Good Fences Make Good Jerkheads

Today is the last day for a long while that our family will be held hostage by "The Girl has homework". We have spent days on end this school year frozen in time waiting for her to get done with her homework.

If she has homework to do none of us can:

• Watch anything on TV (or she'll get distracted making the work last longer).
• Go anywhere (or she'll get upset making her work slower).
• Do anything amusing (or she gets jealous and then upset and then see above).

We have been held captive by her non-stop homework status every school night and most weekends for the entire school year. But that stops today. She's been doing homework since noon today and she's almost done. Tomorrow is her last two finals. And then we will all be free!


To keep ourselves from going stir crazy today, The Boy and I worked outside. Look what he did for me. He took this boring side of the shed...


And turned it into this!
All I did was put chalk marks on the side showing where I wanted them and he did the rest. Measured, leveled, drilled and installed!

These three pots used to hang on our fence but...
our fence is gone.


Our new neighbors behind us (we refer to them as the Jerkheads), are in the process of barricading themselves into their yard. Our old fence only went halfway across the back, which might sound strange but when we put it up we just needed the dogs in the diagonal yard to stop barking and jumping insanely at their fence corner whenever we walked out out backdoor. The short fence kept us off their radar. The rest of the yard was left open combining four yards into one large play space for all of the kids. No fences, just bush rows and lots of wide open grass space.

But the new neighbors with their Baby-So-Precious don't see it that way. They feel the need to spend this incredible amount of money to "Keep her safe". This giant cage should do that just fine. Or as my other neighbor suggested you could just watch your kid!


Anyway, it is seriously bumming all of out that our view and our main route of movement is going to be obstructed by this nonsense.
Did I say nonsense? Let me give you a taste of the Jerkhead mentality.

I mentioned our old fence, forty feet of dog blinder back behind our tiny grove of trees. When Mr. Jerkface first came around to tell us about the fence, we left the conversation believing that he was just going to tie his new fence into our fence. Not the case come to find out.


Last week the fence guys were out back putting in all of the fence posts. I noticed them moving around quite bit behind our fence but I didn't think much about it. After they left, I went to take a look at the situation and couldn't believe my eyes. The line of posts continued in a straight as an arrow line around the property and kept going right on behind our fence with only THREE INCHES between the two!

I wish I had taken some pictures with our fence still standing but here's how close it was.
The next day the fence guys were back. A nice enough guy, he also thought it was weird that the Jerkheads choose to buy an extra forty feet of fence when they didn't need to. "But I'm not going to argue with people who want to spend!", the fence guy cackled.

Yeah, good point.

We told the fence guy that we would take ours down and he appreciated that. "It wasn't easy to get these posts in with your fence right there, you know. I didn't know how we were going to get the rest of the fence up!"

Well when he comes back tomorrow, he can slap that fence up without a hitch. Then the Jerkheads will be all caved up and Baby-So-Precious will be safe.

Enough of all of this though. It's almost time to watch Lost!

Big Dog No More

First, this isn't a post about Marco. Stop panicking.

Last night at the Leader Appreciation Dinner, I made the statement that Girl Scouting will take as much of your life as you are willing to give them. And it's true. I was encouraging the leaders to find some way to promote and support Girl Scouting outside of the circle of their own troop but not to burn themselves out. This was at the event where I was handing over the keys of being the Big Dog.

The Big Dog? That's what my kids call the job I had. My title was actually Service Unit Director. I've been the SUD for five out of the last six years. I took one year off in the middle, but I knew it would just be a hiatus.

The SUD helps coordinate all of the leaders in the city. Cookie sales, the nut sale, camping events, trainings, service project and community events. I ran a monthly meeting and sent out about a million emails.

The first year I did it, my kids were in the fourth grade. The first meeting I had to run I was frantically rushing around the house making sure I wasn't forgetting anything. The Boy asked what kind of meeting I was leaving for.

Me: It's a meeting of just leaders. No girls. It helps leaders be better leaders.

Boy: And you're the president?

Me: I guess sort of. I'm called the Director.

Boy: So you're the Big Dog.

Me: Sure.

But that's the name that stuck with my kids. As I would be packing up the car, they would ask, "You've got a Big Dog meeting tonight?"

Last night was it for me as Big Dog. And no hiatus this time. I've handed the whole thing over to a new batch of leaders. Did I stop before getting burned out? Just barely. It was getting a little uncomfortably warm this past year. I am very grateful to the leader who is taking my place and I know she will do an amazing job.

