sweet sweet nostalgia

The beloved (and WW rebel) Mrs. G recently went down a sugar-coated tangent about her favorite childhood treats, and I could not resist doing the same. (I really hope she subscribes to the "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" school rather than the "You're a copycat hack who'd better step off" philosophy. We'll soon see).

Here are some of my favorite decidedly not organic/sugar-free/trans fat-free/what the hell's high fructose corn syrup anyway? modified chemical reactant foods from life in the 70s & 80s.

_____________________________________________

This one was a little frustrating figuring out how to pronounce - was I supposed to say the U like "you" and make it a fun, winkwink nudgenudge inside joke? (And if so, what should I know??) Or go bilingual with it? Regardless, it was delicious with the tiny specks of nuts in the creamy chocolate center.

Mary Jane - it's a smart-looking shoe and a delicious molasses & peanut butter let's-pull-out-our-fillings treat. And when you introduce them to teenagers for a sensory writing assignment, you remember it's also a fun nickname for a particular smokable item and hilarity ensues.

I'm not sure I really loved the flavor of Squirt so much, but every few weeks I got to go with my grandpa to pick up pop [this is what Northwest people call it, because 'soda' is something else entirely; however, I will fight this battle another day] for the machine in his wrecking yard. Coke & Dr. Pepper were actually my favorites but I liked to mix up the look of the bottle caps peeking from their little pockets so I would pick out some orange (which I hated) & grape (double blech) Fanta, and the bright happy yellow-capped Squirt. What?

This product brought me into my own. I was not an athlete (surprise!) and had no real visible talents other than raising my hand with the right answer, which I tried not to do very often because, well, I was trying to avoid the Nerd Girl label (didn't work). Anyway. Blowing giant bubbles that obscured my face proved too easy; it was the bubble-in-a-bubble-in-a-bubble that made me a legend [in my own mind].And then these. I realize my profession of love for chocolate has become legendary, but the vanilla-flavored Tootsie Roll is a heavenly delight. I will steal them from my children's Halloween buckets.

Mrs. G & I share the fondness for Bit-O-Honey (but only when I couldn't get Mary Janes) and Tang, though I totally wanted to drink it because of the astronauts.

So you know, also? I am not a completely cruel nut who won't let my children experience the decadence of horrific foods - they have been allowed to partake of radioactive powder in a pouch Fun Dip, precursor of radioactive powder, in a paper tube Pixie Sticks, and even *gasp* don't eat them with Coke or your stomach will blow up! nuggets Pop Rocks. I'm not quite ready for this nonsense though. I think I'd rather them have a pack of these babies in their back pockets:

guess who's hot? but not really

Not to brag or anything (okay, yes, to brag) but the Treasurelicious website has me in their scroll bar of Who's Hot - you should go there right this instant so as not to miss me. Or maybe I'm the only one who cares; do what you want. But the other cool thing is that right above & below me are fellow Portland-area blogesses, Cami Kaos and Miss Burrows (who, by the way, haven't yet DEMANDED that Fountains of Wayne come to town; I know this because the 3 people who have are me and people related to me. And they think I'm kind of pathetic, which I suppose rather diminishes my hotness quotient).

Moving on. If you've looked at my very HOT list of treasures, you'll notice Franco Sarto shoes (alongside the much-maligned Crocs; I ignore all the haters with sore feet). They are always of superb quality and are quite comfortable for a dressy shoe. I have been fortunate to be able to feed my addiction find them at Nordstrom Rack as well as many Goodwill stores. My latest discovery worthy of a public happy dance are these snazzy Mary Janes:

Only $4.99! See how they love me?

I wore them out on the town for Stu's birthday celebration. I love that sassy little flare at the bottom of the chunky heel. I think they'll look particularly adorable with a skirt, when it stops SNOWING here. My feet froze a bit last night in the name of fashion.

We went to Bluehour for drinks & appetizers before dinner. I took notes:

Because that's what geeky blogging English teachers do when they go out. The 'Sunny Day' was their specialty cocktail and it was fantastic - a Lemon Drop with a splash of orange juice and vanilla vodka; note I was tempted to order it for infinity.

The bathroom had an opaque door and was nearly pitch dark inside - clearly the typical clientele likes to maintain an illusion of looking good, because you couldn't possibly touch up make-up or fish spinach out of your teeth in there. I'm not sure why there was even a mirror (spanning the entire wall across from the toilet, by the way).

But the food was delicious (they had fried olives! For $1!) and filling, without draining our bank account. My best friend Jen & I contemplated the mysterious ball of cheese on the Butcher's Board; our contemplation turned into a bit of a competitive argument. It looked like mozzarella but had very little flavor. Jen maintained that is what fresh mozzarella tastes like but I said I had tasted fresh mozzarella before. Finally we asked a waiter who explained it was a house-made mozzarella (he was then rather rudely interrupted by Jen's victorious HA!) or 'burrata,' which is a type of mozzarella but sort of different, and so I claimed partial rightness. That is how I play. Surprising I have any friends at all, really.

