Random 5 Friday (On Friday This Time)

It's Friday and time for my five random events or thoughts this week.

1.  I love my students, and this week I got to take a class on a field trip! I'm so grateful for grant funding and pilot courses.  This one was to the Wind Farm just outside of town.  The winds are regularly up to 40 miles per hour.  There is a local sandwhich shop and the owner, Roz, made us paninis (Ok, mine was a gluten free, vegan sammy) and sent along a panini grill. I cooked lunch for everyone.  We did a boatload of writing, had a very interesting, hour-long lecture and got to go inside one of the turbines. These ones are 220 feet tall, taller than the Statue of Liberty and there are 149 in our area.  Good times!

It was so loud, but the noise is mostly wind.  The propellers sound much smoother and are so enormous.  This is the first video I've tried to upload so let me know how it plays.

My Class

Perspective Shot

2.  I am not a morning person.  Repeat: I am not a morning person.  At least I never have been.  Maybe I'm getting old, but I used to regularly stay up until 1, 2, and 3 a.m.  Now I'm yawning by 9:15 and passed out by 9:45.  Eleanor also gets me up pretty early to feed her and give her water. She really likes routine, much like her staff.  I mean owner.  Ah, who am I kidding? I'm pretty much her servant.  It's also getting colder at night and G likes the bedroom cold. There are two comforters on the bed and another blanket.  Eleanor usually sleeps on my feet, but lately I'll wake up to her sleeping under the covers next to me- both of us purrfectly warm.  Happens every winter.  However, since she's taking Methiozole for her thyroid, she's lost the volume of her meow and the volume of her purr has increased.  This wakes up G.  Usually he can get back to sleep but not always.  When that happens, well, let's just say that I woke up extra early this morning to a kitty extraction.  He removed her from the covers, snuggled her and put her back where she belonged.  She huffed off and didn't come back for hours! 

Also, no pictures of that... 

3.  Since I'm not a morning person but a night person forced to function in society and to serve a cat, I spend a little time each week, maybe thrice weekly, at the gym.  I enjoy weightlifting and G does not. He also goes in earlier than I do each day.  So he heads to the shower and I head to the gym around 6:30.  Here's what that looks like in Ellensburg, Washington. 

"So that's what morning looks like!" 

4. Next week is my last week working at my job.  It's been a nerve-wracking and frightening journey since June. I am disappointed that even though I have a contract, my employers just couldn't come through.  I am glad they tried. I'm incredibly sad that this is happening but not sad that we came here.  G feels the same way, and says we'll be just fine.  It's so hard to let go. I'll still be teaching for the English department and they have been so, so supportive! They will put me on full time in January if I'd like, even though the pay is deplorable for people who do not have an annual contract.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all of the love and support I've experienced.  We will get back on track soon. G is terrific at his job and I'm not sure how they ever managed without him. :) He amazes me with his resiliency.  I think it's true that even though my job is falling apart, I am not as worried as I could be.  Everything else is so good.  Work is work, but my life is very fulfilling.  What's life without a little danger, right? 

Yeah, I'd still rather have some security.

5. I cut my hair off today.  I usually cut it in the fall/winter every other year but I just got tired of all the styling and junk you have to do to look good and cut six inches of my hair off.  Pictures to come soon...

Oh Spring! Oh March!

March is both one of my favorite and least favorite months.

I love lots of things about March- the advent of Spring and the last of the winter snows.  I love those last snows a lot because I know they won't last long.  This year the spring snows didn't even stick. Two nights ago, we turned the faucets on to drip for the last time until Fall. 

Spring Break went well too.  My very nice husband accompanied me to the Olympic Peninsula where we visited my sister and her family and explored Port Townsend, Port Angeles and Sequim.  Yes, he finally decided after months of denial that there is indeed, a place called Sequim.  It's pronounced "Skwim", by the way.  One syllable.  Now, if I can just get Grey to stop calling it "Su-kwim", we'd be set. I got to see an old friend from elementary school that I haven't seen since the late 80s, and boy is a cool dude. He teaches history, specializing in the Bronze Age.  It used to be medieval history but I think he switched over a few years back.  He does some great stuff in the classroom. Stuf I'd like to see published.  He and Grey got to talking about comparisons between some biblical king and King Arthur and I just sat and smiled and took it all in.  Maybe next time we will get to meet his wife.

My quarter is going exceedingly well.  We are two days into the Spring quarter. I've got 4 classes on my plate and teach from 10 a.m. until 3 p.m. It's gonna be a long ten weeks.  Scratch that, 9.5 weeks.  I'm starting to count down already.  I have 3 preps and two classes I haven't taught before. Yikes!

Other good things about March include the ability to wear open-toed shoes without freezing to death and digging out my Spring wardrobe. And it's an energetic month- the buds come out and crocuses bloom and pale legs get flased all over campus- and my exercise regemine is paying off so no more Winter weight.  Don't get me wrong, it serves a purpose, but now it's time to get moving!

