that are out there.
I thought wrong.
Bowerman lays out the self-publishing process step-by-step, in a logical, thoughtful manner. I did know all of the good reasons to self-publish, and knew that publishing is not about art or writing, really, or grand higher purpose (psst...it's about business). I didn't know exact marketing strategies that he has used to be successful. I didn't know how little money could actually be spent on fulfillment services, to free up my time. I didn't know that he would be so detailed with his examples, which is most helpful for a new publisher who may be frightened with the entire project.
Mostly, I didn't know how much marketing needs to be done. Oh, I knew in theory, but Bowerman presents the marketing options like a lovely banquet table full of new and exciting treats, begging to be consumed. He makes the marketing efforts seem far less daunting than they did before. Of course, this is easier to see once you go along for the ride with him, and realize that, as a self-publisher, "...you have one job and one job only: Build the Demand for Your Book." Accepting this premise, all of the marketing strategies outlined throughout the book fall into place.
Along the way, Bowerman pays tribute to many other fine authors who can help a publisher become a success. He always lists contact information, or at the very least, a website for these folks. What I found most helpful about the lists of people and information, though, were the personal examples that Bowerman illustrates. He always returns to his example of a successful book campaign, be it how to work with Amazon.com, how to give a great radio interview, or how to assemble a press kit using a copier, scissors, and glue stick. No, seriously. It's in there.
Everything in the book is presented from Bowerman's perspective; he presents himself as a "case study" for the rest of us. It's a type of , "This is what I did, now you do it," scenario, and it works. Not only does he let us know what he did, he lets us know who he worked with to get it done. He refers often to particular pages on his website, to illustrate his points. This is another way that he makes the point: his advice is meant to be practical. Use it.
Marketing isn't the only thing a self-publisher has to do, though. Having a good book in hand is always the best start. What about the self-publishing industry itself? What about creating the perfect book cover, editing and typesetting, having an index and appendix? Yes, yes, yes, all of this is discussed at length. No worries.
Possibly the best part of the book is Appendix A, in which he compiles the names and contact information of the actual people who helped him put his book together, all in one place. I wonder, knowing how popular his books are, whether or not these people are absolutely swamped with work. I imagine they are. I know I'm considering calling them.
In addition to the actual book, three bonus ebooks are offered:
The Well-Fed Self-Publisher's Biz-in-a-Box
- contains every bit of marketing "paper" that Bowerman created/filled out/used during the promotion of his books
- a time line for the bit-by-bit approach that helps us to conquer the mountain that is publishing, with live links (given the correct .pdf reader)
- essentially a repackaging of the indexes of the book, with live links. Very helpful.
The first one is available for separate purchase, and at a discount if you buy it along with the book. The other two are offered as free bonuses for purchasing the book off his web site (you get your choice, or pay a bit more and get both) and sold as standalones as well. This is an example of creating "spinoff" items for purchase, which is covered in its own chapter. Their value, compared with the enormous expense of printing one's own book, is incredible. They are worth far more than the asking price. Of course, I bought the whole schlamazel.
It's easy to beat the same drum as others when writing a review like this, and should be avoided, but I cannot: his writing style is what sets this book apart from the rest. This has been said about all of his books, and frankly, it's worth noting again and again. Bowerman writes like he talks, which is what he advises.
While it is refreshing to see someone practice what he preaches, I must say there is one aspect of his writing that grates on me: he often uses incomplete sentences. Bowerman has done this since his first book, and it is a remnant of his marketing writing skills. He asserts in his first book that a writer need not always use complete sentences, because sometimes a conversational tone would otherwise be compromised. Every time I read one of the sentence fragments, it raises my hackles. There are enough instances of this for me to take note of it.
Should that discourage someone from purchasing this book? I think that would be foolish--especially if that person wants to be a publishing success. Really, it's my problem, because Bowerman is right: writing like we speak makes a book easy to read. I should just get over it.
Someone who wants to pursue a conventional publishing route may benefit from this read: knowing all of the different components of a book publishing project may help writers to understand why it is so difficult to have someone else publish them. Those who think that self-publishing is for them will enjoy this book more than the others out there, because of Bowerman's easy-reading style, and personable nature that comes across in his writing.
Yes, I'm a groupie, and yes, I'll buy anything he writes. There's a reason for that. Buy the book and discover what all of the Well-Fed writers know.
Friday, August 04, 2006
What does it take?
You will note that I have added another blog link to the right. Her blog name is "Dooce," and no, I didn't misspell it. She's a wonderful writer, and she takes photographs, too. Fun stuff. Have a read.
After looking at her About page, I realized that she makes money off her blog. In fact, if her About page is to be believed, she supports her family FROM HER BLOG. Just from the advertising. That's how many people read her blog each day.
So now I wonder: how does one get so many people to read one's blog? Posting it on craigslist? Word-of-mouth? Not in her case: she became famous for being fired for blogging. And now, in this world, a person can get paid because of blog popularity. Blogging is not difficult, people.
And so, I admit, I am considering this. Considering how to make my blog more interesting, more exciting, more...more....advertisement-worthy. I suppose little vignettes about my life would help. Most of the popular bloggers do that. It's either that or do political rants, and frankly (Franken! Love him!), that's covered. I don't wanna.
I believe I'll continue to blog daily, and tell the stories, and see just how popular I become. I suppose I'll have to have a "real" website, to support "real" advertising. Maybe not. Maybe I should read Blogger's terms of service more carefully, so I know what is actually allowed.
But I don't see any big news stories in my future. So I guess I'll just stick with tellin' my tales to the three people who read this.
After looking at her About page, I realized that she makes money off her blog. In fact, if her About page is to be believed, she supports her family FROM HER BLOG. Just from the advertising. That's how many people read her blog each day.