This morning we had massages in our hotel room (oh the decadence). I was afraid my masseuse would refuse service to my icy corpse-like feet but she was gracious and wonderful. Then my man & I set out for the Portland Saturday Market, which is typically a delightful way to spend a spring afternoon in the Pacific Northwest. But today? It was barely 50 degrees with sprinkling rain and a zany burst of HAIL. Grrr. And any other day in the market I see at least four stalls selling funky handknit gloves, but today? Nada. Though the atmosphere is always a treat and there are lots of cool treasures, I had to keep moving briskly in order to maintain my hotness.

Sizzzzle.

oh, and this was good too

I forgot to mention how thrilling it was for me to watch the young Kiefer Sutherland do his badass best in Stand By Me. I really am a sucker for the naughty boys.

Retro hottie Ace

Growing up nicely...

what happens when i fret

I am slightly embarrassed to admit the rollercoaster of emotions I've ridden this week regarding one 90-minute block of time. Today was the Friday Before Spring Break, and I worried about my Creative Writing class a) actually showing up and b) being more restless and fricking obstinate challenging than usual. [To be perfectly fair, there are a number of girls pleasant, attentive, hardworking girls students whom I appreciate. Plus I do love (and pray for) the irritating kids no matter how much they try my patience]. So I had to think of something good for today.

My BIG PLAN was to show a movie, because it helps keep those who do decide to attend class on this last day before break from staging a mutiny in the face of yet another prompt designed to actually make them think and write, and "work time" on a story they are convinced is Booker Prize worthy already. Step one of the BIG PLAN was to come up with a movie even remotely related to our subject matter. By the grace of God I hit upon Stand By Me - based on a Stephen King short story, narrator is the main character all grown up as a writer, plus it includes a short story within the movie (after which all the boy characters discuss what would make the ending better). BRILLIANCE!

Except that it is rated R which, considering the way most of my students speak on a minute-by-minute daily basis, should matter little, especially since it was rated in the dark ages 1986. Which is kind of like saying Gone With the Wind might be objectionable to those with sensitive ears. But our school rule is to get a permission slip signed by a parent because our students are under 18. I frantically printed 25 permission slips and handed them out yesterday as everyone was leaving for lunch. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to figure out what I would really be showing because of course no one was going to bring a signed permission slip Friday morning. I had occasional rebellious thoughts of "I'm going to show this movie anyway - it is A GREAT MOVIE and is the best one to show in creative writing class. Dammit." And then I would start lamenting again because I really love my job, and it would be my luck some extraordinarily delicate student/parent would cause a stir about the number of times "F*ck" was uttered in an hour & half at school with my permission and away I would go.

Luckily, amidst my fretting I also prayed that everyone would miraculously bring signed slips and the result was - a handful of slips, and a round of phone calls to somewhat bewildered moms & dads at 10 am (my students found it supremely amusing that I ordered them to take out & use their cell phones in class). There were three kids who opted themselves out to work in the computer lab but otherwise, everyone watched. And here is the best part - my most obnoxious challenging hecklers young men made NO snarky comments the entire time. They were involved in the story; I caught an occasional smile, heard a quiet laugh here & there.

This was a blessed day. I should fret more often.

spring break begins in 6, 5, 4...

1. Some relationships are meant to never be spoken of in public...or private, really.
2. Fountains of Wayne at the Wonder Ballroom is the last concert I saw; it was slightly less than wonderful.
3. Spring should be a wee bit warmer maybe? How about no snow??
4. Oh no! I forgot nothing. My mind is a steel trap.
5. I've recently started to think harder about getting out of bed earlier.
6. My man never fails to make me smile (actually, he occasionally does but it's really more my own failure to be congenial).
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to taking a deep, cleansing breath as Spring Break begins, tomorrow my plans include an overnight date with my birthday boy (happy hour(s)! dinner! fancy underwear! et cetera!) and Sunday, I want to wait for it...yes, rest (aka NAP)!

It is Friday Fill-In day; enjoy.

please direct your attention to the sidebar

Check out that fancy blue widget. Eventful is an Internet service that will alert you to goings-on in your area (including political events!), and you can "demand" artists to come to town. I'm not sure exactly what happens after one submits a "demand" but as you can see from the little banner there, I just might find out. See that 1 people* in the Portland metro area clamoring for Fountains of Wayne? Yours truly.

I imagine they'll be here any day now.

*Edited: My dearest husband become the second person to demand FoW. Thank you, darling, for indulging my lunacy.

aha!

My husband is desperately trying to get me to reveal my new secret crush at the grocery store. He technically knows who my old secret crush was, even though he never saw him (mainly because my man doesn't like to shop at Wild Oats; he claims it is complicated and makes him feel uncool). And the fact is, I never see Dairy/Freezer Guy anymore either. I have a sneaking suspicion Stu had him fired or relocated. Or something more sinister....Thus, a new crush and I'm not telling who it is. I won't even tell which store he works in. It's for his safety.

