Waffle brunch and waffling boys

Since it’s a delightfully out-of-season 67 degrees here, I’m sitting on my little shitty back porch (it overlooks my neighbor’s rotting privacy fence—where they ignore their dog 20 hours a day-- and has mildew spots where the gutters dump rain water all the time) blogging with my dog. She’s not adding so much to the blog per se, but she is adding to my iTunes soundtrack by barking in time at the squirrels. That poor little thing, I just went inside and got a little mat for her to sit on because I didn’t want to have to pick splinters out of her little paws or belly from the awful porch. It’s a rough (ruff) life for her.
 

And back to me. I’m a Taurus. This is important or it’s not. Making major life decisions based on dead particles of matter bazillions of light years away and how they appear to be formatted in the shapes of pictures of animals, according to our ancestors—well if that roll of the dice appeals to you, good stuff.  Taureans are supposed to be patient to a fault (think Ferdinand the bull smelling the flowers in the meadow), loyal, and reliable. Like many French people, once we trust you, we trust you forever. If you break that trust, well, we’re done with you. Snort, snort, paw the ground, horns blazing.

I put a certain amount of stock in astrology because it’s interesting. Sometimes it’s accurate, sometimes it isn’t. I also find birth order and seasonal coincidences (babies born 9 months after blizzards, etc.) about human behavior fascinating.  I’ve also had the fortune of working with anywhere in the neighborhood of 200-700 people in a calendar year for the past five years—meaning I’ve had some time to hone my observation skills about the nature of human interaction. I continue on this pseudo-science on a daily basis, and it’s great.

Per my last blog, I was waiting on a dumb boy to call. Based on market research (meaning I bugged my friends on Facebook and talked to anyone who I felt like sharing with), boys are dumb and dense. Loveable, handy, enjoyable, etc…but dumb and dense. So my poor little Taurus bull in my head has been getting a little frustrated with this boy and his slowness to call. I’m patient, but gawwwwwwd!

Upon further advice of a very trusted source and bestest friend, I was informed that smart, sexy, funny women are intimidating and I’m intimidating as hell. He told me to be down-to-earth and shoot a text.  Being that I’m a persistent Taurus, but also a pragmatic Feminist, I went ahead and sent the text. Oh, Technology, you make my life both endlessly complicated and amusingly frustrating. All is well, and I can go back to being a patient Fernandina, sniffing my winter pansies in my container gardens.

Oh, that, and I can cook food, between all that time being patient.

Maybe you have this problem too, but when you’re having a lazy weekend day, isn’t it impossible to choose what sort of breakfast items to have?? At restaurants, it’s pretty cost-prohibitive to have the coffee-orange juice-coke-water-apple juice-hot chocolate-sprite-sweet tea-hot tea-Chai latte-Cranberry juice all at the same time. Maybe water and one of those beverages, but not all of them. At home, I have whatever I want!

I also have difficulty picking between sweet and savory when I’m out. So dammit, I used my waffle maker and had waffles with walnuts and blueberries, with real butter, whipped cream, and a honey drizzle. Sha-blam, I also had scrambled eggs with tomatoes, truffle salt, cheddar, and sunflower sprouts I grew in the window sill. This breakfast was DA BOMB! Boom! In my belly!

And I mentioned my spoiled dog? Yeah, she got brunch too.

Oh, damn. But then there’s all the dishes.

Let’s be clear, this wonderful weather is WONDERFUL. I’m thrilled it’s January and I’m outside in shorts and a tank top. Global warming, you are real and I like it (today only). Let’s also be clear that I’m so grateful to the universe and my circumstances that I have the good fortune to make money for what I do and have a roof over my head and a suspect porch under my feet. (I'm devastated that there's another news story out of India about women being unable to safely ride public buses.)  My dog is happy her mom is sitting outside on a laptop and encouraging her to bark at long-tailed tree vermin.  No waffling allowed, life is, quite good.

ok, cupid's fish in the sea...whatchoo got?!