As for me, I've got a few more years of being a leader and I am happily going to sink into the circle of my own troop.

Gripes about Groups

As the first year of high school comes to a close around here, I'm feeling a need to vent about one particular part of school that didn't go so hot, Student Council.

The Girl tried, really tried, to be involved with Student Council this year but she was literally a day late and a dollar short for most everything. She was constantly missing events and meetings simply because she never knew when things were happening. Communication for this group is right at the level of sending smoke signals. Mostly news is just passed on by word of mouth (or texting) and just like that classic game of Telephone, along the way the messages would get garbled and lost.

Now you are saying, I'm sure that if she put forth a little more effort, she would have been able to participate more. People, I'm telling you she tried! She would ask her friends, text officers, check her Facebook and walk by the Student Council bulletin board all the time and she still had no idea what was going on...for an entire school year!

Right now she's at the Student Council banquet. We found out about it yesterday. She was told to bring a dessert and it started at 6:30. At 6:15 she started getting texts from people asking where she was because it started at 6:00. That's been Student Council in a nutshell. (And, no. I didn't send a dessert.)

I don't know if it's the officers in charge right now or the overly-taxed, mostly absent advisor or what, but I am completely done with Student Council.

I wish she were. But, alas, no.

I thought that Cross Country was unorganized, but at least there was a written schedule and a phone number of somebody who actually knew something you could call. The problems with Cross Country came mostly with being told things like, "It's just like we did last year". When I would point out that we weren't around last year, there would be an honest moment of surprise and then apology. Unfortunately, this scenario happened over and over and over during the season, but at least we did eventually get answers. I take solace in that THIS year, we'll be in the know.


The Girl has now left the Student Council banquet to go to Dance Team try-outs. I'm not down with this. Not at all. But I'm putting on a brave face and letting her make her own decision. The parent letter she brought home after the first try-out read like a nightmare; required uniforms, year long fundraisers, dance camp, hours of practice for 2 minutes of performance one a week. Ugh. I am filled with dread. Please, please, please just let it be organized at least!

Update: She made the team!

Easter Bunny Foiled!

You may not be aware of this but we have a special arrangement with the Easter Bunny. He brings candy. He brings baskets. He finds the colored hard-boiled eggs we leave in the refrigerator and hides them around the house. But where he differs is what he hides in the plastic eggs. Our Easter Bunny hides puzzle pieces. Once all of the eggs are found, the puzzle pieces are all dumped together and we spend the next week or so putting together the puzzle. It becomes a nice time filler for a long spring break.

This year, as we were putting together the puzzle 100 Cats and a Fish, I noticed something funny right away. There were only three corners to our rectangular puzzle. Hmmm....


As the days went on, key pieces that should have been very easy to spot were just not there. My suspicions grew.

When the puzzle was "complete" there were 29 missing pieces. 29. That's a whole lot more than could be lost in the chairs, eaten by the dog or stolen by a cat. The only conclusion was that not all of the eggs had been found.

We looked everywhere but it was just too well hidden.

Then, 27 days later, while I was looking for the spider Charlie Brown, I found the egg hidden behind the mirror in the bathroom.
And inside were 29 puzzle pieces, including a corner.
We took the puzzle down weeks ago and we are not putting it back together again for a long, long time. But at least I know that all of the pieces are back in one spot.

Charlie Brown, on the other hand, has not come back. I think a cat ate him.

Gifts of Spring

Spring brings...

Door to door salesmen and solicitors. Yard guys look at our grass-less, violet filled yard and start to drool. Window guys look at our original windows and start to have convulsions. Siding guys get a glazed-over look when they try to pass me brochures. Then there's the guys who want to discuss the issues and the guys who want to run the world and the ladies who want to save our souls. People walking the beat bloom in the spring-like weeds.

Two quick door to door guy stories. Earlier in the week a window guy showed up. His "estimate" was somewhere between $300 and $1000 a window. That's an estimate? Isn't honing in on a more exact price his job? He might as well said somewhere between $10 and $1,000,000. We shooed him away right quick.

Yesterday I was in the Kingdom of Laundry. As I got to the top of the steps I heard a hearty knock on the front screen. I don't know what that guy was selling or promoting because I pressed myself against the wall and slunk out the backdoor. I hung out with Marco until he went away. Yeah. I'm a people person.