The truth is, I don't want to say because New Secret Crush is so young, I have no doubt I'm old enough to be his mother. And not his young teen mom; his finished-with-college-living-in-a-house-with-a-mortgage mom. It's embarrassing to talk about it out loud. Plus, unlike Dairy/Freezer Guy, NSC is more of the alternative scene bad boy that I furtively stalked admired when I was younger. That he works at a place so mundane as a natural food store - but without disdain or condescension - makes him even sexier. He actually reminds me a little of Heath Ledger. But I've said too much; I may have endangered his life already.

Welcome to the midlife crisis, people.

in which we ponder politics (sort of)

Here is a phrase that threw a small wrench in my mental gears this afternoon:

"...former European porn star and politician"

AND POLITICIAN. Absolutely fascinating.

We Americans can be so stuffy, demanding impeachments & resignations when our leaders merely get busy with interns and prostitutes. Can we imagine a Congress in which the likes of Ron Jeremy and Jenna Jameson call for action? So to speak, anyway.

I cannot stop pondering what kinds of work the Italian parliament accomplished during the FIVE YEARS Ilona Staller was a member. Was there a dress code? Did they have one of those big screens to project proceedings? So curious.

Interestingly, Ms. Staller and her ex-husband have already been featured in my blog. It was just as fun then as now.

covert easter ops

Photo taken March 25, 2008; undisclosed location

_________________________

Wordless Wednesday, soldier; repeat - Wordless Wednesday.

hottest birthday boy

No, not him.

Yes, we know, you're the rocket man.

It's my own personal Captain Fantastic.

Don't go breakin' my heart.

Happy birthday, love.

i am virgo, hear me roar

Here was my strangely specific horoscope for today:

Stick to your own agenda first today -- even if it requires you to cause conflict in a group. Getting along well with others might be an unrealistic goal today. After all, you cannot always sacrifice what is best for your life in order to be everyone's best friend. Do not compromise what you believe just to get along with other people. In the end, people will have to respect you for sticking to your principles and not succumbing to the pressure of the majority.

After Friday's full moon headache, this was my Monday plan for the Creative Writing class:

Seating chart, which is always met with groaning and aggravation but even more so when it's imposed on teenage people who like to think they're beyond such a babyish arrangement.

There are only ten (now nine) days left in this quarter. It has been on my mind for awhile to separate a number of individuals, but each day I would give them another chance to get their shit together. So this weekend, as I read composition books and despaired at the abysmal quality of certain people's work, I decided it was time. I knew there would be gnashing of teeth, but I got out the chocolates and handed one to each person who found his/her new seat and sat in it with minimal complaining. One kid refused to eat his candy, even pushed it toward the edge of the table; I complimented him on his steadfast gesture of displeasure (which, of course, made him scowl even more - but he stayed there and worked more than he has in weeks).

When I got home and read my horoscope (I usually forget first thing in the bleary morning), it made me laugh. That is exactly where my day was - causing conflict in a group, not being anyone's best friend, no compromising or succumbing. Here's hoping I glimpse a little respect amidst the hostility...

math and stuff

So. I've had three glasses of wine in four hours, plus lots of fun company (Hi Jen & Dave & Joy & Kyle! You're awesome!), and I've finalized my our trip to Europe this summer. Even though I've obsessively painstakingly, lovingly researched the logistics & cost of this fabulous 40th birthday extravaganza vacation (including variations on London + Paris vs. London + Paris + Amsterdam vs. London + Paris + Amsterdam + multiple locations in the vicinity, et cetera) for many months, somehow I got to the final JUST BOOK IT phase without double-checking where and when we'll be flying in & out. So apparently we're leaving from Seattle (which is closer to where my parents/child caretakers are, fine) but flying back into Portland (15 minutes from our home) then on to Seattle. Huh. Yet I've f*cking booked it. Finally.

And so. I'm excited yet strangely dubious. I'll perhaps find out I've scheduled us to do something oddly European. Oh well. It's paid for, I have a job, I'm turning 40. It's all good.

Thank you and good night.

lists and eye candy

A little something I wasted time doing put together for your reading pleasure at A-Lister.

And this.

Wherefore art thou, Joseph?

sinner, vindicated

Joyous, gracious Easter, friends!

~

The irreverent (but oh-so-funny)

And the blessed

CHIJMES, Singapore

(I took this shot! It was a sublime afternoon)

~

I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.

John 11:25-26

caught in a vortex

Since I awoke at 7:30 this morning, my brain has been making very optimistic plans about the day.

I'm going to fold & put away the laundry, then I'll get dressed and start grading work.

Okay, first I'll have breakfast, check my e-mail, then do the laundry, get dressed and grade.

Wait - breakfast, e-mail, I'll do laundry later, take a shower and go to the cafe to grade work.

Let's see. If I sleep awhile longer, have breakfast with the kids, check e-mail then get ready and head to the cafe...

It is now after 1:00 pm and I have eaten breakfast, gotten ready, checked e-mail five times, read multiple blogs, and got sucked into watching half a dozen videos from Improv Everywhere. No laundry, no cafe, no grading.

Here, you try it:

It is an irresistible time-waster. I kind of hope my son the actor gets hooked up with a group like this someday. There just isn't enough wackiness in the world sometimes...