I think, since I haven't posted here in over a year (thanks, facebook, your set up makes it easier for me just to post long status-updates than actual entries)...it's okay for me to go a little off-grid and talk about my personal life, instead of my professional one. I also have been reading some humorist blogs where the authors swear quite a bit. I swear ALL THE TIME in real life (but not at church or around old people) and it seems weird to type it. I'm want to give it a go here.

Incidentally, I'm starting a different blog for my teaching/school quips, so that will be around at some point. I've got content, but I haven't thought of a good name. Clearly...the name of this one is too much of a mouthful.

But I digress.

 To bring you (if you know me in the real life, or not) up to speed, I'm 29 and single. I've lived with some boyfriends, thought about/talked about marrying some boyfriends, dated long-distance (across states and even countries), changed life plans for boyfriends, and been more than broken-hearted by boyfriends. If you'd asked me a few years ago, "will you be single at 29?" I'd probably have tentatively said, hopefully not. The jaded part of me says, whatever...FOREVER ALOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNE, all emo-like. However, I've had some major growth in my emotional life and I'm really comfortable with my single-ness, lack-of-being-a-parent-ness, my hot-ness, my wrinkled-and-and-lived-in-skin-ness...you see where I'm going with this. I like me. I like me whether I have a boyfriend, significant other, roll of fat, perfect hair day, terrible hair day, or whatever.

This is important. There's so much research and evidence about teens (boys and girls, but since I'm a chick, I'll stick with that) and depression and low self-esteem and how that leads to dangerous decisions (self-loathing, self-injury, binge-drinking, bad sex choices, etc.) in the future. Basically, your self-image is more or less cemented from childhood on. The fact that I haven't let the media totally pervade my brain and tell me I'm AWFUL for not being super skinny, not having a husband, not being "perfect"...it's a big deal. I've worked toward my happy relationship with my body in the mirror.

Now my relationship with my head and my heart? Those are every day struggles.

So I've been doing the online dating thing. Incidentally, I started it because I have a good friend who met her husband through a particular site, and they are a-dor-a-buuullllll. I also know of many other success stories. I met my 2 more recent relationships via online dating and those guys turned out to be stand-up gents who I'm very happy to have spent significant time with. I'm glad we split up too...because these experiences have led to me being more, well, me.

I've gone out on some pity dates lately and man, they are SAD. This one guy has had a crazy amount of loss in his world and I thought I'd been pretty clear that I wasn't necessarily looking for something physical/romantic...but that guy has called or texted me every day for 2 weeks. I don't want to let him down, and the Suzy Sunshine part of me wants to cheer him up, but dang. That's a lot of work for a therapist to do, and I ain't even got time for my shit.

 I went out with this one dude-- nothing awful about him-- just kinda BORING. I will call him Mr. Boring. Had an MBA, a decent job, a good volunteer thing going on, but that mumfucker wanted to go split-zies on everything. It was pointed out to me that it was a "transactional" view point of dating to insist that the guy pay for stuff before anything physical happened...and I'm not going to start making a menu or anything... (one kiss= 2 dates, making out= fancy dinner and flowers) LOL, but REALLY? I'm smart, I'm hot, I'm funny, I'm entertaining and I suggested fun things for us to do. The least you can do is buy my damn drink. I'm good arm candy, and you, Mr. Boring, are not. Plus, you're boring.

I guess, if we'd gone to THAT restaurant and seen bongo-boobs,  we coulda totally made out, whether or not he'd picked up the check.

I've been messaging and speaking with another guy who we will call Mr. Demanding. He's not bad, again, but just a little on the, oh, let's see, how to put this gently, DEMANDING side. I hadn't met him yet in person and he more-or-less started an argument via text message with me. Derrrp, hold the phones! I don't know you, bruh, don't know if you're worth my time, and you want to tell me what to do with my tone of voice? Nope, you're talking to the wrong muthatruckin' feminist. He had the nerve to say that, "he wasn't expecting that I wouldn't go on dates with other guys or anything..." and I'm assuming that meant-- for the time being-- until I meet you and sweep you off your feet or some shit.

