I'm sitting here right now being given a very thorough bath. I recently had a bath, but apparently Algebra (momma Siamese) thinks I need another one. She's bossy and she doesn't take "no" for an answer. She's a no-nonsense kind of cat. I suppose if I'd had five litters I wouldn't have much patience for foolishness either.
She's had a birthday in the last week. I'm trying to do the math and I think she just turned seven. She was born on the front porch. She lived outside for a long time. She had no interest in coming in (which is why she had so many litters). I'll never forget going out the front door and she was sitting there (at five months old) with a blue jay wing in her mouth. She was very proud of herself.
Algebra is so pretty. She's an apple head (round) siamese (eeek, she's washing the underside of my chin now) and her eyes are so blue. I remember trying to name her. I knew that Becca had to approve of the name or the cat would be called something very different than what I wanted. I offer the evidence of Algebra's father. He was a two week old furrball that Mark and James found and brought home. I wanted to call him Jazzpurr Johns (a nice name for an artist's cat) but I got overruled and he ended up being Smooge. He was a butt, always had a cattitude. Becca never forgave me for calling the chihuahua Tinker. She wanted to name the dog Monster Truck.
Algebra was always gorgeous. We could tell right away that she was a keeper. I can remember when she was a kitten. We'd be in the floor in the den and Alan would freaking torture her and she'd run off and then come right back. I guess that's how she got her name. We were sitting in the floor of the den and trying to come up with an acceptable name and I was brainstorming and throwing things out at Becca. I got to the point that I was reading book spines and said "Algebra" and Becca said "yeah, I guess that's all right."
So she has been ever since.
She had her first litter on her first birthday. Gordito was one of those. He's a freaking matching bookend to her. He went to live with Virginia for years but came back here when Virginia went to England. That first litter was five boys and a girl. The boys all pointed out Siamese. The only girl was solid black. We named them all after Mexican food. There was Taco and Nacho etc. They were all very pretty and adopted out.
The next batch were also very pretty and the boys were HUGE. Harley went to live with a friend's daughter. Then there were Pickle and Pumpkin. They are solid black. Pickle has green eyes and Pumpkin has orange eyes. Nintendo aka Steele aka Meatloaf the brother was a giant among cats. I talked to Harley's mom and she said he was a giant mutant cat and I let her know that his brother was also large (18 lbs large). Pickle is asleep across the foot of the bed right now. Nova (Novhinda) was also out of that batch. She's living down the street now. Nova had delusions of grandeur. She thought she was a black panther when she was a tiny kitten. She would loll in the holly bushes on a branch looking all cool and then would twitch and fall out and hit the ground.
Algebra was a feisty wench. She went missing for a LONG time and we thought that we'd lost her forever. We pulled up in the car one night and I saw her on the sidewalk across the street. I rejoiced and went to pick her up and she had one of those terribly long shoestrings tied to her collar. I wrestled with her and got the shoe string off and she had a FIT and attacked it and swatted at it and hissed at it and marched right up to the front door and said "I'd like some food please." I'm guessing that someone picked her up and thought it would be nice to take home a pretty cat and tied her up with the shoestring.
Algebra has been a bit of a floozy in her day. We'd get a litter weaned and she'd take off again only to appear back when she was again gravid. She showed up in August and threw a litter on the back porch and took off. We didn't realize that she had abandoned them until a day later and we were in a mad scramble to feed newborn kittens. It didn't work out very well. We didn't know much about raising newborn kittens. We'd always done okay if they were a few weeks old. They died one by one and it was tragic. Except for one. We researched and contacted the local Siamese rescue facility. The lady there was wonderful and she kept us going and we ended up focusing a lot of time and resources on saving this one kitten. We learned so much about keeping the wee ones alive and after losing all but this one we were desperate to keep her alive.
She's a brat. We named her Maude Lebowski. She's a tuxedo calico and she's bossy and fussy and thinks she is in charge. She's built just like her Siamese mother but looks so different. She's the one that tries to eat the printer when we print something off. She's the one that tries to sleep on my head at night. She has cattitude raised exponentially. She's in charge and will swat the hell out of anyone that disagrees. She's about to be four.
Algebra had one last hurrah and came home with a belly full of fur. Lalique was born just before midnight on August 2. He was a greedy gut and was always the first to food. He's about the longest cat I've ever seen. He sleeps over my feet most nights and doesn't budge much even if I kick. He's got silver feet and is so pretty and he's MY baby.
We finally caught up with Algebra before she could breed again. She seemed irritated after her trip to the vet and her little "procedure." We noticed that she stayed closer to home and after a while we brought her in. She didn't think much of that. She'd always been outdoors and she resisted.
She's finally settled in. All of the other cats are her offspring. Sometimes she tolerates them. They mostly defer to her. Lalique is the most tolerant. I think that he had some memory that she was his mother. He lets her clean him up. Algebra and Maude are distant and don't seem to fight, but they also don't seem to speak to one another. It's like they are mutually invisible to one another. Pickle has issues. She's usually a lover in every way but she launches against her mother at the most random times. We've had to fuss at them both in the last week for being ugly to each other.
Algebra is the great-great-great-granddaughter of the first Siamese that we had. Rose was a nurturer. She looked after all of us. She'd be proud of Algebra and all of Algebra's children.
Dogs come when you call. Cats have answering machines.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
On target
I think I'm ahead of my goal of 52 books this year. I just finished 21 and 22. Since Yesterday.
I picked up Remember to Say "Mouth" and Face by Omar Casteneda. It was strange and compelling, not unlike watching a train wreck at times.
After I put that down, I still felt like reading so I rooted through the pile of books in Rachael's room and pulled out House of the Scorpion that she's been begging me to read ever since she attended the writer's camp almost five years ago.
It was wonderful and I finished it this morning. Have you ever read a book that you wish was twice as long? This is one of those.
We got up and wandered around garage sales yesterday. It was gorgeous out. It was that perfect temperature that requires no adjustment at all. Not cool, not warm, just right!
I've been still looking for the "right" table and we found it right away in good condition. It matches all the other mission style stuff that we have and it was five bucks. This was a win-win-win situation. Don't you love it when that happens?
We went out last night on our bi-weekly date with Becca. We went to Nandina's and had sushi and curry. The curry was okay, kind of warm but the sushi was wonderful and reasonably priced. I want to go back and just freaking binge on sushi and Ashai Black label beer.
We wandered about and people watched for a while on Greenville and listened to Becca tell us oh so very many things. It was wonderful. We marveled at the number of bleached-blonds and fake boobs that we saw. I guess some folks like that in a look, but to us it is comical. Whatever.
We're down to counting Mondays left on one hand after tomorrow. Most everyone I know is so over this school year. Time to do something else.
I picked up Remember to Say "Mouth" and Face by Omar Casteneda. It was strange and compelling, not unlike watching a train wreck at times.
After I put that down, I still felt like reading so I rooted through the pile of books in Rachael's room and pulled out House of the Scorpion that she's been begging me to read ever since she attended the writer's camp almost five years ago.
It was wonderful and I finished it this morning. Have you ever read a book that you wish was twice as long? This is one of those.
We got up and wandered around garage sales yesterday. It was gorgeous out. It was that perfect temperature that requires no adjustment at all. Not cool, not warm, just right!
I've been still looking for the "right" table and we found it right away in good condition. It matches all the other mission style stuff that we have and it was five bucks. This was a win-win-win situation. Don't you love it when that happens?
We went out last night on our bi-weekly date with Becca. We went to Nandina's and had sushi and curry. The curry was okay, kind of warm but the sushi was wonderful and reasonably priced. I want to go back and just freaking binge on sushi and Ashai Black label beer.
We wandered about and people watched for a while on Greenville and listened to Becca tell us oh so very many things. It was wonderful. We marveled at the number of bleached-blonds and fake boobs that we saw. I guess some folks like that in a look, but to us it is comical. Whatever.
We're down to counting Mondays left on one hand after tomorrow. Most everyone I know is so over this school year. Time to do something else.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Sweep the Porch Clean
I just came in from the porch. There has been a deluge. I won't know until tomorrow if the grass seed we so lovingly sowed two days ago has again washed into the street to grow tufts of rye in the organic matter left by the live oak trees that shed volumes.
We just want grass. We cut back the tree limbs to give some view of sunlight. We fertilize. Our soil is so bad. Two days ago, James and Mark and I attacked the concrete hard bare patches. Mark shoveled in the rich compost of the live oaks that have built up in the flower beds. We attacked the dirt/concrete with small shovels and a vigor and mixed in rich soil and hopeful seed.
We mostly had St. Augustine until a drought and shade wrought havoc. We fight because our soil is so poor. Our neighborhood has nice little finials on the street signs that say "White Rock Village" and there is a graphic of an airplane. We live smack dab on the former turf runway of the White Rock Airport. Our house is located now almost dead center of that photograph. I wonder if the soil is polluted by having airplanes wandering up and down for 30 years. I'm wondering at this point why the live oaks planted by Fox and Jacobs 30+ years ago seem to prosper. There are a great lot of them and the result is that we have a very shady street. Sadly, our house is at one of the lower spots and when the rains come every one else's leaves gather in front of my house. It gets a little deep at times. We have shovels that we use to muck out. I've thought of starting a live oak leaf compost heap up against the house, but I'm afraid that the house would be soon covered and begin to creak and fall against the volume.
All I want is grass. (sigh)
I sit on the porch and I read. I reach out beyond the comfort of books that I know and love and want to read again. And again. So I stretch and I find. .. other things.
I am commended to good wifely behavior by book #20 of 2008. Storm Clouds over Party Shoes is artful and sarcastic and a slap in the face or on the behind.
The author is an artist and seems to be a very nice woman as she responded almost immediately when I emailed her and told her I liked her book and that I thought her art was thought-provoking.
I was stunned that she wrote me back so quickly, so I sent her a link to my review and she came back with an even nicer note and was very friendly.
I like writing the book reviews, it's an exercise in consumerism. I've had very friendly conversations with several of the authors that I've reviewed and found them to be such nice people. I also got a response today from the author of "Pledged" that I read earlier in the year. It was a very sweet note.