Okay, seriously, I am going to work on grades.

full freaking moon

I knew without looking at the calendar a full moon was coming tonight. Those naysayers who scoff at the idea of moon phases affecting behavior need to spend this one day each month in my classroom. Let's just say most of my lesson plans were altered to accommodate a distinct restlessness, and my sanity remained intact.

But no matter what, it is a breathtaking body out there.

Wishing you a lunartastic evening.

good, good friday

1. 2:00 pm on Friday is so exciting!
2. Strawberry fields bring back grimy, unpleasant memories of child labor (see #16 on the link).
3. The Red Velvet cupcake sounds like it would taste delicious!
4. Why does procrastinating make me feel so good?!
5. The Great Wall of China (oh, and Mark Wahlberg up close) is something I've always wanted to see.
6. It's sad when I talk about my Potential Second Husbands to my teenage students.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to kids hanging out with Grandpa (fingers crossed!), tomorrow my plans include last minute frenzied shopping for Easter basket goodies (see "procrastinating") and Sunday, I want to delight in the fellowship at church (and nap - you know I can't complete a weekend without talking about sleep!).

Click for more Friday Fill-In fun

exhausting

I pride myself on being maniacally disturbingly admirably efficient. (Thanks, OCD!)

At school, I carefully plan copying & printing tasks and visits to other classrooms to maximize my time (and, of course, to avoid climbing two beastly flights of stairs more than once a day).

When running errands in the car, I work out routes so I can do everything in a loop, making as many right hand turns as possible. And though it was a Godsend to find drive-through anything when my kids were small and required multiple bucklings & unbucklings when getting in & out, now I try to limit idling situations.

Why? Mainly because I enjoy breathing.

A recent Ideal Bite tip reinforced what my non-sciencey brain thought was true (sometimes we English majors make up shit like this to seem smarter about something other than grammar or Faulkner) - idling cars emit loads of pollution and waste gas; I'm not cool with either of those things.

We've been having issues with our elementary school parking lot for years. Parents lining up along the curb to wait for their kids a) make it hard for wee ones to see actual moving cars in the parking lot and b) usually leave the motor running while they sit there. And I'm not quite clear on the b part because, what? You have to be ready for a quick getaway? Did your kid rob the place?

Despite my legendary aversion to exercise, I am perfectly willing to park my car and walk to the school for the kids because again, I enjoy breathing, and also? I actually like to see other parents and have a little conversation while we wait. And it's refreshing (literally) to know I'm not the only one who can take some time and give the environment a break.

rare sibling partnership captured

photo by mom, 2008

Find more Wordless Wednesday wonders

a concerned query

The other night, after my man & I indulged in a particularly [ahem] expressive bit of intimacy, the Boy knocked upon our bedroom door. We said he could come in; he poked his head around the door and said, "Is Mom alright?"

Snicker. "Yes, I'm alright," I answered.

"Oh. I thought she might be passing out again."

More snickering from the grown-ups. "Nope, I'm okay. But thanks for checking on me, bub."

"Okay. So what were you doing anyway?" he asked, sidling up to the bed.

"Making out," I told him. I hadn't quite completed the word out when he actually recoiled and left the room calling, "Ewww. Good night!"
___________________
Other amusing kid stuff at The Bad Mommy Blog

it's monday and i've got nothing...

...except a headache from my raging sense of guilt about not yet grading multiple assignments. I think it's time for another little something.

Let's see...I promised someone a young Brad.

Hey there, young gun...

And I pictured this dreamboat all through gods in Alabama. Mercy.

How about that ... smile?!

Okay, now I think I can work. Or maybe not. I kind of don't care anymore.

six significant words

Tootsie Farklepants tagged me to write a memoir in six words. We actually used this exercise as an assignment in our Advocacy classes at school and, being the fine & compassionate teacher I am, I have already done it (sort of - mine aren't precisely autobiographical, just provocative). However, I wasn't as adventurous as Tootsie and only came up with two. I'll try for a couple more that reflect my actual life.

FYI and in case you care, there are lots of variations of this activity. I first discovered it through Wired magazine, which referenced Ernest Hemingway's 'story': For Sale: Baby shoes. Never worn. I use that in my creative writing class to demonstrate the power of few words. (Of course I tell my students if they try to turn in a six word short story for their final, they had better hope they're as talented as Hemingway).

This recently published book is sweeping the nation and is what we based our classroom assignment on, and it's a result of SMITH magazine's Story Projects. Finally, NPR has this brilliant slideshow version.

Without further ado (what you might politely call my longwindedness) here are my wacky offerings:

Something smells weird. Where's the cat?

No more chocolate? Surely you jest.

Where are my clothes? I wondered.

She talks too much, they say.
_________________________

Now for the tagging! Please to condense your life into 6 words: My bff Lisa, Elaine at Blog In My Eye, and Suz.

made over

Today my bff Jen & I went to the Clinique "event" in Portland where we met "artists" who, in a kind but unmistakable way, told us we were less than the perfection we thought we were. That is to be expected, of course, but it still makes one feel a little defensive. Until they start spreading nice-smelling, pretty stuff all over my face; then I'm convinced that I've been doing everything completely wrong and am willing to spend a day's pay on whatever she brings out of the case.

