Miz S

Random Random Bo Bandom.

I'm not sure that there is a post in the humdrum that was my day, but I have GOT to get that deer-in-the-headlights picture of me off my front page. It's bringing me down, man.

Thank you all very much for your sweet birthday wishes and your compliments. Some of you think the sleeves on my new jacket (size SMALL) are slightly on the long side. It's true that the jacket appears to have been designed for women with ape-like arms.  Alas, the chances of me being organized enough to take the coat to a tailor and get the sleeves hemmed are slim, very slim indeed.

So. I really only have a little bit to say about a lot of unrelated things so I think I'll go with bullets.

• Scramble. Jane had THE NERVE to call me a "Scrambletard" because my scores are so embarrassingly low. But then she kindly gave me some tips which have boosted my score into the average range. However, I just took a break from posting to challenge her to a new game and I humiliated myself by only getting 17 points. This puts me back in the Scrambletard category. Come on. Aren't there some really dumb people reading this blog who will meet me on Facebook and play with me? It would be great if you could try and score in the 16-point range.

• Evangeline. She checks in now and then from Russia. This past weekend she traveled with some friends to a town called Yaroslavl. I got an email this morning that said, "Yaroslavl was fun.  There was a physical fight on a public trolleybus and this guy was bleeding everywhere." 

           You know, it does sound fun!

• Sasha. Nothing really to report here, but I figured I ought to work her into the post so as to be absolutely fair and equal in my kid-blogging.  She sounds busy at school. She graduates in 11 weeks. I suspect that the transition to real life will be a little bumpy, but you know what? She's smart and healthy and generally happy so I can't really worry about her too much.

• Josh. He's going out of town this weekend so I get to live in squalor and eat cereal for dinner and sleep with the cats. You know, he really cramps my style when he's here.

• Favorite ex-boyfriend John Conyers. Dude did NOT email me on my birthday, which he has done for the last several years in a row. Perhaps he is intimidated by the new, stylish Miz S. HONEY, IT'S OKAY! I'M STILL AN ASS!

• School. I don't know why I whine and complain so much. I have a job that is hard but also fun, and I love the people that I work with. My boss likes me enough so that I evade scrutiny.  I have a certain amount of autonomy. I have a big gigantic room with windows. I can play loud music after 3:15. I have benefits and sick days and snow days and a union. I need to just do my job and stop being negative.

Wow. This is SUCH a random post. 

A Challenge! Pistols At Dawn!

Wow. I really couldn't ever make a living as a model, could I? I wanted so much to have a gorgeous picture of me in my new coat but I just look, I don't know, stiff and uncomfortable. The coat is purty, though, isn't it? It's from Ann Taylor. I love it so much I want to marry it.

So, my beautiful birthday weekend is almost over. I was feted from one end of town to the other. Now it's back to life as a regular person instead of as a birthday celebrity. I'll miss all the wine and the attention and the excuse to buy new clothes. Hold me, please.

I think I forgot to tell you guys that I poured a glass of wine onto my beloved laptop the other night and it made little squealing noises and now it doesn't work anymore. Josh says it is just the keyboard and that it is totally fixable, but in the meantime I have to use Evangeline's behemoth laptop. It's on my lap right now and I think it's breaking my legs.

Hey, guess what? I have a new way to waste time on the Internet. Do you guys know that game Scramble on Facebook?  I HATE IT.

HATE. IT.

Yet, I can't stop playing. It reminds me of the great Snood debacle way back in the summer of '07. Remember? Josh and I almost got divorced? Oh, I exaggerate a little.

Anyway, Scramble. You have a little 4 x 4 box of letters and 3 minutes to make as many words as you can. The letters have to be touching each other, and they can go in any direction.

I suck so bad at this game. I make little whimpering noises while I play. I NEED MORE TIME. WHY DO THEY ONLY GIVE ME 3 MINUTES?

Anyway, I hereby challenge all of you to play me on Facebook. You will enjoy it because you will always win.

Cards and Emails and Phone Calls are Pouring In From ALL OVER THE WORLD!!

God is so nice! He gave me an ice storm for my birthday! The kind of ice storm where it's enough to cancel school but not so much that I will have to stay home all day. So, I slept in late and lounged around all morning with the cats and dogs, and now I am going to shower and dress and go out shopping to buy myself a birthday present.

Josh has been suffering agonies because I wouldn't commit to a special gift. In the end, I have decided to pass on the tooth whitening for right now and instead buy myself a really nice spring trench coat. And maybe some knee-high boots. That's all I need.  Well, I don't know. Perhaps I might throw in a couple of new tops and some pants. And a sweater or two. But that's it, definitely. Unless I see some great stuff on sale.