Beware the Ides of March, says the soothsayer to Julius Caesar. Truer words have never been spoken.  March has always been a month of death.  I lost my grandma two years ago. Her birthday was on the 25th.   Her oldest sister - My Aunt Sis-  and my cousin were killed by a drunk driver in the last nineties during the month of March and I lost an ex-boyfriend to suicide that month too. Those were dark days.  It's difficult, at the tail end of winter, to clear thoughts from my mind as I look towards flowers and rain and sunshiny days. I can do it, it just takes time.

Fortunately, the sun IS shining. Little birdies are making more little birdies and I painted my toes a bright shade of purple.  Same color and same bottle that my sweet sister-in-law gave me on my wedding day.  Same sweet sister-in-law who just had a gorgeous baby girl last month.  Everyone is healthy and happy there, by the way.  There is so much hope in the world and so much to look forward to, that the weary blues won't last long. Three more days, I predict. 

Then bloom.

And here's a picture of my grandma. Because she is the best.

Bandwagon

One of the nice things about November is that the elections are over.  In this case, my favorite causes won in the national election- Elizabeth Warren, Mazie Hirono, and Tulsi Gabbard all won historic spots in Congress, bringing women up to a record (and still not 50%) number of women representing all of We The People in Washington.  Tammy Baldwin became the first openly lesbian senator from Wisconsin.  It's not that I'm so "pro-woman" or "pro-LGBT" (ok, yes, I am, but I have a bigger purpose here) as I am adamant that our representatives reflect the demographics of who makes up our country.  I am glad that these people- Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Atheists and women- have stepped up.  In many cases, in my opinion, it's just a matter of finding the right person with the courage and backing to go forth and put themselves out there.  I'm not sure I would have the wherewithal myself.

But enough of political talk.

November is also a month of gratitude for many of my friends.  They list all sorts of things they are thankful for, from books and warm houses to coffee, friends, family and even death. I thought about jumping on the bandwagon.  I am grateful for those things too, and would also add technology (hint to my in-laws: we'd love to skype with you!) my job, my amazing husband and boots and snow and a house that doesn't leak.

I love reading what people put up.  It's poignant and often insightful, whimsical and sometimes just sentimental. I guess I could make a short list..

I'm grateful for Eleanor, who is 16 and a cat, for waking me up every day around 6:30 to give her water from the faucet because such a grand dame cannot possibly drink out of a bowl.

I'm grateful for snow because it gives me a chance to stay inside and get fat over the winter.

I'm grateful for coffee for powering my life and uh, keeping things moving...

I'm grateful for my friends in Oklahoma who somehow have the courage to live in a state that not only preemptively banned Sharia law but also in the last 10 years finally banned cockfighting and allowed tattoos, and has only this month done away with Affirmative Action.  Mmmmm yeah...

I'm grateful for breath mints.  If anyone ever, EVER offers you one, you eat that motha and like it.  I don't care if it's not vegetarian.

I'm grateful for deodorant.  See above, you smelly hippie.

I'm grateful for underwear too.  Warm underwear.

And cheese graters.

And unemployment.  When we decided to move here, Grey sacrificed his job in Oklahoma and moved across the country so that I might follow my dream.  As it turns out, this is a very small town with not a lot of employment opportunities.  And it's taking some time to find something.  There are often over 100 applications for every job.  What this translates to is a very patient man who does a wonderful job of distracting his attention into positive energy.  He researches, plans and cooks amazing and nutritious dishes.  I eat like a queen and all I have to do is dishes.  So while I hope Grey finds what he is looking for, I benefit directly from that not working out quite yet.  Nom Nom Nom!

I'm grateful to my mom because she makes amazing and beautiful quilts.  She made me one for my graduation last December and it's currently on the bed, keeping us warm on these frozen nights.  Now if Eleanor would just stop farting on the bed...

I'm grateful for my brother-in-law.  There was a time not too many years ago- long enough that my nephew, his son, would not remember but not long enough for me to forget- that we were not friends.  In fact, there was this moment during an angry confrontation between he and my sister that I had out a knife and I was a few moments of terror and self-righteousness away from letting a little more light into his noggin.  It's no secret that my sisters and I grew up a little on the rough side, and that means quite often that we made choices in our dating and marriages that sometimes involved rough guys.  And my brother-in-law was a rough guy.  And I about stabbed him, straight up.  I'm not proud of that.  I had to go to years of counseling to work out those issues.  The really great thing is that when you flash forward to ten years later, I am glad to report that one of the cool things about visiting my sister is also seeing my brother-in-law.  He is sober and clean and involved with his son's life.  He is supportive of my sister.  He goes fishing and is an expert at smoking salmon.  I should know; it's the only meat I really eat unless my cousin makes duck.  If B-- is making deer jerky, smoked salmon, or anything with crab or shrimp, I'm there.  I feel sorry for everyone who isn't me when B-- cooks.  I eat the hell out of that food and the only stabbing going on is if someone gets in the way.  On second thought, they are much more likely to get bit.  Grey got to witness this phenomena on our last visit.  He wasn't horrified, but let's just say that the honeymoon is over. 

