good days

I discovered Paul Harvey when I was in college, working at The Old Post Office Theatre in downtown Pullman. I came in at night to work concessions then returned in the morning to clean out the theater. Dragging in to face the outrageous amounts of garbage a hundred college students could generate within a few hours (complete with a stench that had been fermenting overnight), I headed first to the sound booth and turned up the radio. Somehow I frequently managed to hit on The Rest of the Story and was instantly comforted; Paul Harvey's voice was warm & folksy, lilting & diving so perfectly that I forgot to be disgusted by the sticky mess under my feet.

Even when I disagreed with Harvey's conservative stance or grew weary of his cheerful promotion of various products in the midst of his commentary, his stories drew me into deep thought; he usually led me to consider an alternate viewpoint and sometimes even changed my mind. He often made me stop mopping to wipe tears and I always had to postpone vacuuming in order to hear, well, The Rest of the Story.

I am reminded of those days - ones I know I took for granted because at the time they were just filled with required classes and leftover cinemuck and the occasional mediocre date - because Paul Harvey is now gone. Yet I feel like there is so much more to hear.

the sound of the world coming to an end

Did you hear it? No?

Neither did I.

I guess my daily posts really weren't the source of ongoing life in the universe. I was so exhausted last night that I couldn't even effectively bribe badger my husband into writing a guest post to maintain my quest for daily blogging. I couldn't even get out of my clothes; I awoke around 11 pm sweating from lying under the covers in jeans, t-shirt, and wool socks for two hours.

So I start over, after 421 consecutive posts. Sigh.

And life goes on.

good sports for good scouts

On the heels of the post about adults behaving badly, I can offer a bunch of words about adults behaving remarkably well.

For the past two nights, Paige & I did our Girl Scout duty of cookie selling at the nearby Safeway. As we waited for our coordinator to arrive yesterday, another Girl Scout [from a different troop] and her dad pulled up. Though some people might at this moment start singing the Jet Song to mark Cookie Territory and defend their Sales, we all chatted amiably about a mix-up in scheduling before discussing schools and teachers and the merits of sashes vs. vests. When we established that our troop was indeed scheduled to be at that location, Dad & his Girl Scout helped us unload our table & boxes. It was so Afterschool Special, I thought I might cry for the goodness of mankind.

Then, every customer walking in & out of the grocery store was nothing short of delightful and kind (except for the jackass 20something dude who raced his Jeep onto the walkway to drop off his buddy and gave us a "What??" look when we glared from 10 feet away). Did I mention it was approximately 0 degrees both nights? And raining? With a chance of snow? Yet everyone (except Jackass) smiled at our bouncy vibrant dancing-the-chill-away girls. And most people purchased cookies, even after we'd run out of Samoas and Thin Mints and Trefoils.

Goodness. It warmed even my frosty toes.

shallow end

I know I'm late to this party but I am loving Jeremy Sisto since starting to watch my new favorite time-suck Six Feet Under.

I suddenly have an urge to acquire a giant braided rug.



thank you for the lovely shot!

sos

I'm not sending out a distress signal about ships; it's about our students.

I do not pretend to be a perfect parent [hello, blog title]. I know I'm not a perfect teacher. Yet I am reasonably certain that the following techniques are less than ideal when trying to raise a responsible young person:

• Consulting with teachers about why one's child has to make up the hours missed from classes when he was suspended from school
• Calling one's child during class to find out of she "needs to be at school" for the last period
• Claiming one didn't realize it wasn't appropriate to text one's child during class to remind him to turn in his homework
• Offering to come to school with one's child to make sure she's attending classes and doing her work
• Telling a concerned teacher who calls to check on her often-absent child that she hasn't "seen him in a few days"
• Revealing in a phone call (with a teacher one has never actually met, who is simply calling to inform one of missing work) graphic & unflattering details of one's child's emotional & behavioral issues
• Insisting one's child just cannot get out of bed in time to make first period, which starts at 8:30

I grow weary.

backstage

Because I was not, yet again, invited to the actual Oscars, I held my annual party tonight in my humble home.

