Miz S

Solve for x? I got your x for you right here.

Please notice that I always write my answer in pink.

I signed up to take a math class for teachers this summer. It was billed as a class for elementary teachers to review algebra concepts and learn new teaching strategies to take back into the classroom in August. NOT TRUE. LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE. It is a full-on algebra class where we are covering 2 semesters of algebra content in 8 days.

Thank goodness I'm a genius otherwise it might be hard learning a YEAR'S worth of algebra in EIGHT FREAKING DAYS.

I'm kidding. I'm not a genius. Honestly, I'm not even that smart. But I'm SUPAH SEX-AY!

Ha. No.

Let x stand for the number of instructional days in a school year. Let 8 stand for the eight days I have to live through this class. X/8 = 22.  When I solve for x I find that we are covering 22 days of instruction per day of the stupid class.

When do you suppose I last laid eyes on an algebra book? Let x stand for how old I was in 8th grade. Let y stand for my age now. Let's see, y-x = many, many years.

I'm exaggerating just a little. After all, I did take math in college when I was getting my teaching degree and that was only about 15 years ago. But you get my point.

I don't have a math phobia or anything. Math is alright. I'm just not very fast at it. I painstakingly copy down the equation, carefully subtract and divide to isolate some goddamned variable or another, make sure I don't forget to flip that inequality symbol when I divide by a negative number (ha, just learned that yesterday), and always, ALWAYS check my work.

I am the slowest person in the class.  I haaaaaaate being the slowest person in the class.

Dudes, I have to present a lesson on polynomials next week. Polynomials. From the Greek, "poly," meaning "many" and "nomials" meaning "pains in my ass."

Why, God? Why did they lie to me? I thought I would be playing with math manipulatives all week and creating math games for my little first graders. Instead I'm finding the slope and the y-intercept and the absolute value and God only knows what else. And I'm doing it all at a snail's pace. 

Adding insult to injury, when I was looking at my school district's website for lesson plans and such, I found a flipchart created by a teacher and generously uploaded to the website so that we can all use it to review counting and at the same time expose our English language learners to an idiom about counting SHEEPS. AUUUUGHH!!

For the love of God. How will the children learn to speak English properly if the teachers are unclear on the concept?

I feel super defensive when I hear people say that teachers are "dumb," but JESUS, teachers are dumb.  Oh, and check it out. I just found another mistake when I was glaring at the picture. See if you can find it.

I weep for our youth.

Wouldn't it be funny if there were some glaring spelling or grammar error in this post that would cause my myriad* fans to mock me in the comments section?

*SAT vocabulary word, fyi.

Seriously? It's been 2 months since I updated? That is disgraceful.

My new bike.

It's not that I'm bored and have nothing to say.  I'm just so out of the habit of blogging now that I can't seem to make myself sit down and do it.

Let's see if I can condense the last couple of months into something readable.

• School is over for the year YO BITCHES I ONLY WORK TEN MONTHS OUT OF TWELVE. And yet, I felt wistful about saying goodbye to my class. They were such sweethearts, this bunch, and at the same time such a drain because, Jesus, the neediness. No matter how hard I worked, there was no way to fill the holes in some of these kids' lives.

• Josh and I drove to Niagara Falls to see Nik Wallenda cross them on a wire. It was awesome! We watched the event from the comfort of an air-conditioned bar with a big screen TV, and I suppose we could have done that just as easily from home but hey, ROAD TRIP!! AUNT CRAZY!! Plus, long-time readers know that I am more than a little obsessed with Niagara Falls.

• In September I will be teaching first grade at a different school, a wonderful school, a school that has me really excited about teaching again. My old school, you see, is broken, and I hesitate to say anything more than that.  I was resigned to teaching there again next year because I just couldn't muster the energy to put together a resume and go on job interviews. But a good friend of mine emailed me and said something along the lines of "There's a big beautiful world of teaching out there. Don't be afraid to put your toe in the water." So I mustered my courage and went on the interview and knocked the ball out of the park, if I do say so myself. Go me!

• Jane came to town! I love me some Jane. She is little and cute and a very sympathetic listener. I was super chatty and quite possibly over-caffeinated. We had drinks and went out to dinner and she kept lording it over me with her private sector job perks. "Oh, let me. I'll just comp this," she would say airily. "Here, I'll pay for parking. I can comp this."  And I was all, "GOD! That is so unfair! Lowly public servants like me have to buy pencils for our classrooms!"  In the interest of full disclosure, I will confess that while driving Jane to and fro I made a super illegal turn right in front of a DC cop who immediately pulled us over and asked to see my *ahem* expired drivers license. I guess he didn't look too closely--he sort of squinted at it with a disgusted expression on his face and then sent us on our way with a stern warning to obey traffic laws.