Classic rock is also on the list of things I am grateful for. ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Seger, The Eagles, Queen, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, Rush, Sting (with and without The Police) Iron Butterfly and the plethora of music that I grew up with and still love. We didn't get to bring any stereo equipment when we moved, so I listen to Pandora and a favorite classic rock station in Oklahoma City.  Classic rock is the soundtrack of my life.  Ok, that and classical music.  Don't judge me. Because, seriously, if you were going to judge me, it should have been about the meat-eating or stabbing confession above.

There are a few less tangible things for which I am grateful.

Like perspective.  I had a rough week.  Things just did not go the way I wanted them to go and for the life of me, not everything is under my control. I also know that my dandelion had a rough week too, probably much rougher than mine.  A friend of mine finally got the news this week - after weeks of waiting- that her husband does not have lymphoma as originally thought.  How difficult to wait to exhale for two weeks, and how lovely to get such good news!  My other friend sent me a text this week too- her mom, who is only in her 60s, has been sent home with hospice care for renal failure.  Her diabetes has made it impossible to keep her on the kidney transplant list.  It is a matter of time, and when she goes, my friend will be an orphan.  Her dad died when she was 19 and that's a tough thing to lose both of your parents by the time you are 32.  When I put into perspective how lucky and blessed I am to live the life I do, I am on the whole a fortunate person. So I don't get everything I want- who does? This does not mean I cannot be happy.

Anger.  I am grateful for anger.  For the longest time, I had two feelings: extreme joy or burning hot anger. Over the years, I have been able to identify and feel lots of feelings in between, like indifference, annoyance, slightly okie-dokie, significantly non-plussed and bemused.  The toughest one is "little bit pissed but still reasonable", which is as far as I want to go towards anger.  The acronym I have for self-assessment is HALT.  If I am angry, I have to do a quick self-assessment: Am I Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired?  If I am any one or more of those, it means I need to do some self-care before approaching human beings.  I often just need a nap, a sandwich, a hug or a few minutes to reflect on my part in a situation so that I can refocus on making things better rather than worse.  That just leads to regret.

Regret. I am grateful for the stupid things I have often done.  I tend not to repeat those mistakes and since I'm not 39 and about halfway through my life, I think I have made about half of my mistakes.  I am fairly confident, however, that the mistakes I make from here on out are not the crazy, life-changing ones I made in the past.  Like that '78 Firebird I bought so that I could teach myself to power slide.  Or that time I moved to Denver on 24 hours notice.  Or how I was a bartender for about a year, and not a good one.  Or how I broke a few hearts. 

There are some things I never got to regret.  I had three older sisters I could watch grow up.  That saved me a lot, you know.  I never made their mistakes and they were protective of me.  So protective that on my first date, I was home by 9 with a quick peck on the cheek from a boy terrified that Yvette would beat him up.  She had a reputation for doing that- she beat the snot out of a kid for beating me up in sixth grade.  I'm pretty sure he went on to live a normal life.

Family.  I think this is my favorite intangible.  There is the family you get and the family that gets you.  I have both and I am lucky.  I wouldn't trade my family for anything, as crazy as we are.  My sisters are so funny, creative, laugh-inducing and heartful.  And like me, they each have a streak of iron through them.  We get each other as only siblings can.  Sometimes we tell the old stories, to reassure ourselves that these things really happened.  We used to tell them to someone draw out the poison.  Now we tell the new-old stories, of the younger years in my nieces and nephews' lives.  Of dance parties and grandparents and becoming women.  And now we plot new stories for our families.  And we connect on a deeper level than I can with anyone else.  I married someone who fits right in without even trying, and he is becoming part of those stories. The rest of my family is comprised of long time friends from Washington and Oklahoma. People who know the other parts of me, who have helped me become an adult and who saved me as much as I saved them. 




I guess I jumped on the bandwagon after all, in the style of oversharing and gratitude.  If you are reading this, I am grateful for you too, and hope you have a wonderful holiday season.  Stay warm, eat some turkey (or tofurky) and spend some time with people you love. 

Sculpture

That's not powdered sugar

Home

Grey

Animals and Geography

I have been thinking a lot lately of my little old kitty, Eleanor.

It's a trap.  She's going to grab my hand when I pet her.

One would think at the ripe age of 16 she would be dead.  Or incapacitated or frail or somehow mostly dead.

One would be wrong.  She takes medicines twice daily and has learned that when Grey is going to pill her, it behooves her to act cute and maybe purr him up in an effort to get him to not giver her that pill.  In fact, she has quickly learned how to get on his good side, his bad side and that sometimes he will spoil her (if I am not around) by putting her up on top of a book shelf.  She loves to be up high and will forgive almost anything when she is up there.  In turn, Grey has learned that Eleanor is pretty smart for an old cookie. That he can train her for certain actions, like teaching her some manners about sleeping beside his head.

Yes, apparently when I'm not around, she sleeps by him now. Quite adorable for a man who is allergic to almost every cat he has ever met.  Eleanor is only the second cat he has met that he isn't allergic to. Out of respect for my wonderful husband, who has made this effort because he loves me, I will not post pictures.

Do I look like I'd barf on you? 

But it is hilarious.