It was everything I love - fabulous friends, extraordinary food & drink, lively discussion, and a show worth three [and a half] hours of my life. I'm particularly pleased that the Academy saw most everything my way this time; they can be so difficult.

But now the real world looms in the form of dirty dishes overtaking my kitchen and a job starting in a handful of hours. Must go now to present the award for Best Husband in A Supporting Role...

give & take

I gave the kids some time in Powell's & Starbucks in exchange for them taking time with me at Portland Art Museum. We were all perfectly delighted. (Check out the quote on Mason's cocoa cup; he decided to keep it, God bless him).

Make a Smilebox slideshow

[The birds in the window photo was shot by Paige; Powell's bookstore, the streetcar sign, the grate and the dresser in the window were shot by Mason]

sunny & fine, the way a friday should be

1-3 are courtesy of Mar this week. And...here we go!

1. Give me a quiet classroom of teenagers and I'll show you a vent with a slow gas leak [this response is not based on a real incident].

2. Whenever works for me, except in the ER.

3. I wish I had a million dollars.

4. A bacon-wrapped date stuffed with goat cheese & an almond was the last thing I ate that was utterly delicious.

5. To live in this world one should always keep eyes & ears open to tiny pieces of beauty.

6. Other than this one, Holly's Traveling Through Time & Space is the last blog I commented on.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to dinner out and watching The Reader, tomorrow my plans include a frighteningly much-needed haircut and Sunday, I want to revel in Oscar party decadence!

Friday Fill-ins are fabulously fun

surely you care

Or maybe you don't; either way I'll stop calling you Shirley. [bahDUMbum]

I am having a difficult week what with odder-than-usual teenagers in my classes, restless sleeping and subsequent wretchedly tired mornings, and foreboding body aches that spell impending illness. So I fall yet again to rerunning a little-loved post at my neglected A-Lister blog.

All of the answers are still the same, which either means I'm remarkably consistent or terribly boring. Please don't tell me if it's the latter.

girl power

Tonight I shuffled my sluggish foolhardy LookAtMeIHaven'tBeenSickThisWinter self to Paige's Brownie Badge Ceremony. She & her homegirls, who have been a troop since the Daisy days of kindergarten, planned an hour of reminding grown-ups of the Girl Scout Laws, receiving hard-earned badges, and demonstrating how to make snacks like white chocolate-dipped pretzels & deviled eggs. All was delicious.

My reticent one

The current patchy bling

Sweet sister to every Girl Scout
(if not always every big brother...)

lazy tuesday

I am le tired and though I have dozens of genius post ideas rolling around in my brain [teaser: Revolutionary Road reaction, crazy parents of students, the mind-boggling coolness of Six Feet Under, thoughts about continuing to stalk Fountains of Wayne members], they are not yet coming together properly. Which makes my head hurt & feel tired so I'm stuck in a vicious circle of little concern to anyone but me, likely.

Here is something I wrote previously and believed amusing; 0 others felt the same at the time. I refuse to believe the lack of hype.

mom of bad mom

She's been a young mother, a single mother, a drag racing & dating mother, a working mother, a mother of two, a mother-in-law, a grandmother.

Even though there are miles of things I would (do) do differently from my mother, I love her anyway. Maybe I love her more because of all those things.

My mom taught me

family is important, even if they can be embarrassing.

My mom taught me

we help people whenever & however we are able.

My mom taught me

quality is key in work & play ~

we mowed lawns like John Deere and colored like Van Gogh.

My mom taught me

it's best to let go sometimes.

My mom taught me

garage sales & thrift stores are usually more marvelous than the mall.

My mom taught me

napping is allowed.

My mom taught me

fast cars are worth having. And driving. Fast.

My mom taught me

if something is valuable to my child,

it should be valuable to me.

