Grumpy

I fell week before last up a flight of concrete stairs. I'm too old for this. My body hurts.

I went back and looked later because I couldn't imagine how I missed that first step and I

saw that there are pieces of rebar sticking out of the bottom step. I feel sure that is what I caught my foot on before I indecorously bit the dust.

Since then, I look at the steps with great trepidation. I feel suspicious.

What did I see today? I saw lots of butt. I'm so sick of saggers. I have to tell teenaged boys
to get dressed before they come into my building. I do not recall ever being told to pull my
pants up.

One kid had a really cool belt buckle that incorporated a flask. Uh, sorry, flasks are
not appropriate at school whether carried by students or faculty.

This year is odd. I've been cussed out about fifteen times so far. There are no consequences
for such bad behavior. I would have never thought to say even "damn" in front of a teacher
and I have to field "f bombs" in the hallways almost every day.

Yesterday I started teaching one point perspective in my lonely only art one class. I told
one angel that she needed to use her ruler and she screeches "I DID." I suggested that
she modulate her tone.

She looked at me and said "I talk how I talk" and I told her that she could not talk to me in
such a disrespectful manner in my classroom and she screeched some more.

I pointed her toward the hallway for further discussion and she was louder telling me that I
was "tripping" and that she hadn't said anything bad to me.

I tried to explain to this angel that her tone was unacceptable and disrespectful and she let
me know that she "talked how she talked"

I saw a woman of her same ethnicity walking down the hall. I thought she was another
teacher and thought perhaps she could get the message across to this child. The lady
was very nice and she asked the angel what the issue was and angel screeched "This
lady be tripping." I explained that angel's tone came across in a disrespectful manner
and the lady explained to her about respect and how tone could be seen as antagonistic
and rude. The child rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. The nice lady explained that
she was a parent from our school and that she tried to teach her children that being
respectful was important. Angel's body language is disrespectful.

I didn't realize that the nice lady was a parent. I thought she was a teacher, but she
said everything to this angel that I wanted her to. I shooed my angel back into the
classroom and the mom looked at me, looked at the departing student and then shook her
head. I thanked her for her input.

It's sad. In the olden ancient days, students didn't talk back to teachers. They sure didn't
cuss them out. There used to be consequences.

Not anymore. Some years ago, they took away the paddle. I recall at O'Banion Junior High
that an assistant principal would show up in the doorway and call someone out. There would
be the sound of three "whacks" on the offending backside. One could hear a pin drop the
length of the hallway.

. . . . . .

When I was finishing school I got a phone call from my son's principal. I was about to go
into finals in Denton some fifty miles away. The principal told me that my son had flooded
the downstairs boys' bathroom and that she had to suspend him since he refused paddling.
I needed to come pick him up.

I got up to the school and she told me that he was waiting in the auditorium. I asked her if
he got paddled if he could go back to class and she said yes. I told her "I'll hold him while
you whack him."

He got whacked and was sent back to class. He didn't get five days off to watch TV
unattended while I was finishing school some fifty miles away.

Why would we reward our children for bad behavior? I figured getting whacked on the
fanny was appropriate. He got what he deserved and had to go back to class. He did not
want to repeat the offending behavior.

I think if the sound of the paddle resounding through the hallway was heard today it would
be a deterrent.

At some point, parents started to sue for paddling. That's why it doesn't happen anymore.

I do not believe in abusing children. I do believe in setting limits for them. I teach at the
largest high school in Texas. Many of our children do not have good home training.
If the parents don't want the schools to paddle their children for foul behavior, then they
need to do a better job at home.

Teachers are not paid enough to be reviled with bad language and disrespect.

I'm tired of seeing boys' underwear. The rule is that they wear their pants at the waist
with their shirts tucked in. I could care less if they wear their shirts like dresses (I do NOT
want to see their underwear) but I can't enforce the rules if I don't get the support of
my administration. Admin picks on teachers for not preaching the rules, but they don't back
us up when we do.

It's a Catch 22.

I try to do the job I am assigned. I'm just annoyed that the folks that dictate to me don't
do theirs. Damn.

I've Created a Monster

I've created a monster.

I made this senior boy a deal. He's in my art one class, but he was in the architecture cluster and has learned all the skills that are taught in this class. He's cutting metal and is liking it. He's got a good eye for detail.

Well, here's the deal. All the freshmen see Lennyn sitting over in the corner doing something cool. They KNOW it's cool what he's doing.