Anyway, Eleanor has presented me with a challenge.  In 2008, when I moved back to Oklahoma, I promised, promised, promised my little kitty (she was only 12 then) that we wouldn't move across the country again if she would just live through the trip.  I guess I lied, since we are set to once again make the trip to Washington.  During our frequent trips back and forth between Norman and Tulsa, we have been taking Eleanor with us as necessary.  She has apparently gotten much older these last few years as she tummy, bladder and other parts aren't faring well in the car.  I tried letting her out of her carrier, keeping her in the carrier, giving her some calm down remedy and giving her benadryl.

She had a bad reaction to the benadryl.  Really bad. Everything that can come out of a cat, came exploding out of the cat.  Onto me.  So I talked to my vet and he gave me a prescription for her for amitryptilene.  Amitryptilene is actually an antidepressant and so should alleviate her anxiety and/or make her sleep through the trip.  I'm hoping for sleep because she meows all the way there and back.  She didn't use to do this.  She used to sit in the passenger seat, sleeping or looking out the window.  Sometimes she would sing along to the music on the radio.

Grey and I are both anxious about her ability to survive this trip.  For his end, he has mapped out a 4 day, three night driving course to take us on a scenic trip from Oklahoma to Washington through Montana.  It's beautiful and I have driven this way several times.  But I usually make it in two days, whereas Grey has given us 4.  He is making hotel reservations!  This boggles my mind as I just drive until I can't keep my eyes open and then either sleep at a rest stop or find a motel to crash in for a couple of hours.  His way will be much gentler on our poor little kitty.  My job is to keep her sedated.

I went over a contingency plan with Grey last night: If for some reason Eleanor croaks on the road, I'm buying a travel cooler and some ice so that I can take her with us and have her cremated.  Yes, gross.  I know.  But I'm not leaving my cat in a dumpster in Missoula. Like any sane and normal person, Grey's eyes got that "You must be joking" look to them.  Then when he realized that I'm serious, he got that "You aren't joking.  Ewwwww" look.  "Ok."  That's all he said.  Let's hope that she makes it.

He loves snow

In other animal-related news, my awesome and amazing dog, Big, has gone to a new home.  He was graciously taken in by a family I know.  My friend Moon, who was the one who introduced Grey and I, and his wife now own a Norwegian Elkhound/Wolf mix.  Big joins a couple of other dogs, a few cats and four kids.  They are happy to have him and even their youngest son can walk him on leash.  Yeah, Big is a big gentle baby.  The Ingletts will make sure that he is babied too.

Snow is nice, but it's warmer in the house!

It was a difficult decision to not bring Big with me.  We are renting for the first year while I settle things with the house in Oklahoma.  Renting in a small college town means that it's impossible to find a place in the city limits that will accept a giant breed of dog.  No matter where I looked, I ran into the same problem.  So I did the right thing and found him a home.  Lots of people wanted Big and there were many places he have gone.  He is well trained, happy, sweet, gentle and very, very big and hairy. I am lucky to know so many kind-hearted and willing people.   He will be loved, safe and probably never bored!








In thinking of animals, there are some animals in Oklahoma that I will not miss:

Bark Scorpions are venomous.  And creepy!

Cicadas make a soothing sound in the trees but they look scary.

If you ever wondered how to get rid of scorpions, click here!

Nothing really wrong with June Bugs, but they have terrible navigation and tend to fly in to people.  I also found one in my bed a couple of years ago. 

There is one animal that I will greatly miss in Oklahoma: 

Lightning Bugs are the most beautiful sight on spring and summer evenings.

I didn't include a picture of chiggers, even though I know they are one of the most pesky of pesky Oklahoma critters.  Somehow, in my 13 years of life in Oklahoma, I have NEVER been bitten by one.  They are pretty yucky, burrowing into the skin and laying eggs.  The eggs die because people are unfit hosts, but the wounds left are itchy for weeks.  I have a friend who had to have prednisone after a hike with me.  He was itchy for weeks and still has scars on his legs from that excursion.  

While Washington state does not have to deal with all those flying and biting things, we still have rattlesnakes and fleas to contend with.  And bigger things that can eat you or your old kitty, like bears and coyotes.  

I'll keep you updated on Central Washington.  It will be a new experience for me too, since I have lived on either the extreme West coast or the eastern part, but never in the middle.  I'll take lots of pictures and hopefully give an idea of what we will deal with out there.  Can't be that bad, right?  Less than 150 miles to Seattle, over by a ski area and a mountain pass? 

What's the worst that could happen?

That Awkward Moment When

In every relationship there comes a point when the newness wears off and most of the fronting a person does- any pretending they might be consciously or unconsciously doing- falls away.  I don't think that people set out to deceive each other.  Quite the opposite.  They want a prospective beau to be able to see the best that is in them, minus the dull, everyday attributes or habits that might detract from the view of one's heart.  To that end, they might (and I admit nothing here) take extra time to shave their legs before that third date.  They might eat less at dinner or just stick to salad and say no to the giant brownie sundae dessert even though previously, that brownie sundae was the whole reason you went to that restaurant and when you turn it down the waitress (who knows you, your name and your sundae-snarfing habits) looks at you accusingly and with a little shock.