Spring brings...

Spiders. Oodles and oodles of spiders. This house has acquired the weirdest, creepiest spiders this spring. And I haven't seen the same type twice. There was the overly large black one descending right in the middle of the living room yesterday. The Girl, very nonchalant, said, "Hey, there's a spider in the living room." When I went to check it out the spider was just hanging there like a tiny pinata that wiggled on its own. Without realizing it I started chanting, No! No! No! No! No! Luckily, The Man was already on the case, capturing said pinata and throwing him outside.

That's right. We capture spiders and put them outside. Except those yellow ones that bite. They get to meet their maker.

There's another spider in the downstairs bathroom right now that The Man is keeping as a pet because he's "cool." I call him Charlie Brown. He's hiding right now, but the next time he's out I'll take his picture so you can see how why he's named that.
(Ugh. I just spent 7 seconds looking at spider site to see if I could identify what kind of spider Charlie actually is. Never again. That was terrible.)

Spring brings...

Bats. Not in the house yet, but they were out last night when The Boy and I were out back by the fire. Give it a few more days and one of the little darlings will be banging off the walls and hanging from my curtains. Good times. It's not spring until we spend a good chunk of an evening chasing a bat out of the house.

West Side Story

I've got to say that the music to West Side Story is hard to shake once it's in your head. Especially when you see the show twice in one weekend. I've been humming tunes pretty much non-stop.

The Girl was in the show this past weekend. (One of only two Freshman in the cast, thank you very much!) Here she is hanging in the middle of the scaffolding.
The scaffolding was the set for the most part. They'd roll it over here for one scene. Spin it around and roll it over there for another scene. Climb on it, hang from it, stand, sing from it and dance on it. Very dynamic but time consuming to change from scene to scene.

West Side Story is, of course, the struggles of the Jets and the Sharks as they vie for turf. The Girl was a Jet because if there is one look she could not possibly ever pull off it would be Puerto Rican. Here's a bunch of Jet girls. You would think gang girls would look tougher and meaner. This group looks like a bunch of princesses.
Now this is better, Shark guys! Watch out, they may be smiling but they are all carrying switchblades!
How about some Jet guys? They're tough too. They bring chains to the rumble.
Shark girls are another bunch of princesses. But none of these girls are afraid to deal out a slap if you get a touch mouthy with them.


We went opening night and the show was still rough around the edges. There were major technical problems with the sound. The kids seemed lost when it came time to move set pieces. The live band had only practiced with the kids singing twice before opening night and the timing was all off. The kids just looked plain confused most of the time.


Sunday's afternoon's performance was an entirely different story. Most everything went off without a problem. The sound issues were cured and you could actually hear the actor's lines. The band sounded amazing and the kids are figured out how to sing with them. The whole show rolled along smoothly.


The auditorium is coming down in just a few weeks now. When I see the new building going up, it's hard for me to get sad about the old one coming down. The only part that gets to me is that my little piece of green room graffiti will be buried.

Double Down Trouble

I am pretty darned disturbed by this new sandwich that KFC has devised in its laboratories of death. What is going on with this Double Down Chicken Sandwich? Is this not the most disgusting thing you have ever heard of of? Two chicken filets used to sandwich a slice of Monterey Jack and a slice of pepper jack cheese, some kind of secret sauce and two slices of bacon. The nutritional facts on this sandwich are horrifying, especially the sodium. You can check out the stats proudly displayed on its official page.

And what's with that name? Double Down is a blackjack term where you get to split a pair and bet on both hands individually. Usually doubling down ends up pretty well for you. But still to give a sandwich a name that invokes the idea of chance and gambling? It's almost implying that you are gambling with your life if you eat this sandwich.

The first time I saw an ad for this sandwich was on Saturday Night Live. The commercial plugged the food and then ended with that if you paid a little extra, the clerk would just stab you in the heart. We all had a big grand laugh at what we thought was just a skit on the show. The next day we found out the sandwich was very real, only the offer of quick death was fake.

Finally, you can't look at this sandwich and not think of this:
(Sorry about the absolute lousy quality!)

Kalahari Lock-In

The Girl and I are in a bit of a fog today. Last night (and this morning) we were at Kalahari Waterpark for a Girl Scout lock-in. 11 PM - 5 AM. By the time all of the girls were dressed and had gathered everything together, we finally got out of there around 5:30, which put us back in town at 6:30. Right to bed we went and got up around 1 PM today.