Alex, who is beautiful and bright and talented finishes the current project a day early. He's done a stunning job. Usually if a kid gets through early (Alex always gets through early) I ask them to work in their composition book (cheap version of sketchbook) or on their portfolio (big envelope to keep their work in). He's been doing that and he's real sweet about it, but I can see his eyes cutting over to the cool senior guy in the corner. He says, "so what do I do now?" I don't believe in a single idle moment in my class. Ever. I tell him he can work in his composition book or on his portfolio (eyes flick to the corner)((am I going to regret this?)) or he can cut metal.

VERY Quickly he says "I want to cut metal"

(I'm really surprised---NOT)

I give him the assignment. Design a pierced medallion that incorporates positive and negative space. We haven't even got to positive and negative space yet. This kid is 14. He comes back in ten minutes with a design better than what a lot of the jewelry kids are doing. I set him up next to Lennyn with a bench pin and c-clamp and a sawframe and a piece of copper. This kid is a freaking wizard. He cuts the whole thing out (angles and all) and then he gets worried about the interior space. I show him about drilling holes and he's real fast on the uptake. He gets done in about 20 minutes overall. I show him about filing the edges. He gets all done but for the polishing. About 3 days ahead of what the kids in the jewelry class have done.

Well, then, Saul comes up. He works like a Trojan all the time. He's not as gifted as many but he works real hard. He helped with our door decoration and took on extra work to help. Saul has finished his project, it's not as pretty, but he worked really hard on it. He's leaning on the corner table watching Lennyn and Alex. "What do I do now miss?" he says. I ask him if he wants to cut metal and he's all over it. I tell him he has to have a design. He comes back in five minutes ready to roll. It's the shape of the state of Texas inside a circle. That's okay. I'm not going to worry these kids about design at all. They're freaking art beginners.

Lennyn gets through cutting his out, so I move him down to start filing. I turn around and Alex is showing Saul how to put the sawblade on and check the tension.

Kimberly comes up. I've had her go back and "fix" her project about five times. She finally gets a nice result. She says, "what do I do now, Miss?" She looks at the boys in the corner.

Anyway, I end up with about half the class done with the project ON TIME and well. I tell them that I can't really turn the class into a jewelry class, BUT, IF they finish their projects in a timely manner and have time left over that I may let them work on some jewelry projects.

30 kids said they want to take jewelry next year. 10 said they wanted to just switch over now. I told them that they had to pass art one first.

I set up three "sawing" stations. I put out minimal resources. Alex cut all of his out and gave me back the intact sawblade. I think at least six or seven kids got to cut and we maybe went through 9 sawblades. Holy cow.

I told Lennyn that if he was heavy handed that he was going to have to buy his own sawblades. He said "Where do I get them?"

Saul asked "Where can I get a sawframe and blades?" I told him where, he wrote it down and THEN he asked "How can I turn the metal different colors?" I asked him what color and he said "purple" and I told him I'd have to look up a recipe and he said "Miss, I've got a computer, what do I google?" I told him to google "copper patinas" and he said "No prob" THEN he came back and said, "If I want to color brass, do I look up brass patinas?"

HOLY COW. I'm going to be peeling these kids off the wall all year. I think I have some major leverage. I told them that if they hurried through assignments and did poor jobs that I'd make them do them over (which would take longer). I think I've found a really good carrot to dangle and I think I can make them be really good to keep the privilege.

I've never done any real jewelry stuff with art one. It's NOT part of the curriculum, but this project we're working on. . . It usually takes 5 class days for everyone to finish. Today was day 2 and half the class finished.

I'm starting one point perspective on Monday. I'll give them two days. You should have seen those kids laying lead down today (drawing) I've NEVER had an art one class go into such overdrive.

That's the terribly sweet part.

The bittersweet still comes. I often have flashes of brilliance that come out of intense personal emotion. I have been in such a state. My young cousin, Charles Edward Anderson age 27, chose to end his own life Tuesday afternoon. I've spent my time at home on the phone talking to distraught relations around the country. Chuck's mother is the one whose stepfather was killed last year by that crazy guy who went into the gay bar in MA with a hatchet. I found out about 11pm last night that he'd already been cremated and that the services were at 11 this morning.

Like I can even get there. . .

I couldn't. I just couldn't take it. I fell at work last Thursday banging the crap out of my knee (which is many pretty colors) and snapping my neck (which is swollen) and since then have picked up the unspecified leaping Chinese crud going around the school and I feel like SHIT.

