and then life happens (redux)

and we are forced to realize that life is messy and we are all imperfect beings, that the most important thing each of us can do is try.

Disclosures occur and sometimes what is revealed to you by the universe, your mother, your handsome friend, or former roommate causes you to reframe your own assumptions. One of the things that I know I forget is how complicated people are. Even people we know well...people whom we have believed we have "figured out" can surprise us, in both unpleasant and utterly wonderful ways. Other times information must be weighed, measured, and processed to determine it's relevancy to the whole.

I'm having a processing day; the reframing is happening slowly. But, happily as I'm processing, I'm realizing that what hit me first as a major piece of information is major not in and of itself but for what it reveals of the one who gave it voice. As is most often the case, gentleness and compassion are the most appropriate responses, no matter how difficult those may be.

and then life happens

in this case resolute beginnings were upstaged by the holidays, and strangely a new romantic interest...I met this boy, Eric, via internet dating site.


Let me explain my internet dating experience. It goes like this:

1. I am single and just fine with it (or at least I've tricked myself into believing so.)

2. I become single and bored. I consider how to remedy the situation, lesbians offer assistance. I ignore them, this is not a good solution.

3. I become so bored I attempt internet dating. Insert whitty "ads" and carefully cropped pictures here.

4. Strike up "conversation" via carefully crafted emails and use these emails as a screening test in order to pass the test the potential internet date must correctly use all forms of "their, there, and they're" AND "your and you're". No, I'm not kidding.

5. Arrange date.

6. Hate myself as I'm getting ready. A STUPID amount of thought goes into the getting ready process. I hate this part. I feel literally sick and hate that the only way I can get a date or any possible interest ever is via this forced dog and pony show. It is so not me; sadly I've done it enough times that I know how to do it. This doesn't help.

7. Go on date. Endure awkwardness. Hate myself and the universe.

8. Decide that this whole thing is not worth my time, figure out how to tell date that it's just not going to go anywhere....repeat from step one.


Sure, there have been some notable exceptions such as the gay guy and the dude who'd lived his whole life in the Portland metro area but spoke with nostalgia about visiting Seattle...really, go! Get in the car, it's RIGHT THERE.

And yet, I find myself dating. Now, full disclosure dictates that I mention that steps 1-8 still occurred...with a strange twist at the end. I decided that, while he probably wasn't worth my time, he might be worth a second date.

The story of the second date deserves it's own post and I'm running out of time anyway.

It took seven dates for me to decide I liked him; with a chorus of pep talks along the way, and now I'm quite certain I do. I have no idea what that means, and I'm convincing the crazy girl in my head that at the end of the night, I don't have to know anything besides if I want to see him again. So far, the answer has been yes.

Resolute beginnings....softly

Today I begin what I am calling The Transformation 31 Project.

I’ve started it before in versions such as 21, 29, 30 and in all honestly there is no reason why this version should prove to have more successful results. None at all. Yet, I am hopeful. I need to change fundamental aspects of my life. This morning, grey and wet and unpromising as it may be, I feel I have the strength. I feel powerful.

Last night at my birthday, beautiful people who loved me showed up, with varying degrees of reticence, tiredness and because simply, they love me. I found myself wondering, off and on through the night, how I should have come to deserve this love. I have no answer. Instead, I will accept it. That is the first thing I’m willing to concede. They love me. I am loved. Even when I myself do not understand why that love it is there. I need to take it graciously, and use it as a source of strength. I have internalized it, but I also need to stop questioning it.

Updates coming. Writing promised. Cross your fingers for me.

writing to enlighten this morning

it is gross outside....I know, I know. It's October 24th and I live in Camas. It was inevitable, but it seems the fall/winter weather has finally overtaken us. Even worse, it's one of those mornings where an hour after you get up the weather is darker, blustery-er, and more spirit dampening. Hummph.

Although, by all rights I should not complain. The first three weeks of October were a fantastic gift, possibly mother nature attempting to make up for our summer that wasn't a summer.

So, here's my story. This morning about 5:30, the annoying girl dog decides that since I won't let her on the bed and under the covers, what she really MUST do is to go outside. I know that to ignore the whining is to do so at my own peril, so I got up. Walked downstairs and let her out. At the same instant she went out I noticed a white thing disappear under the arborvideas. Or I thought I did. Ruby sniffed quickly but needed to do her business. As I waited to see what would happen she wiggled over the the edge and sniffed. All of a sudden she jumped back and ran around to get a sneak attack.

Grrrr. So, here I am standing, topless, at my back door hoping my stupid dog doesn't decide to go after the stupid opossum in the back yard. I'm yelling at her and she's ignorning me. I see the little bugger walk out from under the trees and look at her. She gets down in a crouch and sniffs.