So now I wonder: how does one get so many people to read one's blog? Posting it on craigslist? Word-of-mouth? Not in her case: she became famous for being fired for blogging. And now, in this world, a person can get paid because of blog popularity. Blogging is not difficult, people.
And so, I admit, I am considering this. Considering how to make my blog more interesting, more exciting, more...more....advertisement-worthy. I suppose little vignettes about my life would help. Most of the popular bloggers do that. It's either that or do political rants, and frankly (Franken! Love him!), that's covered. I don't wanna.
I believe I'll continue to blog daily, and tell the stories, and see just how popular I become. I suppose I'll have to have a "real" website, to support "real" advertising. Maybe not. Maybe I should read Blogger's terms of service more carefully, so I know what is actually allowed.
But I don't see any big news stories in my future. So I guess I'll just stick with tellin' my tales to the three people who read this.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
...where it will go....
So I was reading the paper this morning, and came to the movie advertisements. There is a new movie out, called The Night Listener, starring Toni Colette and Robin Williams. What struck me as interesting about this movie is not its actors nor its premise (indeed, I don't know its premise), but the review at the top of the ad.
Roger Ebert proclaims: "...An eerie Hitchcockian Thriller..."
Hitchcockian? I must not be in the Hollyweird loop, because this word struck me as funny. And not because of the word in the middle. Okay, maybe a bit.
I wondered how many other people use the word Hitchcockian. Turns out, it's quite a few. A Google search noted 966,000 results for it. I thought that Hitchcockian dot net would reveal to me the seedy underbelly of the world where people use this word. Alas, it was not to be so. It's one of those weird mini-sites full of links. Hitchcockian bastards.
Okay, so there we come back to my thought process. "Hitchcockian" sounds like other things to me. It also sounds very "made-up," which I'm sure it is/was. It works as a word, I suppose. I know what Ebert means when he says it. I suppose it's been used to describe M. Night Shyamalan's work. I would.
But it made me think of other things:
Mr. Tom Fooligan, Football Hooligan. He's so...so....Footooligan.
Or perhaps a rogue, attractive in a, "he's such a boor, but I could tame him, and I bet he's good in the sack," sort of way. He's so Madmartigan.
Of course, we can always go to the verb side of Hitchcockian: someone who's always grabbing his crotch.
Okay, I'm done.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
My mother's home.
I was stunned by a news story I read today. It was on the AP wire, a national news story that I have since learned is international news.
A photographer, living in my mother's small hometown of Oxford, Iowa, took photographs of most every resident of the town in 1984. In 2005, he took photos of the same people who remained. He was surprised at how many actually did remain living there. He teamed up with a writer and University instructor, and the result is The Oxford Project.
It shows small town America, unadorned, hopeful, tragic, and otherwise the same as all of us. It is a stunning portrait of humanity.
It also showcases some of my relatives. Iowa Honn is my great-aunt; she was married to my grandfather's brother. Her son, John Honn, is also featured in the project. He's my dad's cousin.
Please take some time looking at the gallery of the site. I'm hoping and hoping for this project to be made into a book, so that I may keep it close forever. My mother has already started an even more important process: she's contacted the photographer to get a copy of the photograph he took of her mother, my grandmother, in 1984. She died in 1997, and therefore was not included in the final project.
It's just so wonderful for me to know that my family, and part of my childhood as far as that town is concerned, has made some interational history (Guardian Weekend is running an article in September, and Shanghai Morning Post is running an article soon).
For some reason, I'm proud. And I didn't have anything to do with it.
Photo Copyright Peter Feldstein. All rights reserved to him. Used with permission.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
Vacation Log: Gettin' closer to the end
I'm starting to feel anxious for the end of my vacation, and feel like doing vacation-y things. Like last night, for instance, when I was making sugar scrubs, I had a beer.
I know, I know. Big freaking whoopity-doo. But I am a teetotaler. Usually. So this was a "new" thing for me. It was okay.
Last weekend was a very good one at the markets, which made me a bit nervous, because I now have to keep up with production. My sugar scrub debut went far better than I could have imagined. I sold all but 3 of them. I spent Sunday night making two more batches (20 jars of scrub), and have to develop a third scent. Your ideas are appreciated. Right now I have:
Lavender Orange (it sold out!)
and
Mystical Mint (combination of pink grapefruit, peppermint, and spearmint).
I'm talking online with a friend, who suggested I make a "fruit salad" one: Lime, orange, grapefuriut--and I could do lemon, too.
Okay, forget the suggestions...I'm doin' the fruit salad.
I can't believe that I have to go back to school in...24 days. Gaaah! This frightens me. I feel like I need to be vacationing harder. More fun will be had! More alcohol will be drunk! More days will be spent in leisure! I swear it!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Good reviews
I got a good review on a blog comment, which lead to someone reading it, which led to a soap sale. So, thanks, Sudiegirl! I appreciate the recommendation. You made me some money, today.
Which just goes to show you, the internet is, indeed, a wonderful place.
On now, to Deadwood.
MAN, I LOVE THIS SHOW!
You know I love a show when the whole episode is prep for the NEXT episode, and I still want to watch it twice in one night. Which someone can do, if that someone has digital cable and has both HBO-East and HBO-West channels. *big grin* If you are into grisly, violent fight scenes, you can see last week's right here. I'm warning, you, though. It is both violent and grisly. You have been warned. Repeatedly.
One more thing: if you don't watch the show, then you are cheering for Dan, in the fight. He's the one with the long hair and no hat. Okay, then.
Although, tonight, I don't think I'll watch the show again, as I'm tired from this weekend. Two markets in over 100 degree heat. I'm wiped out. So now, I have to go make soap, and sugar scrubs, and more soap. It's a good problem to have.
Which just goes to show you, the internet is, indeed, a wonderful place.