I'm running on adrenaline. I really shouldn't have gone today, but I did, and I created a monster. I'm alternating between chills and hot flashes (no comments on my age please) I've blown my nose about 200 times today. The only reason I went was because I had Book Club after school at Chili's. I'm the one charged with organizing the darn thing and this was our first meeting to talk about a book we'd all read (Kite Runner) and I dragged my ass up to school because of it. I also dragged my ass to Chili's for two frozen margaritas while we talked about the book.

I feel like crap, I'm mourning a personal tragedy, but TODAY was a good day. I saw something beautiful happen with young artists. I think this monster is going to be wonderful.

Mustang Sally

I'm at the end of the day, looking backwards.

I just watched Hidalgo with Viggo Mortensen. I want a mustang. I love horses, I grew up around them and I want just one mustang.

I last rode a horse about a year ago. My friend Mandy lives out in Poetry, TX and she has horses and was kind enough to let me ride one of hers. I'm old and out of practice, but mounting a horse is so easy for me and seems like second nature to me. The same day my son rode the same horse. It was unique for him because it was his first time on horseback.

I got a pony sometime around my 4th birthday. His name was Billy and he was a mean sumbitch. The Cowan boys from down the bayou were supposed to break him so I could ride him. I don't remember riding Billy much (did I mention that he was a mean sumbitch?) I do remember being on him and him taking off down the levee and my aunt and grandmother screaming at me to jump off. I do remember him sulking about the yard being a nasty pony.

I remember my 4th birthday. I'm almost fifty and I have clear mental images of birthday number 4. Tina and Dick Smotherman came down to Ashland Plantation. I was living there with my mother's parents. I think my mom was going to school in Memphis and my father had died the previous September. I don't know the particulars of why Tina and Dick came but I was comfortable with them and so happy to see them. I actually thought Tina was my grandmother and was sorely disappointed at a future time to learn that she wasn't. I still call her grandma Tina.

Tina and Dick took me fishing on the bayou. I can see it as clear as I can see my computer screen. I think we had bamboo poles and I know that I was astonished to catch some small fish (I think a perch) I remember that our vehicle was parked on the levee and that we had some issue with a flat tire. My grandfather showed up and rescued us. I cannot express the complexity of emotion about how I felt about my grandfather. I am in tears now as I write this because I loved him so much. The flat tire got fixed and we got home and my fish got fried and I was celebrated for catching my own dinner on my 4th birthday.

I remember Ashland Plantation. That's where I lived at that time. It was an interesting cinderblock house.

There were three tremendous pecan trees in the front. I remember gathering pecans. My grandmother's uncle lived with us. Joseph Stillwell. He was bedridden with arthritis. He was a crusty old gentleman and I loved him dearly. I think that he was in some part responsible for the swing set that appeared in the yard to entertain me. I also remember having a bow and arrow set and shooting at Uncle Joe's headboard (which did not thrill him)

Around this time, my mother's younger sister was in high school. Somehow she gained the nickname "Stormy." I thought it was her name because I called her Aunt Stormy. I was told that she was called Stormy because of her temper. I slept with her and was grateful to have someone next to me. I'm even more grateful because it would have to be kind of geeky to have to sleep with your tiny niece. She had a record player and there was a record collection called " Sounds of the Sixties" We would go to sleep listening to Baby Elephant Walk and Alley Cat. She had some kind of hair dryer and would leave it on for the whir. I still like the sound of such things to help me sleep.

I love my aunt so much, she was my hero. She was so strong and vibrant. I was a small child and I thought she hung the moon. She was a barrel racer and she got a new horse. Little Red. I have a recollection of there being a Big Red and a Little Red. I recall some fracas because a horse got stuck in the cattle guard in the middle of the night. My grandfather was furious. I think he was willing to shoot something. I think Big Red was the offender.

I have a recollection of asking my aunt if I could ride her new pony and she was nice and told me I could ride it as soon as I was big enough to get on it. I don't know if it was the next day but it was very soon that I coaxed her horse up next to the fence and climbed on and was riding it through the pastures. I don't think that's what she meant about riding it as soon as I was big enough. I recall getting stuck on top of the horse out in a cow pasture. The horse was willing.

I feel bad that my children didn't get to ride like I did. I truly didn't realize it until they were almost all grown. I love horses. They smell nice.

How I wish I lived where I could have a horse. I'm envious of my friend Mandy and her country home with horses. I regret that my own children never learned how to ride.

I just want a mustang. A fiery spunky native horse.

I love the newer cell phones. It's cool that one can assign ringtones for individual people. The ringtone for my son is Mustang Sally. It's only right.