Happy birthday to a very Good Mom.

getaway

Alternate titles: "Another Photo-Filled, Substance-Free Post" or "Potentially Fascinating Things You Might See Around Portland." You pick.

Checked in at swanky, boutique-y Hotel Modera

(Side note: Because we are prone to traveling misadventures, even in the city six miles from our house, we walked completely around the block to find the hotel lobby; what we thought was an entrance turned out to be the still-under-construction restaurant - imagine my minor freakout thinking the hotel I thought I'd booked ON VALENTINE'S DAY was not actually open yet)

Yes, I kind of was in the actual street
but luckily did not get hit by this cab

These are Benson Bubblers and never fail
to refresh and/or amuse

Lunch at Pastini, where we indulged in our weird pasttime
of reading personal ads aloud to each other

The tattoo comes out for date night

Air shark

[Insert wine tasting & delightful French film here]

Welcome to Veritable Quandary!
Shirt & shoes required for everyone not attached to the wall

Bacon-wrapped, cheese & almond stuffed date, ahoy!

This chandelier made me happy[er]

The morning after

(This throw made me giddy every time I touched it -
a delectable fake fur offered by our hotel as an 'amenity'
for a mere $200; alas I did not bring it home)

Au revoir, mis amis.

stuff i love

My babes

Best friend [and laptop]

Words

My calling

Bacon AND chocolate

Second husband

London

Amsterdam

Paris

First husband


Poetry
and, um, wild nights

~ Happy Valentine's Day ~

the 13th

1. It seems like my house will never, ever be completely clean & orderly.

2. Call me in for dinner when you're done, please?

3. If I thought you could spare the time I'd have you watch all episodes of The Monkees with me!

4. Generous, loving & kind is what I think of most when I think of you.

5. To me, Valentine's Day means pretending we're newlyweds again.

6. God (and occasionally a pomegranate martini) gives me strength.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to dinner & chatting with good friends Jimmie & Adam, tomorrow my plans include Portland International Film Festival with my man and Sunday, I want to sleep in at our hotel!

Friday Fill-Ins are not unlucky

nothing like a cleansing sob to lighten the heart

Gearing up for a lover's weekend? Or just in need of a tear duct purge? Check out my favorite sappy songs at A-Lister [another blast from the recent past; last Valentine's Day to be precise].

And don't miss Janet's amazing heart pics at Fond of Snape. They'll bring you back from the brink that my musical choices will pull you toward...

delicious

Amsterdam

photo by me, 2008

making an effort

On this exact day last year, our school [this world] lost a student. Tonight, I watched another of our students stand in the spotlight, somewhat reluctantly, for our school. I can't help but think this is the Universe speaking - a door closing, a window opening. Letting go of the one we couldn't help, gently pushing the one we can.

When I introduced the Poetry Out Loud competition a couple of months ago, I told my Advocacy class (kind of like a homeroom) memorizing & reciting a poem would be required; I knew if it was optional, everyone would optional right out except the kids who already do all the work plus the extra credit. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...). So most of them groaned and moaned through the days but everyone stood & delivered, eventually. Two of our class winners were boys who largely complained about the entire exercise yet when it came time to recite, they rocked the room. And when it came time for them to represent at the school competition, T - an impish young man my daughter adores - yet again knocked everyone out with his performance of "Jabberwocky." We announced two runners-up from our school because I thought T might just bow out of a more public display like the regional competition.

But he surprised me by not only shrugging "Sure" when I asked if he was up to another round - which required him to memorize a second poem -he also showed up tonight despite suffering a sinus infection that kept him out of school the past three days. Though he didn't advance to our state competition, T was poised and prepared; I just might have been as proud of him as his mom.

And considering this date, the tone & theme of T's second poem are eerily mild and thoughtful, slightly hopeful; at the very least grounded. The Universe nods in approval.

