curricula....

Curricular
Curriculum...Latin, course, from currere, to run;

Watched Atonement yesterday. It was pretty good. Featured prominently was the evacuation of the British from Dunkirk. It was a major event of World War II, but American children don't get taught about it. In the UK it is integral to the study of the war (link if you don't know about it)
Recently when I was desperately searching for more stuff on the war to teach I ran across an activity that was created by a teacher in the UK. I quickly downloaded it and ran it off for my students to do while I was gone. I confess, I didn't really read it much, just wanted something quick and easy for the sub to do. Upon my return I scanned through the children's work and discovered that it had some errors on it, namely, the date of Pearl Harbor was wrong. Several of my students noticed it as well. I pointed out that it was from the UK, and my students were worried that the British students are not being taught about Pearl Harbor properly and it is so important to what we learn. I told them it was ok because they don't even know about Dunkirk.

It got me to thinking of how much of what we are taught - what is in the curricula - is perhaps wrong. Maybe even just watered down too much, the Virginia history curriculum (known affectionately as the Standard of Learning) leaves out lots of things I think are important (Douglas MacArthur - a Virginian and General during the war) and includes some stuff I struggle to get the kids to understand: "decreased regional variation in the latter half of the 20th Century." I don't "teach to the test" - I can't see the test anyway, but I do teach the curriculum, and try to enhance it where possible. I have tried to serve on committees that revise the curriculum, but I am usually not chosen, and even if I was, the process becomes so politicized as to be ridiculous.

My lesson plans are checked, my test scores analyzed ad nauseum, but no one really checks to see if what I am teaching is in fact accurate. So, that leaves me with little loopholes and things to entertain myself, such as answering students' questions very matter of factly as if I know for sure that it is the truth -- and you know what? They believe me!!! So, of late, I have been injecting some stuff for my own jollies; When studying the technological revolution of the 20th Century, a student asked very sincerely, "Who invented the internet?" I very sincerely replied, "Al Gore." When studying about reasons for various wars, I inevitably get asked "What is the reason for THIS war?" On my especially devilish days (normally, I say I can't talk about it until it's in the history books)... I say "Oil." They don't question me or challenge my authority at all. At least on that front.

Tomorrow I get to help revise the Code of Behavior Activity Package!! I think I'll have to keep my mouth shut on most of it.

BTW - Do you know what decreased regional variation is?

Teaching

Let's remind everyone what I do. I teach 12 year olds American history. I use movie clips (ala YouTube) music (ala my iPod) art, activities, and a book or two. I'm pretty awesome compared to my social studies teachers in school.

None of that matters. The birds are chirping and the hormones are RAGING! I could be handing out gold doubloons and they would ignore me. No matter, its not like I am judged on my teaching abilities by boring bubble tests given this time of year or anything. Whoops.

Rescue me!!!! 34 days to go!

My feet need you - just stop by anytime and swoop me up. You can take me anywhere -- hell, the parking lot is good enough for me!

Opiates

"...had a happy thought. Into the bowl in which their wine was mixed, she slipped a drug that had the power of robbing grief and anger of their sting and banishing all painful memories. No one who swallowed this dissolved in their wine could shed a single tear that day, even for the death of his mother or father, or if they put his brother or his own son to the sword and he were there to see it done..."


That is from Homer's Odyssey, one of the earliest pieces of literature in which there is a reference to opium. When I think of opium or opiates I think of things that people do to escape reality, to "feel good." Or maybe feel less bad. All this thinking was spurred on while wandering alone through the Trump Taj Mahal casino yesterday. I kept thinking of addictions, especially gambling addictions.

It was kind of a test for me, as some people, even me, thought that perhaps the casino would be dangerous for me and I would become addicted to gambling or something. I actually became quite disillusioned and bored very quickly. I can take it or leave it. I was amazed at the people in there sitting for hours mindlessly (or maybe not) pushing buttons (no more pulling the arm) on slot machines. What relief of life's pain is gained by gambling? I think it may be the feeling, however fleeting, of hope that comes before the dials stop turning.