Nope, I do what I want. For realz. I'm a damn grown-ass woman who pays her own bills, owns her own car, has a responsible job, and is a kick-ass doggie-mommy. Of course I'm going to go out with who I want, jack-hole! I don't know you!!

Now, onto a different one...and I'm gonna have to stop because this entry is getting stupid long. My roomate calls him Cutie Patootie, so we shall call him Mr. Cutie-Patootie. We've been on a coffee date, a day-date (it was active and included dinner) and an evening date where we met at one restaurant and drove together to a separate activity. He's been delightful, interesting, interested in conversation, intelligent, handsome, and funny.

No problem, right? Call off the search, send the hounds home! Except...communication doesn't seem to be his thing, though and so it seems that every interaction we've had...I've instigated (that's not the word, but fuck it) with an initial text, call, or email. We also have had NO KISSING. Boo to that. If we go back to the transactional view of dating, what gives? I want to kiss you and I'm the girl. If the boy wants to kiss the girl and she's not ready, it's not cool. If the girl wants to kiss the boy and the boy balks...I don't understand. I haven't been in that position before in my extensive 14 years of dating.

So, Mr. Patootie.

Cutie, If I can call you that...the fish in the sea led me with cupid's stupid arrow to you. Call me and then kiss me, okay??

 Ermagod, if you do get it together and call me, please don't have wings. 

tears to start my day

So there's this little boy who doesn't stand out too much in my class for positive reasons. He's behind grade-level academically, but he's generally pretty sweet. I steer him away from the "bad" kids so he isn't too influenced, but he has to work really, really hard to generate ideas, so everything I ask of him is pretty taxing.

He pops into my class this morning and I say, "Oh hey, y'all come on in."

He responds with a grin, "Oh, it's just me."

"Oh, just you? Did you take the lunch count? Ms. Dean must really think you're being responsible to take the lunch count. She really trusts you. Good work, buddy!" I like to be motivational, no matter what's going on.

"Yep, it's my first time to take the lunch count."

"So, you want to help me get the room ready, since they're late and you're on time?"

So he is helping me pass journals out, etc. and he sparks up a bit of a conversation. This isn't unusual per se, for kids to reveal things to me, but for this kid, he's been pretty quiet because my class is a little over his head and he just kinda lays low. It was the most I've heard out of him, for sure.

He speaks up, "I won't be here on Thursday."
"Oh yeah, why not? Got a doctor's appointment?"
He kind of looks down and says, "I'm going to Detroit (but say it DEE-troit) Michigan."
"All that way? On a plane and everything? What for?"

His words just kind of spilled out at this point- I could tell he'd heard a lot from his mom about this and he was putting it all together in his head. "My uncle's had a stroke. The whole family's got to go take care of him."

"Well, who's taking care of him now?"

"The hospital. And my grandma."

I looked at this little boy, and truly saw the face of an angel sent to tell me what I needed to hear. I said to him, "You know what, I'm going through something similar. I have a relative who's had a stroke too and we're trying to help her and take care of her."

"But it's going to be okay, Miss G. God will take care of everything."

That part, I'm pretty sure he wasn't reinterpretting from his mom. It came from a much greater source of power and greatness.

rental car excitement

me: (pressing all the pretty new buttons in the shiny rental car.)
On Star Lady Voice: On Star, how may I be of assistance?
me: Oh, I was just trying to find how to work the radio. It had a star and I like stars and it said on, so I thought it turned the radio on.
On Star Lady Voice: No ma'm, this doesn't turn on the radio.
me: I'm sorry. It's a rental car and I don't know what all the buttons do.
On Star Lady: Well, do you need help?
me: No, not really.
On Star Lady: Well, do you need directions on how to get somewhere?
me: No, thank you, I actually know where I'm going today.
On Star Lady: Well that's good!
me: I don't know how to turn off this button I pressed.
On Star Lady: Don't worry, it will disconnect automatically. Have a good day.


yup. That's me in a rental car.

full of win

Today is full of so much win.