Plus a French manicure that I must show off before it chips away in two hours

I know I don't look dramatically different in this photo, but the lipstick, multiple eye shadows, & Lotus blush are huge steps for me.

Now I'm on my way to a Blazers game with far too much makeup on. I'll pretend I'm from Lake Oswego.

Lake Oswego Barbie

This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of Rolls Royce convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.

weekend weekend weekend

You can say the title as a heavy chant, Animal House-style, or sing it Conga-like, as you wish. I personally am feeling the Latin American swing thing.

1. Contact may cause a buzzing sensation.
2. The parties hereto do mutually agree I will be sleeping in sometime this weekend.
3. Disney parks make me irrationally giddy.
4. Sleep (I see a pattern emerging) sounds really good right about now!
5. I positively identify my husband in a line-up every time.
6. My children (sleeping, especially) always make me smile. :-)
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to a relaxing evening melting into the couch, tomorrow my plans include a Clinique makeover & Blazers basketball game, and Sunday, I want to um, not to be redundant but - sleep a little bit.

More Friday Fill-Ins

it must be assumed i'm some kind of heroine

You are Elinor Dashwood of Sense & Sensibility.

You are practical, circumspect, and discreet.

Though you are tremendously sensible and allow your head to rule,

you have a deep, emotional side that few people often see.

Take the Quiz here!

I should have known, considering how affected I am by the scene when she finds out Edward loves her and her breath catches and she starts sobbing. It leaves me bereft, yet joyous.

Thanks, Suz, for the fun link.

stagnant freak

Today is my Friday (because of teaching training stuff tomorrow) and I'm in that paralyzed place - so much to do, lots of extra time to do it all, cannot begin, CLOCK TICKING.

It didn't help that the one attempt I took to DO SOMETHING ended in utter failure. Like a smart cook, I started a pot of water boiling in plenty of time to get dinner ready. When I went to the pantry for an always-dependable box of mac & cheese, alas! We were out. Hmmm. Risotto? Not for the kid meal (Stu & I are having a later-evening fancy grown-up tete a tete later during Survivor & LOST; yes, envy us our upscale decadence). Well I was just the other day thinking I could use the pasta in the pretty glass jars someday; I really didn't buy & fill them just to decorate the counter. Slight nervousness came over me but I bucked up - I can so make mac & cheese from scratch! Watch me...go the computer and call up a Rachel Ray recipe.

But like a bad cook, I eagerly started measuring, mixing, and melting stuff before I made sure we had all the ingredients (didn't I start this adventure because we were out of something?). No chicken broth. But you know what? Didn't really matter because I had already screwed everything up by forgetting to put cream cheese in the sauce before the milk so $!&#(@*&$*. Nevermind. Sausages, apples, and cilantro lime tortilla chips - really a kids' dream dinner, no?

Now I've added dumping a lumpy pretend-cheese sauce somewhere, dealing with a vat of cooked macaroni, and washing two extra pots to my list of things I can't quite begin to do.

Next time I call this one to help in the kitchen. Or something.

please let this be prepayment

My darling, darling 7-year old daughter who I love so so deeply has been in a place of constant sorrow when it comes to homework lately. Wailing, whining, groaning, buckets of tears, throwing the head back. On Monday, it was because I had suggested she try something a bit more challenging for her week’s assignment - BUT I DON'T WANT TO READ A CHAPTER BOOK! I'D RATHER READ A PICTURE BOOK! WHY DO I HAVE TO READ A CHAPTER BOOOOOOOOOOK?!? Ear-shattering shrieks, in the car, mind you. And the despair lasted all the way home, into the dining room, and ultimately up to her bedroom where we sent her to decompress before dinner. Note, please, I did not say she had to do anything; my last words, repeated robotically so I didn't become a screeching harpy mom, were "It is your choice." I swear on a stack of fricking picture books.

Tonight the trauma is that if she does the Wednesday assignment of "Retelling" the chapter (oh martyrdom) that she just read, she will have to do it again at school because she is reading the same book there. WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, MOOOOOMMMMMMM, IT'S TOOOO HARRRRRRRRRRRD!

But wait now. Silence. I glance surreptitiously toward the table. There is a calm girl, writing writing, breathing normally, no sobbing. And then – “I’m going to call my friend to invite her to church on Sunday.” Wary Mom with bright happy voice: “Sooo. All finished with homework then?” “The Retelling? Uh, yeah.” There is a tinge of ‘Duh, why wouldn’t I be?’ in the tone.

Please, dear God, please let the teen years be a breeze of goodness & light. I don’t think I can handle the rollercoaster of sullenness to cheerfulness to fury to joyful joy for an entire decade. And be sane.

robbed, baby, robbed

I'm on the Casey Affleck bandwagon these days, after spending 1/3 of my life watching him as The Coward Robert Ford and more recently seeing him in Gone Baby Gone. Honestly, I do remember him in To Die For and Good Will Hunting (one of his scenes involved a violated baseball mitt and it was hilarious). I am impressed with the roles he's taken, and with his acting range - in The Assassination of Jesse James etc., he convincingly played a 19- and 31-year old version of his character, and that character changed from an adoring fan of the outlaw to a willing murderer of the man. In Gone Baby Gone, he is back in his Boston element with the quick-talking, foul-mouthed young investigator who becomes obsessed with a missing child case. He is charming, funny, concerned, conflicted. And adorable, but they don't give awards for that (dammit).