My friend Amy today said I should even send bad reviews to authors. I'm not as enthused about that. I don't want to be personally mean to them. I'm happy to write to folks that I admire to let them know that I enjoy their work, but it just seems kind of nasty to write to someone and say, well, "Hi, how are you, I read your book and I think it SUCKED."
I really did like "Storm Clouds" mostly for the art. It's more a compilation of art images than actual text from the author. She's using text to make a point with her artwork. I am very fond of text as I obviously love to write, but I also LOVE to WRITE, I mean with crow quill nibs and chisel nibs to create artful letters and words. I appreciate someone who combines images with text.
I didn't have to beat anyone up today although yesterday I ended up chasing a very big boy. I DID happen to have a broom in my hand and he acted like I was threatening him with it. I was sweeping my porch at school when he acted like a fool and I didn't want to set the broom down because I didn't want it stolen. I suppose it might have looked funny for me to trail this buffoon across campus with a broom in my hand, but it's a GOOD broom and I don't want to lose it.
The jerk yelled at me and said I was only picking on him because he was black. I went off and told him he was racist and shouldn't be talking about my family. He looked totally confused at that point and then tried to tell the security guards that I tried to beat him up with the broom. They told him to shut the eff up and handed me a referral form to fill out. I think they were a bit leary of the broom, but hey, sometimes they have to do things to make crazy white women happy.
Sweep the porch clean I say.
We just want grass. We cut back the tree limbs to give some view of sunlight. We fertilize. Our soil is so bad. Two days ago, James and Mark and I attacked the concrete hard bare patches. Mark shoveled in the rich compost of the live oaks that have built up in the flower beds. We attacked the dirt/concrete with small shovels and a vigor and mixed in rich soil and hopeful seed.
We mostly had St. Augustine until a drought and shade wrought havoc. We fight because our soil is so poor. Our neighborhood has nice little finials on the street signs that say "White Rock Village" and there is a graphic of an airplane. We live smack dab on the former turf runway of the White Rock Airport. Our house is located now almost dead center of that photograph. I wonder if the soil is polluted by having airplanes wandering up and down for 30 years. I'm wondering at this point why the live oaks planted by Fox and Jacobs 30+ years ago seem to prosper. There are a great lot of them and the result is that we have a very shady street. Sadly, our house is at one of the lower spots and when the rains come every one else's leaves gather in front of my house. It gets a little deep at times. We have shovels that we use to muck out. I've thought of starting a live oak leaf compost heap up against the house, but I'm afraid that the house would be soon covered and begin to creak and fall against the volume.
All I want is grass. (sigh)
I sit on the porch and I read. I reach out beyond the comfort of books that I know and love and want to read again. And again. So I stretch and I find. .. other things.
I am commended to good wifely behavior by book #20 of 2008. Storm Clouds over Party Shoes is artful and sarcastic and a slap in the face or on the behind.
The author is an artist and seems to be a very nice woman as she responded almost immediately when I emailed her and told her I liked her book and that I thought her art was thought-provoking.
I was stunned that she wrote me back so quickly, so I sent her a link to my review and she came back with an even nicer note and was very friendly.
I like writing the book reviews, it's an exercise in consumerism. I've had very friendly conversations with several of the authors that I've reviewed and found them to be such nice people. I also got a response today from the author of "Pledged" that I read earlier in the year. It was a very sweet note.
My friend Amy today said I should even send bad reviews to authors. I'm not as enthused about that. I don't want to be personally mean to them. I'm happy to write to folks that I admire to let them know that I enjoy their work, but it just seems kind of nasty to write to someone and say, well, "Hi, how are you, I read your book and I think it SUCKED."
I really did like "Storm Clouds" mostly for the art. It's more a compilation of art images than actual text from the author. She's using text to make a point with her artwork. I am very fond of text as I obviously love to write, but I also LOVE to WRITE, I mean with crow quill nibs and chisel nibs to create artful letters and words. I appreciate someone who combines images with text.
I didn't have to beat anyone up today although yesterday I ended up chasing a very big boy. I DID happen to have a broom in my hand and he acted like I was threatening him with it. I was sweeping my porch at school when he acted like a fool and I didn't want to set the broom down because I didn't want it stolen. I suppose it might have looked funny for me to trail this buffoon across campus with a broom in my hand, but it's a GOOD broom and I don't want to lose it.
The jerk yelled at me and said I was only picking on him because he was black. I went off and told him he was racist and shouldn't be talking about my family. He looked totally confused at that point and then tried to tell the security guards that I tried to beat him up with the broom. They told him to shut the eff up and handed me a referral form to fill out. I think they were a bit leary of the broom, but hey, sometimes they have to do things to make crazy white women happy.
Sweep the porch clean I say.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Rude Tales and Glorious #19
I should have known that any author willing to satirize Chaucer and Arthurian Legend in one fell swoop would share my zodiac sign.
I finished this afternoon Rude Tales and Glorious by "Nicholas Seare"
I tell my students that if one of their answers makes me laugh out loud that I will give them a giggle point. Some of them push their essays to the limit in the effort to wrangle a giggle point. How ridiculous can one be when describing Gothic architecture? They try and sometimes they succeed.
Rude Tales makes me laugh so hard, I almost have an unfortunate bladder response.
The author was a college professor who wrote under several pseudonyms. Another notable work was The Eiger Sanction which he wrote as "Trevanian." The man behind the mystery was Dr. Rodney William Whitaker. I wish I'd known this fellow. I would shake his hand for having so much gall.
"Rude Tales" centers around the hall of a Welsh baron who is bored with the lack of good storytelling found at his hearth and hall. The old priest has gone away and the new one seems good for very little (other than the shriving of women folk in private chambers).
There is a skritching at the door. The wind wails outside. It's cold and dreary. Through the peephole a servant spies a hag. He describes her as foul and loathsome. Wanting to verify the information the Baron peeps himself and says "Aye, tis a hag." He would return to his meal when the priest reminds him of his Christian duty to be kind and with some fuss the Baron admits the hag to the hall with the instruction that she be kept in the corner.
A moan occurs at the door and a pile of rags is there. A noxious old gentleman is found to inhabit the rags and at the priest's urging is admitted. Stripped of the rags, he is given a cheese rind to gird his loins.
As the Baron complains of the lack of entertainment, the entertainment begins. The odious visitors reveal that they are in fact Lancelot and Elaine. They have been bewitched and cursed to wander in a foul state. To earn their supper, they regale the company with bawdy and lusty tales. Some of these tales have some familiarity to a well-read person. They take familiar tales and render them in a very "earthy" fashion.
This is amusing stuff for lit geeks. I must be one!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I'm making a mess. There's a reason for it.
I've been really good this year. I've not smoked in the house even one time. I've sat on the porch and frozen my hoohah off for the sake of nicotine.
I must say it has been more pleasant the last few weeks. The weather has been fine, although still cool. I've watched spring erupt in my neighborhood and seen more of the neighbors than I want.
I told Mark that I needed a small table to set my coffee cup/water/beer on while I read and smoke. We wandered around to garage sales the last few weeks and we've found everything but a small table to my liking. I really am NOT that picky. I guess the tables have just been sold out or put to other uses.
Yesterday when he picks me up from school, he tells me he has a surprise. This is also a relative thing. Some surprises are good, some are not so good. This one has potential.
He was wandering around the neighborhood. It's "bulky trash" week and he found a night stand in someone's trash pile. Actually there were two, but he fished out the best one and picked out the two best drawers and there it was on my porch when I got home. It's very dated. I'm thinking it was prefab rent to own stuff from the eighties. It was white and the drawers are in good shape and clean. I peeled off some of the gold trim. I had an artist moment and immediately got out the acrylic paint.
It's not white any more. I have committed bizarre color and design upon it. My artistic talents lean toward the monochromatic arts. Jewelry can be totally without color. My drawings are strongest in pen and ink. My color sense involves the spectrum. I've fished out some books with cool pictures in them and I'm going to commit decoupage on this chest as well. I've got a case of spar varnish, so after I get it the way I want it I'm going to shellac the thing into place.
It's really fun. I'll take a picture of it soon and show the progress. Garish would be a kind thing to say about it. My mind reels as I think about what I'm going to attach to this thing.
Meanwhile, I can set my coffee on it. Coffee rings would only add to its charm at this point.
I better get to the varnish soon before it warms up much more and I have to pick the gnats out of it.
I finished this afternoon Rude Tales and Glorious by "Nicholas Seare"
I tell my students that if one of their answers makes me laugh out loud that I will give them a giggle point. Some of them push their essays to the limit in the effort to wrangle a giggle point. How ridiculous can one be when describing Gothic architecture? They try and sometimes they succeed.
Rude Tales makes me laugh so hard, I almost have an unfortunate bladder response.
The author was a college professor who wrote under several pseudonyms. Another notable work was The Eiger Sanction which he wrote as "Trevanian." The man behind the mystery was Dr. Rodney William Whitaker. I wish I'd known this fellow. I would shake his hand for having so much gall.
"Rude Tales" centers around the hall of a Welsh baron who is bored with the lack of good storytelling found at his hearth and hall. The old priest has gone away and the new one seems good for very little (other than the shriving of women folk in private chambers).
There is a skritching at the door. The wind wails outside. It's cold and dreary. Through the peephole a servant spies a hag. He describes her as foul and loathsome. Wanting to verify the information the Baron peeps himself and says "Aye, tis a hag." He would return to his meal when the priest reminds him of his Christian duty to be kind and with some fuss the Baron admits the hag to the hall with the instruction that she be kept in the corner.
A moan occurs at the door and a pile of rags is there. A noxious old gentleman is found to inhabit the rags and at the priest's urging is admitted. Stripped of the rags, he is given a cheese rind to gird his loins.
As the Baron complains of the lack of entertainment, the entertainment begins. The odious visitors reveal that they are in fact Lancelot and Elaine. They have been bewitched and cursed to wander in a foul state. To earn their supper, they regale the company with bawdy and lusty tales. Some of these tales have some familiarity to a well-read person. They take familiar tales and render them in a very "earthy" fashion.
This is amusing stuff for lit geeks. I must be one!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I'm making a mess. There's a reason for it.
I've been really good this year. I've not smoked in the house even one time. I've sat on the porch and frozen my hoohah off for the sake of nicotine.