• Our bikes got stolen out of my father-in-law's garage when we were in Portugal way back in April. And you guys, I LOVED MY BIKE. Lesson learned. We live in the city now. Don't keep shit that you are fond of in a garage that doesn't have a reinforced steel door.  The silver lining is that now I have a BRAND NEW SHINY BIKE that is waaaaaay better than my old bike. I think I'm gonna call her "Christine". I think I will become obsessed with her and I will develop a sinister attitude and bad things will happen to people who try to come between Christine and me. I'm just speculating.

• We had a big storm and lots of damage and power outages in the middle of an unpleasant heat wave. Here at our place we lost power for 4 days, but I know lots of people who suffered for 7 or 8 days. It sucked. Except it wasn't really THAT bad because we have a generator with enough power to run the TV, the fridge, some lights, and a window a/c. I worried that some desperate soul would come and steal my precious generator and I considered staying up all night with a gun to protect it. Except I don't have a gun. Stupid gun control laws. You watch, I'm going to start getting reeeealy crazy about the coming apocalypse and the need to prepare.

• I'm not even kidding.

• My mom is doing well. I want to do a separate post about her.

 

I miss you guys. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Last Saturday.

I had fun with Josh last Saturday.

Side note: We don't get nearly enough time together these days. We just don't.  Basically, on most days we communicate with grunts and text messages. Or we like each other's status on Facebook.

Kidding. We're not Facebook friends.

Wait, maybe we are.

Last Saturday I made a date to go visit the Holly Bible Boy, the small brother of one of my all-time favorite kids.  His family has moved twice in the last couple of years and I lost track of them after the 2nd move, which happened to coincide with the period of time when my father was in and out of the hospital. I just didn't have any energy left over to be looking out for my little buddy, much as I love him and his many siblings. I let it all slide.

A few weeks ago a former co-worker of mine ran into the mom and a couple of the siblings at a school way far away in a different part of my school district. She recognized them, got the mom's cell number, and emailed me with the information.

So, last Saturday Josh and I went out to visit them. Josh didn't really want to go with me--he's scared of little kids, maybe because I have told him too many war stories from work. I don't know. In the end he did come though. We hung out in a park with 3 of the 6 kids. My Holly Bible Boy is 12 now, wears his hair long, and tried very hard to convince us to let him drive our minivan. His older brother is 14 and didn't come because on Saturdays he works as a helper with his uncle in a automotive repair shop. The little sister and one of the little brothers came, though.

The three of them walked a mile or more on a warm, humid morning to meet us at the park.

Christ, I would have picked them up if they had told me.

We sat in the grass and talked and then watched them play for awhile. The little one mentioned a couple of times that he was thirsty and maybe we should drive to the Safeway, casting significant looks at Josh and me and was firmly shushed by his older brother and sister.

These kids kill me.

We took them up to the store to get drinks and then drove them to their home. They are living with their mom in the basement of their grandparents' house. They have bikes, and a safe place to ride them. There are kids to play with up and down the street.

You guys, it's out in the country. Or at least, in a semi-rural-ish part of suburban Montgomery County. There is a tiny farm at the end of the street they live in, and the owner lets them pat the horses. It smells good outside.

It is such a huge improvement in their living situation. From nasty, gang-ridden Langley Park, which eats kids like them up and spits them out, to a modest rambler on a quiet street in Cloverly, Maryland.

I went inside to say hello to the mom who asked me if I could help her find a job. Pretty sure I can't, but I said I would keep my eyes open. Then we watched the kids ride their bikes up and down the street for a few minutes.

When we drove away Josh said, "You know, those kids aren't too bad."

I hope this is the beginning of easier times for my little friends, but we all know that a family living on the edge like that can go under in a heartbeat.

Josh and I spent the rest of the day together. We drove up to Sugarloaf Mountain, ate lunch at a restaurant, hiked half-heartedly (maybe shouldn't have had that wine with lunch), and then went to see The Avengers.

It was a good day.

I Will Snatch You Bald-Headed.

Liza Lee's advice was awesome and she is my official go-to person now for handling sticky situations. Unfortunately, by the time she left her comment I had already bumbled my way through the confrontation.