On now, to Deadwood.
MAN, I LOVE THIS SHOW!
You know I love a show when the whole episode is prep for the NEXT episode, and I still want to watch it twice in one night. Which someone can do, if that someone has digital cable and has both HBO-East and HBO-West channels. *big grin* If you are into grisly, violent fight scenes, you can see last week's right here. I'm warning, you, though. It is both violent and grisly. You have been warned. Repeatedly.
One more thing: if you don't watch the show, then you are cheering for Dan, in the fight. He's the one with the long hair and no hat. Okay, then.
Although, tonight, I don't think I'll watch the show again, as I'm tired from this weekend. Two markets in over 100 degree heat. I'm wiped out. So now, I have to go make soap, and sugar scrubs, and more soap. It's a good problem to have.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Fence update.
Looks like the city inspector was called in by the neighbors, who gave the fency-folks what-for. I don't know if they got fined or what, but when I came back from my errands today, the fence was half as short as before, but still not finished, and still ugly. The gossip is, these folks were also given their last warning about having their washer and dryer* sitting out on their front porch.
I do so love living in the ghetto.
*NOT an actual photo. Believe me. These are too perfect.
Good fences make good neighbors.
Last night, as I was just finishing with our na-night routine, and getting my daughter a drink of water, a voice startled me at my front door.
"Hellloooooo," it crooned, scaring the shit out of me.
"Gah! T! You scared the shit out of me!"
"I'm sorry, Amy, I didn't mean to scare you."
"Is everything okay?" I asked, worried. Our neighbors don't come calling at night.
"Oh, it's fine, everything is okay. You just need to come over here and look at my new fence."
"Um...okay. I'll be over in a minute." I knew something amusing was happening. T's face was a mixture of bewilderment and resigned laughter.
I put the kiddo to bed, and trotted across the street. It was immediately apparent what the problem was. The neighbors next to T. had erected a chain-link fence in their front yard. Not only was it unsightly, it was bizarre; it was about 15 feet long, and 6 feet high, and that's it. Just one fence wall. No corners. It didn't seem to have post holes dug, or anything. The chain-link itself was sagging. It was the strangest thing.
About 5 of us stood around, discussing this monstrosity. It was right along their property line, so they had the right to erect a fence there. But it is so desperately unsightly. It's 6 feet tall! It's like having a deathmatch cage in your front yard. Plus, it's right next to their neighbor's yard, T's yard, which is the nicest in the whole neighborhood.
So this morning, as I'm sitting at my computer, drinking coffee and taking things slow, I noticed one of the folks from the deathmatch-cage house taking down the fence. Relieved, I went back to my work.
Then my dog started barking at the front door. I told her to zip it, and looked to see who was out there. The fence is going back up. They just took it down to start properly installing it, with post holes, corners, etc. If concrete is involved, things are going to get ugly. I know that in T's house, they are going to call the city inspectors, knowing that the neighbors have no permit to erect the fence. If they don't, they will have to tear it down.
Why doesn't T just talk to them, you ask? Because they don't speak English, that's why. Also, it's their right to erect a fence (with a permit) in their front yard. We aren't in a covenant-controlled community. It's just Denver.
So, they are going to have a 6-foot-tall chain-link fence surrounding their front yard. Oh, I've left out the best part. The reason for this fence, we all speculate with confidence, is because of their toddler. He's about 18 months old, I guess, and regularly escapes the house, sprinting down the street or sidewalk. Sprinting, I tell you. He knows something the other folks in that house don't: escaping this neighborhood is imperative! Look, there's an opening! The door's open, and they aren't watching me! Now's the time! Hit it! And off he goes.
Every day, I see an adult from that house sprinting down the street to catch the baby. Yesterday, when M. was backing out of his garage, T. had to put a body-block on the baby, because he was in full sprint, right toward their driveway. My husband has warned the people there that they need to watch that baby, because some cars come down our street rather fast, and something could happen. Well, after yesterday's almost-run-over-by-the-neighbors incident, their response is not heightened awareness of where their kid is, but a fence. A huge, cage-fence in their front yard.
Um....how about locking the front door and keeping the kid inside? How about hanging out in the already-fenced backyard? How about using a bit of discipline to teach the kid what you want? I mean, seriously. A huge front-yard fence, for your kid?
It's going to get more and more interesting.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Time to get moving
I may have my husband almost convinced about moving to the country. It won't happen anytime soon, as we can't afford it, and I am under contract, etc. However, I found a great house on 5 acres, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 3 car garage plus workshop, finished basement, office, etc. etc. Supremely affordable, too.
We might have to start packing up, getting rid of things, etc. We move slowly around here, so maybe this could happen within a year. Do I think that house will still be available? No, but I bet I can find something nearly as good.
Of course, don't put too much stock in this move. We haven't even finished our basement here yet. Or our backyard plans. Or our front yard plans. We may never be able to move.
We might have to start packing up, getting rid of things, etc. We move slowly around here, so maybe this could happen within a year. Do I think that house will still be available? No, but I bet I can find something nearly as good.
Of course, don't put too much stock in this move. We haven't even finished our basement here yet. Or our backyard plans. Or our front yard plans. We may never be able to move.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
'Nuther vacation log
Last Friday, cutie girl woke up with a huge swollen upper lip. It didn't get worse, so we waited until Monday to take her to the doctor, because it was still there. She has a huge welt/thingy on her upper gum, protruding out quite far, and it was bleeding. Eeew! The doctor said it was not infected, and told me to administer Children's ibuprofen and come back in a week.
Well, just since we've been doing the ibuprofen, her mood has improved considerably, as have her sleeping habits. Imagine that: pain relief means better sleep and disposition. Who woulda known?
Also, today the swelling is down considerably. Maybe we won't have to go back on Monday, after all. It was traumatic for her last time--3 people holding her down while she screamed. Yeah, I don't want to revisit that.