The old habits are easy to slip back into and once you have that other person hooked, at some point it's ok to let those shine through.  Little do couples know or realize that this is also the make or break point of a relationship.  If after the third month of dating your boyfriend wakes up, and for the first time puts on heavy metal music and skips making coffee even though he bought the coffee maker just because he knew you were staying the night, this should be a sign to you that a) it's alright to make coffee for yourself and/or b) should figure out that even though heavy metal makes your ears want to curl up inside of your head, this is a fact of his life and you will need to take that into consideration when scoping out the wider spectrum of his maleness.  In my oh-so-recent experience, none of those things have happened. Grey drinks stronger coffee than I do and so far, no obnoxiousness in the mornings.

Knowing how relationships tend to go, we have made an effort to not just put that best foot forward.  If I want a dessert, I order one.  If there is no coffee made, one of us will make it.  Hell, he gave me a coffee maker for Christmas because mine was old and I needed to replace it anyway.  Maybe it's just me but I really like getting appliances for gifts.  I hope he takes me seriously when I ask for power tools for my birthday.  Still, there are some things I have take care about in my presentation of self.  I have really horrible, horrible morning breath.  All human beings with perhaps the exception of the Dalai Lama are thus cursed. I believe this is God's way of controlling the human population.  My breath is particularly fragrant and gagging in the morning and I cannot stand myself.  No exhaling permitted without first brushing my teeth.  So the first thing I do in the morning is jump out of bed and scrape the green moss off of my tongue, gargle a little and get back into bed so that I can pretend that I am some sort of heavenly angel who wakes up with Crest at the edges of her smile.

The other minor problem is that I also dislike all morning breath, though I try to hide this little bit of information.  I also don't particularly like my own coffee breath and get a little self-conscious about it. Grey figured that one out pretty quick.  Besides generously and wordlessly brushing his teeth first thing, he has also taken to keeping Altoids around. Since when he makes the two hour drive to my house he drinks coffee, he also stops and buys another tin of Altoids and pops one in his mouth just before he pulls up.  We didn't discuss this beforehand and it never occurred to me to ask about it because it's just something he does.  I found out because I teased him about the increasing number of mostly full Altoid boxes on his kitchen counter.  From my vantage point - writing on his computer here in Tulsa- I can see six boxes and count that as six times he has thought of my comfort level without me even knowing it.  I tell you what though, he probably has no idea that I can kill spiders just by breathing morning breath on them.  I hope he never figures that one out.

The fact is that I have what some people like to think of as "strange dietary habits".  When my roommate moved in she had a conversation with her mom. Her mom said "Does she cook?"  "No." "She eat anything?" "No."  And then VP told her about how I it must be a White people thing that I use spray butter on my food rather than butter or margarine.  If you have ever used spray butter you know it's not really butter but some vegetable oil and flavoring and sixty other preservatives that make it taste good and which makes your food taste buttery without adding calories.  When I was a kid, I would eat nothing but bread and butter for dinner.  Lots of butter.  I can't do that as an adult but I still like the taste.

I also have days when I don't eat much- maybe 700 calories.  I eat when I'm hungry and I'm not always hungry.  My food choices are more often than not very healthy with lots of fruits, veggies and hummus involved.  But some days I'm not as hungry as others.  However, there are times when I'd eat the spoon if I thought it was edible.  And during those times, I also eat what I want.  In any given month, it all evens out.  At first, I was too nervous to even really eat in front of Grey.  The first time he saw me on a hungry day, I'm sure he didn't quite know what to make of the petite eater he was used to seeing.

There are some things that I have cardinal rules about.  I don't go around making body noises around people and pretty much expect that same courtesy.  It's all cool if you or I or anybody just goes into the other room.  We can pretend nothing happened and that we are always rosy.  There's that rule, and everyone knows that rule.  Anyone who doesn't inherently follow that rule is weeded out within the first three dates (interesting side-note: did you know that the third date is now commonly accepted as the date where you have sex? I'm blaming the economy and the expenses of date night activities).

What I am going to tell you next might make you squeamish.  If you have a weak tummy or if you have any respect for me whatsoever, you might want to skip this next part.

We were in New Braunfels for a friend's wedding.  Grey's friend.  I don't like weddings much and tend to avoid them whenever possible.  But I am in love and will travel to Texas to smile at an entire room full of people I don't know and look pretty.  Because it's important to me that Grey is happy and that's much more powerful than my social anxiety.  We pulled up to the hotel just as the men and women were splitting for the night. Grey and I were graciously invited to go have Mexican food with the guys.  Yes, I inadvertently crashed a bachelor party.  As much as 30 somethings have bachelor parties.  And the food was authentic and good.  The men were kind and included me in their conversations even though I had never met any of them.  So that was nice.

But the next day I asked if Grey might wait at the front desk while I ran up to the hotel room. No, he'd rather just come upstairs with me.

Um, that's a problem.  The hotel room was very nice and the hotel itself is a historic landmark, built in the late 1800s in an art deco style.  They happy couple chose it because their wedding was art deco themed.  But the walls are thin, thin, thin and the bathroom door, when closed, still has daylight showing under the bottom and on the sides.  Nooo, it would be better if he stayed in the lobby.  But no, he did not get the hint so on the way upstairs (I was running at this point as it was just a matter of time before my guts turned inside out) I begged him to just sit in the hallway on a beautiful chaise lounge while I magically peeled the paint off of the walls. I texted him from the bathroom. "No more Mexican food. Ever."  Yes, I knew I'd be in there awhile and took technology with me so I could communicate with the outside world.