But I really want to talk about Amy Ryan and the tragedy of this year's Oscar snub. I suppose since she was nominated, it wasn't really a snub (and globally speaking, it's also not a tragedy), but I am appalled that she didn't get the award for her performance in Gone Baby Gone.

I won't get into Tilda Swinton-bashing because that's not nice and I'm sure she's a lovely woman (when not wearing someone's shower curtain). But her performance in Michael Clayton, while powerful for the film, was not a standout. Many, many other fine actresses can do the serious-faced almost-maniacal business-woman-who-means-business thing; it's not a tremendous stretch. Amy, on the other hand, played the junkie mom of an abducted girl with such intensity and emotion, I had to remind myself it was acting. I believed her to be that woman; I wanted to hug her, shake her, slap her, yell at her - it was exhausting to watch the movie, actually. And the last scenes. Heaven help us. That is the kind of thing Oscars were made for; wake up, Academy.

monday doldrums

I have an idea of something to write, but it's not coming together in my brain the way I'd like yet. And Lord knows, I cannot put finger to key (that just doesn't have the same resonance as 'pencil to paper' does it? *resigned sigh*) without the prospect of perfection.

So I resort to this, because deep down I'm actually pretty shallow.

Well hello, Edward.

snapshot

If you were peeking through my back door, here is what you would see (besides me jumping up to close the curtain):

• Me, shivering in between typing bouts because I'm too "busy" to get another sweater
• A tab on the computer screen for Pandora Radio, my new favorite thing in the world (I'm listening to my 'cool boy rock stuff' station now)
• An empty bowl, recently filled with salt & vinegar chips
• An open [nearly empty] carton of vanilla frosting, next to a spoon (but I didn't eat ALL of it - it was left over from Mason's Cub Scout cake)

That's the best I can do today. I'm stealthily avoiding a couple of homework things, but this weekend I DID finish every speck of laundry (to the point of undressing in front of the washer Friday night), wipe down the kitchen counters, pick up all the random stuff in wrong rooms (and return it to proper spaces), and finally watched The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (which was, in case you're wondering, a good historical cute boy flick but we're thankful we didn't have to pay for it by the minute; its length was directly related to the protracted title).

Onward.

hey everybody! look at meme!

I was just the other day looking back at my first posts, the ones that I lovingly & painstakingly wrote for an enthusiastic but tiny audience of three. Today I get to dust them off for the purpose of this shamelessly self-promoting highly entertaining meme!

Here is what I've been commanded (lovingly, by my best friend) to do:

Link one must be about family.

Link two must be about friends.

Link three must be about yourself.

Link four must be about something you love .

Link five can be about anything you choose.

Feel free to join the fun. Leave me a comment telling us you're celebrating yourself, too.

joyous, joyous friday

1. Ahhhh, it's so nice to be done with grading.

2. One of my favorite things on my desk is the cute mug I found in Cannon Beach.

3. Japanese Cherry Blossom sounds lovely, but I've got nothing else to say about it after 4 hours of sleep.

4. On my bed with a fluffy comforter & bunch of pillows is my favorite place to sit and read.

5. Brie and baguette is delicious! (When the lava-like baked cheese has cooled...)

6. I love to watch historical stuff (and cute boys; preferably both) in movies.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to a hockey game with family & friends, tomorrow my plans include nothing important (praise Jesus) and Sunday, I want to return my house to a state of decency (and remember to set all 200 of my clocks & watches forward)!

Yippee Friday Fill-Ins. Go forth & conquer the weekend!

caution: super mean vent

So. I'll try to avoid my usual 'make a short story long' tendency and explain a situation briefly. (Emphasis on try; apologies in advance if I fail).

Our PTA led a fundraiser before Christmas. One student did not receive his orders, even though our trusted (I am not being facetious; she is truly trustworthy) volunteer who distributed the goods to each classroom knows she delivered his to the teacher. But it is our PTA responsibility to make sure customers are taken care of so we, after being alerted to this situation the day before winter break began (2 weeks after the sale was over), scrambled to first scour every classroom for the missing orders [yours truly took on this task because my school had already let out for the holidays, and I had previously been slacking in my presidential duties] and then call the company for replacements.

The company is in eastern Oregon, not too far from us and extremely generous & quick to help. They were able to send the necessary items directly to each customer who ordered from the student at our school. Yay, us!

Fast forward to a few weeks ago - the fundraising company e-mailed to let us know the student's teacher found the order and what did we want to do with it? Our options were to send it back to the company [we pay back our profit + the shipping], let the student keep it [PTA eats all the costs], or have the student return it to PTA and we sell the products to whomever wants them.

