the wily literature teacher

On Monday, I went to Blockbuster feeling particularly hot confident in my Standard Teacher Outfit of tasteful plaid skirt + heather grey tights + dark grey GAP sweater + high [for me] black heels. None of that is meant to imply I had any intentions other than to feel special in the presence of Geeky Cute Video Expert Guy (GCVEG).

BUT! I had a few extra minutes and truly wanted some advice about a movie that resembles the themes of Catcher in the Rye; this quarter's literature students are far more cynical about the novel than last spring's and I need something that really drives home the significance of a story about teenage alienation (as though these students have no idea how to identify with such a concept; argh). Who better to query than my favorite nonresponsive GCVEG?

I asked if he has seen Chapter 27; I figured the title is a reference to Catcher since the novel ends at chapter 26, and the movie follows Mark David Chapman's obsession with John Lennon and Holden Caulfield. GCVEG has not seen Chapter 27 (and actually thought it was about bankruptcy; I've already forgiven this as well as his guess that the author of Catcher was Steinbeck instead of Salinger - starts with an S, close enough) but he proceeded to offer other suggestions. Color me genius-like as I responded to each with "Yes, I thought of that, too, but it's rated R." I could show an R-rated movie but it requires parent permission forms and those make even ME roll my eyes...And if a kid doesn't bring one by the day I want to show the movie, I have to call the parent at home or work OR come up with an alternate assignment. Life is easier if I can just find a PG-13 movie.

Anyway, I think I finally convinced GCVEG that I am not [simply] a bourgeois, classless, Sopranos-loving lame ass. He promised to think about other possibilities and let me know the next time I come in.

And then I invited him to my classroom.

skewed results

I was compelled to take the "Is Your Life Balanced?" quiz at iVillage this afternoon, because I was feeling particularly unbalanced after racing from my classroom to attend a PTA meeting then racing home to check in with my son-who-forgot-to-stay-after-school then doing random little things around the house (making dinner not one of them, because I was stumped into paralysis; THANK YOU, HUSBAND!) until I decided to take the quiz, write this post, and race back to my classroom for our Open House. Apparently this is me:

________________________

Even Stephen

You are one of those rare adults with a firm grasp on her priorities.

Even though you put others first, you are fluent in the subtle art of compromise and know exactly when to cut yourself some slack.

_______________________

And then everyone familiar with me laughed uproariously.

Let's just say I know how to take a test.

another word

Dear Everyone In The Political Arena,

Unless you are talking about this guy,

I would let him call me "Little Lady"

this guy,

Not as good as Mad Max; light years beyond Hamlet

or this guy,

Before the crazy; please come back...

please refrain from using the word "Maverick."

Because you, Senator, are no...

Sincerely,

Not A Hockey Mom

welcome to bad mom international

Reflections from a weary traveler (methinks my imagination was bigger than my stamina...)

If I ran an airport:

• People wishing to work security must be able to answer the following question without grimacing: Who is your favorite superhero? AND they must be able to produce a genuine smile for five consecutive minutes.
• I would have a gigantic two-sided clock hanging right in the middle of each terminal. And throughout the airport, I would post clocks displaying the time around the world. There would be a fun object on every second hand – something that represents the place, like a Statue of Liberty for NYC time or Big Ben for London; Jerry Lewis for France.
• I would play relaxing music on the loudspeakers until there was need for an announcement; all announcements would be made by Antonio Banderas or James McAvoy. With video accompaniment on giant ceiling-mounted screens.
• I would provide water fountains every 30 yards, with big sinks so people could fill their water bottles. People without their own water bottles could purchase one from a machine next to the fountains and the money would be donated to homeless programs.
• For every high-end expensive store I allow to rent space, I would invite two small local artists or booksellers or bakers to set up shop.
• Restaurants would pay lower rent if they give leftover/extra food to shelters each day.
• I would have recycling bins everywhere and give rent discounts to vendors who use eco-friendly supplies or limit their packaging.
• I would have a display of flyers (recycled paper!) detailing current & upcoming events in the area so people arriving could enjoy some local culture along with the popular tourist attractions. I would have a directory posted featuring smaller restaurants, art galleries, bookstores, and other interesting off-the-beaten-path venues for people to patronize; I would also list such necessities as Laundromats, grocery & convenience stores, antique & thrift stores (for unique souvenirs). These businesses would be encouraged to leave their cards for travelers to take.
• I would have a staff of smartly dressed individuals continually wiping seats & sweeping & checking bathrooms & smiling pleasantly at travelers. They would be smiling pleasantly because I would pay them a living wage with benefits and give them a free flight each year as long as no one complains about them. (Though I would certainly take into consideration the nature & validity of any complaints received; some people like to bitch about everything in order to make their lives complete. Not that I've ever run into anyone like that...).
• I would require all workers to know key phrases (“Hello,” “Welcome,” “How can I help?,” “Thank you,” “Would you like a cocktail?”) in numerous foreign languages, and they must be able to adroitly direct travelers to important places within the airport (bathrooms, restaurants, gates, bars).
• Airlines would be mandated to give chocolate bars (or bags of chips for the crazy people in the world who actually do not like chocolate [hi, Jen, miss you!]) to all passengers of flights delayed more than half an hour. They would have to give drink vouchers when flights are delayed past an hour.
• Artwork & poetry created by local teens would be on display throughout.
• In-chair neck or arm massages would be offered to those who inquire politely and make a donation to a charity of their choice.

And the world would be a happier place.

nothing if not quirky

I hesitate to give you any more wacky shit to infect your mind about me, yet the darling Ms. Tami at Toy Cars in My Purse asked and so I give in.

The Rules: Link to the person who tagged you. Mention the rules. Tell six quirky yet boring, unspectacular details about yourself. *[Tag six other bloggers by linking to them. Go to each person’s blog and leave a comment to let them know that they’ve been tagged.]

Without further ado, behold my Six Quirky Details:

1. I briefly [secretly, in my silly twisted mind] considered getting a red dragon tattoo in yet another vain attempt to have Fountains of Wayne notice me.
2. I turn all the labels of food in the pantry to face out. Obsessively, on purpose.
3. I enjoy eating grapes, strawberries, bananas & pineapple yet truly dislike most grape-, strawberry-, banana- or pineapple-flavored things.
4. I tend to not shower on Cowboy game days (there are very clear, not crazy reasons for this that I might go into when the season starts...in 38 days)
5. I get new calendars in August instead of January.
6. I very rarely change my earrings.

*I am breaking the rules on this sunny summer Thursday and not tagging people. Please leave a comment/link if you're going to play along and reveal your psychological defects quirkiness so we can all come feel less weird about ourselves enjoy.

Will you stop pretending I've never been born?

gosling love

On my way home from school today, I did not see multiples of this:

Alas, if only.

But rather a gaggle of these adorably gawky maize-colored babies, crossing to the lake with their mom. I had a strong physical impulse to pull over and pet them but a) there is no good shoulder for pulling over safely and b) the woman directly behind me [read: Might as well have been in my backseat yelling "DRIVE FASTER ON THIS DANGEROUSLY CURVY BACK ROAD!"] would have crashed into me and probably wiped out the little family of geese, too. All badness. Surely resulting in worse karma than me not putting a quarter in the newspaper box.

grocery store smackdown imminent

I realize posting this on my wedding anniversary may seem a tad tacky, but it is what it is. (In other words, tacky).

To begin with, I have not taken my own advice and gone through other not hot checkers' aisles at my grocery store. I'm giving my [not so] secret crush one hundred a few more chances. So, this evening I ran in for some very important food items and as we were having an intimate moment finishing our depressingly chaste checker/customer exchange, this happened behind me:

Woman my age [not old] talking to her preschool daughter in the cart: Okay, honey, put the things on the counter. Why are you being so shy? Did you say "Because he's so handsome?" Heehee.

Oh yes she did.

So I flashed him.


Alright, I did not. I also did not raise my eyebrow menacingly at her (I'm pretty sure). Though I surely emanated wrath in her general direction.