It's Red-Ribbon-Week to celebrate drug-free lifestyle and awareness of things drug related. I guess. (My grandma Jane liked to point out how hard it was to NOT say Wed-Wibbon-Reak" when busting through some important elementary school announcements.) I just like reasons for us to do fun stuff that's slightly out of the ordinary. Today's theme was "Put a cap on drugs" or "Hats off to drugs"-- but that didn't make sense to me. Don't you take your hat off in deference to someone?

Kids were in all varieties of hats-- baseball caps, knit caps, fedoras, pimp hats (yes, with jaguar print and purple velour)-- my favorite was a Goofy one. One teacher even had this beautiful flapper-esque hat that was teal with feathers. So cute and fitting of her! They had to remind the kids to take off their hats during the National Anthem and Pledge of Allegiance. Come on, like these kids haven't been to a baseball game!

Anyway, I was wearing this awesome Sherlock Holmes hat. I told my colleagues that I would NOT be washing my hair, so the hat would stay on all day. I stayed true to my word. All throughout the day, I was greeted with, "Are you a detective?" "What's that guy's name? He's from Australia and solves crimes." "Are you a sleuth?" By the end of the day, I was Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. Interesting if you've seen the BBC show...don't think he's looking for a missus!

I contacted a friend from my mom's church whose husband works with Clayton County Police Department K9 unit couple weeks ago to see if we could get some real-life drug-enforcers to come and do some cool stuff for the kids. Because it was a training day...5 officers and 3 dogs were there for demonstrations about narcotics and bad-guy-busting. It was impressive. Since we had the kids on the black top on the playground, it was really awesome to see this huge German shepherd sprint off after the officer in a stuffed safety suit. (I've seen similar demonstrations in an enclosed space and it really scared me because the dogs are so big and so strong.) Nearly the entire school was out there-- over 500 kids. Captive audience though-- when you have a German shepherd jetting around.

Getting back to my classroom, 5th graders and I were discussing the differences between service dogs and pets. I wanted them to write some decent thank you notes or reflections about the week. I described how my dog knows lots of commands and routines, but I'd never be able to train her to attack me. I went through her list of commands and the kids stopped me at "Yoga dog." (It's really just bow, but when she started stretching like that, we called it "yoga dog-yoga dog!" in a high-pitched voice and she got it. So, I hopped onto my Ikea area rug and demonstrated what downward-facing dog is in yoga. The kids have an enlightening time in my class...lots of variety.

Also on the fun list of things I do in a day...I have a story book that is Halloween themed called "Shake Dem Halloween Bones." If you teach Elementary age or have small ones, this is a goodie. (My childhood story book favorite is Morris and Boris's Halloween. They wear funny costumes and Boris is terribly frustrated with explaining the finer points of Halloween to Morris. Along the same vein as Amelia Bedelia. Puns. How do you go wrong?) It has a little song that the kids can sing/rap along with you and rhymes that reference fairy tales and nursery rhymes. Thanks to Shrek and all the inherent parodies, kids know lots of obscure fairy tales that they didn't necessarily recognize before. Sing-rapping-bankhead-bouncing with 26 8-year-olds and then making symmetry-spider creatures from their fingers with googly eyes? So. Much. Win.

Slow-talking 3rd grader: Mizz Geeee, do you like arts and crafts?
Me: (interrupted)
Gifted kid: No, she doesn't like arts and crafts, she likes music. She just sang us a book.
Slow-talker: But we're always making creative things.
Me: Yes, I like arts and music. We should do them every day.

So, the other fun thing I like to do when I have time to kill with a station or an over-zealous kid who completes all required tasks: Make 8.5 by 14 hall posters announcing whatever's going on. So far, we've had ones for Hispanic Heritage and now Red Ribbon. Some of my favorite typos-to-be:

Red Riddon Week!
Hugs Not Dugs!
Drugs are for Lossers.