We thought the last option seemed the easiest so we got in touch with the parent. Because I didn't want to end up with the teacher "losing" the order in her classroom again, I asked the parent to hold onto it until I could arrange for a PTA volunteer to pick it up the day her child brought it to school. My conversation with her took place during The Plague Season, so I didn't get around to scheduling someone to make the pick up until this week. When I called the parent to say we were a go for tomorrow, she announced that she QUOTE "drove around with the orders in her car for a week and then just gave them to the people who had ordered them before." Luckily we weren't face to face because I'm pretty sure my expression said something along the lines of Are you fucking stupid? That was $65 of PTA money; not a fortune, granted, but it's our kids' money.

I am taking responsibility for dragging out this business the last couple of weeks but seriously? How fricking cumbersome could the orders have possibly been? They had been LOST in a classroom for two months! The child was able to carry them home from school, presumably without use of a crane and without developing a hernia. What didn't the parent understand when I said PTA OWNS THE PRODUCTS SO WE'LL JUST GET THEM BACK FROM YOU. How does that translate into "It's inconvenient for me to have this stuff anymore so I'll just give it away" ?

Maybe I'm just extra grouchy because I have to read still more short stories about smoking weed and/or selling it plus enter grades before 9 am. Grrr.

Thanks for listening. Here is your reward, in case you missed it before at my A-Lister blog. Or even if you didn't, it's spectacularly hilarious. I feel better already!

look at me, having knowledge

...Sort of. Thursday Thirteen, super fun stuff. Over here, gang.

And here, too, but it's not just me anymore.

wherein i praise the sun. and queen in lego form

Today, the sun came out and stayed out for a long time! I kind of didn't notice it before school was finished at 2:00 since I had my highly ineffectual blinds as far down as I could get them while we watched O Brother, Where Art Thou? But then I released my people and lo! Shiny blue skies! Warm, golden sun! Angels singing! It made me want to lie down on the steps and bask; not often do I feel like basking, but today yes. That, however, would look unprofessional if not slightly insane, neither of which is desirable as a teacher.

Later this afternoon, I needed to pick up Paige from Brownies. Her meeting is just around the block but I have driven the 1/8 of a mile since September because the weather is always too depressing to walk in, so I started for the car at 4:55. But wait! What light through yonder window breaks...(We're starting Shakespeare this week, please forgive). If I drove in this shimmering sunny day, I might jinx the whole thing and awaken tomorrow to thunderbolts and lightning (very very frightening). So stroll I did and when Paige stepped outside, she was perplexed. Mom, did you walk here? My resistance to exercise is legendary.

Extra joie de vivre here:

Genius.

ocdelightful

If I think really hard, I could probably bring up numerous instances of obsessive-compulsive behavior from my youth. Okay, I don't have to think really hard - I used to make schedules (written) for summer days outlining what my little sister & I would be eating, watching, playing each hour; the pictures on my bulletin board were arranged by category - soap opera hunks, singers, movie actors; each stuffed animal & pillow had a specific location on my bed; I sorted my mom's grocery coupons by item & expiration date; I planned Halloween costumes at the beginning of the summer; et cetera ad infinitum amen.

No one ever hinted (that I noticed) that these behaviors might be considered odd. Maybe nobody watched me very closely until one day, a year into marriage, I was engaged in a conversation and, while still talking, I got up from the couch, crossed the room, and adjusted a video on a shelf. When I sat back down and finished my sentence, my friend looked at me for a few seconds then asked, "Did you just get up to fix that video?" Me, thoughtful, "Well, yes." And because she kept looking at me uncomprehendingly, I said, "It was sticking out a little from the others." It all seemed perfectly reasonable.

I started being mindful of the things I felt compelled to do, stuff that would make me uncomfortable if I left it undone. I was working at Barnes & Noble where adjusting books just-so was considered an asset, but I did find myself going beyond what other clerks were doing. Whenever I was at the cash register, I sought out specific pens and put them in specific places; my counter space placards and impulse sales items were straightened after each customer; the bags were neatly stowed. Huh.

And then I got a classroom. Bulletin boards, bookshelves, my desk, student desks, craft supplies, posters, signs, lists, trays - everything has a place, label, operating system. I have a book checkout clipboard and room sign-out clipboard as well as the emergency procedure clipboard (all have pens attached); the bulletin boards are divided into (labeled) sections for displaying student work; the school's class schedule is posted in three places; two crates hold class assignments organized by course & in chronological order; even the clock has a sticker on its face ("stop looking at me"). And everyday I check all of these things while I straighten tables & chairs, reposition window blinds (that they are broken and constantly fall into disarray is something I actually pray about), and straighten books (which are divided by genre - fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and comics).

I've had students say to me "OCD much, Mrs. Spencer?" after I've moved across the room to retrieve a candy wrapper or fallen pencil while continuing to talk to the class. It really feels good to be noticed.

the other boleyn snooze

To me, a great historical movie is one that makes me hope, irrationally, that things might turn out differently than they did in real life. Like Titanic - I know it was manipulative in its tearjerkiness and promoted a song that makes people want to drown in subzero waters, but the movie brought those many passengers to life, and in between sobs I desperately wished the ship might not sink after all.