But I did quickly deposit our groceries in the car before running back into the store to grab the Willamette Week, to show what an edgy suburban mom I am. An edgy suburban mom willing to take down her competition. Bring it, girlfriend.

marriage group tonight; no time to write

In case I don't get back here after my husband & I discuss our private lives with church friends (there's a fun movie waiting to happen), I will fulfill my daily posting by offering this, a glimpse at my #3 Potential Second Husband:

Sexy, funny, smart. Who cares if his name is hard to spell?

mock my pain

The Good: Grocery Store Hottie has not moved out of the area or been fired. I carefully arranged my non-essential shopping to land in his line tonight, and I even asked a question cleverly designed to provide prolonged interaction.

The Bad: Apparently he is onto my stalking ruse and is either clueless or uninterested (let's just say the former, to preserve my rapidly-diminishing dignity) because, although he responded to my initial query of "Do you know how much the Gerber daisies are?" with a cute little "Huh! No, I didn't even know we had daisies," he proceeded to not actually find an answer for me. When he had scanned all of my seven non-essential items and told me the total, I asked again in a lighthearted jokey voice (as opposed to an irritated bitchy voice, which was roiling just below the surface; it has been 8 days since my last sighting, people!). He unceremoniously said I should ask someone in the produce section.

The Ugly: There was no one in the produce section, and like a crazy lady who desperately needed those potted daisies I wandered around, waiting for someone to appear. Then I went home and discovered I had not purchased bread to go with the round of Brie [that I didn't need]. Frick. So I went back to the store but pointedly did not get in Hottie's line. Then I asked a homely but very friendly & helpful worker (who was NOT in Produce, by the way) about the daisies; he grabbed a pot and happily scanned it for me. I was seconds away from plunking it down in front of Grocery Boy and telling him SOMEONE ELSE checked the price for me, as though this would make him very jealous and remorseful. But I came to my senses and just bought the bread.

In the end, I'm thankful no one called me "Ma'am."

adventure girl around vegas

As promised, here is the scoop on what to do (and not do) when visiting Las Vegas, part 1 - Going Places.

Let me begin by admitting that Stu & I have had previous issues with distance perception. We have been known to believe in our hearts & minds that a destination is mere moments away when, in fact, it is hours. "A few blocks" versus "many miles." "Not far" versus "in a galaxy far, far away." We have gotten better, but the original defect remains and so this story will be far funnier when you believe that it is just one more piece of proof that we are traveling morons.

So, we wanted to visit the Hard Rock Cafe on Sunday while our *cough*nerd*cough* best friends went to the Star Trek Experience. I didn't have a real, decent map but figured the little street outline in the free 24/7 booklet would be fine. (Yeah. Typing "little" and "outline" and "free" suddenly makes it all more clear in the Bad Idea realm). I am proficient at reading maps and usually remember to check the scale so I have a more realistic [term used loosely] vision of how far places will be. This particular "map" did not have a scale. Red flag #13.

I convinced Stu that if we just went this way "a few blocks" then turned right here, we would run into the Hard Rock Hotel. Which I strangely believed to be attached to the Hard Rock Cafe; I am wacky that way. Anyway, we both accepted that it would probably be a couple of miles and take some time to get there, but it would be more sensible to walk instead of paying a cab since it seemed so simple.

We headed down Tropicana Avenue, la la la. The weather was actually lovely, with light breezes & a not-scalding sun - I think we brought our mild Pacific Northwestness down for the weekend (sorry to those who love the oven-like feeling of the desert). I identified roads & landmarks listed on the non-map as we passed them; all was going well [at least we knew we were headed in the right direction].

After a thousand years a while, we decided that Las Vegas is deceptive in so many ways. The gambling - an illusion of opportunity; the shows - an illusion of beauty; the hotels - an illusion of worldliness. And the landscape - an illusion of closer than you think. When we finally realized the road we planned to turn onto was still a million miles a considerable distance away, Stu suggested we shortcut across an empty [gated, marked No Trespassing] lot. We could see the Hard Rock Hotel at this point and it did seem that we would be unnecessarily going out of our way if we continued down Tropicana.