I must say it has been more pleasant the last few weeks. The weather has been fine, although still cool. I've watched spring erupt in my neighborhood and seen more of the neighbors than I want.
I told Mark that I needed a small table to set my coffee cup/water/beer on while I read and smoke. We wandered around to garage sales the last few weeks and we've found everything but a small table to my liking. I really am NOT that picky. I guess the tables have just been sold out or put to other uses.
Yesterday when he picks me up from school, he tells me he has a surprise. This is also a relative thing. Some surprises are good, some are not so good. This one has potential.
He was wandering around the neighborhood. It's "bulky trash" week and he found a night stand in someone's trash pile. Actually there were two, but he fished out the best one and picked out the two best drawers and there it was on my porch when I got home. It's very dated. I'm thinking it was prefab rent to own stuff from the eighties. It was white and the drawers are in good shape and clean. I peeled off some of the gold trim. I had an artist moment and immediately got out the acrylic paint.
It's not white any more. I have committed bizarre color and design upon it. My artistic talents lean toward the monochromatic arts. Jewelry can be totally without color. My drawings are strongest in pen and ink. My color sense involves the spectrum. I've fished out some books with cool pictures in them and I'm going to commit decoupage on this chest as well. I've got a case of spar varnish, so after I get it the way I want it I'm going to shellac the thing into place.
It's really fun. I'll take a picture of it soon and show the progress. Garish would be a kind thing to say about it. My mind reels as I think about what I'm going to attach to this thing.
Meanwhile, I can set my coffee on it. Coffee rings would only add to its charm at this point.
I better get to the varnish soon before it warms up much more and I have to pick the gnats out of it.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
17 and 18 Blowing Through - Prequels and Paddlings
I picked up New Spring by Robert Jordan at Dollar Tree for a dollar. It's a first edition first printing hardback. Boy howdy!
This book is the prequel to a very long series that I first started reading at least ten years ago. I ran through it pretty fast as this was not a new world to me, I am well acquainted with this place and these people.
This book is a "back story" meant to give some more understanding of several of the characters. I enjoyed it as I've enjoyed all of the books, but I kind of wonder what the point is, as the main character that is developed is fairly long dead in the series.
I don't know for certain, but I get the impression that there are supposed to be several of these prequels, but the problem is that the author died recently. The last book in the series was not finished, so I'm not certain there will ever be resolution that is satisfactory.
Ahem. Book 18 is The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice writing as A. N. Roquelaure.
I've read everything that she's written as Anne Rice and I've heard of this story as her effort to delve into erotica. Published in 1983, this is pretty racy stuff. It's well written (Rice is an engaging writer as always) but I'm not sure if I liked it. I would say that it is mostly painful. I cringed throughout but I kept on reading. I don't know if I could handle reading any more of this stuff, but I'll pick up the next one at the first available opportunity.
Kinky would be a mild description of this book. If you like spankings, this is the book for YOU.
This book is the prequel to a very long series that I first started reading at least ten years ago. I ran through it pretty fast as this was not a new world to me, I am well acquainted with this place and these people.
This book is a "back story" meant to give some more understanding of several of the characters. I enjoyed it as I've enjoyed all of the books, but I kind of wonder what the point is, as the main character that is developed is fairly long dead in the series.
I don't know for certain, but I get the impression that there are supposed to be several of these prequels, but the problem is that the author died recently. The last book in the series was not finished, so I'm not certain there will ever be resolution that is satisfactory.
Ahem. Book 18 is The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice writing as A. N. Roquelaure.
I've read everything that she's written as Anne Rice and I've heard of this story as her effort to delve into erotica. Published in 1983, this is pretty racy stuff. It's well written (Rice is an engaging writer as always) but I'm not sure if I liked it. I would say that it is mostly painful. I cringed throughout but I kept on reading. I don't know if I could handle reading any more of this stuff, but I'll pick up the next one at the first available opportunity.
Kinky would be a mild description of this book. If you like spankings, this is the book for YOU.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Books 15 and 16 in Short Order and DGHTA
I wandered in to the bookshelf after I finished Pillars of the Earth. I sighed as I wondered what I could pick up that could make me so happy.
Okay, I snagged another repeat. Bellwether by Connie Willis. I love this book, it cracks me up and I get more out of it every time I read it. Life's experiences change us and every time we read something again, those experiences change the reading.
I gobbled it up and finished this morning and picked something else up from the "discard" pile. This one Descartes in 90 Minutes left me feeling like I wanted the half hour it took me to read it back.
Mark was surprised when I told him I'd already read Bellwether and another book before we headed for Trinity Hall this evening. I told him the Descartes book was really stupid. He asked me why I read it, and I had to allow that it was a small book and it would up my book count on my goal of averaging a book a week this year. He thought that was very silly.
Well, I guess it is silly. That would be like the kids assigned a book report who go to the library and look for the skinniest book on the shelf. I guess I just want some hedge room when I pick up the ones that are a thousand pages.
My friend Jane set herself the goal of reading a hundred books last year and I think she topped it by several. I don't think I will get to that many unless I have a very reading summer. I've got several books set to the side that are very edifying. There's one on Gothic cathedrals (enough already) and one on Monasticism (more of the same). I know I've got some buried under the night stand that I've not gotten to yet.
We had fun at Trinity Hall. We sat outside because (to quote Jane Austen) the weather was fine indeed. We were having our biweekly dinner date with Becca and it is always fun. Her hair is certainly red. I told her it was "Fergie" red. We had a lot of discussion about all the meanings of "red" and ended up calling her a redneck and a commie. It was fun.
Apparently at Trinity Hall on Sunday nights they have a trivia contest. We played the first round and named our team "Dirk Gently's Holistic Trivia Agency" We thought that the announcer had left us out of the stats but he said he'd abbreviated us to DGHTA. We're going to have to go back. We did well!
I think it takes a couple of hours to play all the rounds and we were already through eating when the first one started. There was a table of folks inside who were all playing. I'm betting they are regulars.
The things we do for entertainment!
Okay, I snagged another repeat. Bellwether by Connie Willis. I love this book, it cracks me up and I get more out of it every time I read it. Life's experiences change us and every time we read something again, those experiences change the reading.
I gobbled it up and finished this morning and picked something else up from the "discard" pile. This one Descartes in 90 Minutes left me feeling like I wanted the half hour it took me to read it back.
Mark was surprised when I told him I'd already read Bellwether and another book before we headed for Trinity Hall this evening. I told him the Descartes book was really stupid. He asked me why I read it, and I had to allow that it was a small book and it would up my book count on my goal of averaging a book a week this year. He thought that was very silly.
Well, I guess it is silly. That would be like the kids assigned a book report who go to the library and look for the skinniest book on the shelf. I guess I just want some hedge room when I pick up the ones that are a thousand pages.
My friend Jane set herself the goal of reading a hundred books last year and I think she topped it by several. I don't think I will get to that many unless I have a very reading summer. I've got several books set to the side that are very edifying. There's one on Gothic cathedrals (enough already) and one on Monasticism (more of the same). I know I've got some buried under the night stand that I've not gotten to yet.
We had fun at Trinity Hall. We sat outside because (to quote Jane Austen) the weather was fine indeed. We were having our biweekly dinner date with Becca and it is always fun. Her hair is certainly red. I told her it was "Fergie" red. We had a lot of discussion about all the meanings of "red" and ended up calling her a redneck and a commie. It was fun.
Apparently at Trinity Hall on Sunday nights they have a trivia contest. We played the first round and named our team "Dirk Gently's Holistic Trivia Agency" We thought that the announcer had left us out of the stats but he said he'd abbreviated us to DGHTA. We're going to have to go back. We did well!
I think it takes a couple of hours to play all the rounds and we were already through eating when the first one started. There was a table of folks inside who were all playing. I'm betting they are regulars.
The things we do for entertainment!
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Book 14, Pillars of the Earth
I'm reading this book again for about the sixth or seventh time. I don't know about you, but any book that bears the additional read for me does so for some profound reason.
This is certainly the case for The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett.
This has got to be one of my top ten ever. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand is up there as well.
I teach Art History and that means that I'm a twisted anal-retentive individual who loves a minutia of detail. Because of the architectural information in this novel I offer up 5 points added to an average for a six weeks for reading it and talking to me about it. It's 983 pages and a student would have to want the extra credit BIG time to undertake it. I've had a couple of kids over the years who read it and told me that I didn't have to give them the extra credit. They loved the book so much.
I'm also one who was raised on H.G. Wells and Jules Verne and Edgar Rice Burroughs. I love a good story.
Pillars of the Earth gives me both. The characters are very detailed and strongly written. They are poor/rich, starving/gluttons, peasant/nobility, sac religious/religious and just about every permutation of human station that one can imagine in between. The poor have substinence issues. The religious and nobles draw together for their own issues of advancement.
All through the thread of machinations is the life of Tom Mason, a builder. The central character, his one goal is to build a cathedral, because it is "beautiful." His life is complicated by several events. Early in the novel, he abandons his newborn child on the grave of his beloved wife who has died in the birthing effort. Feeling remorse he goes back to find that the child has been found and taken to a priory and left to the care of monks. In this period of a day he unites with a strange forest woman who in effect becomes his wife. Tom is tormented by the desire to reclaim his infant and his passion for the strange woman Ellen. Tom seeks a position as a builder near the priory where his infant son resides.
This is just a minor portion of this story that includes politically active maneuverings that involve the highest members of the church, the squabbles among local barony and the quest for the throne of England itself. Included is the martyrdom of Thomas a Becket.
One does not build a cathedral in a day. Such undertakings were generally multigenerational. Ken Follett has chosen to set his story in the period of the architectural change from Romanesque to Gothic and with his narration describes the building formats of the churches and the engineering changes necessary for the transition of style. The author wraps up these solidly researched engineering and artistic issues with the lives and dilemmas of very compelling and human characters. We look at the lives of the characters over time and see how their life experiences alter their perspectives.
There is drama, there is love, there is lust for passion and for power. In this story, there is the love of God and description of how so many different kinds of people come to related to God. The plot has so many twists and turns it will leave you spinning and make you wonder how one author could see so many personal agendas and points of view.