I played Roulette, and it was fun. Except that it was very expensive, and I think may be rigged. I played the slots and mostly just lost a bunch of money without any real fun. Where do those people get all this money to just throw away?? Hundred dollar bills flashing across the tables, huge stacks of chips....I guess I don't have anything to worry about as far as becoming addicted to gambling. Thankfully, I do have a tightwad side to me, which I am sure rubbed off from Scott.

On the long bus ride home....and it was long....and filled with raucous laughter of the over 70 crowd and lots of loud snoring. (I do NOT snore - but the lady two rows back does- mouth open, drooling kind of snoring) I did a lot of thinking about addictions. How do people get addicted to gambling? Or, anything? And, what is an addiction, really? I often use the phrase, "i'm addicted to...." fill in with the latest thing....but I don't think they are real addicitions.

Once upon a time I was labeled a food addict. Considering that food is a requirement for sustaining life, I don't think one can be addicted to it itself. I am addicted to OVEReating - which is eating when not hungry and or eating too much. I am getting better about that, but I do love food. (Who doesn't?).

I do have what I call phases. Phases in which a certain food and or drink or even activity are very prominent in my life. They eventually wear out, then only return for sentimental appearances. Here is a list of my current and past phases of addiction/obsession.

Current:
Stacy's Pita Chips - naked or parmesan garlic. FAB U LOUS!!!!
Vitamin Water - the Revive flavor is the best
Chardonnay - Yellow Tail Reserve
Curry - my chicken red curry specifically
Naval oranges - I even eat the peel (not the orange part of it)
(all of these are in my weekly repertoire)

My current list is much better than my past one.

Ben and Jerry's was a big one. Now, I can't have more than one spoon of it. Also certain flavors came and went as obsessions with Cherry Garcia always topping the list.
Little Debbie I am ashamed of this one - there are no redeeming qualities in them.
Happy Meals Rarely made me happy, although ordering one always gave a thrill.
Pepperidge Farm Milanos still good - but I don't eat the whole bag in one sitting anymore, and rarely have them at all.
Chips and Dip
Hershey Bars - eaten one square at at time

All that being said, I still haven't solved my need for opiates. Opiates defined as things that bring a feeling of escape and hope, however fleeting. I wish I could substitute yoga or something for the various comforts I turn to daily. For now, I'll try to make them less unhealthy.

my feet....

I know you have been waiting, and not wanting to disappoint...here is the history of ......my feet.

There are no footprints of my feet at birth....my sister's have those of theirs, but my page is ....blank.





When I was little I was reminded that I am one of the lucky few to have had my feet in the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, and the Pacific. That does make me feel lucky, but I also want to have my feet in the Mediterranean again, and the Pacific again....and after a week like the past few I've had...I'd settle for the Atlantic. Hell, the Gulf would be alright. I hope that doesn't make me greedy.

When I was about 4, I stepped on a bee, the first memorable injury to my piggies. More memorable, is the endless tickling and the singing of that piggie feet song ....the phrase..."and THIS little piggie...." makes me cringe to this day.

These feet once sported angry cowboy boots that stomped through the dust and straight into the snow when they left California for the unknown and (thankfully) still untold horrors of Connecticut.

These feet once stood firm as they put a boot right in the ass of that ass who convinced them to go to Connecticut....although it took these feet a few years to get the courage.

These feet have walked the terrifying halls of "higher learning," only to have their owner wonder, what exactly is "lower learning?" and....something about "higher" made them laugh.

These feet walked the streets of D.C. at 3 am handing out flyers of a certain missing person.

These feet have skipped and danced and jumped with joy at the return of said missing person, and said missing persons achievements.

These feet have throbbed, stepped in cat shit, do not believe that stepping in dog shit brings good luck (MOM!) get dirty when walking around bare (IN the house) and are dying to explore different soils and different experiences.