TIMING, PEOPLE. IT'S ALL ABOUT TIMING.

Truth be told, it went very well. I dressed with particular care in the morning so that she would take me seriously. A skirt, a nice top, and really cute Madden Girl red high heels.  This lady is 5'10 and I didn't want to have to look up at her. (The blister on my pinky toe by noon was totally worth it.)

I realized as I started to talk to her that I didn't feel intimidated at all. I don't like her, I don't give a shit what she thinks about me, and it's fucked up to call a 7-year-old stupid.

The conversation went something like this.

Me: I have a concern about Estefania that I wanted to discuss with you. She came back from math feeling upset, and she told me that the unit test was too hard and she felt stupid.

Mean Teacher: She feels it's too hard when she's being challenged?

Me: I've never observed that with her in the past. Also, she said that you said she is stupid.

Mean Teacher: That never happened.

Me: Well, I thought you would want to know what she told me.

 

And that was pretty much that. I did not mention the fact that another child had verified the story because I didn't want to back her into a corner. I think it's enough that she knows I am listening and watching.

 

Her denial was so flat and so quick that I knew instantly she really had called the kids stupid.

Anyway, I felt victorious and proud all day because I had done something that was really hard for me to do. And it turns out that I can do it and it wasn't even that difficult. It felt good to be direct and calm.

I have been such a wimp my entire life. But now that I have tasted blood I will be ALL UP IN YOUR FACE if you piss me off. Ha! Kidding! Don't hurt me!

Thanks for all the advice and support, you guys. I hope everyone has a fun weekend.

 

J'Accuse!

So. I got myself a little situation at work that is making me feel really uncomfortable and resentful but HAS to be addressed.

There is a teacher at my school who has a reputation for being somewhat "sharp" with the students. She works with the kids who are above grade-level in math, and 3 of my students go to her math class every day. Yesterday, one of them came back from her room looking somewhat downcast and chastened. She told me that the teacher had gotten mad at her when she was taking the unit test and called her stupid. She also called a boy from another class stupid. I talked to the other boy's regular teacher (my Ellen xoxo) and he corroborated the story.

How motivating to be called stupid! Way to make them love math!

My first reaction was that I should take my student to the principal and have her repeat the tale. But, after thinking it over I have decided to *gasp* go talk to the math teacher myself.

I KNOW.  I'M SHOCKED TOO.

The principal has heard these stories before and has even talked to the teacher in question about toning down her approach. I don't think anything will really come of it if I tattle-tale to the principal.

I briefly considered just ignoring the situation, but I can't do that. I'm responsible for these kids all year and I have to stand up for them if necessary. If I do nothing at all then as far as Estafania can tell it's okay for a teacher to call a kid stupid.

I have to be careful what I say to her, though. I can't go in all J'accuse! and expect things to go well.

Those of you who know me well know that I hate anything that smacks of confrontation and I will get all shaky and teary at the drop of a hat. If you have any advice as to how I should approach this PLEASE SHARE. AND HURRY!

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.

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.)

Fukre Stupit Pepe Pupuw

School today was just a string of disconnected and bizarre incidents.

I couldn't teach at my reading table because the HVAC man was in my classroom trying to fix my heater's fan motor, lying on the floor in awkward, contorted positions and swearing quietly under his breath. It was already about 80 degrees in the room, and every now and then he would test the equipment by turning it up nice and high and oh my GOD it was hot and miserable. Children were whining and collapsing in droves.

A colleague of mine visited me to model a teaching strategy. We sat on the floor because of the HVAC man and she ended up getting stuck, unable to stand up because her hip was trying to come out of its socket. I stood there wringing my hands and saying, "JESUS. Should I call someone? Should I call someone?"  Eventually she managed to stand up and continue on her appointed rounds. 

My little friend Stephanie wrote notes that said,  "I hayt Stephanie fukre stupit pepe pupuw. Love, Gisselle" and planted them around the classroom. She would then "find" these notes and bring them to me with a solemn, slightly aghast expression on her face. It seems that the purpose was to get Gisselle in trouble.  I have to admire her creativity.

A first-grader from a different classroom snuck into another teacher's room when it was empty and removed a hermit crab from its cage and sent the poor creature to hermit crab heaven by pulling off all its legs and stamping on it. (Last week he sent his family's pet bunny to heaven in an equally horrific manner. Why yes, I believe he is a future serial killer.)  And there's no need to tell me that this kid needs help. Everything that can be done is being done.