So off we went down a side road through the lot. But we didn't notice from our previous vantage point that the road turned harshly away from where we needed to go. Our only alternatives were to a) go back to Tropicana and continue down to Paradise Road or b) climb up and walk along a culvert toward the Hard Rock. Normal people pick a). Adventuresome girls and boys pick the opportunity to shimmy along a chain link fence, trying not to slip on the loose dry gravel and fall into nasty, slimy dregs of humanity.

My beloved, trying to make it not so bad.

Me, my windswept hair, and the new Ed Hardys not as amused.

We finally arrived at the Hard Rock Hotel (that white building to the left of my head, above) after abandoning our culvert path to climb over a cinderblock wall and sneak through someone's back alley. Did I mention we originally got onto the gravel trail by slipping through a hole cut into the chain link fence? And there was some literature along the way, in case we were bored with trying to get out alive:

In the end, we ate at a restaurant in the hotel (not the actual Hard Rock Cafe) but did buy t-shirts and buttons from the shop because, by God, I was there. Eventually.

i'm in the mood for...history

Hola, mi nobio Mexicano.

Hola, mi amor.

(Okay, my Spanish is limited to terms of endearment; we're switching to English)

Why do you look so sad, Gael?

I am missing you terribly. You haven't watched any of my movies in so long.

You're right, darling. I will put on Y Tu Mama Tambien The Motorcycle Diaries tonight...

Ah, muy bien. That will make me very happy.

That is all I want, darling. You are all I want tonight.

What about your husband?

He's away on business.

And the grocery store clerk?

I've been barred from Wild Oats...

Como triste.

Well, yes, it is sad. But I still have you.

Si, si. You do.

to my favorite crushes

Dear Grocery Store Hottie,

Thank you for waving me over to your lane this evening. I had entered the line where you were bagging because, well, I like to look at you wherever you are. Though talking to you is nice, too; I always enjoy your convincing concern about whether I found everything I wanted (um, YES - I only needed floss & Pirate's Booty because I've been into this store every day for a week...I appreciate you not judging), and your kind "Have a good evening" warms my heart. Plus, it cheers me that you never make reference to our obvious age difference of multiple decades. (Please note that if you ever want me to stop stalking you coming to your checkout, call me Ma'am. I won't be back because I will have died an anguished death). Anyway. I was secretly thrilled when you stopped bagging and went to open your own lane and waved directly at me in my general direction. Our encounter was, as usual, delightful; so much so that I extended it by asking for my $20 cash back in tens, please. Those extra seconds were precious to me, and to my children who spent the time racing around the produce section with a cart.

Yours until you call me old (or alert security),
Bad Mom
_________________________________

Dear Darling Husband,

I am grateful for your understanding attitude about my [not so secret] crushes on grocery store clerks. I'm glad you know it isn't about replacing you - even if a teenaged boy younger man were somehow interested in me, I would not want him. I live for your sweet smile, the way you think I'm sexy no matter what I'm doing or wearing, your endless handyman techniques, how you willingly, lovingly get me blankets and wine and tea from Singapore. I don't need you to do edgy things like wearing ear plugs or a wallet chain or a touch of eyeliner. You rock my world with your Relaxed-Fit Levi's and GAP t-shirts and black leather Skechers. Thank you for indulging my crazy.

Miss you terribly.
Love you always (with or without oatmeal carmelitas from you-know-where),
Bad Wife

secret crush reconnaissance

Time of Arrival:
2105 PST

Location:
Neighborhood Wild Oats

Mission:
Primary = Secure late dinner
Secondary = Indulge midlife delusions

Activity:
Scan checkout lanes; New Secret Crush not located. Proceed to deli counter. Choose package of California rolls. Move to frozen aisle with plan to obtain egg rolls. Remember possibility of egg rolls in freezer at home. Reach for cell phone in purse. ALERT - Old Secret Crush at 4 o'clock, approximately 15 feet away stocking frozen foods. OSC inquires about my need for assistance; response is negative. Communication with husband via phone inconclusive. Investigate frozen pizza rolls, mozzarella sticks, mushroom bites while maintaining peripheral view of OSC; rationale unknown. Reconsider deli counter for no apparent reason; return to frozen foods aisle and pick up bag of spring rolls. Peruse wines in cold case. Walk toward checkout via frozen foods aisle. OSC repeats inquiry/offer of assistance; response again negative with weak attempt at clever banter. Continue to checkout. Converse pleasantly with female clerk. NSC unseen. End mission.