The persevering Mr. T

On Inhabiting an Orange by Josephine Miles

All our roads go nowhere.
Maps are curled
To keep the pavement definitely
On the world.

All our footsteps, set to make
Metric advance,
Lapse into arcs in deference
To circumstance.

All our journeys nearing Space
Skirt it with care,
Shying at the distances
Present in air.

Blithely travel-stained and worn,
Erect and sure,
All our travels go forth,
Making down the roads of Earth
Endless detour.

sicko

I played Nurse Mom to my feverish boy today. Apparently my mad oatmeal-preparing, banana-peeling, and water-pouring skills worked magic.

Many thanks to my colleagues for taking up the slack of my classes so I could get this kid rested, healthy and back to school; I've heard something about important Valentine plans...

sunday sweetness

My best friend Jen invited me to her friend's graduation from the Oregon Culinary Institute. After much arm-twisting, I agreed to go.

Muah-hahaha. I'm so there.

Truffles and nougats and meringues, oh my!


I swear I was not the one who swiped a finger
through that decorative chocolate...



Little cups of melted chocolate, I want to marry you.

Lori's extraordinary array of goodies - you can even eat the dishes.

I want her to graduate every weekend...

personal

I'm usually good at not taking things personally; it's pretty much the most important rule of survival in teaching [other than "Do not sleep with students" of course, which I am beyond exemplary at obeying FYI]. But occasionally, maybe due to moon phases & hormones, I slip up and let things affect me.

For example, the young Anakin - who is no longer in any of my classes since the quarter change but still owes hours & a project to earn his credit - spent 15 minutes alternately saying "I don't know" and "This is stupid" while I was trying to help him through his Catcher in the Rye project before muttering "Holden's just weird, he likes writing and gets along with his English teacher, I've never met an English teacher I like." Gee, thanks. I know, intellectually, he has issues plaguing him that I can't begin to understand and his attitude reflects them; it has little if anything to do with me and my value as a person & teacher. Still.

Yet on the other hand, I should also know better than to take a bow anytime a student professes that I am THE BEST TEACHER EVER. It feels fine, but really their experiences are limited, they're reacting to my patient & kind demeanor (yes, I do have one), they are simply well-adjusted forward-thinking individuals who appreciate my enthusiasm for a subject. So I try to send all comments directed at me through a credibility filter and keep on keepin' on.

However, when I get a personal message from a member of my favorite band OR have an actual Facebook IM conversation [okay, we exchanged about 60 words, 50 of them mine...] with another member, I immediately have visions of hanging out with them backstage, where they find me immensely witty & delightful and wonder why they never invited me before. When I've stalked them. Via e-mail and Facebook and throwing my Bad Mom card onstage with a message of love.

CRAZY PERSON UPDATE, 1:02: Brian (we're like *this*) just chatted with me, too! Even included a winking emoticon! Feel free to send cash for my therapy sessions.

wife duty

I was terribly remiss tonight and stayed at a friend's house gabbing for 2 hours longer than I said I would, thus leaving my kind & generous husband home alone. So alone that he actually went to bed and I am keeping him awake right this very second as I satisfy my OCD need to post before midnight.

Please read this previously nearly-neglected gem of a meme while I give my job hunting man a much-deserved back rub.

the spy who loves you

Tonight I went to a meeting with my best friend Jen who works at our kids' school as a Special Education aide. We presumed the meeting was a general 'heads-up' gathering to discuss potential budget cuts in the district. We presumed incorrectly; it was actually a classified employees' union cross-burning rally. A rally that degenerated frightfully into a teacher-bashing rant, because We think We're more important than classified staff because We have our "college educations" (their leader made air quotes when she said that - does that mean she thinks my degree is a sham? Not necessary? I was confused). I honestly started to feel like if I were identified as a teacher (and I saw a number of staff assistants & librarians there who know me; I sat very still and tried to actually become invisible), there would be gasps & shrieks & possibly a stoning.