Waiting for Hilda

I was practically soaked by the time I got to school. We had a deluge. Every morning I go through McDonald's and I get the same thing. A breakfast burrito and a large coffee. I'm there almost the same time every day. Mark took me today because he had to go get a new tire for the car and get the oil changed. We sat in line and I realized it was Wednesday. I glanced over to the Waffle House parking lot, and sure enough George was there waiting.

There is this older gentleman. He meets a lady at Waffle House most Wednesdays. I guess I noticed him last year while we went through the drive up line at McDonald's. He's got a champagne colored truck and he usually gets there early. I don't know his name, but I call him George. Most of the time if the weather is nice, George is there waiting, leaning up against his truck. Sometimes, if it is raining, he's gone under the overhang of the back of the Waffle House. He always seems patient.

I know he meets a lady because one time I was running late and I saw his truck and I saw a sedan next to it, so I made a point to look through the Waffle House window and sure enough, there was George opposite a white haired lady. I decided to call her Hilda.

I think Hilda makes him wait a lot. Either that, or he is so anxious that he gets there early so he can greet her. I bet she'd have a heart attack if he wasn't waiting on her.

Today, the rain was really coming down. I could see him sitting in his truck.

I wonder, is he just trying to wait out the monsoon, or is he waiting with an umbrella ready at hand, so that he can be the gallant knight and shining armor to shield his lady from the rain? I only just recently noticed that he was there on Wednesdays. I'll have to watch to see if he is there other days.

He's so cute as he leans so nonchalantly against his truck. His body language is a little tense, as if he hopes he's not stood up. He looks pretty calm, but there is an intensity that reveals his impatience for his lady to arrive.

I figure that George is about seventy. Hilda (through the window) looks at least that old. I see them and I wonder what their stories are and if they are both widowers looking for companionship, or if they were old flames who have rediscovered each other.

I have a wicked desire to follow them into the Waffle House and wrangle a nearby seat and eavesdrop.

Maybe I'm better off imagining what their story is.

The Wheels go Round and Round

If at all possible, I don't even get dressed on Sunday. I stay in my pj's and lurk about.

Today I was wrested out of my somnambulent state and rode on the back of the scooter with Mark up to the parking lot at school. I rode around the parking lot on the scooter and tried not to kill myself.

I had a crazy time. Someone dropped a shiny bracelet in the parking lot and I wanted to pick it up. ooooo shiny. I rode around. I was so nervous. I got to where I could mostly make the scooter go where I wanted to go. I was kind of afraid to turn very much.

I shouldn't have gone around in circles so much. After I'd had enough, I suggested that we go over to Monty's and show him the scooter but then I got motion sick. We had to pull over on Everglade while I made up my mind whether I would puke or not. I didn't and I got a little more unqueasy. Monty wasn't home, but we saw all his fun sculpture things in the entry to the house. We saw a calico cat rolling on his driveway. We saw a tiny black cat in the bushes at Mae's house.

We stopped by Exxon on the way home to gas the scooter up. It was a buck sixty to fill it up (WEEEHA). While Mark went inside Exxon, I stayed out by the scooter wearing my helmet with flames on it. I saw some woman throw trash out of the door of her car before she got out to gas up. I wanted to go up to her and ask her if the world was her trash can. She just pulled nasty stuff out and threw it on the ground. I was offended. I got out of "teacher mode" and didn't say anything but I thought evil thoughts at her.

We got home and I was grateful to have a beer. I watched Star Trek IV The Voyage Home and quoted most of the dialogue along with the movie. I guess I'm a geek that way.

Hmmm today. I saw lots of things. It was mostly Dallas going by from the passenger side of a car. We took Becca to her Region 10 thing this morning and then went over to Half Priced Books to get some books for me to take to school. (I operate a "free book box" outside my room. We sent 3000 books home with students last year)

Half Priced Books is wonderful. On Saturdays they have a "donation" store for teachers and non profits. They've recently moved and the new location is much closer to home. The new location has new rules. Each person can take out two boxes of books. We got there about fifteen minutes before they opened and talked to folks in line to go in. We saw some folks we've seen for years and we talked to some new teacher people folks. After us came a group of seven Asian people. At this point in my life I know what teacher people look like. These folks did not look like teacher people and there were seven of them together (14 boxes of books) They were "scoopers."