The Lock-In was an adventure but for all the wrong reasons. In the first half-hour we came across a little girl who had slipped down some steps leading up to one of the slides. Her friends weren't sure what happened. Some of them said she fainted, others said she tripped and hit her head. Her friends were guiding her down the steps when she got to myself and some other leaders. She was clinging to the rail taking the tiniest of steps and shaking all over. Her eyes were rolling in her head. And she was green. Literally green. I've never seen anything like it. She was a yellowish-green from head to toe. The other leader I was with grabbed the girl up and I started hollering down the stairs for everyone to move. Another leader shot off head to find a lifeguard. At the bottom of the stairs were two EMTs waiting to take the girl. We went to peek in on her a while later. They had her on oxygen, in neck brace, strapped to backboard and an ambulance was on the way.

A few hours later, I was in hanging around in the Girl Scout cabana when a little girl came over asking if this was first aid. Her big toe was bleeding under the nail. I offered to walk her to the first aid office and the whole way there her toe was oozing blood. We hobbled across the park and the lifeguards fixed her up. Then they gave her the news: She was going to lose the toe nail. The one guard showed the girl her own big toe with the nail only half grown back. The same ride had ripped her nail off a month earlier. That particular ride had a tendency to do that to people.

When I got back to the cabana I was told I missed all of the excitement. One of the leaders wiped up on the wet concrete and broke her ankle or maybe her leg.

Wow. It seems like a lot of disasters but there were 1,600 Girl Scouts there. I think I was just unlucky and kept coming across the bad moments.

Nevertheless, I had an amazing amount of fun and so did the girls in my troop. We all kept our toenails, kept our bones unbroken and stayed one color. I could write a whole post about what happened to myself and three other leaders on the one ride that looks like a giant toilet bowl, but I'm not quite ready to tell that story yet. It's a doozy!

Marco's Birthday

In the week leading up to today I would occasionally mention one of the other people around the house that it was the dog's birthday on Sunday. The conversation usually went like this...

Me: Yo, it's Marco's birthday Sunday.

Other Human: Oh yeah? How old is he going to be?
At which point I would mumble something about finding out. No one had a clue how old the dog was but we had several spirited debates about it...

Me: He's going to be seven.

Other Human: No six.

Me: I think it's seven.

Other Human: Weren't you going to look it up?
I just looked it up and in fact today he is six. Eventually someone will mention that he is forty-two in dog years. Not to worry old boy, you're still just a big dumb puppy to me!

Happy Birthday Marco!

Birthday Party Escapades

This post is two days late. I wish to thank the three of you for not calling me out on that.

The party was a huge success! At it's height we had 23 kids at the house, so it wasn't that bad. The best gift that the kids received by far was the weather. The thermometer in the kitchen read eighty-two when the party started. It hovered right in the mid-seventies after sundown making the candle-lit patio a nice hangout alternative to the stuffy house. There were kids running in and out of the house all night long. Thank goodness I had the forethought to send Marco away. It would have been an impossible situation with him in the mix.


The boys were bound and determined to just play Xbox the entire time. One of The Boy's friends brought his Xbox over to talk to our Xbox. It was all just too cool.But the girls had other plans that first involved attacking the boys with balloons.

Defeated temporarily the girls headed outside to plan their next wave of attack.
And to build a human pyramid.

In the end the girls forced the boys to go on a scavenger hunt and play hide and seek or maybe it was sardines. The evening ended with all of them outside on the patio. The Man and I sat in the kitchen and listened to their very grown-up sounding laughter.

We ended up with WAY too much food and drink. Like embarrassingly too much. We'll be eating pizza around here for a long time.

One more Happy Birthday to the Girl and Boy! What a fantastic way to celebrate it!

Twas the night before birthday...

Spring break started for me today but not for The Girl or Boy. Tomorrow is their first day and it is coincidentally their birthday. So we all agreed this would be a great year for a big blow-out party. They each got to invite 15 friends, which I'm trying not to freak out about. The possibility of 32 teenagers in my house tomorrow night is freak out worthy I realize, but I'm banking on that not all of them will be able to attend. (I know. I'm delusional.)

Today I got to sleep in which was heavenly. It's amazing what three extra hours of sleep can do for your state of mind. I shopped and shopped and shopped for birthday party things and then I met The Man for lunch.