I get very nervous when a union starts talking fast & loud. Essentially, I think the union is a positive organization for making sure people are treated fairly in their work situations; unfortunately it can easily become a hostile Us vs. Them exercise. When it comes to educational situations, my greatest concern is for the kids being served - obviously I enjoy a paycheck, and of course I realize some people rely on their paychecks to survive, but threatening to walk out of a job at the expense of children makes no sense to me. So I get wiggly & nervous about that stance, and the classified workers at tonight's meeting mentioned the possibility of striking if their positions are scheduled to be cut.

Again, I completely understand being upset about losing a job (hello!), but then their leader promised to inform the district that the classified employees "are the most important people in the district." That if they were not in the schools, children would not be getting a quality education. My heart was racing, I started sweating - partly because of the aforementioned stoning possibility, but mostly because I hate this game; it takes a village, people. Let's not argue about who is more or less necessary in our kids' lives - let's just do our best work during our time with them and discuss fair salaries at the end of the day.

I did reveal my secret identity to a few people as the meeting ended and was secretly bemused when their eyes widened and they flushed slightly. It tells me they don't really think we teachers are power hungry elitist monsters, and that's a relief. I don't like fighting.

wonderful, wonderful

New quarters feel almost as promising & delightful as the beginning of the year and this one is no exception. Though I enjoyed teaching Catcher in the Rye & Great Gatsby again and creative writing is always an adventure, I looked forward to new avenues in speech & technology. These last couple of days have been remarkably positive; I'm almost thinking there is a hustle going on.
Particularly in speech today - I put the kids through "Speed Meetings" (like Speed Dating but without the awkward weirdness, kind of) and they rolled their eyes & groaned, as I expected. But then. I wandered around the room eavesdropping on their three-minute conversations and found Stoner Boy showing ASB Girl a picture of his cat; Wary Quiet Guy teaching Outspoken Lesbian how to read music; Skater Kid discussing with Preppy Princess where he would most like to visit. After 35 minutes and seven impromptu conversations, I no longer saw a Stoner Boy, ASB Girl, Wary Quiet Guy, et cetera - I had a classroom of 22 Renegades with broader minds and new acquaintances.

Please, God, let the rest of the quarter move along this plane.

Sing it, Johnny.

bad mom, bad teacher

Because I have left my grading until the last possible moment (don't tell my students; they operate best under the delusion that I am a master of plan-ahead organization & near-perfect time management), tonight's post is a Bad Mom great hit about my daughter's fashion sense.

As a follow-up, I will let you know that virtually nothing has changed in the 18 months since I originally wrote that post - Paige continues to be outrageously outfitted most days, and I continue to bite my tongue and quietly admire her confidence.

help, i'm watching a woody allen movie and i like it

I do not enjoy Woody Allen's work and have always felt a little less-than because of that. Everyone who gushes over loving his movies seems so intelligent, so metropolitan, so much more 'aware' of whatever smart sociological stuff he writes. Interestingly, it's the incessant dialogue that tends to turn me off; I say "interestingly" because if you know me an iota you are aware of my ability to talk until people's ears bleed. But I digress.

Tonight we are watching Vicky Cristina Barcelona for a couple of key reasons. First, Javier Bardem. Second, I had a free rental last week at Blockbuster that expired at the end of January....And did I mention Javier Bardem?

Now I want to move to Spain, become an expatriate, be fifteen years younger, find an artist lover, make friends with his crazy ex-wife, and generally be a gorgeous cosmopolite. And Stu keeps wishing for a threesome among the beautiful people.

Stupid Woody Allen.

nice try

They gave it a go. I broke my voice trying to cheer them on. But in the end, the Cardinals just couldn't win the game. My Cowboys feel their pain; Pittsburgh has been a thorn in their side for decades. Sigh.

Still just wild about Larry

Maybe you can come be my back-up grocery boy?

Kurt Warner photo from this guy's photostream. Thanks!