I thought that  I would do some sort of introspective post today about my thoughts on turning 50, some sort of evaluation of myself, a little goal-setting, etc. But, meh.  I don't have anything particularly interesting to say. I'm 50, and honestly it's nothing to have a cow about.

Plus, I got all this shopping to do.   

Okay. Carry on. I'm off to spray my money hose all over the mall. 

I Don't Know Why I Like Winter So Much Lately.

What I didn't mention yesterday in my complain-y post about how I hate my clothes was that I made an emergency trip to the mall and bought myself some new stuff. I got a pair of wide-legged flare jeans (Jane is proud of me) and a couple of really cute new shirts. And before I went to work I actually spent more than 30 seconds drying my hair and putting on makeup.

I'm not going to lie to you. I looked sorta cute. You know, for my age and all.

When I came home, I walked the dogs which is what I always do. It was cold and windy and very invigorating. April ran around like a maniac in the park. It's impressive to watch her and realize that she's about to turn 13 years old. She's sturdy and energetic and fuzzy and just as healthy as all get-out. I love that damn dog.

Then I dropped the dogs back at the house and went on my own walk. I am still really digging these winter walks for some reason. It just feels so good outside.  And because it's cold no one else is really out so I can sing along to my iPod without fear of ridicule.

I have an embarrassing confession to make here. Sometimes when I go out on my walks I pick up trash. I try not to, I swear.  I try and just turn my head and ignore it because, come on, I can't clean up the whole fucking neighborhood. But when I am on the second leg of my walk, if I see some easy stuff to grab like those stupid plastic bags that are EVERYWHERE or six-pack rings that are really dangerous to wild animals, I go ahead and pick that shit up and bring it home. But I totally feel like a crazy lady when I do it.

So anyway, I was toting my quota of trash and I was almost at my house when the western sky caught my eye. It was deep blue with just a trace of orange and pink where the sun had set. The trees were black and stark and etched against the sky, swaying back and forth in the wind. My God. It was so beautiful that it took my breath away. I just stood there with my 2 Budweiser cans and my empty bag of garden fertilizer and my Target shopping bag and gaped for a couple of minutes.

Then it was home again, home again, jiggety jog to tuna steaks and sweet potatoes and American Idol.  Paula Abdul's comments tonight were incomprehensible, did you notice? 

Take Another Little Piece of My Lungs Now Baby.

So, remember how I was sick? And then I thought I was better so I went back to work on Thursday? Turns out I was still sick and I had a total relapse on Friday. I spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday sleeping and hacking up a lung or two.

I swear, I have never been so tired. I would get up, eat breakfast, go back to sleep for 3 hours, wake up, eat a piece of toast, hack up a lung, feel exhausted, take a 4 hour nap, etc.

And that is the story of how I wasted an entire three-day weekend.

By today (Monday) I felt well enough to get through the day without napping.

Josh took advantage of my renewed energy by organizing a budget meeting.

We had such positive attitudes. We shall itemize! We shall Quicken! Our money does not control us, by golly, we control our money!

Then it got all confusing.

I think the upshot is that I can't quit my job but I CAN still get my hair colored.

And we can't go to California for spring break but we CAN hire someone to paint the inside of the house.

I'm cool with that.

In other news, I hate all my clothes with a white-hot passion. My wardrobe is a DISGRACE. And it's no use telling me to buy some new clothes because I will buy the wrong things.

Also, I read Life of Pi because everyone kept saying, "Oh, Life of Pi, oh, so good, blah blah blah." And I thought it was boring and I HATED the part where the zebra died and I didn't give a shit how Pi survived all those months at sea. So. Hmmph. There's no pleasing some of us.

The Usual Suspects.

On Wednesday evening, shortly after I took a mess of Advil and checked my temperature many many times in a row and procured a sub for Thursday, I came to my senses and realized that yes, the fate of the free world does in fact rest upon my shoulders. So I canceled the sub and showed up at work with a red Mylar balloon, juice boxes, and valentines for the kiddies. My classroom aide brought cupcakes, so a Valentine's Day party of sorts was organized despite the fact that I hadn't really been at work all week. (We don't need no stinkin' room parents here at Some School.)

Ordinarily I would have bemoaned the fact that there weren't cute heart-shaped plates and matching napkins. But you know what? The kids didn't give a shit that we were using paper towels from the dispenser by the sink. They milled around passing out Valentines and laughing and eating Hershey's Kisses while I cursed myself for not bringing the camera. Good God, first-graders are cute when they are not driving you batshit crazy.

And it was good to be back at work and see my friends whom I adore.