I've been making soap. My fatigue has impacted my practice--I made a mistake measuring last night, so I have to re-batch that tonight. Grrr. I can't unleash lye-heavy soap onto the public, though. Lye-heavy=bad. Fatty=good.
Well, just since we've been doing the ibuprofen, her mood has improved considerably, as have her sleeping habits. Imagine that: pain relief means better sleep and disposition. Who woulda known?
Also, today the swelling is down considerably. Maybe we won't have to go back on Monday, after all. It was traumatic for her last time--3 people holding her down while she screamed. Yeah, I don't want to revisit that.
I've been making soap. My fatigue has impacted my practice--I made a mistake measuring last night, so I have to re-batch that tonight. Grrr. I can't unleash lye-heavy soap onto the public, though. Lye-heavy=bad. Fatty=good.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Summer Vacation Log
Well, summer vacation is in full swing. Time for an update, I guess. I feel like summer is slipping through my fingers. I can't find time to actually relax. I crave time completely alone, and I have none, really. It's difficult to find. I suppose I should schedule it.
Which I did, yesterday. Yeah, it's only 20 minutes, but I'm scheduled for an appointment with a psychic, two Fridays from now. Hee. It ought to be enlightening, and, of course, frivolous, which is what I need.
I suppose scheduling to have lunch with friends would be a good idea. Take a little time and get my feet done. Etc. Etc.
I've been spending a lot of time making soap and lip balm. Hope it pays off. Gotta make that extra credit card payment soon.
Which I did, yesterday. Yeah, it's only 20 minutes, but I'm scheduled for an appointment with a psychic, two Fridays from now. Hee. It ought to be enlightening, and, of course, frivolous, which is what I need.
I suppose scheduling to have lunch with friends would be a good idea. Take a little time and get my feet done. Etc. Etc.
I've been spending a lot of time making soap and lip balm. Hope it pays off. Gotta make that extra credit card payment soon.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Toiletry
Today I needed a break from everybody. I've finally been getting some sleep, but since doing that, my body only wants more. I'm tired all day, now. Depression? Recovery from the school year? Who knows?
In any case, I was on the internet, and papa was watching the cutie, and I was looking at crafty things. And then I thought, "You should just go to the craft store. It is summer, you know."
So I told papa and cutie that I was going out.
However, I didn't go to the craft store. I went to Cost Plus World Marketplace. I must say, I am disappointed in their soap selection. They aren't importing handmade soaps anymore. They are all "made exclusively for Cost Plus" by some company in California. They used to have French soaps and Scottish soaps--no more. Furthermore, many of the soaps they carry are glycerin-based, and not handmade. *sigh*
After that, I went to the Cherry Creek Mall, which is right next door. I bought myself a pair of new Crocs--the flip-flop style you see above, only with a white footbed and light blue, um...outer parts.
Anyway, before I bought the shoes, I had to visit the ladies' room. Now, this is where it gets interesting. Cherry Creek has always had the best toilet stalls ever. I went in there, and closed the door, and hung my purse on the very thoughtful hook. I locked the door. I then strode to the toilet, which was a full 3 feet from the door. There is a LOT of room in those toilet stalls. And with the door locked, nobody's going to bother you. I thought to myself, the person who needed some solitude, " I could stay in here all day and read a book, and nobody would know." It was a very comforting thought. Furthermore, the stall for people with disabilities is so large, a mother with a large stroller could fit in there, comfortably. They do have a family restroom that is spacious, as well, but in a pinch someone could use that stall. Or they could set it up as a small office.
With my new Crocs in hand, I walked on and found myself in front of the "handmade" soap store. I guess most of their soap is, indeed, handmade. I found some that wasn't, but whatever. They had good stuff, mostly. I bought a sugar scrub, thinking I can reproduce it for myself. I don't think I want to sell them, as there are preservative issues involved.
But I bet I can recreate it close enough that I'll be happy with it. I need to use it on my feet. They are currently hideous.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
OMG!
Online marketing easy strategy number 1 (one):
Always, always, ALWAYS put a link to your book/soap/whatever in your email signature line.
This week, my website link was posted to a writing newsletter, unbeknownst to me. I sent the editor an email, thanking her for a good idea she had, and that I pursued. It seems she included every single part of my email, including the website link and book link.
Of course, she's a publisher, so she knows how important these links are.
I HEART ANGELA HOY! If you are a writer, you should too. Go join the WritersWeekly newsletter and forum. It's great networking, great fun, and run by a great gal.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Nobody knows this.
Nobody knows how depressed I can get in the early days of summer.
I suspect I'm not the only teacher that feels this way, which is why I'm revealing it. It takes me a long while to shed the stress of the school year. Since it ends very suddenly, and summer begins very suddenly, the transition can be tough. I still feel the need to fill my days to the brim. I still feel the need to work 12 hours each day, at least. I still feel like I should fall into bed each night, so exhausted that I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.
And so I schedule things--all the things that didn't get finished during the school year. Banking, cleaning, shredding junk mail, sorting laundry for the goodwill, gardening projects, etc. etc. It all gets very big and looms very large, and then I have something to stress out about.
At which point, I start to get very depressed.
I'm used to being under a tremendous amount of stress, and I'm used to working a tremendous amount each day, so that when I sit and think, "I should be relaxing," I can't relax, because my list is so long. I think, "No time for that--there's too much to finish."
I have no balance in my life during the school year, and I don't have much balance in the summer anymore, either. It's far better than last year, however, when I was working for the university--that was far worse.
So today, I haven't done much in the way of anything. I did unmold the soap I made last night, and cleaned my mold and prepared it for tonight's soap. Otherwise...I've put in a load of laundry, and played with my daughter, and had a lengthy, in-person conversation with a friend. Watered the tomatoes. Made some mac and cheese for the cutie.