Oh yes. Thank goodness spelling doesn't count for much in this world.

The appreciation notes also had some insightful (or maybe inciteful) phrases:

...I hope you catch all the drug attics out there.
...I don't want to be a cop when I grow up, but you're doing a good job letting that dog bite your arm.
...Thanks for teaching our school about narcotics. We already new alot. (yikes!!)
...I am scared of dogs and that really showed me to stay out of the way if the police and a bad guy are there.

So...drugs are bad, mmkay? And kids are really full of win.

9-21-11, A Teacher's lessons from Troy Davis

On behalf of Georgians...I apologize, Troy. Our great state with its motto of Wisdom, Justice, and Moderation has been unwise, unjust, and has moderated your life for far too long...


In 2007, as a student at Agnes Scott, Amnesty International wrote letters to Troy and on behalf of Troy to members of Congress, State Board of Pardons and Parole, and the governor.

By Christmas, I found a letter in my on-campus mail box postmarked Jackson, GA. Troy had personally written me (and Agnes Amnesty) back. He spoke of hope. He spoke of justice. His penmanship is excellent.

In 2008, Troy's case was up. He was set to be executed unless clemency occurred. I taught high school and I both beamed and grimaced as my juniors pulled out cell phones to barage the Board of Pardons and Parole with phone calls. They waited on hold and left messages, they told their friends and families to call too.

That day, 16 and 17-year-old (babies!) signed their names to official typed letters too. These children tasted activism at an age not much younger than Troy when he felt the bonds of conviction.

It's 2011 and those 16 and 17 year olds have lived freely longer than Troy did. An Amnesty Candle's light has been snuffed out. Thousands have posted, protested, called, marched, tweeted-- gotten involved. Black, white, young, old: Troy, you united us.

Tonight, two mothers weep for lost sons. An activism lesson has been taught and an exercise in justice has been witnessed.

I only wish this were a lesson we needed to learn.

coolest 8 year old EVER

Alright, so it's been a while since I posted-- I'm not sure I would read this schlock, so I'll see. It seems like my bf gets tired of my rantings about work, so maybe this is a better venue.

That being said:
I have the unfortunate privilege of managing the students who are waiting on their parents to pick them up in their cars. It's quite the broken system as it takes FOREVER and a million parents are late, the kids can't hear their names on the radio to come outside, they can't see their cars because of where they're seated...and did I mention the fumes of cars idling? So good for children's lungs and the environment. There's an upside, because I don't have to stand outside in those fumes (for the time being).

So there's a kid, we'll call him Richard, and he's got a few issues upstairs. So he's sitting with his grade level and he's swinging his arms and talking to himself. One of the other teacher-monitors selected a few kids to walk around and police the other kids-- telling them to be quiet and listen for their names.
Two girls and a boy are given this coveted position, so I was just maintaining one little spot, watching the boy, we'll call him Alex--walking around and giving people the shh! sign.
Enter Richard's sister-- who worries over Richard a little bit, even though she doesn't bother to sit with him to actually make sure he's okay. Richard's sister, we'll call her ReAnna, is a little gangly and all elbows. She sees Alex telling Richard to be quiet, so she marches over to them.
(Keep in mind, I'm standing like a foot and a half away, watching this amazingness.)

Richard: bleah blah talking to self, making weird sounds, blah.
Alex: Shh, You gotta be quiet!
ReAnna: What are you saying to my brother?
Leave him alone!
You shouldn't mess with him!
Alex: I just told him to be quiet.
ReAnna: Leave him alone. He's my brother.

A teacher intervenes and tells Richard and ReAnna to go to their car outside. Alex turns to me with one eyebrow in the air and says, "Man, THAT was awkward."

Seriously. I only changed the names. That kid has the best sense of humor, EVER. If he was like 15 years older, I'd totally hang out with him.