I'm still yelling, now outside topless, and unable to grab her... no collar, she makes too much noise with it at night. Finally, she seems to notice I'm yelling and looks at me like, "What's the big deal? Do you see that thing, it's crazy."

However, she who vibrates with excitment over the smallest thing is basically unfazed, interested, but unfazed. She lets me guide her back in the house, we return to sleep and I'm thankful that near miss with rabies is over.

Flower pictures, as promised

This doesn't give you a sense of the height, almost 4 feet, but my crappy camera could make the flowers look both good and tall.

This does show that I'm doing my part to support and encourage pollination and bees!

Everbearing Berry Bushes

Mmmmm, breakfast.

Yogurt, granola and strawberries I've been watching for three days, hoping to catch the right moment between actually red and ripe and slug devoured. This was the morning! And as an extra special added bonus a kitschy frog mouth soap dish.

perennials, a post about plants with no pictures, dumb huh?

So, this is summer number two in my house. It has been the summer of projects and patience and waiting for things to fall into place. It hasn't been bad, just strange. However, something that has amazed me, is watching the progress of my perennials.

About this time last year I visited a little nursery in south Portland. It's owned and run by a short jovial hispanic man and his wife who wears a floppy hat and plaits her hair in a way that seems to highlight her obviously indigenous heritage. The prices are amazing. Last year I made my purchased with a friend's input, not really understanding the potential of each plant, not really knowing what I was buying. But, I did pick perennials (and mostly natives), with the hope that they would come up and look even better than they did last year.

This whole progression of time and rhythms of nature thing is amazing. Sure enough, I put them in the ground, added water and compost, let sunshine and time do it's thing and ta-da! Flowers! Then, as one might expect, as it got cold, they all died. I cut them back and this spring they all came back.

And while I understand this is not shocking, it's just so cool. In February there was nothing. Now months later these have returned, succulents and flowers, red, pink, purple, yellow, natives and non. They've almost all come back. I lost a hot pink and yellow lantana, which is supposed to be impossible to kill and my step dad mowed over my goats beard, twice, as it was poking it's head back up. But, what has come back is large, healthy and prolific. I will post pictures of the echinacea, my current favorite.

I repeated the trip to the nursery (The Country Barn) today and again purchased a carful (a STEAL at less than $50). This year, I could visualize the spaces that need filling. The variation in height and color that, if this whole perennial thing keeps going, will make the garden seem wildly filled. The look of randomness that must be intentional which I find myself drawn to in other people's yards. I was so excited they were in the ground less than an hour after I got home.

Here's to faith and growing things.

Arcadia Beach

The view looking north from my favorite day trip spot on the Oregon Coast.





It's a dramatic combination of rock and sand a few miles south of Cannon Beach, which makes it approximately 104 miles from my front door.

I have been here three times this month.

First, with the best friend I found during first semester of college: she and her 4 year old bundle of excitement and energy and joy were visiting for "girls weekend". The little one had never been to the beach. As a side note, both dogs and kids react the same upon first exposure to the beach...they wiggle around with uncontrollable glee and run. We poked things, climbed rocks, dug holes and discussed how even though it wasn't sunny we needed to remember to wear sunscreen. We know better, we declared with all indication of learning from past mistakes. Apparently, we do not and I burned so badly I peeled.

Second, with the best friend from high school: she and I once were part of a three day beach backpacking trip out of "gasp" Forks, Washington. (The trip was so long ago we weren't even aware we should be looking for vampires) At seven months pregnant her reaction to the beach was remarkable dissimilar to dogs and little girls. She dug belly sized hole in the sand squealed because she could finally lay on her stomach and then slept for an hour. I walked south with the mutt.

Third, with my brother, sister, mom and step dad, and three dogs: We picked up rocks, and took turns acting (and sometimes being) impressed by on another's finds, we waded, the mutt suffered a strange bout of dementia and was running in the opposite direction, sure he would find me. My brother practiced acrobatic feats. It was beautiful and the tide was out exposing rocks and life and beach upon which the crazy girl boxer could practice her thoroughbred impersonation. A good day.

As another side note, all three days were cloudy and fueled by peanut butter and jelly.

They don't like eachother yet.

Or more corectly, Sam doesn't like her.






Actually, when I took this picture and the flash went off, Sam looked at me, and made an annoyed, "Humphh." He then realized where he had fallen asleep, who had joined him on the bed, and walked across the room to sleep in his own bed, where I'm sure he felt much more distinguished... you know not consorting with riff-raff such as Miss Ruby.

house update #1

So, when I left to visit my friend in Colorado (a wonderful visit consisting of talking and passing the adorable baby back and forth while we coo-ed like idiots) my mom asked what the next house project should be. I told her I wanted a patio. This was after several other projects which I will discuss in the future. I had no idea if she would attempt it or how exactly she would interpret that particular desire, but I figured what the hell. Most everything she attempts is great, seriously, it sort of makes me crazy.