This novel is well crafted. It's a great story that takes my breath away every time I read it. As I tell my students, one gets to the point where there are a hundred pages left and we think "OH NO, there's not much left. . . " We want the story to go on and on and on.
Once again, I finished this book and wanted even more. I hear now there is a sequel and I'm betting that one comes up before the year is out!
I'm already started on book fifteen. I've not counted the weeks so far, but I think I'm on schedule!
This is certainly the case for The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett.
This has got to be one of my top ten ever. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand is up there as well.
I teach Art History and that means that I'm a twisted anal-retentive individual who loves a minutia of detail. Because of the architectural information in this novel I offer up 5 points added to an average for a six weeks for reading it and talking to me about it. It's 983 pages and a student would have to want the extra credit BIG time to undertake it. I've had a couple of kids over the years who read it and told me that I didn't have to give them the extra credit. They loved the book so much.
I'm also one who was raised on H.G. Wells and Jules Verne and Edgar Rice Burroughs. I love a good story.
Pillars of the Earth gives me both. The characters are very detailed and strongly written. They are poor/rich, starving/gluttons, peasant/nobility, sac religious/religious and just about every permutation of human station that one can imagine in between. The poor have substinence issues. The religious and nobles draw together for their own issues of advancement.
All through the thread of machinations is the life of Tom Mason, a builder. The central character, his one goal is to build a cathedral, because it is "beautiful." His life is complicated by several events. Early in the novel, he abandons his newborn child on the grave of his beloved wife who has died in the birthing effort. Feeling remorse he goes back to find that the child has been found and taken to a priory and left to the care of monks. In this period of a day he unites with a strange forest woman who in effect becomes his wife. Tom is tormented by the desire to reclaim his infant and his passion for the strange woman Ellen. Tom seeks a position as a builder near the priory where his infant son resides.
This is just a minor portion of this story that includes politically active maneuverings that involve the highest members of the church, the squabbles among local barony and the quest for the throne of England itself. Included is the martyrdom of Thomas a Becket.
One does not build a cathedral in a day. Such undertakings were generally multigenerational. Ken Follett has chosen to set his story in the period of the architectural change from Romanesque to Gothic and with his narration describes the building formats of the churches and the engineering changes necessary for the transition of style. The author wraps up these solidly researched engineering and artistic issues with the lives and dilemmas of very compelling and human characters. We look at the lives of the characters over time and see how their life experiences alter their perspectives.
There is drama, there is love, there is lust for passion and for power. In this story, there is the love of God and description of how so many different kinds of people come to related to God. The plot has so many twists and turns it will leave you spinning and make you wonder how one author could see so many personal agendas and points of view.
This novel is well crafted. It's a great story that takes my breath away every time I read it. As I tell my students, one gets to the point where there are a hundred pages left and we think "OH NO, there's not much left. . . " We want the story to go on and on and on.
Once again, I finished this book and wanted even more. I hear now there is a sequel and I'm betting that one comes up before the year is out!
I'm already started on book fifteen. I've not counted the weeks so far, but I think I'm on schedule!
TGIF
Today was a relief after yesterday. I did write one referral. I had a senior girl tell me that she didn't care about my class and that she didn't want to spend the money for supplies because she didn't need the class to graduate.
OMG, let's just press my "rhymes with rich" button.
I have an issue about kids not working in class. I want them to do something to get a grade. I don't pay them for nothing.
The girl today is a good girl. I doubt seriously that she has been sent to the discipline office very many times. I told her as I got there that when good kids acted up that it stands out more. She started arguing more that she wasn't the only one and I said that I was talking to her and she was trying to point at everyone but her.
I can perhaps see her point of view. She doesn't know the relationships I have with other students. One other girl, I went off on last period worked her little butt off this time. Another girl didn't bring her stuff today but she is second year with me and I know her and she knows that she has to perform, even if she wasn't there today. She did not dare say that she didn't plan to do work because she didn't have to have it graduate. She knows that I'll kick her ass nine different ways.
Can you imagine telling a teacher that you don't feel like doing the work in her class because it doesn't matter if she has it to graduate.?
What a moron. It will still be transcripted that she did not do adequate work.
OMG, let's just press my "rhymes with rich" button.
I have an issue about kids not working in class. I want them to do something to get a grade. I don't pay them for nothing.
The girl today is a good girl. I doubt seriously that she has been sent to the discipline office very many times. I told her as I got there that when good kids acted up that it stands out more. She started arguing more that she wasn't the only one and I said that I was talking to her and she was trying to point at everyone but her.
I can perhaps see her point of view. She doesn't know the relationships I have with other students. One other girl, I went off on last period worked her little butt off this time. Another girl didn't bring her stuff today but she is second year with me and I know her and she knows that she has to perform, even if she wasn't there today. She did not dare say that she didn't plan to do work because she didn't have to have it graduate. She knows that I'll kick her ass nine different ways.
Can you imagine telling a teacher that you don't feel like doing the work in her class because it doesn't matter if she has it to graduate.?
What a moron. It will still be transcripted that she did not do adequate work.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Throw a Bucket of Water on Me and see if I Melt
Today was rotten. No joke. April 1, 2008 ranks up there with election day in November of 1980.
There may have been worse ones, but not so laughably awful.
Perhaps I should compare them. . . .
Election Day, 1980.
I was living in Las Cruces, NM. I was newly married (to my ex-husband) and a student at New Mexico State University. I can remember that I was pretty disgusted with the presidential offerings. At a costume Halloween Party the weekend before I'd made everyone laugh when I called up the Lyndon Laroche infomercial and got a campaign supporter on the phone and started asking her really stupid questions and then asked her if his show was a game show or a pilot for a new comedy show. (Amazing how beer can make some things funnier) The very sincere young lady on the other end of the phone finally made a disgusted noise and hung up on me. That was funny too.
I get up on election day and I go and perform my patriotic citizen duty and I cast my ballot for 3rd party candidate John Anderson. What's funny now is that I have a hard time remembering who I was voting against (Reagan and who?) What an odd thing to remember, but I was wearing some substantial heels that day (like I need heels at five foot nine). I went to my marketing class with Dr. Lill. I really liked him and I really liked the class very much. I remember standing in line after class to ask him a question. The next thing I remember, I'm on the floor and the kindly professor was kind of shaking me and looking very concerned. I had apparently passed smooth clean out in the small auditorium. Mortified, I assured him that I was just fine and having forgot my question, got to my car and went by a friend's house. It was about 11 am and we were standing outside and she asked me if I had been drinking.
I told her that the last time I'd been drinking that she was with me and sweet Luisa said "You don't look like you are okay."
I decided that perhaps I'd better go home, so I did. I figured this was a good day to find a great book and chill. I had to eat though and took the easy way out and heated up a can of chef boyardee ravioli (still one of my favorite comfort foods) and went to my chair and set the plate down on the ottoman in front of me and then sat and leaned over and put my drink down on the end table. I heard a rumble of thundering paws and my tiny cat Kamikaze Louise launched herself at the ottoman and stuck her face right into my plate of ravioli. I was incensed. I reached to swat her and she swerved and I got up and chased her and ran smack into the wrought iron chandelier in the dining area (that didn't have a table yet). I woke up on the floor with Kamikaze licking my face (I guess she could have been eating my food)
It was at this point that I decided that I was having a bad day. Unconscious twice by noon in a single day is a bad omen. I decided that I was going to lay VERY low and get on the couch and not move for the rest of the day. One would normally think that is a non hazardous behavior but at some point a spider crawled out from under the couch and bit my ankle resulting in a nasty whelp.
John Anderson lost.
April 1, 2008
I missed last Thursday and Friday because of medical issues. Today I was back with my AP Art History kids and we were prepared to finally do our presentations on cathedrals. I set up my not very portable technology (it takes 20 minutes out of a class period to put up the projector and laptop and power it down and go store it down the hall). The announcements came on and there was some stern stuff being said. There was a big fight yesterday after school and I guess trouble has been brewing because there were offers of consequences for bad behavior. THEN, there is an announcement that there is going to be a meeting for seniors at the end of announcements which pulls out all but two of my students.
Criminee. So we can't do our presentations and we are pushed back another day, so I spend the period with the two kids left trying to explain the beginnings of the Renaissance. They didn't know who Marco Polo was or what city-states were.
Have you ever tried to explain who Marco Polo was? I'm grateful that I am enough of a student of history that I can do a passable job, but juniors and seniors in high school should freaking know who Marco Polo was (other than a game in a swimming pool).
I have to teach this class in the library which is inconvenient because other folks can randomly wander in and look for stuff. Also, if testing is going on in the library, I may get five minutes notice that I have to teach art history in the cafeteria that day. That doesn't work very well.
I have to go make a copy, so I wander across the library. . .while I am at the copy machine I see the library clerk with a stack of what looked like hardback comic books. They look like something you'd see in a rack at an elementary school and they are obviously new because she is adding shelving stickers to them.
"What the hell is that?" I ask as I point at the stack of at least 25 skinny colorful books. She tells me they are graphic novels. I've noticed a trend in that direction, so I pick one up and it's really juvenile. I shake my head and say "Why do we buy these, this is baby stuff" and she shrugs and says, "well, it's popular and it gets them to read." As an educated human, and a taxpayer in this district, I'm somewhat offended (I don't blame the clerk, she's just putting stickers on) but still I tell her what I think about such a thing. She tells me that a lot of things are coming out in graphic novels and that it's a way to get the kids to read stuff they should read. She says the graphic novel of Beowulf is pretty popular.
I'm still offended and I see a theater teacher and an English teacher that I adore. I ask them if they had to read real books when they were growing up and they both said that they did. I pointed at the stack of graphic novels and they shake their heads. I do too. They are funny and cute and nice and we talked a few minutes about what book nerds we are and I outnerded them by telling them that I'd read every play by Shakespeare when I was in high school.
Late in the period, all the seniors came back and I ask them if anyone has read The Complete Shakespeare. They look at me blankly (as they normally do). One guy says, "I read Hamlet." One girls says she read MacBeth. The Hamlet guy says "What do you mean, The Complete Shakespeare?" I look at him and say, "that means I read all of his plays."