Tomorrow we will super clean the place and since it will be warm and sunny, the yard will get a once over as well.

The party starts at 6 PM. I'll try to post a few pictures as it goes along.

PS: I got invited to try out new templates for Blogger Beta. I think it's lovely!

Detective I Am Not

The names in the following story have been changed to protect the confused. This is a true tale. There's no way I could make this up.

Me: Biff, I need to talk to you. Yesterday after you left, (He had fallen into the only puddle of water on the whole playground soaking himself completely.) Igor was waving around a $20 bill telling everyone you gave it to him.

Biff: I didn't give him anything.

Me: Really? Because he said you did. Hey Igor! Come here! Where did you get that $20 yesterday?

Igor: He gave it to me. (He points at Biff who starts to shake his head wildly.)

Me: Okay Igor, thanks. Go back to recess.

Biff: I didn't give him any money.

Me: I'm talking about this money right here. (I open my desk drawer and take out a battered $20 bill. Biff looks totally alarmed.)


Biff: You see what happened is that I didn't have any pockets so I dropped it at lunch and Igor picked it up.

Me: Did you know Igor had your money?

Biff: Yeah.

Me: Did you ask for it back?

Biff: No. He can keep it. (Biff is shuffling around now, staring at the floor.)


Me: No, I don't think so. $20 is a lot of money. Where did you get it?

Biff: Acme gave it to me.

Me: Acme? Acme who?

Biff: (exasperated) Acme Bullwinkle!

Me: And whose class is he in?


Biff: I don't know.

Me: What grade is he in?

Biff: I don't know.

Me: Is he older than you or younger than you?

Biff: We're the same age!

Me: Okay good, so he's in the second grade!

Biff: No, he goes to a different school.

Me: Do you know what school?

Biff: Northwood.

Me: Then Acme is older than you. Big kids go to Northwood.

Biff: I said he was 12!

Me: No, you said you were the same age. Are you 12?

Biff: No, I'm 8!


(A long pause while I try to digest all of this.)


Me: When did Acme give you this money?

Biff: Yesterday morning so I could go buy stuff.

Me: Where did you see him?

Biff: On the street.

Me: Were you waiting for the bus?

Biff: He doesn't ride my bus.

Me: But you were waiting for your bus?

Biff: I don't know.

Me: Is Acme usually outside when you are waiting for the bus.

Biff: Sometimes.

Me: So he's your neighbor?

Biff: (clearly fed up with my questions) No!

(I have a take a deep breath here.)

Me: He's your friend, right?

Biff: I guess.

Me: Did you tell him you lost the money?

Biff: Yeah.

Me: Was he mad?

Biff: No, he doesn't care.

Me: No?

Biff: No!

Me: Okay. What were you supposed to buy with the money?

Biff: Chips and pop and stuff.

Me: What store were you going to buy it from?

Biff: I don't know. I'm not allowed to go to the store.

(Right around this time a found myself blinking uncontrollably. What does that mean?)


Me: Biff, I've got to tell you that this story isn't making any sense at all. I mean none of it. Not a word. I'm getting the feeling that you're not telling something.

Biff: I didn't give Igor $20!

Me: Yeah, I got that. I think I'm going to have to give mom a call on this one. Okay?

Biff: She doesn't know anything either.

Me: I have no doubt on that one.

Supply and Demand

I've survived the first week with my second grade zombies. I'm think I'm all done making changes to their room set-up, procedures and set-up. (That is unless I find a carpet or rug to put in their room. They have to sit on the floor itself for story time. It's barbaric!)

One of the last changes I did was to institute a ticket giving reward. I keep a pocket-full of tickets and give them out when the mood strikes me. Mostly at times when I announce to everyone to get out a some book or another and only a handful of zombies do it. They get a ticket and everyone else starts to scramble like mad to figure out why. They write their names on the back of the ticket and on Fridays I do a drawing. The winners get to pick from the treasure box. It was a giant hit as you can imagine. These zombies will do just about anything to get a ticket.

But it wasn't all roses this week. I had one of my boys shove around a first grader in the bathroom and make him cry. I had a couple of girls get into a little food fight at lunch. Then I had a completely different girl get accused of screaming, "Everyone get the eff out of here!" in the restroom. (I'm sorry to report she didn't say "eff", but the real word instead.) I told the kids that our goal for next week is to not beat anyone up, throw food or swear in school. We'll see how it goes.