So, I came home and to my delight, she had framed a patio for me. A huge one, 16x10, I think. We spent a few days talking over the options. I had been collecting brick for a while and drew out some interesting shapes and came up with a general design, a combination of brick and stone with some interesting "white space" thrown in to break up the brick.

That's not what I ended up with. Nope, instead I spent about three times what I had budgeted...carried away by the beauty of the rock and mom's enthusiasm, and have an almost perfect patio.

This pile of rock:



which I'd like to point out is 2.1 tons of Idaho flag stone and 2.5 tons of black gravel...all of which we moved and placed by hand.

Became this patio:


I love it. I would love it ten times more if my ancient, super sweet and very distracted neighbor was not participating in the great mosquito growing experiement of 2010. My legs are a mess and I must smell amazing because I ALWAYS get bit. Grrrr!

because I'm loving today

a pretty picture: roses and echinacea (or more prettily, purple cone flower) from my yard

I suck at this.

This summer has been supremely weird. I've been here and there and had amazing guests and acquired a new dog and my mom and her husband are still here.

Being myself is quite difficult with an audience. No, that's not quite right, being myself with no personal time to regroup is not easy for me. That is a more accurate description of the situation. I am not a person who does well with no alone time. This is not a new revelation. I've understood this about myself for a long time. This fact actually can be helpful when I try to organize my time and determine what is really going on with me when I am feeling out of sorts. And that's probably the best way to put it. Having my parents here makes me feel out of sorts.

They are great house guests, helpful and easy to get along with, however the adage about old fish and guests....yeah, try three months and six days (Who's counting?). We are all tired of it. So much so that they have gone camping for the week to give me a break. I would feel guilty, but I need it so badly I could not actually protest when they informed me of their plans. So, it's me and the dogs. (Insert contented sigh here.)

Oh, and since I may be closer to myself this week, I may have the energy to post. Possibly even pictures of all the work we've done on the house.

a happy accident of birth

This beautiful woman turned 60 years old yesterday. She would hate this picture but I know she doesn't read this blog...I'm not entirely sure she knows what a blog is, so I won't take it personally. It really was a happy accident of the cosmos that made her my mother...this consciousness, me, her daughter. How lucky I am. She is remodeling my kitchen, driving me bat-shit crazy, and asks me questions like "Do you need a jacket?" before I leave for work.

I love her and can't wait for her to move out; I don't find those feeling the least bit contradictory.

Happy Birthday Mom!
Thank you, a thousand times for everything you've done to shape me and my life.
How lucky I am.

Rowena's Crest

Learning stuff is cool.

Realizing you understand enough to apply it is even cooler.


Last weekend, as a mother's day present, my mom, step-dad Steve and I went on a geologic tour of the Gorge. I know, right, you're completely jealous. It was put on by a local organization that offers all sorts of sciencey classes to teachers. This one started off with a mini-lesson in geology from a professor from the local community college; she was amazing, enthusiastic and excited. Made me want to run right out and sign up for Geology 101. It was a fun day. The weather was perfect, the assembled group friendly and chatty, and I learned all sorts of information about the various stops we made. This is the view from our last stop, just west of the Dalles, in that area where the terrain is transitioning from lush to high desert. I'd never been here before and the hike looked like it might be worth a return trip...especially in the spring because the wildflowers here were impressive.


I took about six photos of this delicate white flower hoping that one would turn out. (Again, I need a real camera.)But, this morning as I sat down to look up the name of whatever this was I was surprised to find that my guess, that it was part of the onion family, was correct. It's called a Fool's Onion... it looks like one but, according to the book doesn't look or smell like one.

How did that happen? When did I learn that?

I need a real camera

I had a beautifully composed photo in mind.

The contrast between the blue of the tiny broken robin's egg and the rust colored ledge on my side porch should have looked good. Alas, the depth of field was impossible to work with and this photo plays with. I am quite enamored of the weird tree-like kale at the right of this picture.

Either way, spring, although it took it's sweet time, is here. Yesterday was glorious, sunny and 70. I bought all sorts of beautiful plants yesterday, strawberries and heirloom tomatoes with exotic sounding names "Koralik" and "Cherokee Purple", Lily of the Valley, succulents, raspberry canes, and a tomatillo plant. They are sitting in a anxiously waiting huddle on my front porch, giving my Sunday a purpose. There was a garden fair in downtown Camas yesterday, it felt quaint and I ran into two neighbors and one of my favorite counselors...if that doesn't make one feel like part of a community then I don't know what does.

a post that's not about internet dating

I really want to write a long post about internet dating. But, I'm trying to determine if that falls into the TMI and don't post too much on the internet rule I only follow some of the time.