Departure:
2120 PST

please direct your attention to the sidebar

Check out that fancy blue widget. Eventful is an Internet service that will alert you to goings-on in your area (including political events!), and you can "demand" artists to come to town. I'm not sure exactly what happens after one submits a "demand" but as you can see from the little banner there, I just might find out. See that 1 people* in the Portland metro area clamoring for Fountains of Wayne? Yours truly.

I imagine they'll be here any day now.

*Edited: My dearest husband become the second person to demand FoW. Thank you, darling, for indulging my lunacy.

aha!

My husband is desperately trying to get me to reveal my new secret crush at the grocery store. He technically knows who my old secret crush was, even though he never saw him (mainly because my man doesn't like to shop at Wild Oats; he claims it is complicated and makes him feel uncool). And the fact is, I never see Dairy/Freezer Guy anymore either. I have a sneaking suspicion Stu had him fired or relocated. Or something more sinister....Thus, a new crush and I'm not telling who it is. I won't even tell which store he works in. It's for his safety.

The truth is, I don't want to say because New Secret Crush is so young, I have no doubt I'm old enough to be his mother. And not his young teen mom; his finished-with-college-living-in-a-house-with-a-mortgage mom. It's embarrassing to talk about it out loud. Plus, unlike Dairy/Freezer Guy, NSC is more of the alternative scene bad boy that I furtively stalked admired when I was younger. That he works at a place so mundane as a natural food store - but without disdain or condescension - makes him even sexier. He actually reminds me a little of Heath Ledger. But I've said too much; I may have endangered his life already.

Welcome to the midlife crisis, people.

math and stuff

So. I've had three glasses of wine in four hours, plus lots of fun company (Hi Jen & Dave & Joy & Kyle! You're awesome!), and I've finalized my our trip to Europe this summer. Even though I've obsessively painstakingly, lovingly researched the logistics & cost of this fabulous 40th birthday extravaganza vacation (including variations on London + Paris vs. London + Paris + Amsterdam vs. London + Paris + Amsterdam + multiple locations in the vicinity, et cetera) for many months, somehow I got to the final JUST BOOK IT phase without double-checking where and when we'll be flying in & out. So apparently we're leaving from Seattle (which is closer to where my parents/child caretakers are, fine) but flying back into Portland (15 minutes from our home) then on to Seattle. Huh. Yet I've f*cking booked it. Finally.

And so. I'm excited yet strangely dubious. I'll perhaps find out I've scheduled us to do something oddly European. Oh well. It's paid for, I have a job, I'm turning 40. It's all good.

Thank you and good night.

good, good friday

1. 2:00 pm on Friday is so exciting!
2. Strawberry fields bring back grimy, unpleasant memories of child labor (see #16 on the link).
3. The Red Velvet cupcake sounds like it would taste delicious!
4. Why does procrastinating make me feel so good?!
5. The Great Wall of China (oh, and Mark Wahlberg up close) is something I've always wanted to see.
6. It's sad when I talk about my Potential Second Husbands to my teenage students.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to kids hanging out with Grandpa (fingers crossed!), tomorrow my plans include last minute frenzied shopping for Easter basket goodies (see "procrastinating") and Sunday, I want to delight in the fellowship at church (and nap - you know I can't complete a weekend without talking about sleep!).

Click for more Friday Fill-In fun

stagnant freak

Today is my Friday (because of teaching training stuff tomorrow) and I'm in that paralyzed place - so much to do, lots of extra time to do it all, cannot begin, CLOCK TICKING.