"How many is that?" he asks. I don't know the exact number but I tell him "almost 40." The kids look at each other and they look back at me like I've grown a second head. Hamlet boy says "Miss, WHY would you do that?" I look at him and then at all of them and say "Why have you NOT?"
I often ask this group of kids if they think they have gotten a good education. They seem to think it is okay. I often tell them that I think I worked harder at it. I think that was obvious today although we all left feeling kind of strange.
I was pretty sad as I walked across our huge campus to another building to teach my next class. I have a few minutes (it's called lunch) and I pull up my email and there is a message that enrages me. Not a little, I'm so mad that I start crying and I can't stop. I'm trying to compose a reply that stops short of saying that I have small armed tactical missiles aimed at the business office of the school and the kids start coming in for the next class. Several of them stop on their way in and ask me to do things and I told the first kid "I'm really mad right now, it's not about you, I want to bite someone very much, would you rather wait to talk to me." He decides it's better to wait.
Pink Angel comes in and she has a question and I tell her pretty much the same thing. I ask her to give me five minutes and I will answer her question. I've totally lost my composure at this point.
Intermission: Why am I so mad? I've been trying to get supplies for 65 students in a particular class all year and I'm told that I can't buy from the ONLY vendor in the state that I know of because they are inactive. The vendor is inactive because they refuse to do business with my district because it took six months for them to get paid last time. They will sell to us but only with cash up front. I've scrambled for almost everything to supply 65 kids all year (all that has kept me going are the generous donations of wonderful friends), I've bankrupted every studio supply that I personally own and I'm just out of everything. I thought I had made arrangements to get my supplies through another angle but the business manager and I do not communicate well and for about the fifth time she tells me to find another vendor. I blast back at there that there is NOT another vendor that I cannot snap my fingers and make one appear. I've BEGGED for help from the people in my administration and I'm not getting it. My blood pressure is dangerously high (148 over 109)
So, I'm sitting in my class and I'm crying. I think it scared the kids. One boy said "Miss, is this an April Fool? Are you just messing with us?" A girl smacked him on the arm and said "Boy, you are stupid, she's really upset." I try to do my job and help them advance the current project (they are doing well and I appreciate them) but I'm barely holding myself together. I am sure to tell them that I am NOT mad at them that me being upset has nothing to do with them. One girl comes up and says "Miss, do you need a hug?" I accept it gratefully. I calm a little bit and I try to explain in very simple terms that I am frustrated by the way that our district does business because it keeps me from being able to provide the best I can for our kids. I want to bite someone.
They are all working and I go sit down. Pink Angel comes up to me and she says "Miss, it's okay. It's going to be okay. You're alive. Just pray to God and it will be okay. God loves you Miss, and I love you Miss. "
I almost melt down again. She tells me that if I want to get another job that she bets her daddy can get me another job. She says she knows I'm a good worker. She offers a donation of ten dollars. This is a ninth grade child who is fifteen. I tell her to keep her money but then she asks if I can at least go get her a Sprite out of the teacher machine (20 oz bottles instead of 12 oz cans). She said if I have change for a ten then I could have nine of it.
I go get her Sprite and I come back and she hugs me and holds me close and says "Miss, it's going to be okay."
During my conference period, I go to my friend the nurse and she takes my aforementioned blood pressure and fusses at me. She tells me I'm going to die if my blood pressure doesn't go down. She directs me to our friend the dean. I talk to him and he tells me who I need to talk to solve my problem. I start crying again and he's kind, but tells me that he cannot solve my problem, but directs me to a specific person.
I go to the main office, I'm obviously distraught. The office ladies want to know what I want and I tell them that I need to talk to someone in particular who happens not to be available. They take me out of the lobby and have me sit and give me kleenex. I can see that the principal is in his office meeting with someone and I'm sitting outside waiting for the other dean. The principal escorts out his guest and he sees me and he names my class that I'm having issue with and I melt down again and he has me come in. He makes several phone calls and promises that he will do what he can to get me what I need for my students. I tell him that I'm not being a big girl today and he's so nice and says I don't have to be.
I get to my next class which is filled with my incredibly smart kids that I love more than anything. They are kind and offer to beat up the world for me. I'm so grateful for them. They are strange and quirky and so so smart. They love to learn for learning's sake. They are every shape size and color and they are a family, and I'm grateful to be part of that family. This is the good part of the day.
Drumrollllll. I get to go get the results from my MRI. I've apparently got an almost complete tear in one of the tendons in my shoulder. Not all the way, just mostly all the way. My chiropractor looks at the report and says, well, this means surgery.
Chiropractors usually don't say the surgery word. DAMN.
This does not sound like fun.
There may have been worse ones, but not so laughably awful.
Perhaps I should compare them. . . .
Election Day, 1980.
I was living in Las Cruces, NM. I was newly married (to my ex-husband) and a student at New Mexico State University. I can remember that I was pretty disgusted with the presidential offerings. At a costume Halloween Party the weekend before I'd made everyone laugh when I called up the Lyndon Laroche infomercial and got a campaign supporter on the phone and started asking her really stupid questions and then asked her if his show was a game show or a pilot for a new comedy show. (Amazing how beer can make some things funnier) The very sincere young lady on the other end of the phone finally made a disgusted noise and hung up on me. That was funny too.
I get up on election day and I go and perform my patriotic citizen duty and I cast my ballot for 3rd party candidate John Anderson. What's funny now is that I have a hard time remembering who I was voting against (Reagan and who?) What an odd thing to remember, but I was wearing some substantial heels that day (like I need heels at five foot nine). I went to my marketing class with Dr. Lill. I really liked him and I really liked the class very much. I remember standing in line after class to ask him a question. The next thing I remember, I'm on the floor and the kindly professor was kind of shaking me and looking very concerned. I had apparently passed smooth clean out in the small auditorium. Mortified, I assured him that I was just fine and having forgot my question, got to my car and went by a friend's house. It was about 11 am and we were standing outside and she asked me if I had been drinking.
I told her that the last time I'd been drinking that she was with me and sweet Luisa said "You don't look like you are okay."
I decided that perhaps I'd better go home, so I did. I figured this was a good day to find a great book and chill. I had to eat though and took the easy way out and heated up a can of chef boyardee ravioli (still one of my favorite comfort foods) and went to my chair and set the plate down on the ottoman in front of me and then sat and leaned over and put my drink down on the end table. I heard a rumble of thundering paws and my tiny cat Kamikaze Louise launched herself at the ottoman and stuck her face right into my plate of ravioli. I was incensed. I reached to swat her and she swerved and I got up and chased her and ran smack into the wrought iron chandelier in the dining area (that didn't have a table yet). I woke up on the floor with Kamikaze licking my face (I guess she could have been eating my food)
It was at this point that I decided that I was having a bad day. Unconscious twice by noon in a single day is a bad omen. I decided that I was going to lay VERY low and get on the couch and not move for the rest of the day. One would normally think that is a non hazardous behavior but at some point a spider crawled out from under the couch and bit my ankle resulting in a nasty whelp.
John Anderson lost.
April 1, 2008
I missed last Thursday and Friday because of medical issues. Today I was back with my AP Art History kids and we were prepared to finally do our presentations on cathedrals. I set up my not very portable technology (it takes 20 minutes out of a class period to put up the projector and laptop and power it down and go store it down the hall). The announcements came on and there was some stern stuff being said. There was a big fight yesterday after school and I guess trouble has been brewing because there were offers of consequences for bad behavior. THEN, there is an announcement that there is going to be a meeting for seniors at the end of announcements which pulls out all but two of my students.
Criminee. So we can't do our presentations and we are pushed back another day, so I spend the period with the two kids left trying to explain the beginnings of the Renaissance. They didn't know who Marco Polo was or what city-states were.
Have you ever tried to explain who Marco Polo was? I'm grateful that I am enough of a student of history that I can do a passable job, but juniors and seniors in high school should freaking know who Marco Polo was (other than a game in a swimming pool).
I have to teach this class in the library which is inconvenient because other folks can randomly wander in and look for stuff. Also, if testing is going on in the library, I may get five minutes notice that I have to teach art history in the cafeteria that day. That doesn't work very well.
I have to go make a copy, so I wander across the library. . .while I am at the copy machine I see the library clerk with a stack of what looked like hardback comic books. They look like something you'd see in a rack at an elementary school and they are obviously new because she is adding shelving stickers to them.
"What the hell is that?" I ask as I point at the stack of at least 25 skinny colorful books. She tells me they are graphic novels. I've noticed a trend in that direction, so I pick one up and it's really juvenile. I shake my head and say "Why do we buy these, this is baby stuff" and she shrugs and says, "well, it's popular and it gets them to read." As an educated human, and a taxpayer in this district, I'm somewhat offended (I don't blame the clerk, she's just putting stickers on) but still I tell her what I think about such a thing. She tells me that a lot of things are coming out in graphic novels and that it's a way to get the kids to read stuff they should read. She says the graphic novel of Beowulf is pretty popular.
I'm still offended and I see a theater teacher and an English teacher that I adore. I ask them if they had to read real books when they were growing up and they both said that they did. I pointed at the stack of graphic novels and they shake their heads. I do too. They are funny and cute and nice and we talked a few minutes about what book nerds we are and I outnerded them by telling them that I'd read every play by Shakespeare when I was in high school.
Late in the period, all the seniors came back and I ask them if anyone has read The Complete Shakespeare. They look at me blankly (as they normally do). One guy says, "I read Hamlet." One girls says she read MacBeth. The Hamlet guy says "What do you mean, The Complete Shakespeare?" I look at him and say, "that means I read all of his plays."
"How many is that?" he asks. I don't know the exact number but I tell him "almost 40." The kids look at each other and they look back at me like I've grown a second head. Hamlet boy says "Miss, WHY would you do that?" I look at him and then at all of them and say "Why have you NOT?"
I often ask this group of kids if they think they have gotten a good education. They seem to think it is okay. I often tell them that I think I worked harder at it. I think that was obvious today although we all left feeling kind of strange.