I do realize that having a blog at all, makes that seem just a tad bit hypocritcal.

But, internet dating, I'm conflicted about it in general and annoyed/exasperated that I attempt it at all. I sort of a hard time talking about the idea of it at all or about(gasp) my string of unsuccessful attempts.

The whole thing is rather exhausting, or maybe it's just that having my mom and step dad in my space zaps the creative energy out of me. But am teetering on the edge of annoyed, making a concerted effort to be nice. Maybe being nice and being creative cannot co-exist in my puny brain....how's that for a cop out explanation.

numbers game

Myself
2 parents
4 dogs

800 square feet on the ground floor where we all co-exist
300 square feet in my bedroom upstairs (my bit'o privacy)
400 square feet in the unfinished basement(where my parents have set up a room)

11 days since they got here
2 number of trips it took them to find a house (yellow, cute and strangely, made of cinder block)
1 days for negotiation of a contract on said house
36 days until the closing date of May 31st

2 hours I've had alone in my house since they got here
0 number of trips I've had to take to the grocery store since they got here
2 number of times I've had to cook dinner since they got here
5 number of hairballs I can see from where I'm sitting

and yet, strangely, it has been easier than I would have guessed. I hope it lasts. Wish me luck!

Spring flowers!

It's spring break, and my sister comes today to visit. Yay world!

Wooo Hooo...

or, how to make a short story long.

Let me tell you ladies about my day. I was totally stoked to put my national boards box in the mail. In it is all the work I've done to get my certification. Hours and hours and hours. Seriously, alone, the box took like 3 hours to pack. There are 4 entries each with their own envelop an packing list and then a 5th envelop for all the forms, I mean really, you have to verify that all the packing lists are where they need to be right?

But it was done. I went to the post office annex place inside the shell station, which is much less sketchy than it sounds and happily gave my well taped box to the happy little man. He was worried that the pre-printed label which was ON THE BOX would be too hard to see and pulled out a sharpie in order to make it more visible, hey great no problem. Then he flips the box over and proceeds to CROSS OUT the pre-printed, specially placed very important bar code stickers. My number (02701156) had been put on the 73-ish pages of then entry over and over again and needed to match the box. And he crossed it out. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I stopped breathing and was like "wait, no, stop." I took the box back out to the car, calmly looked for the help number on the box and in my NBCT stuff then started hyperventilating. No phone number. I drive home. Open the door and immediately smell shit. I'm greeted by two dogs, Sam and Ru. I'm dog sitting. I look around and see a few small piles of poop. Weird, it's sure stinky, I think to myself. I grimace and attempt to wipe it up. Then upon further examination find a literal cascade of shit going all the way down the stairs. There was a definite problem earlier today, and while both dogs appear fine, at one point in time one of them was NOT alright.

Now, I'm trying to prioritize. I mean, there is crap all over my house but a box that I really, really want to put in the mail, like now. I decide to clean. It takes comet, plastic bags doubling for rubber gloves and at least 3 of my rattiest kitchen towls before I feel like it might be okay.

Back to the first issue, the box. I find the number and explain the predicament to the lady on the phone, "I've got a problem. My box is ready to be shipped. Literally, sealed and in the hands of the post office guy and before I could stop him, he crossed out all the labels. And then I stopped breathing. What do I do?"

"Well, you can start by breathing again." At this point I feel relieved but am so keyed up I start to cry just a bit. She explains that while she also would have wanted to kill him, they open every box and because each envelop is labeled, all the information will go to the right place. It will be okay, it has happened before.

But, not to me. I trusted her, put the dogs in the car and went back to the post office annex. the guy was very apologetic (good thing) and I put it in the mail. My house doesn't even smell like poop and my portfolio is now left to stand alone... either it will or it won't. I've done my part.

my yard is no longer...

a blight on the neighboorhood. Or at least, not the front yard. (I'm the only one who can see the back.) I mowed, weeded, pruned and spread beautiful dark compost. I looked up to see, a few houses down, my neigboors, the whole family in the yard. The adults were sitting in lawn chair, the maybe 6th grade girl intent on her task, washing the car.

"Hey," I called down the street, "It looks like you got a pretty good gig going on there."

Mary Anne laughed, "She's our slave."

"I am not," The car washer paused long enough to protest, then resumed her work.

"How do I get me one of those?"