That's all, I guess. I don't know. It seemed like more when I was in the thick of it.

Ok, carry on.

Where Is My Clever?

They made me play Scrabble with them. Josh kicked both our asses.

Evangeline is much better now, thank you very much. Josh got quite sick too and stayed home from work for 3 days in a row which is unheard of around here. I remain relentlessly healthy.

Getting Evangeline packed up for Russia began in earnest yesterday. We are using Sasha's room as the staging area. There have been several trips to Target and other stores for things like snow boots and long underwear and blue jeans. She can only bring two suitcases, and they fill up remarkably fast when you are packing a lot of bulky stuff like sweaters and scarves. Not to mention insulin, test strips, and syringes.

We divided all the diabetes supplies in half and put a set in each suitcase. This is because I am worried about that stuff getting lost or stolen along the way. Evangeline thinks I am being a little silly but she humors me because she is nice that way.

We have been having fun imagining her using her intermediate Russian skills to explain her diabetes to her host mother, Nina Alexsandrovna.

"Please not to be alarmed. When consuming of the carbohydrates, it is necessary that I needle myself with the insulin."

On Tuesday, we will take Evangeline to a hotel in DC to meet up with her cohort and get a day or two of orientation before boarding a flight to Moscow. We will not see her after Tuesday. She is, as usual, remarkably calm and steady.

*   *   *

I did something yesterday that I have never done before. I took my Holly Bible friend and his brother to the movies. It felt both special and strange. I have never before spent time with my students or former students in a non-school-sponsored setting. It was just me and them. I drove with ridiculous care because I didn't want to have an accident and get sued and lose my job.

One of the things that I had agonized about ahead of time was whether or not to invite all the siblings. There are 6 kids altogether, and 5 of them are old enough to go to the movies. But little Ronald is only 3 and is a handful, plus he only knows Spanish and I worried a little bit about having to spend too much time wrangling him. So I told Tony and Oscar that this was just a special date for them because they were both my former students, but next time we would do something that the little ones could do too.

When I arrived at their apartment they were both waiting outside for me. I never get to see Oscar (the older one) anymore, so I hugged him and I said, "You're not too old for me to hug you, right?"

And he said, "No, I'm only 9. You can hug me when I'm 10, too, but I don't know about 11."

God, I love that kid.

I took them to see Alvin and the Chipmunks. Good God that is one stuuuuuupid movie. They seemed to enjoy it though.

I heard lots from them about their stepfather (an asshole), their real father (another asshole), and their half-sister's father (yup, an asshole). Their life revolves around their mother's abysmal taste in men. And you know, it's easy for me to judge her for making poor choices and subjecting her children to this but the reality is more complicated than that.

Anyway, it was fun to spend time with Tony and Oscar and I hope to do it again soon.

*   *   *

Oh dear. This post seems boring to me. I'm just not feeling all that clever right now.

IT'S FRIDAAAAAAY!

One of the little guys,  making pancakes.

Damn, this 3-day week was long.

My new kid is not "O", but he's no charmer. Rather belligerent and whiny, actually. He became acquainted with the steely side of Miz S today.

Oh hell NO you will not be running and jumping down the stairs, all 90 pounds, when I've got a line of little 40-pounders ahead of you.

I worry about the line of kids toppling, like dominoes. And goddammit, I'm the teacher, and I say you have to hold the railing and walk.

I'm looking forward to crushing his spirit.

Why are kids so damn big these days, anyway? Naturally, that's a rhetorical question.

Today was actually a good day. I felt like a teacher again instead of some imposter bumbling around the classroom. It's funny, somehow when the kids come back after winter break they seem a little older.  I feel a renewed sense of hope that I might be able to get them ready for 2nd grade.

There is a long, tedious story associated with Thursday that involves an important file that I was asked to locate WHILE I WAS TEACHING and that's just not right, people. And I couldn't find it, BECAUSE I WAS TEACHING. Well, also because my organizational system had suffered in the weeks right before Christmas. And dammit, I found the file as soon as my kids had left the classroom for Music and I had 5 minutes to deconstruct a tottering stack of crap in my closet. But I still felt like a disorganized failure, because everything is always all about me and my shortcomings. *sob*

Anyway, that's the short version of the story. You're welcome.

I hope you all have a good weekend. My plans involve reading, relaxing, exercising, visiting Amanda (who is doing much better, although still in the nursing home), and going into work on Sunday to get ready for the week. I will try hard not to complain about it.