At the old location, there were folks who would come in and just scoop off whole shelves of books without looking at them. They would come in teams and wipe the place out quickly. I have several sections that I choose books from. I go from art and music and film to history and science to Christian books and philosophy to science fiction and fantasy. It's a leisurely jaunt to fill up my two boxes. The folks today were totally "scooping." I was a little catty when I went up to a section to see the folks just taking ALL the books without looking at any of them. I said "where do you teach?" They start looking around suspiciously. One of the ladies said "we send books to Cambodia." I asked her if Cambodians can read English on a normal basis. I commented to another teacher that it was inconsiderate to grab books without even looking at what they were about and that there were children in Dallas that could benefit from these very same books. The scoopers fled the section that I was looking at.

It would cost a fortune to send all those books to Cambodia.

We went over to the Half Priced Book store across the street and I picked up our book club selection of the month The Kite Runners.

Mark and I went to breakfast at the Circle Grill after that. Lo and behold we run into our friends there and one of them tells me about an estate sale that he had visited earlier and that they had lots of books. We eat our regular things. I have the same breakfast every time. Two eggs over medium, hash browns, sausage patties, biscuits and gravy. Mark almost always has the veggie plate. The waitress remembers that I always have breakfast and Mark always has lunch. I love patronizing local places. There are murals painted on the walls of the Circle Grill. They are pastoral for the most part. The restaurant was closed for a while. I heard that the owner had blown money in Vegas instead of paying taxes. I was glad when it reopened, but the food was not so good right after it reopened. It's much better now.

We go to the aforementioned estate sale. There are a lot of books and I offer the nice gentleman in the green shirt twenty bucks for all of the books. I tell him that he never has to think of picking up any of those books again. He has to negotiate and says he really wants twenty-five. I smile at Mark and he hands the money over. I didn't realize how many books there really were.

The nice man in the green shirt has 3 granddaughters helping him with this estate sale. They were lovely. The oldest girl detaches herself quickly and starts helping me move books to the front room by the door. Mark fills up tub after tub and dumps them in the car. This girl is so cute and nice. She's a freshman at North Mesquite and I learn that she's taking sign language and German. Her next youngest sister keeps climbing the tree out front and jumping out. She comes and tells us "I've jumped out three, four, five times" The very youngest one, the second grader attaches herself as Mark's personal helper and hands him a book at a time as he puts them in the car.

I'm thinking there were about fifteen hundred books. Mark filled the car up and didn't have room for me and had to go home and unload some. I stayed there and was very capably entertained by the three sisters. I found several books that were really personal and gave them to the oldest sister and told her she should keep them. One was a math book printed in 1915. It was apparently shared by her great-grandmother and all her siblings. We looked at it and I explained that it was precious and she took it from me and held it close. The home being "estated" belonged to the girls' great grandfather who will be 97 soon. I don't think he had lived in the home for some years. There were a lot of records of foreign language study. Some of them had never been opened. I wish I could have gotten those also.

The girls were really cute and funny. As we wandered through the house gathering books, the oldest girl found a box with lots of Mardi Gras beads and stuff. The girls rapidly decorated themselves and as I sat in the living room waiting for Mark to go home and unload stuff and come back and get me and the rest of the books we talked about what Mardi Gras was. I learned how to say "making out" in sign language. That was kind of cool. The middle sister jumped out of the tree several more times. The baby sister played me rap music from her cell phone. (why does a second grader have a cell phone?)

Mark did eventually get back and loaded me and the rest of the books in. We said goodbye to grandpa and all the sisters (such wonderful girls) and went home. Thankfully our nephew Tim was at the house and he helped Mark unload the mound of books into the living area. It's a mess. I'm just grateful that Mark is still talking to me. He was funny, he said he was all hot and sweaty and needed to cool off so he took the new Italian scooter around the neighborhood. He came back all not sweaty with his hair blown back.

The scooter is so cool. We are protesting the price of gasoline. That prompted our purchase. We got it yesterday. It's sea foam green. It's a Milano. I told James we should call it Alyssa and he groaned. At 80 mgp, it should help us reduce our need for gasoline at the current outrageous prices.

Becca got paid for the first time (as a new teacher) on Thursday. She bought a car. WEEEHA. Her first car. She'll be 24 in December. She never got a driver's license until about a year ago. She got to pick up her car today and it is so pretty. She's thrilled beyond belief. She and Mark got home from picking the car up and then we left to go see the place that she has considered moving into. She's all excited about her new adult skills. She drove us over to the considered housing arrangement and we met with her new roommate (one of my former students) and it was all good. The duplex is small but neat, it's well maintained and homey and it's dirt cheap for her. I hate to think of her leaving us, but she's grown and wants her own space. She's made excellent decisions almost all of the time, so what can I say? I can say I'm jealous as hell.