"Well," he said, "You just push that little button and wait."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Hmmmm, what button? and where? and probably most importantly, whose?

friday evening, drunk-ish

things i'm happy about right this minute:
1. beer
2. basketball although I don't have, nor do I want a bracket
3. disk 1 season 1 of castle. i heart nathan fillion
4. my job
5. friendships that aren't quite what you ever expected
6. sunshine
7. The Once and Future King....better the 12th time I've started it.
8. the mutt
9. that I think I get to work in my yard this weekend because....
10. I'm almost done with my national boards

sunday evening drunk-ish

Buzzed would be a better descriptor. But, either way, I've consumed enough alcohol that the national boards I had planned on aren't happening. This was not a productive weekend. I think it should still be okay; I have 17 days.

A good friend came over and we sat in front of the window and drank beer and talked about all sorts of stuff. I know this girl from high school. She was living in Portland when I first moved out here and she has subsequently moved back to Eastern Washington as she waits for word about grad school. Now, seeing her is a rare treat. As we were talking I mentioned that sometime in high school it became important to me to have a wide variety of friends...and mentioned that the friendship I formed with her, probably junior year, was evidence of that. She is artsy and liberal and free spirited and intellectual in a different way than anyone I had ever been friends with (not that my friends did not posses those characteristics but she is different).

This need for diversity has stayed with me, maybe as evidence of my own sometimes fractured sense of self, but really as a means of self preservation. I always had options, different groups of friends let me express a wider variety of my own personality than I felt comfortable exposing to just one person or group. Probably, it is insecurity but there was always something a bit liberating about letting different parts of my personality out in different situations. Maybe that way I don't get bored of myself...

From Wednesday's Pep Assembly

Quote of the hour:

"If the goat comes into the gym, the juniors will be disqualified."

Oh, I know you're jealous YOU don't work in a high school.

silly follow up, super quick post, about nothing deep

A few weeks ago I mentioned the Disney movie, The Princess and the Frog, my brother and I almost saw it but we needed food more than entertainment. Yesterday, at his suggestion (there were slim pickings at the cheap theater) we did see it...and while this is a silly place to talk about it, it was a wonderful break from my 4 hour National Board filled Sunday. While it was true that we were the only people in the theater over 16 without children of our own. It could easily be my favorite Disney princess movie...jazz, voodoo, singing alligators, and a Creole firefly who's in love with a star....um, it was a pretty genius plot line. Really, besides Up, it's the best kids movie I've seen in years.

South Texas picture post #3

It's called a caracara.











We took this picture along the coleche road on the way to the Laguna Atascosa National Wildlife Refuge. It is amazing. We saw alligators, and flowering yuccas, and birds, and it smelled like heat and south Texas. But, as it was early February, it was like getting Texas-lite. You knew what it felt like but didn't have it attacking you... besides, in the summer you never see the alligators.

poor timing but a positive outlook

So, it occurs to me that I shouldn't have put forth a huge writing intensive goal (this blog) when the other goal I am currently buried in (National Boards) is also huge and writing intensive. National Boards is currently winning the battle of time and intellectual bandwidth. I am making good progress but it will be another month until I can re-focus my energies here. But, here is the thought that pushed me through the weekend and past a huge diaster of a taping session....sometimes it takes a massive failure and good friends to mitigate the ensuing mess to put things back in perspective. I feel, finally, that I might actually pass. I'm not sure, but I'm no longer convinced I will fail.

pep-talk via social networking

I'm at the beginning of what promises to be an intense six weeks of work. (Not that my past few weeks have been stress free, but this I can anticipate coming.) But, in a strange venue for a pep talk one of the administrators from my building, who also happens to be my friend asked me how I was doing through facebook chat. I really didn't want to talk to her; I was trying to work (so, yes, I probably shouldn't have been on facebook at the same time) but she knew I was stressed and asked about it. I concurred, yep, stressed. She then proceeded to give me the nicest "Go Get'em Tiger" type speech. Including telling me that I was a "tremendous teacher" and if her son (overly precocious 3 year old) needed special ed (as if!) then she'd want him in my class. Wow, totally unexpected and completely welcome.

dare I say it, spring?

How's this for a hopeful image.

Lucky me!

There is something super endearing about a 22 year old boy who is excited to see Disney's, The Princess and the Swan. We didn't see it, because like most 22 year olds, food was a more pressing issue, but my kid brother would have happily accomplanied me if timing had worked out. I am so glad he lives in town. I get to know him as an adult for all that time I was in Texas and missed out on him growing up.

Oh and Happy Valentine's Day to me! Red wine and Harry Potter. Universe take note, I'm easy to please and hope to find a man who enjoys similarly fine aspects of life.

(Obviously, I'm feeling better today.)

South Texas Picture Post 2

I feel sick and bleeeck today. Here's a picture!