I'm still depressed, though. I feel trapped.
I suspect I'm not the only teacher that feels this way, which is why I'm revealing it. It takes me a long while to shed the stress of the school year. Since it ends very suddenly, and summer begins very suddenly, the transition can be tough. I still feel the need to fill my days to the brim. I still feel the need to work 12 hours each day, at least. I still feel like I should fall into bed each night, so exhausted that I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.
And so I schedule things--all the things that didn't get finished during the school year. Banking, cleaning, shredding junk mail, sorting laundry for the goodwill, gardening projects, etc. etc. It all gets very big and looms very large, and then I have something to stress out about.
At which point, I start to get very depressed.
I'm used to being under a tremendous amount of stress, and I'm used to working a tremendous amount each day, so that when I sit and think, "I should be relaxing," I can't relax, because my list is so long. I think, "No time for that--there's too much to finish."
I have no balance in my life during the school year, and I don't have much balance in the summer anymore, either. It's far better than last year, however, when I was working for the university--that was far worse.
So today, I haven't done much in the way of anything. I did unmold the soap I made last night, and cleaned my mold and prepared it for tonight's soap. Otherwise...I've put in a load of laundry, and played with my daughter, and had a lengthy, in-person conversation with a friend. Watered the tomatoes. Made some mac and cheese for the cutie.
I'm still depressed, though. I feel trapped.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
Beast, Shmeast.
Oh, brother. Here we go.
I saw a HUGE write-up in the Rocky Mountain News today, about , of all things, tomorrow's date. June 6, 2006. If written numerically, 06.06.06.
May I be the first to say
WHOOOPITY-DING-DONG.
This is the most ridiculous excuse for getting worked up that I can imgaine. Don't we remember Y2K? Don't we remember what happened? That's right: NOTHING!
Nothing happened. The calendar turned. No earthquakes. No fire and brimstone, for certain. No end-of-the-world. Not even an end of the internet!
And now, this. Now we have talk of women scheduling C-sections so that their babies won't be born on that date. I don't know if that's true, it's just something I've read, and I can't imagine if a news story actually can establish it as fact. However, I wouldn't put it past some people.
I hope my feelings are clear: this is LUDICROUS. We are all going to get up tomorrow, brush our teeth, shower or not, and go about our day. Nothing untoward is going to happen that is out of the ordinary. No spawn of "Satan" is going to spring out of the ground, and begin wreaking havoc on the masses.
Nope. Not gonna happen. Absolutely ridiculous.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Egocentric
So I was at a baby shower today, and we began discussing different neighborhoods in Denver. Blah blah blah, my neighborhood is mentioned, and someone asked, "Is that the King Soopers with all the Jesus candles?"
"Um....I guess so?" I answered. And next was the moment when I showed my egocentrism:
"Don't all the grocery stores have the Jesus candles?"
"Um.....NOOO0OOOOOOOooooo, they don't!" was the ubiquitous answer. Well. I didn't know that. Because, apparently, if they sell Jesus candles in my grocery store, they sell them in all stores. Silly me, forgetting about "target markets" and such.
THEN the conversation changed to the Jesus candle, and whether or not they make Hindu candles that look like the Jesus candles, but have the Hindu gods on them. As you can see above, they do.
I'm gonna get me some tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Discounted Soap! Get yours now!
Okay, folks, this is the deal:
When making soap, it is important to keep track of the ingredients involved very carefully. Making soap is not like cooking--a mistake can mean the soap will be drastically altered. On the bad end, too much lye means the soap will be caustic to the skin, causing extreme irritation.
That's not what happened here.
I was making my Lavender Calendula Baby Soap--standard recipe (100% olive oil) that I've done many, many times. Well, I missed a tick mark when I was measuring out the pounds of oil and........I added an extra pound to the batch. The result: a very soft soap, that holds its bar shape, smells fabulous, and is GUARANTEED not to last very long. Or lather much.
However! You, as the reader of this blog, have the opportunity of a lifetime! Okay, the opportunity of a month when the soap maker was scatterbrained--these soaps are ultra-gentle, ultra-soothing, and ultra-discounted. Each bar of this particular soap is just $2.00. I've got 36 bars.
Let me know how many bars you would like to reserve. I'm not stamping them with my groovy stamp, either. We've just got to get these soaps out to the people.
Oh, and one more thing: the soaps were in the mold, near the window. Bad Dog jumped up on them to get to the window. BAD DOG! So, some of the soaps have paw/claw prints in them. No worries--the soap was covered with plastic at the time. *sigh* Welcome to my world.
Contact me through my website to order these bars.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Make that "Spring Vacation."
We made it through the first real heat wave of the year unscathed. And now I sit, sipping hot tea and wearing a sweater, in my kitchen. It is 61 degrees outside currently, and much cooler than that in the shade, of course. And it feels cooler than that in our house, the windows of which were open all night, because we've made that a habit, what with the heat.
But not tonight, I think.
No, today it is supposed to be a perfect 74 degrees. I plan on taking the cutie to the park to wear her out. We might go by a street festival I know of, as well. Get a funnel cake. (I don't like these, but I'm betting my cutie will.)
My snapdragons are up and blooming. The photo is from google--not mine. Mine are a firey orange-red with orange centers, and a darker red. I have a few in my window box as well, that are pink with yellow centers. I love snapdragons. We plan on doing a lot of gardening this summer. I think the day after tomorrow will be a good day for it, as it is supposed to rain tomorrow, and digging in this horrible clay dirt after a few dry, hot days is a nightmare. We're planting trees and creating flower beds, hauling bark chips and flagstone, and good dirt in bags. Coming from Iowa, there is still a bit of hilarity in my mind when I purchase a huge bag of something called "Supersoil." In Iowa, that's called simply, "dirt."