I saw a lot today. I saw that the dog park at White Rock was really busy both times we drove past it. We should take our dogs up there again. That's another long story.

I'm gonna watch Cash Cab. GIVE ME THE MONEY!!!

And I have an ANVIL. It was in the trash pile. Can you believe it? The Electrical trades teacher came to me today to tell me about it and got his boys to carry it over to me. It's a BIG anvil mounted on a pedestal. It's got a square hole in the end for stakes. (I saw some stakes under a table in the plumbing room, I'm going to go grab them)

I didn't have a chance to really look it over well (I had another teacher [actually the Electrical Trades teacher who was pissed at his kids for boogering up copper wire saying they were making bracelets, and brought them over to jewelry] bring his whole class in to watch me demo something [not planned but I was happy to do it] and I had a decathlon coach from another school come over to get curricular materials not to mention that some of my supplies that had gone missing from May had turned up and I was trying to show kids how to use the polisher and show them the new jiffy jump ringer and I had to monitor the kids that were enameling and take grades from the kids that had done their texture samples and give the new assignment for the textured cuff bracelet. (all in an hour and a half)

Whew. My daughter who is the new French teacher at Garland High School said she wished that she taught something easy like I did.

Expletive deleted.

I have 25 kids in my 4th period class. That's HUGE for jewelry. No two of them are in the same place at the same time. My daughter should wish that she could juggle 25 kids in different stages of development. I'm just grateful that they are really good kids and that they understand that "safety rule #4" is that if they don't clean up after themselves that they will be hurt when Miz Em goes ghetto on their ass.

Okay, I've got this new anvil. I think it is at least a 220 lb'er. The top face has some rust. It's got some beating but isn't terrible. It probably dates from about 1970 when the shop first got put in across the way. It's green painted below. I danced around it as I taught the ongoing class and negotiated with the teacher I share the room with about where we were going to put this monolith. I ended up with about five of the Electrical Trades kids left over who were all about getting into to all of our stuff and asking a lot of questions above and beyond me teaching my the class and I had to keep them from getting into stuff that could hurt them. OY.

Education in America. Woohoo!

Oh yeah it is great...The Electrical guy was trying to shame his kids (for wasting copper wire) except they all got real excited about what they saw in jewelry since we were taking copper and texturing it and turning it into jewelry. I took some of the ugly crap that they did with the electrical wire that they abused and showed them how it could be turned to art. Actually one piece was really nice. At least TEN of them asked if they could get in my class.

Whatever am I going to do with all these angels?

Today was a good day. It was an exciting day. It was a breathtaking day.

How was your day?

Today I was a lucky teacher. A very fine fellow Nicholas Santella came to give a demonstration to my classes. Nicholas is an armorer. He brought armor that he started when he was in high school.

My students were in awe. They saw a suit of armor and couldn't believe that someone their age started such a project. Nicholas demonstrated several metalsmithing techniques which was a good thing for my jewelry kids to see. Mr. Ray brought his sculpture kids, Mr. Derdeyn brought his drawing kids and Ms. Buzzzy brought her theater kids to see the fun.

What blows my mind more than anything is the open chain mail technique that Nicholas showed us. I've built any number of things with open chain mail and I did it the slow hard way. I'm astonished and enlightened to see a really easy short easier way that will build chain mail. I'm inspired and I want to build some chain mail pieces that are new and wonderful.

Thank you Nicholas for the demonstration. Thanks for engaging my students. Thanks for teaching me a new wonderful thing.

WOW. Today was a WOW.

We went to DFW to pick up Rachael. She'd been in Italy for six weeks. As we were driving into the airport we see a huge storm cell right over the airport.

Anyway we get to the terminal and find out that she can't land because of the storm. THEN we hear that they were about to run out of fuel so they rerouted to OKC to refuel. She was delayed about 3 hours.

We sat there by the exit of the International terminal and we talked to a lot of other folks waiting on the same flight. There was a family with two daughter and a boyfriend. Their girl was also coming back from several weeks in Italy and they were very anxious. There were Asian folks waiting on a huge group. We saw huge groups of African and Indian and Asian people going through with massive luggage. They must have packed every mobile thing they owned. It didn't look like vacation, it looked like moving to a new country. You should have seen the stretch vehicles that picked them up.

There was a group of about twenty. All dressed in Red White and Blue. This was on July 1. There were old people and medium people and young people and babies. They all had flags and banners and Old Navy 4th of July T shirts.