South Texas Picture Post 1

Pretty pictures until I have the energy to write and be clever. A pelican taken from Jim's Pier, a bayside institution. Jim's Pier is a few blocks from our beach house and a fun place to see all sorts of sea fauna. This time we saw this fellow and a slow moving sea turtle. So very cool.

Fisherman Frank

Back at work today after a quick jaunt down south. I may post more about the trip later, but right now I don't have enough energy. But, here's a funny kid story... Student, who we shall call Fisherman Frank has given me grief all year. He is the sort of kid who pushes my you-will-not-be-a sexist-racist-homophobic-jerk buttons all the time.

The sort of kid whose response to my constant "We don't use the word gay to mean stupid in my class" remark with "Okay, then I'll call him a fag." The sort who is an ass to the bad ass assistant principal and is the only kid I've sent to in-school-suspension all year. But, we are making progress. At the change of the semester he remarked that what he was learning to watch his mouth during the first 18 weeks in my class. A few minutes later I was reminding him again the things we do and do not say in my class and he rolled his eyes in a purposefully exaggerated manner and said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm learning to watch my mouth, you are continuing to teach me."

Progress takes baby steps and more often than not, his remarks are intelligent instead of racist.

Today, Frank was filling out a worksheet, I was helping everyone work on it, but basically they had to read a variety of occupational areas and fill in people who would fit each category. He was making some good connections and working at a good pace.

"So uhhh, who invented that one thing?" He was sort of asking me a question and sort of talking to himself.

"What, the internet? That was Al Gore." I said, loud enough for him to hear, but not to the whole class.

A brief look of confusion crossed his face, "Huh? What, oh (groan)...(voice drops down to nearly inaudible) you're a retard." But, he was grinning as he continued to work.

I laughed, because, I had won. "Yes Frank, but you think I'm funny." He didn't argue. "And besides," I said, "You're not supposed to call me (or anyone for that matter, but that's more than I can tackle) a retard."

He grinned, and kept working, much too smart, this time, to take the bait.

checking in with the dean of students

One of my favorite administrators is the Dean of Students (DOS). He has a crappy job (he is basically in charge of ALL discipline for my high school of 2200+ students, but he also has a great attitude. I stuck my head into his office on the way out of the building today.

Me: Hey, I had something I needed to tell you.
DOS: Oh, good, I needed to talk to you about someone.
Me: No way dude, I already called not it on that new kid.
DOS: What, he's a 19 year old with zero credits, you can change his life.
Me: No really, I'll pass, let someone else carry that torch, he's shown up on my radar for brief moments of time for the past three years. (Each glorious moment, court appointed)
DOS: No, it wasn't him, it's a girl. She's even nice I think.
Me: I like nice.
DOS: She needs a math credit, why does she need a math credit?
Me: She didn't pass the 3rd grade math test.
DOS: Third grade, oooooh, (he makes a face) I can't help her. How can we get her a math credit.
Me (in my head): I'm not a math teacher, how the hell do I know.
Me (out loud): I don't know how to solve that problem.
DOS: Okay, well, think about that one.
Me: Did we graduate so and so (a kid who had been on my caseload for 4 years and was a jr. when I started).
DOS: Yes, and I got a call from the Navy.
Me: Uh, oh, did you tell them we won't take him back, after a 7 year stint with him we just give them a diploma? (Sort of a non-commital discharge)
DOS: Oh, it's okay, I told him he's all good and really now he's the problem of the US military...he's going to blow his hand off.

(this is just a portion of the conversation, we also discussed two drug dealing twins, a huge pain in our ass who recently transfered, and the ethics of just magic-ing some kids some credits)

Look out world, the class of 2010 is almost upon you because that is how things get done in public education.

picture post

I fly to Texas on Wednesday morning for my grandmother's memorial on Thursday. I'm not actually thinking about anything that might make me upset right now, I'm saving that until my family is around... So, here is a picture post. I've been taking photos of graffiti for years now, my favorite is happy or silly, or graffiti that professes love or affirms life. This one is one of my favorites, taken under the mirror at a bathroom of a local restaurant.

never enough time

My grandmother died today. Lung cancer and it came on quickly; I learned about it one week ago. My mom and her sister were there; my uncles were in the area. They have been together all week. I had planned on seeing her this summer, had steeled myself to the fact that that would be the last time I would get to see her. Things don't always work out. But, she lived her life where she wanted and in the way she wanted. Although the sickness took her more quickly than any of us anticipated, it also meant she never had to compromise on her quality of life. That is admirable.