Friday, May 26, 2006
Summer vacation is here.
Today is the first day of this year's summer vacation. It usually takes me until Monday to register that I'm on vacation. However, my margarita and beer yesterday helped me to feel relaxed and vacation-y. I'm paying for it this morning (such a teetotaler). Took some ibuprofen and had some coffee with my eggs-and-toast breakfast. That is another indicator that I'm on vacation, too.
I must confess my sadness at this school year ending, mixed with overwhelming relief. The relief comes from this infernal year simply ending. I conferred with several colleagues who have been teaching a long time (one of them for 40 years), and they confirmed that this year was one of the most difficult. Our principal got sacked 2/3 of the way through, so our AP took over, and we got a new AP. But then we got a new principal for next year, who is bringing in her own AP (apparently they can do that), so our old AP is out, too. I don't know how I feel about our new principal--she's been working in a school where many of the children are hand-picked, and doesn't understand why two people run our discipline office. Ha. I think she's going to have what is known as a "rude awakening."
The sadness comes from losing another friend to the lure of adventure. Friend S. is attempting to secure a teaching job elsewhere. He does not want to stay in this school district, and since he is single, is searching for jobs in places he would like to live--Scotland, Montana...and somewhere else I can't remember. He's moved out of his apartment, because his roommate is getting married and has moved out. This spurred him to purge his belongings and move the stuff he wanted to keep down to his mom's place.
Yesterday, the last day of school, I kept running off to the lavatory or some other private place, to cry. I can't imagine not teaching with S. next year. We've been teaching together for the past four years, and during the first year became very close friends, and have been since. We team-teach every day, me being the special ed teacher. I feel like I'll never see him again, which is possible.
Just last week, some friends of mine moved out of state. I feel like people are running away from me, and I'm filled with sadness. It's a difficult time in my heart.
This pain is lessened, however, by my daughter, who climbed into bed with us in the middle of the night, and since she wasn't kicking either of us in the kidneys, we left here there. I woke up looking at my girl, blinking slowly, turning her head, looking at me, smiling, whispering, "Hi, Mama," in the sunshine. Was it coming from the window or from her face?
I suppose I'll make it.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
My husband, the smart-arse.
I make soap. That's one of the things I do. Not only do I make it, but I sell it for a profit. Many people have purchased my soaps and find them lovely. Many people have received my soaps as gifts and wondered, "Is she trying to tell me I smell?"
But I digress.
Today, after dinner, my husband decided it was time for him to bathe. Thank goodness. It is Tuesday, after all.
So he's in the tub, and starts hollering for me. I go in there and have the following conversation:
Me: What!?
Smart-Arse Man: What's this soap? (hands it to me)
Me: *smells soap* It's Macho Man Face and Body Soap.
S.A.M.: Pfft. Isn't there any decent soap in this house?
*rolls eyes*
He knows, of course, that I have about 400 bars in the garage. Ass.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Best. Rejection. Ever.
Just this morning I was discussing a "good rejection letter," with a novelist friend of mine. She had received one. This afternoon, after a particularly harrowing day at work, I received one as well.I had entered a writing contest sponsored by The Denver Post. Every year they choose 16 people to be a "Colorado Voice." Those people get the prestige of being in the paper, plus a "modest honorarium." Hmm.
In any case, I participated in this contest, as I did last year. My rejection letter last year pretty much looked like this:
You lose. Get off my property.
Oh, okay. It wasn't quite that bad last year. It was more like:
Thank you for playing. You lost.
Yeah, more like that. Short and to the point. This year, however, the letter was far more detailed. Included were these points:
It gets better! My letter contains a personal P.S.! The details therein:
I never knew that a rejection letter could be the perfect end to a perfectly crappy day, but this one sure worked for me. And can I use another bizarre exclamation?
- Nearly 400 writers participated
- My articles made the first cut, as the "final 80 contenders."
It gets better! My letter contains a personal P.S.! The details therein:
- The judges, "...loved your writing." Your meaning my.
- "Your talent is extraordinary!" Wheeeeee, dogies! Someone noticed what my mom always thought!
- I was among the 30 final writers. I.e., I made the second cut. Yowsa!
- I was encouraged to try again next year (of course).
- I was encouraged to email her my ideas for guest commentary, and she would consider them! Whee!
I never knew that a rejection letter could be the perfect end to a perfectly crappy day, but this one sure worked for me. And can I use another bizarre exclamation?
I think I can!
Sweet Fancy Moses!
Sweet Fancy Moses!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
What the hell is a meme?
Someone please tell me what a "meme" is, because I don't know. Apparently, it's something like this:
Four movies I would watch over and over:
Almost Famous
Undercover Brother
Bridget Jones' Diary
The Beverly Hillbillies
Four of my favorite flowers
Peonies
Lilies
Lavender
Cosmos
Four magazines I suscribe to or buy on a regular basis
Entrepreneur
Cook's Illustrated
InTouch Weekly
US News and World Report
Four of my childhood toys still in my posession
Various stuffed animals. Otherwise, none.
Four TV shows I love to watch
Deadwood
Sex and the City
The Next Top Food Dude (or whatever it's called..it's on Food TV)
that's it. I don't watch a lot of TV.
Four recurring nightmares
Being killed at school.
Being kicked in the stomach by my principal at school, and then she looks at me and gets mad when I protest.
Being killed at school.
Being killed at school.
Four places I've been on vacation
Iowa
New York City
Colorado (in my youth...it's been a while since I've been on vacation...)
Austria/Germany/Poland/Czechoslovakia--this wasn't vacation, but I've been there.