Oh, except for this: 

You know how I have that hair-trigger guilt complex, right?  Everything is my fault because I have an inflated sense of responsibility and grandiose notions of my place in the big scheme of things? Elderly relatives are lonely--totally my fault for not visiting. Children at school have crappy parents--I need to work harder to make it up to them. Situation in Darfur--somehow my fault but I haven't connected the dots yet.

Anyway, a colleague of mine--no, not just a colleague A TEAM-MATE--turned 50 today and no one noticed or said Happy Birthday to her. And she came into my classroom while I was being productive after school and dragged me up to her computer to show me the Ecard that her sister had sent her, which was when I realized it was her 50th birthday. She's a single mom and she's always depressed or having a crisis or saying things that make me want to bang my head against the wall. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL FOR BEING SO INTOLERANT but Jesus, she's annoying as all get-out.

And yet, I feel terrible that I forgot her birthday.  I mean, everyone forgot her birthday, not just me, but I feel like I bear extra responsibility.  I should have protected her from this trigger for depression!

I should go to my therapist and get my damn money back.

What is needed around here is more tea.

Nashie loves me.

I went to see my doctor today out of a sense of duty, even though I knew that she would just say to go home, rest, and drink a lot of fluids.

She swabbed me for flu and strep throat and listened to my chest. Her diagnosis and advice?

"You're sick. Go home, rest, drink a lot of fluids."

I'm not complaining about the lack of a colorful diagnosis. I'm complaining about the almost two hours I spent on the whole enterprise. Two hours that COULD have been used for watching TV and cuddling with kitties.

Hey, guess what? I'm taking another day off from work tomorrow. THIS IS UNHEARD OF.  It's  Valentine's Day, too.  I feel bad. But I still have a fever and I am trying to be sensible here instead of acting like the fate of the free world rests on my shoulders.

So. I suppose some of you all saw that video on the news where the quadriplegic was dumped out of his wheelchair by the cop? And the other cop laughed? What the hell is wrong with people?

Also, were any of you local readers stuck in the Springfield interchange last night? What a fucking nightmare.

Okay, that's all I got. I have a hankering for cinnamon toast and a mug of green tea. Josh isn't home yet so I'm trying to get Nash to make it for me.

Maybe I Should Have Tried Harder To Get A Flu Shot.

If I had to pick just one job-related complaint (and you know I have a whole passel of them), it would be that when teachers wake up sick they usually have to go into work anyway because sub plans have to  be written and the desk has to be cleaned off, etc. It's so fucking annoying.

I suppose somewhere there are teachers who have ready-to-go generic sub plans neatly organized in a binder and whose desks are always clean, but I don't know those teachers. I belong to the great sub-par mass.

Anyway, I knew I was sick yesterday. By evening I could tell that this was something that would get worse before it got better, so I got a sub for the afternoon. I figured that I could soldier my way through the morning, get my afternoon sub plans written, and then go home at noon. So that's what I did.

Fortunately, I had FOUR KIDS absent today (the first grade is wracked with germs the last few weeks) so my class was small and easy.

I huddled at my reading table all morning, shivering and croaking directions from afar. I didn't let any of the kids sit with me and I washed my hands obsessively. I don't know why I bothered trying to protect them since they are the ultimate germ machines. By the time I got home my temperature was 101.6.

I just know that someone (probably Josh) is reading this right now saying, "GOD! That's ridiculous!" but honestly it's hard to manage teaching and getting sick.

So now I am home in bed watching TV and playing on the internet. It's like a dream come true! Or, it would be if I weren't hacking up my lungs and reeling with fever. Fortunately, I have tomorrow off because of Maryland's primary election so I get an extra day to recuperate.

This post is just one long whine, isn't it?

Hey, Evangeline emailed us this morning and gave us a phone number and Josh was able to call her! Her internet access is really, really crappy, hence the lack of email. Here is an excerpt that made me happy:

My teachers are all very nice.  It's like I've gained four doting, clucking aunts, and one nerdy but cool uncle who doesn't shower frequently (my history teacher).  I feel very at home with Nina Aleksandrovna.  I've definitely settled into a routine there and it's nice, and she doesn't let me leave the house without a hat (actually, today she made me wear a scarf too because she thought my neckline was too low).

Her host-babushka makes her dress warmly! Her teachers dote and cluck! This is news that gives me heart.

Lazy Trumps Tipsy.

Sasha came home for Grandma's birthday. All the animals were ecstatic because Sasha is their girl, but I only caught this one picture of Rosie kissing her.

Thank you all for defending me so fiercely in my comments. You made me laugh a lot and feel like a princess. Hoo-boy! The reading specialist better watch herself. Apparently there's a big can of whup-ass with her name on it, and little blackbird (among others) is just itching to open it up. You guys are sweet.