Cranky and Blind.

My first day back was quiet. 3 students were out. Either they were sick or their parents were dumb and didn't know that school had started again.

The remaining students were well-behaved and slightly subdued, which was pretty much how I felt.

And I remembered why I can't quit my job. I have bills and I need money.

My friend E. and I had earnestly decided before the break that we would come into school over the vacation and clean our classrooms, file papers and get caught up, and plan for the first week or two of January. We called each other after Christmas and the conversation went something like this:

"Are you going in?"

"HELL NO. Are you?"

"HELL NO."

"Alrighty then. See ya."

The only kind of bad thing is that I am getting a new student tomorrow. Talk about a crap shoot. He could be a little angel from heaven, or he could be "O."

"O" came last year in January. Oh my God...the child was a nightmare.

He was in my friend E.'s class. He was, oh God forgive me, so much like a wild animal.

No, seriously.

"O" required adult supervision every single minute. He would run around the classroom wildly, pulling things off shelves, laughing maniacally, crawling under tables, chewing on electrical cords. NON STOP. He pooped on the floor of the boys' bathroom. He bit.

Needless to say, "O" put a cramp in E.'s teaching style.

I felt guilty at the time because I had clearly dodged a bullet so I kept running out to Starbucks to buy lattes for E.

"O" was moved down to Kindergarten because it appeared that there was a "maturity" issue. 

YA THINK?

Oh, the havoc that was wrought in Kindergarten.

Eventually he moved back to his own country THANK YOU LORD.

Not that I am apprehensive or anything HA!, but seriously, a crazy student can destroy the delicate equilibrium that is a classroom.

Thankfully, "O" is the exception rather than the rule and the chances are good that my new child will fall somewhere on the normal spectrum.

In other news, the geezer eyes thing is getting out of control and I can't see a fucking thing and it really pisses me off. I guess I need to go get my eyes checked?

This poor kid that I'm getting in my class tomorrow. His new teacher is cranky and blind and swears too much.

Mother's Little Helper.

When I was in Italy I never smelled Betadine.

The cystoscopy was unpleasant but blessedly brief. Afterwards the doctor was all "Blah blah blah prolapse blah blah blah complications blah blah blah surgery blah blah damn, girl, your thing is all fucked up blah blah blah."

Then I got dressed and went to work. Oh, I looked quite gorgeous.  I dressed up for the doctor. A skirt, and high-ish heels, and a pretty blouse. Then, the rest of the day at work, when the breeze was just right, I would catch a little whiff of Betadine. Nice, huh?

Speaking of work, I am having a little bit of a nervous breakdown. There are only 23 days left, and there's a lot to do, but that's not the part that's bothering me. What's bothering me is much more complicated to explain, and honestly I think you have to be a teacher to understand. It's a great big package of regrets and frustrations and small disappointments. I am not yet the teacher that I want to be. Part of what gets in my way just comes with the territory--too many directives from above, too much testing, never enough time.  And part of it is just me and my tendency to lay down and play dead when I get overwhelmed.

Moving on.

I am in a little bubble of peaceful time right now. In about an hour I have to go to my parents' house because I had a bright idea that for Mother's Day my siblings and I should all get together and clean out her screen porch. This came about because a couple of weeks ago I went over to visit my parents, and my mother said brightly, "Let's sit out on the porch!". She shuffled out there, brushed a cloud of cat hair off the sad, faded wicker rocker, and I gingerly perched on the edge of a filthy seat cushion, my feet dangerously close to a small puddle of CAT PISS on the ancient straw floor covering that she bought 30 years ago at Pier 1, while my  dearly befuddled mother chattered on about how she really needed to get out here and give it a good sweeping. So, my sisters, my brother, and I (and Josh, and Sasha) are converging on the porch today to scrub, paint, etc.  This is the kind of project  that Evangeline would be very unenthusiastic about, so it's a good thing that she is still at her small pretentious college in the Midwest.

Now, my parents could easily afford to pay someone to do this. But they never would. Not because they are cheap, just because, I don't know, it doesn't seem that bad to them, I guess.  Anyway, my mother and father will enjoy all the busy activity and the sibling banter.

Tonight, it's a 21st birthday party for Paul (Sasha's boyfriend) at his parents' house. Tomorrow: more Mother's Day stuff, including a cookout over here.  Somewhere in there we have to find time for lawn mowing, grocery shopping, and house cleaning. Oh, and I have to do some teacher work. I'll probably get fussy.