Four languages I can speak
English
German
Spanish
Special Ed Teacher
Four places I would rather be right now
In bed, sleeping
At home with my child
Getting a pedicure
Anywhere but here
Four of my favorite foods
Strawberries
Roasted chicken
Fresh green salad
Toast
Four of my favorite alcoholic beverages
Bourbon
Tequila
Red wine
Vodka
Four of my worst vices
Sloth
Reading InTouch Weekly
Picking my pimples
Biting my fingernails
Four accomplishments I'm most proud of
My marriage
Owning my own business
Writing a book
Publishing said book by myself
Four of my biggest fears
My child being killed
My husband dying
Not being able to ever be self-employed
Not being able to enjoy my life
Four genres of radio stations programmed in my car
Classic rock 99.5 The Mountain.
that's it.
Four items I always carry in my purse
Wallet
Phone
Keys
Lip balm
Four things I look for in a mate
Loves me
Sense of humor
Conversation skills
Kind
Four things (realistic) I want to do in the next four years
Finish writing my teacher book
Publish my teacher book
Sell many many copies of my teacher book
Become independently self-employed
Four friends I am tagging who I think will respond
None of my friends will do this.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Wikipedia Game
As I mentioned earlier in this blog, I'm a copycat with no imagination. So, when my friend told me to play the Wikipedia Game, I did.
To play: Go to Wikipedia.org, and do a search for your birth date, without the year. Then, on your blog, list at least:
--3 neat facts
--2 births
--and 1 death
that all happened on your birthday. A-like so:
February 1:
1790 - In New York City, the Supreme Court of the United States convenes for the first time.
1920 - The Royal Canadian Mounted Police begin operations.
1978 - Director Roman Polanski skips bail and flees to France after pleading guilty to charges of engaging in sex with a 13-year-old girl.
1999 - North Dakota Public Radio is launched.
2003 - Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrates over Texas upon reentry killing all seven astronauts onboard.
2004 - Janet Jackson exposes her breast on American television during the half-time show of the Super Bowl.
Births:
1901 - Clark Gable, American actor (d. 1960) [rrrowr]
1902 - Langston Hughes American writer (d. 1967) [awesome]
1931 - Boris Yeltsin, President of Russia
1937 - Don Everly, American musician (Everly Brothers) [Wake Up Little Susie]
1937 - Garrett Morris, American comedian [from Saturday Night Live]
1938 - Sherman Hemsley, American comedian and actor [Mr Jefferson!]
1942 - Terry Jones, Welsh actor and writer [of Monty Python's Flying Circus!]
1948 - Rick James, American musician and composer (d. 2004) [he's dead, bitch!]
1965 - Sherilyn Fenn, American actress [from Twin Peaks, my favorite show when I was in college]
1965 - Princess Stéphanie of Monaco
1968 - Lisa Marie Presley, American singer and actress [Yep. Elvis' daughter]
1969 - Me. :)
2003 - My daughter. :) :)
Deaths:
1851 - Mary Shelley, English author (b. 1797) [wrote Frankenstein]
1966 - Hedda Hopper, American gossip columnist (b. 1885) [whoever she is--I like her name]
1976 - George Whipple, American scientist, recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine (b. 1878) [and presumably inventor of Charmin]
2003 - The crew of the Space Shuttle Columbia, astronauts:
* Michael P. Anderson (b. 1959)
* David Brown (b. 1956)
* Kalpana Chawla (b. 1961)
* Laurel Clark (b. 1961)
* Rick D. Husband (b. 1957)
* Willie McCool (b. 1961)
* Ilan Ramon (b. 1954)
Finished my taxes!
Take THAT, IRS.
The bad news: I owe taxes.
The good news: I owed taxes last year, and had to pay them with my credit card, which sucked. How is that good news? Because of that experience, I saved money every month to put toward this year's taxes.
The best news: I have enough money, with some left over, to pay this year's taxes. Yay!
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Back to work.
Well, spring break is over. That's all I get. Let's see how much of my list I got finished:
1. I made about 4 batches of soap. That's 168 bars. Not too shabby.
2. I ordered my banners for the market.
3. I ordered supplies to make lip balm and more buttah.
4. I picked up supplies I had ordered last month.
5. I went to Costco and bought soap supplies.
6. I made my presence known online.
7. I did some research for my new website.
How did I do?
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Wacky weather.
It was INCREDIBLY warm yesterday, which was wonderful. I got a lot done in the garage, while watching my cutie play with bubbles and dance. I took her to the park with papa, got some errands done, ate dinner at home with my family.
It was a wonderful, wonderful day.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Spring break log: Day 3
I suppose yesterday was day 3, because we should count the weekend as the beginning of vacation.
What have I completed from my list? I made a batch of goat milk soap yesterday. Taught at the University last night (was that on the list?). Did a load of laundry. DH is cleaning and rearranging the garage, so that our soap making can be more productive.
Today I plan on relaxing a lot. The weather is nice, so DD and I will probably go to the park. I'm going to put soap on my new shelves in the garage, and label the shelves. I'll probably make another batch of soap tonight.
Oh, and I was talking to the bank yesterday about getting a business account and some merchant status. That's going to be a slower process--a choice, not a requirement.
I've got to do some gradebook stuff for my University class. Otherwise, today is all choice. I love that!
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Spring Break is Here!
Yay!
My parents were in town this past weekend, so I didn't get anything "done" per se, which I suppose is okay. Of course my entire existence is dependent upon what I get accomplished in a day. I was too tired this weekend to do anything, anyway.
However, refreshed by a full night's sleep (finally!), I'm ready to tackle everything:
Soap making
soap sign making
tablecloth washing
tent preparing
soap making
shelf assembling
label making
label applying
cream making (see photo)
container ordering
container filling
etc.
etc.
etc.