I don't know if you've ever had to clear customs but it takes a while....We knew Rachael's flight had landed and we went to the end of the walkway to wait for her and talked to more people. There was a very nice Swiss man who had been working for a month. His daughter was joining him to travel in the US for 3 weeks. Mark and he had a very nice conversation.

Folks would come out of the tunnel and the crowd got smaller.

The Red White and Blue crowd was getting agitated. The small children were restless. The big people were trying to entertain them and keep them calm.

A military Lieutenant or Captain comes through the gate. A little Red White and Blue girl screamed DADDY and took off running. She was followed closely by about a 3 year old boy. Dad scooped them both up and his whole crowd was holding up their banners and cheering. Mom made it to him and somehow he picked her up too and swung two children and a momma around. Mom lands and runs back to the crowd and takes an infant from another relation. She very reverently shows the baby to Dad who has never seen his new daughter before. He puts the other children down sweetly and takes his new daughter up in his arms and he breaks into tears.

At this point, everyone watching breaks into tears. I see him tell Mom that he will NEVER go away again. The crowd cheers.

Rachael is the next one through the gate. She's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. We hold her and love her and then she asks why we are crying. We tell her we love her. We share our happy tears with her.

A very moving moment.

We're here in Texas where the gubernatorial race is a freaking dog and pony show. In my spirit, in my soul, I hear what Kinky Friedman is saying. I've not seen him get past a one-liner though. It doesn't help when your "secretary of energy" gets busted for weed and mushrooms. I don't know, I know Willie and all his faults and I'd give the dude credit for trying to do something worthwhile. . . I'm SICK of Rick Perry. He's such a hypocrite. I can't go "Grandma Strayhorn" because she's really a republican who is calling the kettle black.

I watched the debates and as a result, I'm gonna have to throw in with Chris Bell. He's real vanilla. He seems to be squeaky clean so that gives one the fond hope that he's really in the deal to do a good thing for the world. He's young enough that maybe he has some idealism. He sounds strong for education. He could possibly win if the independents throw in with him.

Okay, the weird thing. My son is working for Borden. He lives here and doesn't have a car. So his shift is 4-12. Me hubby does the taxi service. I was asleep before Mark left to get James the other night and around 12:15 Mark comes in and (how do I moderate this?) states with emphasis "What did you do?"

"uh, I was asleep"

"Well WHAT about the sign?"

"uh, sign?"

"The SIGN in the front yard."

"mmm, I was asleep."

Between the time that Mark left to get James and the time that they got home, someone had planted a "Democrats for change" sign in our yard. Huh?

I had asked for kinky yard signs several months ago. There is a handpainted one down the street that says "Kinky Friedman for Governor" It has a star of david and under that it says "Why the hell not?"

So this alien democrat sign appeared in our yard. It's kind of crooked. I can't decide if I want to go straighten it out or leave it crooked or take it out, or paint something else over it. I wonder if I could copy Munch's The Scream on it.

It seems that several of those signs appeared in the neighborhood that night. Maybe it was random. Maybe it is a strange mind control trick.

SQ

What I Saw Today

Well it happened this way. I was almost asleep as it was midnight. Rachael comes in and says "Mom, you need to come here."

She and James are hovering near the front door. They look very concerned. I'm tired, so I want to know what the heck is going on. So I ask what the heck is going on.

Rachael points toward the front door. I open the door and find a box on the doorstep. There is a note placed on top asking us to care for "darling Susan" as her mommy can no longer care for her in the way that she deserves. I'm thinking "oh crap, we've been gifted with another cat." The box is stuffed full of random stuff--shop rags, a t-shirt, a nice Italian wool sweater, a baby bib that says "I love my daddy."

I get Mark up and he unloads the box. He gets to the bottom and says "Well I'll be goddamned."

Cautiously, the kids and I peek around the big man and LO--in the bottom of the box on a pack of ice is a live lobster.

It's a big whopping lobster and she looks pissed.

WHO leaves a live lobster on someone's doorstep. I turn to the kids and ask what's going on. They look bemused and say that the phone rang and someone told them to open the front door. They had been afraid to dig in the box (hence getting Mom out of bed.)

A young blue jay and a young cardinal were in the bush right outside my window having a conversation. They were cute, both of them showed juvenile feathers. The jay was much bigger than the cardinal.

I think the conversation boiled down to which one of them had the rights to these particular bushes. I've seen the jay get bigger over the spring.

I put some bread crumbs and some dead cereal out in the bushes and I've seen any number of feathered friends come by. They are funny.