I was pretty sad as I walked across our huge campus to another building to teach my next class. I have a few minutes (it's called lunch) and I pull up my email and there is a message that enrages me. Not a little, I'm so mad that I start crying and I can't stop. I'm trying to compose a reply that stops short of saying that I have small armed tactical missiles aimed at the business office of the school and the kids start coming in for the next class. Several of them stop on their way in and ask me to do things and I told the first kid "I'm really mad right now, it's not about you, I want to bite someone very much, would you rather wait to talk to me." He decides it's better to wait.
Pink Angel comes in and she has a question and I tell her pretty much the same thing. I ask her to give me five minutes and I will answer her question. I've totally lost my composure at this point.
Intermission: Why am I so mad? I've been trying to get supplies for 65 students in a particular class all year and I'm told that I can't buy from the ONLY vendor in the state that I know of because they are inactive. The vendor is inactive because they refuse to do business with my district because it took six months for them to get paid last time. They will sell to us but only with cash up front. I've scrambled for almost everything to supply 65 kids all year (all that has kept me going are the generous donations of wonderful friends), I've bankrupted every studio supply that I personally own and I'm just out of everything. I thought I had made arrangements to get my supplies through another angle but the business manager and I do not communicate well and for about the fifth time she tells me to find another vendor. I blast back at there that there is NOT another vendor that I cannot snap my fingers and make one appear. I've BEGGED for help from the people in my administration and I'm not getting it. My blood pressure is dangerously high (148 over 109)
So, I'm sitting in my class and I'm crying. I think it scared the kids. One boy said "Miss, is this an April Fool? Are you just messing with us?" A girl smacked him on the arm and said "Boy, you are stupid, she's really upset." I try to do my job and help them advance the current project (they are doing well and I appreciate them) but I'm barely holding myself together. I am sure to tell them that I am NOT mad at them that me being upset has nothing to do with them. One girl comes up and says "Miss, do you need a hug?" I accept it gratefully. I calm a little bit and I try to explain in very simple terms that I am frustrated by the way that our district does business because it keeps me from being able to provide the best I can for our kids. I want to bite someone.
They are all working and I go sit down. Pink Angel comes up to me and she says "Miss, it's okay. It's going to be okay. You're alive. Just pray to God and it will be okay. God loves you Miss, and I love you Miss. "
I almost melt down again. She tells me that if I want to get another job that she bets her daddy can get me another job. She says she knows I'm a good worker. She offers a donation of ten dollars. This is a ninth grade child who is fifteen. I tell her to keep her money but then she asks if I can at least go get her a Sprite out of the teacher machine (20 oz bottles instead of 12 oz cans). She said if I have change for a ten then I could have nine of it.
I go get her Sprite and I come back and she hugs me and holds me close and says "Miss, it's going to be okay."
During my conference period, I go to my friend the nurse and she takes my aforementioned blood pressure and fusses at me. She tells me I'm going to die if my blood pressure doesn't go down. She directs me to our friend the dean. I talk to him and he tells me who I need to talk to solve my problem. I start crying again and he's kind, but tells me that he cannot solve my problem, but directs me to a specific person.
I go to the main office, I'm obviously distraught. The office ladies want to know what I want and I tell them that I need to talk to someone in particular who happens not to be available. They take me out of the lobby and have me sit and give me kleenex. I can see that the principal is in his office meeting with someone and I'm sitting outside waiting for the other dean. The principal escorts out his guest and he sees me and he names my class that I'm having issue with and I melt down again and he has me come in. He makes several phone calls and promises that he will do what he can to get me what I need for my students. I tell him that I'm not being a big girl today and he's so nice and says I don't have to be.
I get to my next class which is filled with my incredibly smart kids that I love more than anything. They are kind and offer to beat up the world for me. I'm so grateful for them. They are strange and quirky and so so smart. They love to learn for learning's sake. They are every shape size and color and they are a family, and I'm grateful to be part of that family. This is the good part of the day.
Drumrollllll. I get to go get the results from my MRI. I've apparently got an almost complete tear in one of the tendons in my shoulder. Not all the way, just mostly all the way. My chiropractor looks at the report and says, well, this means surgery.
Chiropractors usually don't say the surgery word. DAMN.
This does not sound like fun.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Book 13, I'm catching up on the year for now. . .
I got back from Spring Break and my friend the school nurse told me about something she'd read over the break... Towing Jehovah by James Morris.
What she described was pretty strange, so when I got home I ordered the book. It came in a few days and I put it on the stack to read next.
I had an arthrogram on Thursday which kind of laid me low and put me off work for a couple of days. I started Towing Jehovah that afternoon and found myself diving into a concept that I had never dreamed of.
The basic premise of the novel is that God has died and his corporeal body has fallen into the Atlantic at 0 degrees longitude and latitude.
Enter the interfering archangels. . . Gabriel goes to the Vatican and Raphael goes to New York. At this point things get very complex. The angels are suffering and know that they are dying of empathy with their creator. They have prepared a tomb in the arctic for the body of God and have to rely on humankind to get him there. There are logistic issues. God is two miles long for one thing. He is decomposing for another.
Anthony Van Horne, defunct oil supertanker captain is famed for spilling oil all over Matagorda Bay off the coast of Texas. Reminiscent of the story of the Exxon Valdez, the former captain of Carpco Valparaiso is tormented by images of oil covered water fowl and blinded manatees. He seeks salvation that doesn't come. His father, a renowned captain, belittles him and Anthony cannot forgive himself, no matter how many times he bathes.
This novel satirizes almost every level of faith. It looks at personal, corporate, and hard-line religious viewpoints. This book makes fun of fast food in ways that defy imagination. Dilettantes who are so rich and bored that they have to reenact World War II battles are swept up in sea and air battle to prevent Jehovah from finding his final rest.
What a fun book!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yesterday, I saw a robin in the yard. I've always heard that was a harbinger of spring which officially kicked off last week. Today I saw two robins and they danced such a funny dance all over the yard. They were digging in the dirt for worms and hopping about in an eccentric orbit around some random spot in my front yard. One was redder and fatter
than the other. I hope that they will nest someplace nearby. I can hear the doves a lot. There are more of them around than last year. They are quite vocal.
I love spring, because I love seeing the birds. I may start a checklist. I've seen doves, grackles, robins, mockingbirds and some green parrots so far this year. The green parrots were in someone's yard on Fisher Road. There were four of them and they were in a yard munching down with about a half dozen other birds. It was pretty cool.
What she described was pretty strange, so when I got home I ordered the book. It came in a few days and I put it on the stack to read next.
I had an arthrogram on Thursday which kind of laid me low and put me off work for a couple of days. I started Towing Jehovah that afternoon and found myself diving into a concept that I had never dreamed of.
The basic premise of the novel is that God has died and his corporeal body has fallen into the Atlantic at 0 degrees longitude and latitude.
Enter the interfering archangels. . . Gabriel goes to the Vatican and Raphael goes to New York. At this point things get very complex. The angels are suffering and know that they are dying of empathy with their creator. They have prepared a tomb in the arctic for the body of God and have to rely on humankind to get him there. There are logistic issues. God is two miles long for one thing. He is decomposing for another.
Anthony Van Horne, defunct oil supertanker captain is famed for spilling oil all over Matagorda Bay off the coast of Texas. Reminiscent of the story of the Exxon Valdez, the former captain of Carpco Valparaiso is tormented by images of oil covered water fowl and blinded manatees. He seeks salvation that doesn't come. His father, a renowned captain, belittles him and Anthony cannot forgive himself, no matter how many times he bathes.
This novel satirizes almost every level of faith. It looks at personal, corporate, and hard-line religious viewpoints. This book makes fun of fast food in ways that defy imagination. Dilettantes who are so rich and bored that they have to reenact World War II battles are swept up in sea and air battle to prevent Jehovah from finding his final rest.
What a fun book!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yesterday, I saw a robin in the yard. I've always heard that was a harbinger of spring which officially kicked off last week. Today I saw two robins and they danced such a funny dance all over the yard. They were digging in the dirt for worms and hopping about in an eccentric orbit around some random spot in my front yard. One was redder and fatter
than the other. I hope that they will nest someplace nearby. I can hear the doves a lot. There are more of them around than last year. They are quite vocal.I love spring, because I love seeing the birds. I may start a checklist. I've seen doves, grackles, robins, mockingbirds and some green parrots so far this year. The green parrots were in someone's yard on Fisher Road. There were four of them and they were in a yard munching down with about a half dozen other birds. It was pretty cool.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Book 12, Infinity and Beyond
I picked up another from the "marginal" pile. I saw that it was written by Ben Bova and knew that I had read one of his Mars books as well as the fact that he had edited Omni Magazine. Faint Echoes, Distant Stars gives a lot of information in a very objective manner.
Much of what Dr. Bova touches on is controversial at the very least. He talks about the origins of humankind's perceptions of our world and the lights in the sky.
The author explains the currently accepted version of the creation of the solar system. His description of the "accretion disk" and the way that planets coalesced by a combination of collisions with other bodies and attracting "dust" from the elliptic is vivid and exciting. One would think that this kind of book could be mind numbing.
I learned about exobiology and astrobiology and that there are life forms on this planet that are as alien to us as anything that we can likely imagine. Have you ever heard of an extremophile? I sure hadn't.
Wait, that boy I saw in the discipline office yesterday was pretty alien with his waist band at mid thigh and his grungy thermal underwear on. Ewww.
As a write of speculative fiction, I wondered how object Dr. Bova would be. I knew I liked his writing. I really tend to avoid non-fiction but I find myself coming around to it more and more. (Thank you very much Jane!) After studying art history and reading some of the "oh my God I want to shoot myself" texts I had really wanted to stay as far away from research as I could. I really liked this book. I liked how the author tried to look at each item he discussed from divergent points of view. I also liked his fond homage to Carl Sagan, long one of my heroes.
At times, this text is funny as it discusses how the political structure in the US impacts the funding for space exploration and scientific discovery. To see US politicians quoting about the "giggle factor" and "little green men" is really laughable. I bet some of them see plenty of little green men after a four martini lunch.
Mark is fond of saying that humankind has such a hard time understanding the infinitely large and the infinitely small. Reminds me of the Niven/Pournelle book Mote in God's Eye."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I'm puny today. I had to have dye injected into my shoulder today and then have an MRI. I am so scared of needles. I must say that the doctor was really cute and nice and I only cussed once.