Let's see what I can get finished.
p.s. For those wanting to smear their skin with the lotion pictured above, click here.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
One of my favorite blogs is by a woman named Sherri who lives in San Francisco. She's heading to LA, and is a bit scared. Her description of LA is HILARIOUS.
I recommend you read it.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Chanty McGee
Yesterday was another long day at work. After such a day, especially on America's National Drunk Fest (i.e. St. Patrick's Day), many people head to the pub for a pint. They sit with their friends, relaxing, taking in the atmosphere of dark wood, cigarette smoke, and alcohol.
Others go to the local Metaphysical Faire. That would be me.
We took our baby girl to nephew's house, where grammy was watching nephew. She took our girl, too, and hubby and I took off. We took the long way to get there, as it was rush hour and we decided to take some "shortcuts." We finally arrived.
Once there, it was a matter of browsing around for a tarot reader/psychic/other weirdo to tell us our business. Of course, the faire has many vendors as well, and I wanted to peruse them all. Which I did.
While hubby was waiting for his reading, I wandered around and realized that my back hurt. I almost sat down to rest (a sensible thing), when I spied a dude with a massage chair. "Ah!" I thought. "I can get a little mini-massage while waiting for hubby." So I gave the dude my money, and settled into his chair.
He began a-rubbin', and it felt good. He talked to me about energy, and healing, and how his engery would enter me (oh, dear), and that he might make noises and such while rubbin' me, because he likes to chant, to tap into the universal energy, etc.
"um..what?" I thought to myself. But before I knew what was happening, Chanty McGee began.
"ooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmm," he chanted, right into the top of my head. The sound went right down my spine to the small of my back, where I was in pain, and made it tickle. It tickled like when someone sneaks up from behind you, and talks right into the back of your neck with a low voice. You know that tickle? Yeah, that's the one, only it traveled down my spine.
"Does that hurt?" he asked, when I squirmed.
"No, the chanting into my head just makes me tickle in my lower back," I said, trying not to laugh.
So Chanty kept on chanting and rubbing, and I did my best not to squirm.
After that, I perused the vendors and found someone to read tarot cards for me, which was cool. It was a good reading, in that she told me everything that I wanted to hear. I like that in a reader.
Oh, and I got a henna tattoo on my hand. As evidenced above.
So, you decide. Better than getting drunk on green beer?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
I love Jones New York
My first round of interviews are over, I think. I haven't received a call from any other schools, but that is still a possibility. The timeline is getting short, however--schools have to be finished with interviews by noon on Tuesday. When I interviewed this afternoon, those folks had been there all day, interviewing, and still had some to do after I left. They said they would be calling folks "by Monday," which means they will probably start calling tonight, if they've made decisions.
I already got one call from a school, just to tell me that they hadn't yet made decisions, and they didn't want me to go the whole weekend without a phone call. I thought that was very professional of them, and told them I appreciated the call. I bet they call folks on Monday, as well.
Now, the waiting.
Before my interview today, I vascillated between being nervous and not caring about the outcome. I do care, but I was trying to get myself not to care so much that I got nervous. I don't know if it worked or not.
I've given up on second-guessing why people hire who they hire. My experience last year was depressing.
I'm just sittin' here, surfing the internet, and waiting...
p.s. I love Jones New York. Throw on anything made by them, and you'll look stunning. I promise.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Hand cramp.
Damn! Those hoops are annoying!
I went to my pre-qualifying "audition" thing today. My parents are in town, got into town last night, and I wasn't able to visit with them until around 6:30pm. My hubby held dinner for me, which was nice but a little unreasonable, I thought. We usually eat dinner around 4pm, because of my work hours.
Anyway, back to the hoops. We had to watch a video of a teacher teaching, take notes on it, and then answer two questions about how we would coach that teacher. Then, we had to read an article that was, essentially, useless (no information there, really), and respond to a prompt. Then, I had to respond to three more prompts, because I was auditioning for "staff developer."
What-ever. I was so tired when I got home. And our girl was so wound up from having grandma and grandpa over for most of the day, she was tired and throwing a fit. She cried and threw a fit for over an hour. Before that hour was up, I was fed up and put her in her bed, even though it was early, thinking that such a fit was caused by fatigue. After about 20 minutes of screaming, she tired out and fell asleep.
So we got to eat most of our dinner in peace. Poor baby girl.
Tommorrow I'm gonna get off from work early, and take us over to the park by my aunt's house, and then for dinner mom and dad are taking us out to a Chinese buffet. Sounds like a good plan to me.
I went to my pre-qualifying "audition" thing today. My parents are in town, got into town last night, and I wasn't able to visit with them until around 6:30pm. My hubby held dinner for me, which was nice but a little unreasonable, I thought. We usually eat dinner around 4pm, because of my work hours.
Anyway, back to the hoops. We had to watch a video of a teacher teaching, take notes on it, and then answer two questions about how we would coach that teacher. Then, we had to read an article that was, essentially, useless (no information there, really), and respond to a prompt. Then, I had to respond to three more prompts, because I was auditioning for "staff developer."
What-ever. I was so tired when I got home. And our girl was so wound up from having grandma and grandpa over for most of the day, she was tired and throwing a fit. She cried and threw a fit for over an hour. Before that hour was up, I was fed up and put her in her bed, even though it was early, thinking that such a fit was caused by fatigue. After about 20 minutes of screaming, she tired out and fell asleep.
So we got to eat most of our dinner in peace. Poor baby girl.
Tommorrow I'm gonna get off from work early, and take us over to the park by my aunt's house, and then for dinner mom and dad are taking us out to a Chinese buffet. Sounds like a good plan to me.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Jumping through hoops
That's what I'll be doing, tomorrow around 4:30pm. "Auditioning," if you will, to pre-qualify for a job that is primarily staff development.
Which is, primarily, what I do all the time at the university.
*rolls eyes*
Whatever. Here I go.
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