I relished reading The Other Boleyn Girl a few years ago. It was so compelling & engaging, I even enjoyed getting sick at my in-laws' house, having to stay behind while everyone went out to dinner and the power went out; I plumped myself up with pillows & blankets and read by candlelight about the plight of Mary, Anne & George Boleyn. I was intrigued by the siblings' relationship and the sometimes ruthless, oftentimes outrageous workings of family; I dearly loved Mary & George, and Anne became real - less a sad footnote & unfortunate caricature in history books, more a sympathetic young woman caught up in a quest for power.

I was gleeful about the possibility of a movie; I had cast the characters in my mind and when the actual movie proved a reasonable match, I made giddy plans with my girlfriends. This would be a film to savor - beyond the certain lushness of costuming and scenery, it was a story to be consumed by; I was prepared to get lost in its rich decadence.

That it was supposed to be released before Christmas and was postponed until the end of February perhaps says something. I'm not sure what they were doing during that time, but it didn't help. Chunks of pertinent information were left out, and I'm not just speaking as a disgruntled reader; those who didn't read the book would be confused as to why certain characters were behaving in certain ways. A great deal of heartbreak, motivation, frightful deceit, and even the feeling of time passing (the king was with Mary for about 3 years, then spent nearly 6 years pursuing Anne and 3 years married to her) were neglected.

Because characters are real historical beings does not mean viewers necessarily know or understand them; that seems an obvious piece of moviemaking - fill us in on details we weren't aware of. When I read this novel, I was genuinely sad about Anne; witnessing her descent was painful, I wanted to stop her at every move, to be the guardian angel who knows how it ends and steps in to halt it all. Remarkably, sadly, the movie could not bring up that emotion. Honestly - when I'm just ready for her to lose her head and am not broken up about it, that is a poorly executed (ha) film. As I read, every character, each an actual individual whose life was marked or ended by virtue of knowing Henry VIII, drew from me an anguished response; I wished they had made different choices, or been elsewhere when things started to fall apart. As I watched, I found myself thinking the actors did fine enough jobs portraying people from the time period but I was not anguished over their actions; I remembered they were actors and was not moved.

In the end, it was a sad movie not because of what befell the people, but because of how let down I felt that I was not distressed. I'm glad I had a free ticket and my two best friends, or else I would have demanded my time back.

prioritease

A big round of applause for my guest host. He's right, he's been waiting patiently since I got home from school Friday and IM'd him with a wink & nudge about our night out. The kids were going to be spending the night with their grandpa and whenever there is an empty house, we slip into Spontaneous Young People mode and either stay out as late as possible drinking & whatnot or come home and perform as many debaucherous & loud acts as we can imagine. However, since the plague my energy has been waning by 7:30, no matter how much I've rested and medicated. So sorry, darling.
__________________

Today, I am mourning the passing of Saturday. Saturdays dawn bright with possibility; it's a whole entire day full of hours before the last day of the weekend. You can pack a bunch of errands into a Saturday, do some chores, then even waste a little time reading at Starbucks or shopping or, say, cruising the frozen foods aisle, and still feel productive. Sundays, while lovely, start to feel slightly panicked toward the afternoon no matter how much stuff you're getting done. It's as if time is actually speeding up until suddenly dinner is over and there is nothing left to do but stare stupidly at the interminable week sprawling ahead. And then weep.

Here are the things I'm trying to fit into my Sunday:

• attending church
• showering (maybe this before church)
• scoring 25 short stories
• photocopying 25 short stories for peer editing
• watching last week's "Survivor"
• finishing laundry (really finishing, with folding and hanging and such)
• going to see The Other Boleyn Girl with my bffs
• making a list of silent auction baskets for classrooms to create for a carnival
• not tearing my hair out about silent auction baskets
• taking Mason to Cub Scout bowling event
• grocery shopping (not just for frozen foods...)
• not falling asleep directly after storytime at 8:15

I'm trying to not anticipate weeping. (Especially from Stu).

Guest Post #1

Well ladies and gentlemen, you may notice this post does not have the normal witty Bad Momness this blog usually possesses. That's because this is actually Bad Dad pinch hitting this evening.

Stephanie has 'recovered' from being sick and has been hinting at getting back to more normal 'the-kids-are-in-bed' evenings. There was even a trip to Victoria's Secret by The Woman today. I got the kids in bed, went upstairs to pitch a little woo (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) and was greeted by a 99% asleep, fully dressed wife, curled up in bed. At 8 pm.

Me: "So, I guess we're not making out tonight?"
Bad Mom: "hmphhh, huhh? No, but I need you to post for me"
Me: "So, we are not making out?"
BM: "You need to post for me."
Me: "Is 'post' secret code for making out?"
BM: "no"
Me: "shit"

So here I am. Typing. Normally I am on the comment side of all of your blogs so my smart ass quips can be short and sweet. I am not much of a typist and am much better in the moment of a conversation (go ahead, buy me a drink sometime and put me to the test). I am more of a stand-up than an author. I am impressed by all of you that can lay down paragraph after paragraph of worthwhile reading.

Well, I have satisfied my requirement of a post. I think I'll try to wake up The Woman, wish me luck, or her, depending on who's side you are on.....

-Stu