It didn't help that the one attempt I took to DO SOMETHING ended in utter failure. Like a smart cook, I started a pot of water boiling in plenty of time to get dinner ready. When I went to the pantry for an always-dependable box of mac & cheese, alas! We were out. Hmmm. Risotto? Not for the kid meal (Stu & I are having a later-evening fancy grown-up tete a tete later during Survivor & LOST; yes, envy us our upscale decadence). Well I was just the other day thinking I could use the pasta in the pretty glass jars someday; I really didn't buy & fill them just to decorate the counter. Slight nervousness came over me but I bucked up - I can so make mac & cheese from scratch! Watch me...go the computer and call up a Rachel Ray recipe.

But like a bad cook, I eagerly started measuring, mixing, and melting stuff before I made sure we had all the ingredients (didn't I start this adventure because we were out of something?). No chicken broth. But you know what? Didn't really matter because I had already screwed everything up by forgetting to put cream cheese in the sauce before the milk so $!&#(@*&$*. Nevermind. Sausages, apples, and cilantro lime tortilla chips - really a kids' dream dinner, no?

Now I've added dumping a lumpy pretend-cheese sauce somewhere, dealing with a vat of cooked macaroni, and washing two extra pots to my list of things I can't quite begin to do.

Next time I call this one to help in the kitchen. Or something.

monday doldrums

I have an idea of something to write, but it's not coming together in my brain the way I'd like yet. And Lord knows, I cannot put finger to key (that just doesn't have the same resonance as 'pencil to paper' does it? *resigned sigh*) without the prospect of perfection.

So I resort to this, because deep down I'm actually pretty shallow.

Well hello, Edward.

resumption of normal activity

Today, I wore capri pants! That is exciting not only because it meant a) the sun was shining all day and b) my legs are shaved, but also that I was in a peppy, pleasant mood. Somehow one cannot wear capri pants and be cranky, or even mildly grumpy. I imagine they just don't fit properly if one's disposition is less than perky; they probably get all bunchy is discomfiting places. And so went my first day of relative normalcy since last week's brush with the plague.

My blessed students (those are the ones who do actual work, when I request it, without grousing) remarked that I looked like I felt better; this is sweet because half the time I'm not certain they are 1) listening when I say how I feel or 2) aware I am the individual teaching class. Remarkable things happen when the teacher is feeling well (and wearing capris!): A group of three boys actually spent 50 entire minutes in the computer lab typing and discussing their short stories (I was sitting right across from them the whole time; not a single word about parties, smoking, or snowboarding the whole time). They announced to me a few weeks ago, giddily I might add, that they wanted to intertwine their stories so that characters and situations overlap. When I asked "Seriously?" because I hate to be taken for a dupe and thought they might just be baiting my geeky gullible self, they looked puzzled and said "Yeah! Is that okay?" Then I had to try not to be overenthusiastic about their attention to, um, school work lest I bring them back to reality and they decide what they've just revealed is extremely stupid.

More student behavior improved by my wellness: In Advocacy (like a homeroom class), it was 'check-in' day when I meet with individuals about how their classes are going. While they wait to meet with me, they can be working on other school work or playing different games I have. Today I let them know I found a Scrabble game in perfect condition at Goodwill - often, my excitement over such finds is met with either an "It's cute how she thinks we might care about something so dumb" attitude or bored silence. But this day, when I have brought my healthy self back to school? Five teenagers jockeying for position around the Scrabble board; one boy actually said (I should have caught it on tape), "Wow, I LOVE Scrabble, give me a spot in there!"

And then. At the grocery store. The elusive Dairy/Frozen Food guy, whom I have not seen for many months, was in the parking lot! I did a double-take; I stopped longer than necessary at the end of the lane; I craned to make sure it was him. He was on the phone, out of Wild Oats/Whole Foods attire. It is all so mysterious to me - why is he not working whenever I'm shopping? Does he do something away from the main floor now? Does he miss me and my coffee beans?

So anyway, this is all just to say, I'm feeling much more like myself again. Which may or may not be considered 'normal.'