The cardinal must live close. I have seen him several times in the past few days. I think he waits until the jay is somewhere else. I don't blame him, the jay is still bigger.

My garden gnome Augustus supervises the interactions in the bushes. I'm going to have to learn more about the other visitors. Jays and Cardinals are easy to tell for any elementary schooler. I'm going to have to branch out!

I'll try to get some photos.

I went to a party at the McGahan's last night and it was strange and wonderful. As we walked up, a person in the dark started exclaiming my name and telling his companion that I was a teacher at his school. He seemed astonished that I was invited to the same party that he was. He hugged me, so I guess it was okay.

Inside I saw many people who are very dear to me, and then it got really strange as I realized all the ways that these folks are connected.My oldest girl's ex-boyfriend (who now dates one of my former students who is studying to be an arabic linguist in the air force) and his brother (who is my son's friend). Also the brother of another boy (formerly my student) she associated with was there. The other boy (formerly my student) dates my second daughter's best friend.

My second girl's assorted formal dance dates (2 different ones) were there, along with aforementioned second daughter. There was a boy there that she had associated with along the way. He is the student of the father of one of her ex-boyfriends. The girl who is currently the lover of the ex-boyfriend was there, and she is my former student.

The former student also used to date my youngest daughter's boyfriend's (also a former student of mine) brother. My youngest girl and the boyfriend were there, as well as several of her friends from school (the gasping student in the front yard, the boyfriend of #2's best friend, and the boyfriend of a girl (my former student) who my daughter #2 tutors, both boyfriends also being my former students.

Oh, and then there are Fergus and Zach. They defy description as they are connected to everyone in some way. I just wish Zach would keep his clothes on, he's going to get into trouble.

This was the funnest game of 2 degrees of separation I ever witnessed. I guess if you know the same bunch of folks for a while this kind of thing happens. I suppose if you teach high school over the same time period that you have four teenagers this can happen also. Some of it is really random though.

This is a ramble, but totally kind of blew my mind.

This is a very late edit, but I want to link to a lot of previous posts. Before blogger there was livejournal!

OOOPS This is from July 29, 2002

I've been on the road, having adventures as I normally do.

That's what I call experiencing life--having adventures. It sure seems to perk things up anyway.

My particular recent adventure involved going to California. For those who live there, I sure hope they appreciate the view, because here in the Dallas/Ft. Worth metropolitan area, views are in very short supply. Perhaps it is a case of micro view versus macro view. Here, one can find scenic spots that are very small and contained. There one can see BIG views for miles and miles.

I really appreciate the big view variety as I get to see them so rarely. There were plenty of the smaller variety there as well. It seems like EVERYTHING is scenic in the areas that I wandered to.

I talk to people that I know around here and they talk of moving away, just because they want some massive beauty to feed their souls. I can dig it.

My little view, my most constant view is the scene outside the window here by my computer. Through the mini-blinds I can see my Camry, and three mailboxes, 3 large live oak trees, a fruitless mulberry and parts of three houses across the street. OH, bushes, I can see the bushes in front of the window also. I think they are holly, but I've never seen berries so I'm not sure. The folks across the street have a concrete birdbath, with monkey grass around the base. I never see any birds in it. Sometimes I see squirrels, but they are pretty boring unless they are doing a suicide run under one's moving car.

Wednesday night, I had dinner at Mission Ranch in Carmel. It's owned by Clint Eastwood. We actually thought we saw Clint himself, but it was just a very good lookalike. Then I thought I saw Paul Newman, but I was just hallucinating at that point.

The view was just amazing. The veranda looks out over a long field that goes all the way to the ocean. I saw six hawks flying, actually they seemed bigger than hawks, which is scary for me. There were sheep in the field in a picturesque little flock, and mountains rose and fell as one's point of view shifts. The sun went down as we sat there and it was just a lovely sight. The prime rib was pretty tasty as well, although the folks who ate the scallops said they were pretty grim.

I stayed in Monterey which is more food for the soul. I went to the Monterey Aquarium
which is the most amazing one I've ever seen. I like that it is not the least pretentious, it only displays sea life from that area, but it is on such a grand scale and so well done.

More Later...

Ahem.

Funny how the topic of a blog would come up today, it's been almost exactly a year since I started one. I sure haven't written in it very much. Once again I'm going to my AP Art History conference in Ft. Worth. Today I went to the new Ft. Worth Modern Museum.

It made me want to dance and write poetry and be one with the art.

I think I will!