So, I believe I mentioned the other day that I am having a milestone birthday soon. (I will be 600 months old. I will be 40-10. I will celebrate the 10th anniversary of my 40th birthday. Ha! So many euphemisms! So funny! Not.) Josh is having a lot of anxiety about it because he doesn't want to be accused of being a slacker-husband by his friends. He keeps asking me what I want and what we should do to mark the occasion. He knows better than to pull one of those surprise party moves on me. I don't "surprise" well.

I've been hemming and hawing and saying, "I don't know, a party is an awful lot of work. Let's just go out for dinner with friends. And I'll buy myself some new clothes."

So we were drinking a little sake the night he got back from NYC and I was NOT DRUNK but I was definitely silly and tipsy. Josh said, "You know, it wouldn't be a big deal, we could do a party here. Let's just make some phone calls and make it happen." 

And I said, "Wooo! Yes! A party! I love parties!" Then I twittered about it.

But after attending my mother-in-law's 80th birthday last night, hosted by my incomparable sister-in-law and her husband, I'm thinking that it looks like way, way too much work. The interior of our house needs painting desperately, the front yard has the winter blahs, and the bathrooms are about to be remodeled any day now and no doubt would be all torn up just in time for the party. I realize that we could have a party without painting the house first, but, I don't know. We would definitely have to do some major cleaning.

So. Meh. I don't feel like it.

As for what I want for my birthday? I'm a little embarrassed to tell you guys this because I worry that it's shallow and vain, but I would really like to get my teeth professionally whitened. I figure I've got another 30 years, easy, of red wine and coffee ahead of me.

Have any of you ever had it done? Got any info that I need? Does it really work? I want me some WHITE-ASS teeth.

Down By The School Yard.

It's a good thing that Josh came back from NYC last night. It forced me to do the dishes, make the bed, and unstop the toilet. It turns out that when he is not around I undergo some sort of metamorphosis  from responsible middle-aged woman to sloppy college freshman.

So guess what? I had a crappy day at work on Wednesday. The funny thing was that I drove to work that morning feeling all relaxed and happy and thinking about how much I like my job lately.

But then there was an unpleasant lunchtime meeting in which it was revealed that the first grade team has been measured and found sorely lacking. You see, every other team in the building is just PORING over student data and discovering EXCITING things. But the first-grade teachers aren't. And 2 of our teammates aren't pulling their weight (well, that part's true). And we suck. What was said to me privately, twice, was that the first-grade team "lacks intellectual curiosity" about our reading data.

I just wish I had had the nerve to speak up during the meeting and say, "Look, my bitches, it's not that I lack intellectual curiosity. I'm just trying to get through the day without slapping Julio. GOD, that kid gets on my nerves."

Or, "All y'all motherfuckers can kiss my ass!"

This meeting was followed by a one-on-one conversation with the reading specialist** (who had been in charge of the meeting, and who had previously characterized our shortcomings as being a lack of intellectual curiosity, clearly I am STUNG by this since I have mentioned it 3 times already) in which she spoke in a mean and mocking tone to me because I had expressed my confusion during the aforementioned meeting. You'll never guess what I did. CRIED! You didn't see that coming, did you?

The good thing is, I didn't cry in front of her. I got red-eyed and shaky but I held it together, just barely, and then went back to my classroom and wept copiously. And emailed her to express my dismay at being talked to in such an unprofessional manner.

To her credit, she apologized profusely. And I officially forgave her so it's wrong of me to even bring it up. But, dude, I felt humiliated and stupid when she literally imitated me to my face, in that biting way that people can do when they have a gift for aping others.

So I went home and walked the dogs and went to bed insanely early because I was exhausted from the disagreeable interactions.

On Thursday, the reading specialist bought me an Apology Latte. I'm trying to figure out how to get another one out of her. Maybe I can look really hangdog today and tell her that I just keep replaying that tape in my head and oh God the agony.

Hey, if you're looking for me this weekend I will be PORING over student data with an UNQUENCHABLE THIRST for answers to questions, very intellectual questions.

**I suppose I should mention that the reading specialist is a friend of mine from way back and that she knows about the existence of this blog although I don't think she actually reads it. Hmmm. I feel strangely unconcerned about the possibility of being outed. In fact, I may email her today with more thoughts on the subject. Also, I'm sure that the meeting had its roots in a genuine problem that exists and that the first grade team is not blameless. (Jane will be rolling her eyes right about now because I always back-pedal away from conflict instead of standing my ground and reveling in my RIGHTNESS.)