I asked my mom if my grandmother had said what she wanted for her funeral. Only that she wanted to be cremated. Apparently my grandfather's ashes have been sitting in the closet for 10 years and she left instructions on how she wanted them scattered. My uncle suggested they mix the ashes and scatter them together. This is not what she would have wanted(It was a complicated marriage), and my mom and I laughed at how mad she'd be at all of us if we did that to her. No instead she told my mom that she wanted Bill (my grandfather) to be scattered in the ocean, and she wanted to be scattered on the beach... because she can't swim.

party trick

Salsa is my party trick and it's a good one, I've been getting requests, as in "You're invited to my birthday party, but you can't come unless you bring salsa." And she was serious. I was late and got an angry call because a co-worker's husband whom I had made salsa for as a thank you for the use of their truck, refused to eat anything until I showed up with the salsa. Someone else was reminiscing about eating salsa YEARS ago (I mean like 15) at my house growing up.

It's good to have skills. And I like it because it's easy. Especially since acquiring the food processor (oh, how I love thee).

But, like many things I make I don't actually have a recipe. I mean, I know how to make it, but there's no set proportions. If I were to guess it would look something like this:

1 bunch cilantro: washed, trimmed and chopped as finely as possible (food processor)
tomatoes 7-10 chopped (I chop a few in the food processor and then the rest by hand)
1 small/med onion chopped as finely as possible
1 jalapeno: seeded and again chopped as finely as possible

All of those are about the right amount of ingredients, the rest is to taste.
lime juice: fresh squeezed 2 or 3 limes
salt
pepper
garlic powder

and two secret ingredients
beer (it doesn't usually matter what type, and this can be omitted if there will be little ones eating)
pace picante sauce

mess with the proportions until it tastes right.
That's it and you too can impress your friends.

Posts: 7 of 319
Days skipped: 1

this is really yesterday's post

A brief interaction from my 5th period class.

Student 1: "Yo, Ms. K, how come Kyle gets to pick a song and you've never ever once let me pick one."

Me: "Well, obviously that means I must like Kyle better than you."

Student 1: "Ms. K, that's cold."
Kyle (simultaneously): "Ha, she likes me better."

Student 2 (sweet, beautiful, wonderful girl at the back of the room): "I thought you hated all of us equally."

They obviously don't have a good handle on who I am.

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Days skipped: 1

I wrote for six hours today,

but none of it was fun, but I finally feel almost confident about entry 1 of my national boards. I hate them, they are hell, however this picture, taken January 2nd in the Columbia Gourge is, at least pretty, and all I can muster up right now. I do have the idea for the next actual post, if I ever get around to it.

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Days skipped: 0

a pleasant observation

The days are getting noticably longer and there have been three dry mostly sunny days in a row, which is good because an hour outside walking along the river is the only thing keeping me sane this week. That's all for today. (Yes, it counts too.)

Posts: 5 of 319
Days Skipped: 0

new student

I realized sometime last year that I had been teaching a long time (Not like decades long, I teach with a woman who has been teaching for 36 years, that's 6 years longer than I've been alive. I find that CRAZY, and can't imagine doing this job for that long, I can't imagine having that sort of endurance. She's even still a good teacher. She drives me bat-shit-crazy, but I don't fault her intentions or abilities... but I digress).

Six and a half years is a long time right? It feels like it, I glance at kids out of the corner of my eye and see a student I'm sure I know. On second glance, not only am I looking intently at a complete stranger, but the student I'm sure I recognize was actually in my class as a seventh grader four years ago, 2,500 miles away. I called a student by the wrong name for almost a month this year because she looked like someone I had five years ago. It is more than a little unnerving.

On the upside, teaching special education for a few years allows me to recognize patterns, and more often than not my intuition about students proves correct. For example, I have a tiny study hall/study skills class, about six or seven kids. One wandered in yesterday with a new schedule. Now, a new kid half way through the senior year is a bit strange for me, I'm the only teacher working with the special ed seniors and so I know all names and most faces. This one I'd never seen before, he claimed he had been at the school almost a year and was a senior. This was curious, and I knew nothing about him.

Then, as I listened to his inconsistent and slightly unnatural speech patterns, watched his insistence on sitting as close to the front as possible, and saw him evaluating the continual (they both even had a thing for Swedish death metal) hatter and affectionate banter of his classmates, it occurred to me, I did know this kid. His diagnostic doppelganger was a student of mine three years ago and though not every kid on the autism spectrum is alike, there are some distinctive markers. This friendly, slightly troll looking kid, hit almost all of them within thirty minutes of class.

I checked with our department head today, and yep, I'm right. Special ed teachers can sense their own, It's like gay-dar, but with special ed kids. See, I do have some sort of talent. Go me!

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Days Skipped: 0

pretty picture post

Since I spent the evening at a "shitty basketball game"... the coach's words not mine, although even I know it wasn't pretty, I didn't have time to write, but this still counts as a post. Because I say so and I get to make the rules, it's my silly blog, so there.