The wedding went off with a few hitches and the holiday ended peacefully enough.  Nobody had to evacuate the hotel because of my activities. New Years came and went life has gone back to being blissfully normal.  Well, as normal as you can be if you're me.

I'm not sure if Grey has any strange habits, weird quirks or if when I am not at home he bites the heads off of kittens.  I doubt it. So far our idiosyncrasies seem to match up.  That awkward moment when I took a sip of his favorite kind of coffee and realized that I'd have to dilute it by 50% to make it drinkable was sort of a nice one. Because I drink pretty strong coffee. And it goes pretty well with brownie sundaes.

The Ends Of Things

This is the season of the ends of things.  This is the week of the ends of things and the night of the ends of things.  I have to turn in my dissertation revisions tomorrow but instead I'm writing a blog post.  I should be revising. I don't have internet at home right now and have to get to bed by 11 at the latest and that's after a shower.  I work in the morning. 
This is the end of my homeless wanderings.  I've spent the last 6 months wandering all around Oklahoma as my house was rented out while I finished my teaching contract in Ada.  The contract was not renewed and I ended up getting a teaching job in Oklahoma City. I got my house back on September 1.  It was a terrible mess and will cost me thousands of dollars to clean up.  My contractor is installing new kitchen countertops and replacing drywall in the pantry because of the heavy urine smell.  I bug bombed since the roaches were large and singularly unafraid.  One of them looked like "Ponyboy" from The Outsiders. I think he was carrying a straight razor so I backed out of the room and called in a nuclear attack. My cat is happy to be home at least.  The livingroom, hallway and one of the bedroom carpets has been steamcleaned four times and spot treated several times.  While stained badly, they won't be replaced since I just don't have the $1,700 to do it. Then there are the dead trees and landscaping in the back yard and the garbagea dn assorted junk tossed into the yard here and there.  It's going to take several pick up loads to get rid of it.  Now you know where the roaches came from.  All of this on only 6 months.  The meager deposit didn't even begin to cover the steam cleaning. I feel relatively safe tonight and the house is rather stink-free save for the pantry. The contractor will take care of it.  I put the ball in motion.  The end.  My very nice ex-boyfriend is babysitting my Big Dogg and he will come home soon too. My happy little family will be home and in the same place.

This is supposed to be the end of my dissertation. I'm a little blocked.  I don't want this to be over.  I'm teaching full time during the day and in the evenings I teach an online class.  On Tuesday nights I've got an in-person class.  I'm not sure that I'm spending enough time on revisions. I'm not sure what I'm afraid of. I'm not sure if it will pass. I'm not sure if it *should* pass.  I'm not sure what to do next. I've been a student for a long, long time. I don't want that to change. I don't want it to stop. Can't take it back now. I will finish this too and be done with it.

I am glad to be on the back side of summer and the end of the hottest season on record anywhere.  I thought I would die.  I didn't.  I complained a lot on Facebook and obsessed on the topic with my friends and family.  Wildfires raged and tempers flared. For four months I sweated and played ninja in my avoidance of the giant ball of gas in the sky.  I couldn't run more than 2 miles without getting heat stroke.  It went on and on forever until suddenly, like a puff of smoke, it was gone.  Today I turned on the heater in my car on the way to work.  It was all of 55 degrees.  I rejoiced. I reveled in it, rolling down the windows blasting the heater.  I love the descent into fall, bringing in the eaves and putting away the summer dresses.  I love putting the earth to bed, to sleep for a season of dormancy, of well deserved rest already after the long and winding dirt-road season under a burning sun.  And I feel an easing in my mind too, in my philosophy that things can wait and that there is time yet for me to think and to reflect and ponder some of life's greater mysteries. A season to compost my thoughts and plan and to dream.  To gather my wisdom about me like so much yarn to spin into the shawl of age.

I have had the end of a relationship too.  My brother is not speaking to me, nor I to him. I got pulled in to some stupid drama where I did not want to be. I am not a tactful woman and did not pull my punches when I perhaps should have.  We argued and fought and said things we cannot take back and he did something he cannot take back.  For now, for this season, I am done.  I'm not angry anymore but won't open my heart for someone who has caused that much grief for me, knowing the stress it would cause. I hate the ends of relationships and really, really dread conflict.  I do love being healthy and now perhaps we can both be healthy on our own. 

Finally, I am going to end my relationship with Blogspot.  People clicked on the ads.  I was supposedly making money from my blog.  Then I made too much money- over $300 that I never cashed in over the course of a year- and the blogspot people decided to suspend my adsense account.  So now you can read my work but I cannot make money from it.  This is work, keeping a blog and trying to put something thought-filled out there every week.  As soon as I get a suitable new home for my writing, I will let you know and we will go from there together. 