MRI's don't usually bother me very much. I tend to fall asleep inside the "jackhammer" tube. I've had probably a dozen of them over the years. I've learned that amenities are worthwhile. The last two I've had were "open" MRI's and weren't terrible. The last one actually had a straight shot at CNN. Some of them have piped in music and earphones. The one today was a dog. The air flow wasn't very good and I got a little panicked. That is new. I had to have him pull me out. Having this contrast in my shoulder already and not wanting to be stuck again, I was resolved to get the test over. I did actually come close to dropping off a couple of times which makes the time pass so much faster and THEN I got a ginormous cramp in my right butt cheek about the same time that I had a massive hot flash. That was rough. I did my Lamaze breathing and counted. The tech was a cute little guy with braces. He was ever so pleasant and I felt bad because I thought I had acted up. He told me that I was really pretty good.
Hopefully, I'll get my results back on Tuesday. Several doctors think it is a torn rotator cuff or a labral tear. I don't think either one is a fun day at Six Flags. I just hope that the district will not continue to withhold treatment. I hate having to involve legal types (except F.G. and that's just because I think he's cute!) to get what I should get. If I have to have any kind of surgical intervention, I hope that the district will facilitate me getting taken care of over the summer so that I don't lose any instructional time over BS.
Much of what Dr. Bova touches on is controversial at the very least. He talks about the origins of humankind's perceptions of our world and the lights in the sky.
The author explains the currently accepted version of the creation of the solar system. His description of the "accretion disk" and the way that planets coalesced by a combination of collisions with other bodies and attracting "dust" from the elliptic is vivid and exciting. One would think that this kind of book could be mind numbing.
I learned about exobiology and astrobiology and that there are life forms on this planet that are as alien to us as anything that we can likely imagine. Have you ever heard of an extremophile? I sure hadn't.
Wait, that boy I saw in the discipline office yesterday was pretty alien with his waist band at mid thigh and his grungy thermal underwear on. Ewww.
As a write of speculative fiction, I wondered how object Dr. Bova would be. I knew I liked his writing. I really tend to avoid non-fiction but I find myself coming around to it more and more. (Thank you very much Jane!) After studying art history and reading some of the "oh my God I want to shoot myself" texts I had really wanted to stay as far away from research as I could. I really liked this book. I liked how the author tried to look at each item he discussed from divergent points of view. I also liked his fond homage to Carl Sagan, long one of my heroes.
At times, this text is funny as it discusses how the political structure in the US impacts the funding for space exploration and scientific discovery. To see US politicians quoting about the "giggle factor" and "little green men" is really laughable. I bet some of them see plenty of little green men after a four martini lunch.
Mark is fond of saying that humankind has such a hard time understanding the infinitely large and the infinitely small. Reminds me of the Niven/Pournelle book Mote in God's Eye."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I'm puny today. I had to have dye injected into my shoulder today and then have an MRI. I am so scared of needles. I must say that the doctor was really cute and nice and I only cussed once.
MRI's don't usually bother me very much. I tend to fall asleep inside the "jackhammer" tube. I've had probably a dozen of them over the years. I've learned that amenities are worthwhile. The last two I've had were "open" MRI's and weren't terrible. The last one actually had a straight shot at CNN. Some of them have piped in music and earphones. The one today was a dog. The air flow wasn't very good and I got a little panicked. That is new. I had to have him pull me out. Having this contrast in my shoulder already and not wanting to be stuck again, I was resolved to get the test over. I did actually come close to dropping off a couple of times which makes the time pass so much faster and THEN I got a ginormous cramp in my right butt cheek about the same time that I had a massive hot flash. That was rough. I did my Lamaze breathing and counted. The tech was a cute little guy with braces. He was ever so pleasant and I felt bad because I thought I had acted up. He told me that I was really pretty good.
Hopefully, I'll get my results back on Tuesday. Several doctors think it is a torn rotator cuff or a labral tear. I don't think either one is a fun day at Six Flags. I just hope that the district will not continue to withhold treatment. I hate having to involve legal types (except F.G. and that's just because I think he's cute!) to get what I should get. If I have to have any kind of surgical intervention, I hope that the district will facilitate me getting taken care of over the summer so that I don't lose any instructional time over BS.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
A Stroll Down Memory Lane Book #11
Okay, I picked this book up off the trash pile. I was 2 seconds away from chunking it, but I opened it up and looked. I saw three greek words that applied to me, so I set it aside for POSSIBLE later perusal.
I've got a book coming in the mail, but I finished the archeology book and had some time to kill. I picked it up off the about to be trash pile and looked at it. I read this book in three days.
Pledged by Alexandra Robbins.
Ms. Robbins is a journalist who "shadowed" several young ladies through a year's experience in their sorority. I believe she was in Texas for this.
When I went away to college, I was offended that anyone would want to "pay" for friends. My freshman year, my roommate went through rush and I was just disgusted. There was a sorority girl in my philosophy class and she was just evil I thought.
I ended up talking to "Melinda" who was a friend of my roommate. She was kind and told me that maybe I just wasn't sorority material. I just couldn't comprehend their kind of world.
My sophomore year . . . for some reason I signed up for rush. I really don't remember why. I started out really skeptical but by the time we got to the "pref" party, I had pinned my hopes on two stars, a lion and azure blue and white. I "suicided" as the term goes by leaving myself one possible choice.
I found myself in the same sorority with "Melinda" and with the girl I thought so evil from my philosophy class. I learned to love them both so very well. Not because I had to but because they were beautiful, brilliant and strong young women who I admired. The one I thought evil, was just so incredibly smart that school moved too slow for her and irritated her. What I thought was evil bitchiness was just frustration that she couldn't learn at a pace that suited her. She died before we graduated and I know that all of us still mourn the loss.
When I picked up this book, I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know if it would be sensationalistic "girls gone wild" crap or what. I respect Ms. Robbins for trying to be as objective as possible as she explored a world that she didn't participate in. What I found in the pages of Pledged was a really clear picture of much of what I had participated in 30 years earlier.
I learned one reason why my hubby was so anti sorority. His university was mentioned several times with very specific things that make me understand why he had such strong feelings against the Greek system. I learned why my own very accomplished daughter had an even less than lukewarm response to rush at her university.
I can see why Ms. Robbins has heard from so many women that insisted that she had visited THEIR school and their sorority. I saw so many things in common with my own experience that it blows my mind. After reading this book, I'm almost convinced that she changed the house colors to protect the guilty and that she was visiting my own college and my own chapter house.
This book should be read by any parent that hopes that their child might choose to enter a sorority. What is painfully clear is that some parents will NOT read it because of their own Greek experience. There is a lot of denial going on. I think there has been for decades.
Would I still want my child to pledge a sorority? If she wanted to I would support her. Would I make the same choice for myself? I would. It was an experience that gave me confidence in myself. I wouldn't have done it any other way.
This book made me look at the Greek system. It made me look at myself. Ms. Robbins did an amazingly objective job of looking at the experience of the girls that she shadowed. She passed no judgments on them; she merely recorded their experiences and their responses to those experiences.
It's a good read!
I've got a book coming in the mail, but I finished the archeology book and had some time to kill. I picked it up off the about to be trash pile and looked at it. I read this book in three days.
Pledged by Alexandra Robbins.
Ms. Robbins is a journalist who "shadowed" several young ladies through a year's experience in their sorority. I believe she was in Texas for this.
When I went away to college, I was offended that anyone would want to "pay" for friends. My freshman year, my roommate went through rush and I was just disgusted. There was a sorority girl in my philosophy class and she was just evil I thought.
I ended up talking to "Melinda" who was a friend of my roommate. She was kind and told me that maybe I just wasn't sorority material. I just couldn't comprehend their kind of world.
My sophomore year . . . for some reason I signed up for rush. I really don't remember why. I started out really skeptical but by the time we got to the "pref" party, I had pinned my hopes on two stars, a lion and azure blue and white. I "suicided" as the term goes by leaving myself one possible choice.
I found myself in the same sorority with "Melinda" and with the girl I thought so evil from my philosophy class. I learned to love them both so very well. Not because I had to but because they were beautiful, brilliant and strong young women who I admired. The one I thought evil, was just so incredibly smart that school moved too slow for her and irritated her. What I thought was evil bitchiness was just frustration that she couldn't learn at a pace that suited her. She died before we graduated and I know that all of us still mourn the loss.
When I picked up this book, I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know if it would be sensationalistic "girls gone wild" crap or what. I respect Ms. Robbins for trying to be as objective as possible as she explored a world that she didn't participate in. What I found in the pages of Pledged was a really clear picture of much of what I had participated in 30 years earlier.
I learned one reason why my hubby was so anti sorority. His university was mentioned several times with very specific things that make me understand why he had such strong feelings against the Greek system. I learned why my own very accomplished daughter had an even less than lukewarm response to rush at her university.
I can see why Ms. Robbins has heard from so many women that insisted that she had visited THEIR school and their sorority. I saw so many things in common with my own experience that it blows my mind. After reading this book, I'm almost convinced that she changed the house colors to protect the guilty and that she was visiting my own college and my own chapter house.
This book should be read by any parent that hopes that their child might choose to enter a sorority. What is painfully clear is that some parents will NOT read it because of their own Greek experience. There is a lot of denial going on. I think there has been for decades.
Would I still want my child to pledge a sorority? If she wanted to I would support her. Would I make the same choice for myself? I would. It was an experience that gave me confidence in myself. I wouldn't have done it any other way.
This book made me look at the Greek system. It made me look at myself. Ms. Robbins did an amazingly objective job of looking at the experience of the girls that she shadowed. She passed no judgments on them; she merely recorded their experiences and their responses to those experiences.
It's a good read!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Ancient Civilizations Book #10
Well, I didn't mean to read this, but I picked up Frontiers in Archeology by Robert Silverberg. I've read a lot of Silverberg over the years, mostly fantasy and sci-fi stuff.
Since I teach art history, I already have an interest in Ancient Civilizations, but sadly most texts are like death to get through. I had read one of Silverberg's other history books in my college American History class a million years ago. I recall that I enjoyed it, and after reading Frontiers in Archeology I remember why.