I took this picture outside of the Portland Art Meseum in early November. It was the outside instillation of the China Design Now exhibit. Which was a super fun combination of graphic art, architecture, fashion and design elements.

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Skipped Days: 0

all sorts of productive

Fueled by the ambitious goal setting of yesterday morning, or perhaps the near sixty-degree January temperatures, I was all sorts of productive yesterday.

Here is what I accomplished yesterday:

1. Mundane things, dishes, dog, laundry as well as…

2. Painted some more of the study…. Now an observant reader or anyone who has been to or seen pictures of my house might question this. It is done, that fabulous pink I love so much right? Alas no, all but one wall has been painted since early summer, but there had previously been a set of attached bookshelves that had dissuaded me from finishing. I convinced my parents to move this shelf on their most recent trip up here and it freed up the wall (ugly blue, not pink black or white), it also gave a much more user-friendly space. So, yesterday I put two coats of black and white, leaving room for an approximately 12 –inch stripe of pink and the room will be done. (ugh, except the baseboards…all through the house).

3. Pulled up decaying tomato and pepper plants from the garden.

4. Cut back a bunch of dried out perennials. I’m not sure if this is what you’re supposed to do, but hopefully springtime will find new growth in those same spots. Or are you supposed to just let them wither away?

5. Did a cursory check and removal of invasive bad guys black berry and English ivy growing along the fence line.

6. I pruned a few trees whose limbs were infringing upon the personal space of the power lines in front of my house.

7. I cleaned the gutters at the front of the house.

A note about 6 & 7: over the summer I purchased a 10 foot ladder, and while it is incredibly handy to do things like prune trees and clean gutters, the thing is a beast, and heavy enough that it’s hard to manipulate. Pair that with the approximately 18 inches of space between the monster rhododendron bushes and my house and it was more than a little difficult to get to the gutters to clean them out. At the point when I had the ladder stuck, upside down and was swearing and yanking at it, (all the time watching the power lines over my head and wondering what would happen if I were to accidentally hit them with this 10 foot metal behemoth) the mail woman drove by. She smiled sweetly and said, “it looks like you have a project on your hands.”

Oh yes, I felt like a competent homeowner at that moment.

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Existential crisis, crisis of faith and Rolling Stone

Of late, my attitude has been awful. Really, really bad. Spiraling inward, my frustration and anger have been paralyzing. So, I decided, I’m over it. The issues that were bothering me have not gone away. They’re still here, but I’m tired of letting the anger have any power. One of my core beliefs is that happiness is a choice, the world has power and influence, but we have the ability to choose.

So, I am currently on day three of my self-prescribed attitude adjustment and as I drank coffee and read O Magazine (more on that in a second) I realized that I haven’t written anything in months.

Not just in this particular vehicle, but anything at all. Writing centers me. It is also crucial to my own definition of self (if you surf you are a surfer right, the same is true of writing). As I think about it, I realize that I can judge my own level of contentment by how prolific my own writing is (quality is not part of this particular gauge), it is not surprising that I posted as often as I did over the summer. Not only did I have more time, but I actually felt like writing. I actually felt like creating and felt like examining the world.

An interesting experiment would be to see if by making myself write, I could maintain a more positive attitude. Writing could be the tool…(on a metacognitive note, this is interesting to me because this is not the post I sat down to write, didn’t consider this until I put myself in front of the computer.) So, over the summer I wanted to post every day. I did much better when I was alone, my parents came and it got harder, mostly because I allowed myself to be annoyed by them. As I just said, when I’m annoyed, I don’t write. But, I’ve also been thinking about the idea of will power, in terms of weight loss, but what about will power in terms of self-improvement. I’ve also been thinking about resolutions and goals for this upcoming year. (I always write some down just to be able to see them and help me keep things in perspective). I have not done this yet.

So, here’s what I’ve come up with, (honestly, sitting here in the last 20 minutes) this year, I will focus on writing, as a tool. Some of it I will post here although I know not all of it will be fit for public consumption. But, let’s put some numbers on this. I would like to see if I can write everyday. I’d like to see if I can post almost as often. It is January 23. There are 342 days left this year. But, I know I will not/cannot post on everyone of them. So, I will give myself 23 skip days, meaning I am going to attempt to post 319 times between now and the end of the year. Notice, I’m counting number of posts, not days. Let’s be realistic, it’s one of the hallmarks of good goal setting.

I know this is not an original goal, but at this moment it feels good.

So, here goes:
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Days skipped: 0

Oh, and I’m going to have to save my Rolling Stone rant. But, it seems I’ll have plenty of time to get it done.