I've had two classroom supply problems with my room as well. First the room doesn't have a Smartboard, but that's not the problem. I'm totally cool with a chalkboard and an overhead projector. But if you have an overhead you need transparencies to show on it. Well, you don't have to, but it sure makes things a hell of a lot easier. On the shelf of the projector cart was five boxes of transparencies, brand new. But I can't use any of them because the jam up the copier; they're the wrong kind. The principal gave me the news the right kind are way too expensive and that the school doesn't have any and they aren't getting any ever.

Fine. Cool. I'll deal with it. (A little more snooping around and I found a half a box of the RIGHT kind the next day in the copy room. Whoo-hoo!)

The other problem I have is that the kids don't have Quick Word books in their desks or in the room or anywhere.
This book is my go to answer when I teach second and third graders. Every second and third grader, in every classroom, in every building in the city has this little book in their desk. Except this one.

It is the best thing for kids who are expected to write but can't spell. That's like all of them. It's just commonly used words in alphabetical order. So when a zombie asks, "How do you spell building?" my answer was always, "Check your Quick Words!". Much, much easier than dragging through a whole dictionary, they find what they are looking for and get on with writing.

I ran to Zombie Teacher #1.

Me: The kids in my room don't have Quick Words!

ZT1: No? That's weird.

Me: Where can I get a bunch of them?

ZT1: You can't. We order them at the beginning of the year. She must not do that.

I fly to Zombie Teacher #2.

Me: There's no Quick Words in the kid's desks!

ZT2: Whoa.

Me: Do you have any extras?

ZT2: I'll look around, but I don't think so. You could ask Zombie Teacher 3.

I ended up talking to Zombie Teachers one through seven by the end of the week. Dead ends all of them. So now my go to answer for "How do you spell vacation?" is "Sound it out and do the best you can."

The best they can is not that great.

How to Make Happiness

Today was my first day with my long term zombies. I had two ways I could go with them: I could do every little thing their teacher did in just the same way and keep the status quo or I could announce my presence with authority by shaking the place up with all new procedures and a room layout.

I went with the second option.

I rearranged their desks, moved the teacher's desk, completely removed an unstable easel, took away the pencil sharpener option, got rid of raising hands to answer questions, used the unused in-room microphone system (I found in in the storage closet), increased the number of room jobs from four to fourteen, made an official place to put finished work and instituted a mid-morning snack.

They took it all really, really well. I might even go so far to say that they loved the changes. Wait until they see what I have in store for them tomorrow!

But this post is actually about my own children. This week they don't have to be to school until 10:15 instead of the usual 8 AM. (This is because of graduation testing and freshman don't have to be there for that.) When I left for work they were both still in bed. Also today, for a first time all year, The Girl has no homework at all. The Boy had some but not the crippling amount like usual.

And what does extra sleep and no homework get you?

Happiness. Lots and lots of happiness. Right now I'm listening to my kids laughing away in the basement while they change loads of laundry. They've been silly like this all afternoon. They watched an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 just because they could. And when they are in a good mood, I'm in a great mood. I even made brownies tonight to celebrate all this happiness.

Yes, Brewer. Cookies mean no more frequent posts. Obviously.

I guess having the cookies show up shook up my world to the point where I stopped writing. I didn't feel that diverted but the evidence is right here.

It has been a little crazy with the cookies. We've had one cookie booth so far which was a flop. Luckily we have girls selling at an outrageous clip all on their own. My inbox is filled with daily requests for more cookies. We had to go to the warehouse to restock and on Saturday we are restocking again. We have two more booth sales this weekend and two next weekend. Then it is over. Will the troop be stuck with cases and cases of unsold cookies like last year? It's hard to gauge when the mania for cookies has passed and folks are suddenly sick of them.

In bigger news, Monday starts a long term zombie gig for me. It's going to be five weeks of teaching in a second grade class at Walking Distance School. I pretty darn happy about the whole thing. I shadowed the teacher today and she frantically tried to cover everything I could possibly want to know while trying to teach today's lessons at the same time. Finally I asked, "What do I absolutely NEED to get done before you get back?". She jotted it down on a post-it. I'm going to be just fine in this assignment.

You'll be hearing a whole bunch about this little group of zombies since I'm stuck with them for so long. Let's hope they provide good story material...but in a good way. Not a nightmare way.