This book definitely gives a lot of information and cites reputable academic sources. I always caution my students to be leery of information garnered from the world wide web. I tell them I am certain that I can find Billy Joe Bob Fred's website that says absolutely that the moon is made of green cheese. Perhaps Silverberg is such a wonderful fantasy writer because he is such a palatable writer of history.
This small book (182 pages) does not explore any of the topics in excessive depth, but seems to give the reader enough information to encourage them to want to know more. It does not attempt to touch on every significant item about each civilization, but gives tantalizing "bits" of information. Much like an appetizer!
The book looks at notable ancient civilizations: Jericho, Ugarit, Shang, Zimbabwe, Mexico and Easter Island. Throughout the book there is discussion of influences of the other civilizations. It asks a lot of questions that no one knows the answers to, but provides information that has been ascertained by the study of archaeologists.
I never thought I would be devouring information about the digs of various seasons at Jericho, but after reading this, I want to read something in more depth. I felt the same way about each of the civilizations presented in this book.
I think this will make me a better teacher!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This week has been interesting. Lots of drama. The final word came down on moving our magnet programs to a different school. Three of the magnets will move. This is disappointing but not unexpected. What is sad is that one of the clusters has no applications for the new school. It's kind of hard to grow a program if no one applies.
I saw this picture in Al Dia today. Holy Cow! For those of you familiar with the neighborhood this was on Northwest Highway near Lawther near Flag Pole Hill!
The weather has been lovely after the monsoon on Tuesday. The children are coming out in droves. I have started book #11. I didn't expect to read this one either, but it sucked me in quickly. Since the last book was SO academic (even though it was really fun) this book is certainly NOT intellectual. It's trashy and fun. I've ordered another book recommended by my friend the nurse. I asked another friend who reads everything and she said it was interesting (of course she had read it already).
I think I may just go back on the porch and observe the neighborhood. Life is interesting as it wanders by. This morning there were grackles in the tree overhead doing quite a lot of posturing. It's so funny to see the males get all puffed up and noisy. Seems a little like the boys at school. I get a little nervous in the spring. The gang activity seems to become more prevalent. I feel so sorry for the kids that really believe that this is the way for them to survive. I feel more sorry for the girls who hitch their stars to the gang bangers. I'm learning more about gangs than I ever wanted to know. I'm just tired of hearing children brag about their gang affiliations. We shouldn't have to hear about it at school. I'm also tired of hearing profanity all the time. What is sad is that the kids don't think anything of it. I cannot imagine walking by a teacher at South Garland High School and saying "these motherfucking teachers get on my nerves, I mean these motherfucking teachers are tripping." I looked at the young lady and said "Miss, please watch your language." She looked right at me and said "these motherfucking teachers DO get on my nerves." I guess she did not perceive the correction intended in my comment.
Oy. Maybe I should carry my hammers with me.
Since I teach art history, I already have an interest in Ancient Civilizations, but sadly most texts are like death to get through. I had read one of Silverberg's other history books in my college American History class a million years ago. I recall that I enjoyed it, and after reading Frontiers in Archeology I remember why.
This book definitely gives a lot of information and cites reputable academic sources. I always caution my students to be leery of information garnered from the world wide web. I tell them I am certain that I can find Billy Joe Bob Fred's website that says absolutely that the moon is made of green cheese. Perhaps Silverberg is such a wonderful fantasy writer because he is such a palatable writer of history.
This small book (182 pages) does not explore any of the topics in excessive depth, but seems to give the reader enough information to encourage them to want to know more. It does not attempt to touch on every significant item about each civilization, but gives tantalizing "bits" of information. Much like an appetizer!
The book looks at notable ancient civilizations: Jericho, Ugarit, Shang, Zimbabwe, Mexico and Easter Island. Throughout the book there is discussion of influences of the other civilizations. It asks a lot of questions that no one knows the answers to, but provides information that has been ascertained by the study of archaeologists.
I never thought I would be devouring information about the digs of various seasons at Jericho, but after reading this, I want to read something in more depth. I felt the same way about each of the civilizations presented in this book.
I think this will make me a better teacher!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This week has been interesting. Lots of drama. The final word came down on moving our magnet programs to a different school. Three of the magnets will move. This is disappointing but not unexpected. What is sad is that one of the clusters has no applications for the new school. It's kind of hard to grow a program if no one applies.
I saw this picture in Al Dia today. Holy Cow! For those of you familiar with the neighborhood this was on Northwest Highway near Lawther near Flag Pole Hill!
The weather has been lovely after the monsoon on Tuesday. The children are coming out in droves. I have started book #11. I didn't expect to read this one either, but it sucked me in quickly. Since the last book was SO academic (even though it was really fun) this book is certainly NOT intellectual. It's trashy and fun. I've ordered another book recommended by my friend the nurse. I asked another friend who reads everything and she said it was interesting (of course she had read it already).
I think I may just go back on the porch and observe the neighborhood. Life is interesting as it wanders by. This morning there were grackles in the tree overhead doing quite a lot of posturing. It's so funny to see the males get all puffed up and noisy. Seems a little like the boys at school. I get a little nervous in the spring. The gang activity seems to become more prevalent. I feel so sorry for the kids that really believe that this is the way for them to survive. I feel more sorry for the girls who hitch their stars to the gang bangers. I'm learning more about gangs than I ever wanted to know. I'm just tired of hearing children brag about their gang affiliations. We shouldn't have to hear about it at school. I'm also tired of hearing profanity all the time. What is sad is that the kids don't think anything of it. I cannot imagine walking by a teacher at South Garland High School and saying "these motherfucking teachers get on my nerves, I mean these motherfucking teachers are tripping." I looked at the young lady and said "Miss, please watch your language." She looked right at me and said "these motherfucking teachers DO get on my nerves." I guess she did not perceive the correction intended in my comment.
Oy. Maybe I should carry my hammers with me.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Monsoon Goes On
Today I am frustrated.
I wonder why we really need men. I'm thinking I could be so happy with my daughters.
We have been in car hell for a while. A monsoon came today and Mark crashed our only working car. Granted someone else was stupid and he evaded hitting the other car and hit the concrete wall instead. He's fine. I'd be less mad if he was hurt. I've been saving to get the transmission put back in the cruiser and I've almost got enough.
I'm not hard on cars. I'm terribly easy on cars. I don't run into people and my father taught me that everyone else on the road was out to kill me so I drive very defensively. I don't drive aggressively and I go easy.
I'm just mad. He's depressed and I want to go tell him to suck a stick.
Becca is in Portland visiting Paul (I thought they broke up). ((He was here over winter break)).
Rachael has some upper respiratory crud that is going around. I told her to get her ass to the clinic in the morning and get some antibiotics. She calls and says "Mom, I'm feeling croupy and coughy." Mom, being a school teacher already knows there is a new leaping respiratory crud making the rounds.
Last week for spring break, I had four doctor appointments. I fell in October, whacking my old arthritic knee against a concrete riser and other assortments. The work comp people are jacking me around trying to say that I didn't really hurt myself when I tripped on the piece of rebar sticking out from the concrete step in front of school. They say I'm just old and if I hurt it is because of a "condition of life" Yeah, well, if one whacks an arthritic knee against a concrete riser it becomes an unhappy arthritic knee. The two herniated discs in my neck are new. The district denied my shoulder injury because they said (based on some guy they hired to review my case) that I didn't injure my shoulder. The four doctor appointments said that my shoulder was messed up and they didn't understand how the district (not being doctors) could say that I didn't hurt it when I fell. They are thinking a torn rotator cuff, or other torn ligament. All I know is that it hurts and that it is hampering me raising my right hand with a hammer in it.
Because my district is being awful and is trying to deny me medical, I had to go to a "designated doctor" on Monday. He said my knee is arthritic. I had to agree. He said that it probably was not going to get any better (I fell five months ago) and I can't argue with that. It's not terrible, it's just arthritic. He said my neck would take up to two years to heal and that since I'd had rehab on it that it was probably doing as well as could be expected. He said my shoulder was messed up and he didn't see HOW the district doctor could say that I didn't hurt it when I fell.
I want to bite someone. I wouldn't mind hitting someone with hammers. That could be very therapeutic.
OOOO crazy white woman loose with a hammer.. . .
I've had better days.
The monsoon continues.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Book 9 2008
I finished up Bless Me, Ultima today. It was really a quick read. It was magical in so many ways. I'll have to read it again later this year as it is the Academic Decathlon book for next year. At least I CAN read it again. There are very quotable lines in this novel. I couldn't get past chapter one of the book for the current year. It seems to go that way for me, every other year there is a book I cannot stomach.
Bless Me, Ultima is ultimately about a loss of innocence and the desire to know God. There is good and evil, and kind and bad, and a view of the world that transcends Christianity. I loved it.
What have I seen? Today we stopped at the corner and Mark gets his dollar for the guy with a sign. I don't know why Mark gives them money, but they all know him at this point and they talk to him. His favorite guy is Cowboy. There are quite a few of them. I want to get them food and a bath somewhere that I don't have to know about. The guy today obviously knows Mark and tells him about the lady that threw her kids off the bridge there yesterday. He was sleeping up under the bridge when it happened. He said the kids were doing okay, but the lady got hit (after she jumped). What a great thing to happen up the street from where one lives.
I have so many books around my bed. I usually have a plan for what is next, but I picked up on very randomly. If I manage to actually read it, I'll let you know about Book #10 for 2008. I think I'm falling behind!
Bless Me, Ultima is ultimately about a loss of innocence and the desire to know God. There is good and evil, and kind and bad, and a view of the world that transcends Christianity. I loved it.
What have I seen? Today we stopped at the corner and Mark gets his dollar for the guy with a sign. I don't know why Mark gives them money, but they all know him at this point and they talk to him. His favorite guy is Cowboy. There are quite a few of them. I want to get them food and a bath somewhere that I don't have to know about. The guy today obviously knows Mark and tells him about the lady that threw her kids off the bridge there yesterday. He was sleeping up under the bridge when it happened. He said the kids were doing okay, but the lady got hit (after she jumped). What a great thing to happen up the street from where one lives.
I have so many books around my bed. I usually have a plan for what is next, but I picked up on very randomly. If I manage to actually read it, I'll let you know about Book #10 for 2008. I think I'm falling behind!
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