Drink the last of the summer wine. Enjoy the leftover pieces of watermelon in the refrigerator.  Pick the remaining tomatoes from shriveling vines and watch as the squash and pumpkins grow and grow. 
I leave you today with the following from William Butler Yeats:

The Folly Of Being Comforted

One that is ever kind said yesterday:
'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey,
And little shadows come about her eyes;
Time can but make it easier to be wise
Though now it seems impossible, and so
All that you need is patience.'
Heart cries, 'No,
I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain.
Time can but make her beauty over again:
Because of that great nobleness of hers
The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs,
Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways
When all the wild Summer was in her gaze.'

Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head,
You'd know the folly of being comforted.  

The First Week

I've put in my first week of teaching public school. It was pretty much what I thought it would be.  In trying to process the deluge of information, I thought I'd give an overview of what went down and some of my reactions to it.

The important part is the students.  I have about 130 right now.  Some of my classes have 18 students and others have up to 29.  On the first day I had 37 students in one class.  "They won't all come", said the scheduling person.  She was right; two didn't show up.  I protested strenuously.  I didn't have enough teaching resources, let along chairs, for that many students.  It's not teaching at that point- it becomes babysitting.  Most of the kids are cooperative; many are quite bright and capable. Most do not cause problems. I have to protect their time with me from the loud, obnoxious, needy and disruptive other students.  I swear that sometimes my disruptive students just want attention and that even negative attention will do. I took the advice of multiple friends who said to not take any sass and that the first few weeks I shouldn't even crack a smile.  Thus far I have concentrated on routine in the classroom and in getting students used to reading and writing every day, right from day 1.  I am being consistent and hopefully, fair.

I could go on and on about the cool things my students are doing.  Some have read two and three smaller books this week.  Some have surprised me with their willingness to even open a book- that's a real gain in my school. One students is on the third book in the Twilight series. She drew me a picture for my bulletin board. Fortunately, there is a big push by the administration for every student to read 25 books this semester.  We have gone to the library, chosen our own vocabulary words and defined them, figured out how to choose a good book and what genres we like to read.  There will be a test on Monday over their weekend reading- 20 minutes per day each day.  I'm not sure how I'm going to do that part yet but it will come to me.

And there are students who break my heart.  I have one in a group home who came to class with defensive bruising on his arms.  I have one student who got hit with a baseball bat.  I have another with a child and another who tells me he doesn't want to eat in the cafeteria because the kids are all mean to him for being white.  That one I could do something about, at least.  Everywhere one looks in this school, there is poverty and difficulties and sometimes gangs.  Several of my students are in gangs, which act as their surrogate families while their real parents are in Mexico.  I don't think it's because it is cool to do so, but more for survival and self-esteem and a group to identify with and feel pride in.  I have a big 8th grade kid who cannot for the life of him stop his backtalk and attitude.  He won't make it at my school, though I think he really is trying.  He just can't shut up.  I took him out in the hallway twice this week to discuss his behavior.

With my other highly disruptive students, I handle it one of two ways.  The first way is when I know a kid is just fronting, trying to get attention and be the class clown.  I say "If you cannot do what the rest of the class is doing and if you cannot be polite and productive, then you cannot be in our class". That one works pretty well.  I had one student say "I ain't going to read no books". "Well, I guess you can't be in this class.  I will talk to the Principal. We'll find you another place." "Ayyy, ayy, I'll read." And he did.

My second method is to ask the student what their mother was going to say when I called her.  They get real scared and frankly, I'm bluffing.  I really, really don't want to call anyone's mother.  I really, really, just want to help with their literacy.  The calling home threat is super effective, for now. I usually make a deal that if they are good for the rest of the hour, I will forgo the doom and gloom of a call home. Eventually, I'm going to have to call someone's mom.  I'm dreading that.

I have yet to talk to the young ladies about overt behavior, though I have spoken to several for instigating behaviors.  Make no mistake: Just because my students are not particularly booksmart does not mean that they are dumb.  One of my students earned herself a week of ISS (in school suspension) for instigating a fight on the playground.  I just shook my head and gave her her assignments.

For now, I am happy that in the hallways I am greeted by students, and I greet them back by name if I can. I know about half of their names now.  I have bus duty at the end of the day.  I wanted to see everyone off for home and wish them a good evening.  I'm also not much of a yeller.  I am ok with raising my voice to get everyone's attention, but I don't scream at people. Especially in my classroom.  I can do more with a silent stare than I ever could do by yelling.  I'm sure my kids hear it all of the time and have learned to become deaf.  However, I walk amongst students during lessons and silent reading time, to ensure (at least for now) that they are indeed focusing and training their attention on their studies.  They hate it when I catch them slacking off.

The curriculum that I was initially against seems to allow for a good bit of... adjustment.  I don't have a login for the system yet so I don't have to file my own lesson plans.  In the meantime, I'm doing pretty much what I need to. I'm following along, sorta.  More or less.  The curriculum creators have some pretty good ideas and so I'm willing to follow them in spirit. It would have been better if I had gotten my materials prior to the start of school, or even during the first few days.  But whatever, I have everything I need for the year as of now.

Speaking of login difficulties, I still don't have a contract.