It's Time

You knew it when you woke up this morning. Today was an important day. Something big was going to happen. You couldn't quite put your finger on it. What could it be?

Why it's cookie day of course!

Marco stares in disbelief. Where oh where will he sit now?

Five Day School Weeks are for Suckers

It's another snow day today!

Between holidays, inservice days, the President coming to town, waterline breaks, bomb threats and all of this miserable weather there just hasn't been that much educating done since we came back from Winter Break. C'est la guerre!

What I saw today

How about just some interesting pictures today?

The Boy spotted this tree in my tea this morning. It looked a bit more tree-like before I tried to take the spoon out.
The zombie room I'm in this week has this bucket of pointers.
Another teacher came in the room while I was standing on a chair getting this shot. Here they are from the side.

And that's all you get today. I've got Olympics to watch.

No Sleep for the Addicted

I love to watch the Olympics. While that is not a unique statement, especially right now, I'm very secure in my Olympic love even during non-Olympic times. We got cable because of the 1994 Lillehammer Winter Games. Before that we had an antenna line that we strung around the living room and occasionally out the front door to get reception. We got second television in 1996 because of the Atlanta Summer Games. Cable showed up for the second set for the Nagano Winter Games in 1998.

If it wasn't for the Olympics, we would still have that antenna hanging out the door. I truly believe this.

But these Olympics are killing me. They are so exciting and interesting... and late. They are running really late into the night and it's messing me up. I have got to get up to watch zombies in the morning and every night I'm keeping my eyes pried open so I can watch bobsledding, ice dancing and ski cross. My sleep schedule is a wreck. I came home from zombie duty today and instantly fell asleep sitting straight up in a chair!

So tonight, no Olympics for me. I don't know what events are happening and I don't want to know. (Okay, that's a lie. It's women's short program skating. But I'm resisting!) It's Lost tonight and then right to bed. The Olympics will have to do without me for one night.
(This is actually an Vancouver anarchist movement poster. Seems not everyone is happy in the Great White North. I just like the art and that it says "Resist" at the top.)

Never Too Late for a Gift

This past Saturday was not only The Man's birthday dinner out, but that same morning it was World Friendship Day for Girl Scouting. This year our theme was Cities of the World. Our troop is involved in a couple of other projects and used World Friendship Day to multi-purpose them all together by creating a Cleveland booth.

But this isn't about our booth, it's about our craft.

For the fourth year in a row, we've done Shrinky Dinks as our WFD craft. We create designs based on our booth, have the girls color them at the table and shrink them down to key chains right in front of their very eyes. It's always a wild time at our booth and we are crushed the entire time we're open. (Four years ago we bought a bulk package of 100 sheets of Shrinky Dink paper. It's almost gone now.)

To shrink the dinks, you need a toaster oven. The problem was that Co-Leader Supreme also needed a toaster oven for her younger troop. They were making tiny pizzas on crackers for New York City. "We could share the oven," she suggested. The more I thought about it the more I knew it wouldn't work. First of all, Shrinky Dinks don't smell that great while they are baking. No one would want to eat a Shrinky Dink flavored pizza. I also had a fear of things getting really crazy and someone eating a key chain or wearing a pizza. Nightmare! Finally, when we do this craft we are just slammed with customers. There would be too much of a traffic jam at the oven if both things were being made at once.

I was going through people who I though might want to loan us their oven when it occurred to me that I have a toaster oven of my own! (Stay with me here. I'll explain.)

My pots and pans cupboard is oddly shaped and too deep. It invites chaos and gets it. I take everything out and re-stack it up beautifully about once a month. Within a week it is completely wrecked again. And it's all me. The other three in this house don't dare even try to do anything with that cupboard.

To fight the chaos a bit, I keep a large box in the back of it, just to keep things from getting pushed WAY back. It's been there since we bought the house, that big place holder of a box.

And what is that box?

What do you know? A brand new toaster oven! My last unopened wedding gift!

Here it is all sealed up and...dusty.

It's been waiting for seventeen years to be wanted and needed. Now is its time!

Ooooooh, shiny.

This lucky little machine made its debut at World Friendship Day on Saturday and shrunk about 120 key chains to delight and amazement of little Girl Scouts.
I don't remember who gave us the toaster oven but I'd like to say thank you, thank you, thank you. You saved the day.

The oven is sealed up in the box again and in the awful cupboard doing the important job of holding back the tide. See you next year little guy!