After the new State Superintendent stepped in, there was some sort of clearing out of personnel in the State Department of Education, and in the certification office, I am stuck with a new person.  My problem is that I have taken and passed all of my tests.  I have given my money, fingerprints and statements.  During my vacation to Washington, my Competency Review came up and I missed it.  This is the only barrier between me and my alternative certification.  Without my certification, I cannot get a signed contract.

So I called the Alternative Certification person.  She never calls back.  I called again.  My principal called her.  There is such a thing as a Letter of Intent, stating that all I need is the Competency Review and I'm good to go.  School districts can issue a contract on that letter.

But she won't write it.  She has never heard of such a thing.  Her supervisor won't be back until Monday.

But she can give the confirmation over the phone.  All I have to do is get the Superintendent of Oklahoma City Public Schools to call her. My superintendent has 86 schools and a thousand employees with layers of management between us.  And she thinks he's going to take it upon himself to call her?

Really?

My principal asked me to go see the Alt. Cert. lady this afternoon. I camped out in her office for awhile and treated her professionally, explaining my position.  She looked through the stack of phone messages by her phone, selected my three and two from my principal and told me the same thing she has told me before.  Then she said "I have been her since March.  I've never heard of such a thing as a Letter of Intent."
"Did they start a new school year since March?"
"Yes, just now."
"School just started and contracts are being issued this month. So why would anyone need one until now?"
She looked at me, dumbfounded.  I believe she had no idea what I was talking about.
I took her supervisors name and number.  She warned me that he would be busy on Monday morning.  I assured her that I would keep calling until I got his attention and left.

If this does not get cleared up by next Friday, I will be switched from a teaching contract to a long term substitute contract, thereby cutting my pay to less than half and making me very unhappy.  Do you know what teachers make in Oklahoma?  Less than 34k per year.  Half of that is food stamp land.

Me at Starbucks, contemplating poverty

I left and went to Starbucks for the coffee and a bit of free wi-fi.  Got directions to my friend Jackie's house because I was invited to a get together with her, Cathy and Mandy to celebrate our first week back in the classroom.  On the way a friend called and told me she couldn't make it.
"Couldn't make what?" I asked.
"Your classwarming party."
"Oh." I said. "It's a party for me?"
"Oh shit.  You didn't know?"
"Nope."
"F#$%"
Some of my girlfriends surprised me with a "Classwarming party", wherein we talked about our first week in the classroom and ate too much yummy and fattening food. They gave me gifts and advice and we talked and laughed for quite a few hours.  I think with all of us we went through maybe 2.5 bottles of wine. Jackie's husband, Darren, watched the kids- three spirited little girls who had him wrapped around their little fingers. He is great with kids.  I couldn't help but think of it as the women's equivalent of a Superbowl party, only with better food and just as much discussion of flatulence and other base topics.  I know other people were invited and couldn't come due to all of the normal reasons that life gets in the way.  That's ok with me- I know that even if not in person, they were with us in spirit. I have had the luxury of having a hell of a lot of moral, and even physical support along the way.

I feel connected to my community of women and men, teachers and friends, and that each of them help me be a good teacher.  The kind of teacher who makes the right decisions and sometimes the tough decisions in the best interest of the children.  The kind of teacher my students deserve.  Each of these people make a spiritual contribution that translates into the courage to teach. And that is one heck of a way to start a school year.

Pippi

Usually around my birthday I get depressed. The usual questions always pop up: What have I done with my life, really? Why am I not married? Why don't I have children? Where is all of this headed and will I ever be a grown up? All of these add up to me beating myself over the head for a couple of weeks, throwing myself into too much exercise and too little eating and generally being miserable.

This year, Luke has started moving into the house. There is stuff out of place. As a single woman of some years, I am used to having my stuff in my places and nothing else. I'm... particular. And I've asked for him to disrupt that by living here and really, really, living here with, you know, his stuff. But now his stuff is here. So I'm freaking out about that a little bit. Add to all of this my anxiety about House Bill 3284 having the veto overridden and a real possibility of it becoming law and you have a tense Mindie.

When I was a little girl, I was stressed from about 1973 until about 2009. Generally speaking, anyway. We moved a lot and there wasn't a whole lot of stability. I had three older sisters and just sort of hung out in the background. Sometimes I played in the closet. My favorite place to play was under the staircase in one of the houses we rented in California. It was close and easy to get to and safe. No grown ups allowed. And there were Disney movies that would come on television to help me escape. This was before I learned to read and drown myself in books. My favorite one was called "Pippi Longstockings", and the heroine was a little girl with freckles and long red braids and she was never afraid. She could do anything, defeat any enemy and sing while she did it. She made me happy and gave me hope that little girls could win.

Tomorrow is my birthday. Luke went with me to get my driver's license renewed, then to clean out my office at OU for the summer. Then we went by Target and for my birthday present, he bought me a bike. A beautiful bike, a Schwinn hybrid. Big handlebars. Big bike seat for my big butt. A place to carry stuff in the back. Oh yes, a happy bike. I wanted to sing and wear a long skirt so I could dance in it and throw confetti. So I named her Pippi. And when I get done writing this, we're going for a ride. But first, maybe I'll go paint some freckles and braid my hair.