These feet hold up these 200 pounds from 8 am to 5 pm most days with no break and they HURT. These feet have bunions, cuticles, callouses, blisters and need a pedicure.





If I had a paypal, I'd start a collection for my pedicure fund....and I know you would contribute....right?

long in the tooth

The expression means old, and came from horses of all things. As their gums recede their teeth look longer, so to say someone is long in the tooth is to say they are old.

Well, I'm not long in the tooth, but my teeth are old. And bad. I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep them. I'm armed to the teeth with floss, mouthwash, toothbrushes, pastes, and luckily.....percoset. And antibiotics. Cliche much?

I have to have a root canal and a crown. I'm in agony, but I have to wait three weeks to start the process. Oh, well. I should have not let it go so long. I seem to always make my appointments for various things last - after everyone else. And then, sometimes not at all. My teeth have taken a back seat for too long. And I'll pay the price, and by paying the price I mean 3,000 bucks....

Sadly, after all that work, pain and money, I'll still have a funky mouth full of teeth. I've always been embarrassed of my teeth. I don't let it stop me from having a big mouth and grinning and laughing raucously.

We did a lot of laughing this weekend celebrating my sister turning 49. We laughed, sang, didn't dance (next time!) and ate and drank (but not too much...). It was nice to get away from everything. Now I have to face returning to school..not a pleasing prospect, but one I'll share in a later post!

Soccer moms

I am not sure if being one is good or bad or neither, but I am curious as to when the term originated.

According to Wikipedia, it gained popularity in the 1990's. Urban dictionary has some funny entries about them - apparently, they must be white middle class women with SUV's and conservative values. I guess that is why even when I was a soccer mom (literally a mom who had a kid who played soccer) I didn't fit in.

I didn't know the right snacks to bring when it was my turn, didn't bring the requisite lawn chair, never snapped any pictures, and sometimes I ran the field on the side lines during the whole game. I enjoyed that time a lot, and got a little misty the other day when I saw a girl of about 7 in the traditional Stafford soccer blues. I wanted to run up to her and say, "I used to have a little girl just like you." Thankfully, I held back. Although I had fun, and K had fun, I never could get "in" with the other moms. They had the right clothes, the right car, the right coolers, the perfect snacks. Sometimes, I came in work clothes right from school and graded papers in the bleachers. Much to their disdain I am sure.

Lately, I've been comparing today's mom with the moms when I was growing up. We had great moms -don't get me wrong. But, our moms were not obsessed with every detail of our lives. We were kids, we played, they were moms, they did what they did. My mom made me clothes for my Barbies but she didn't play Barbies with me. She sent me out to play, but didn't photograph every second of it. And, she never set up my circle of friends for me.

As I am grappling with the guilt of the empty nest, I wonder if I did my job correctly, because I see so many women who do it ALL, and I was so lacking. I see mothers now who detail their children's lives in elaborate scrapbooks. There are entire stores devoted to this practice. They make play dates for their infants, they put their children at the center of their life, and although sometimes that is necessary while raising children, sometimes it goes too far -- doesn't it? I used to see them lurking in the school long after dropping off their kids, when I taught in a more affluent area. I would want to tell them, "Go! Get a life!"

When we was too poor to have a camera or develop film, and K would do something awesome or perform in something at school, I'd catch her eye and make a camera with my hands and pretend to click. She and I had a special secret - she knew that I knew and was there. Once another mom felt bad for me and took a bunch of pictures at a concert and gave them to me. She was shocked when I didn't act super overjoyed. I've got the pictures right here - pointing to my head -- I told her.

The last few years I have struggled with the guilt of not being a soccer mom - a mom who does it ALL. I ignored her, sent her away, was annoyed by her sometimes, and led my own life. I have beat myself up over it long enough. (although I'll still do it more - hey I'm a masochist) I've got some pictures, even some videos, perhaps a baby book somewhere. I took her to soccer, field hockey, band concerts, dances, plays, competitions, back to school night, conferences....all that I could. I even played Barbies with her....but I led my own life, too. And that is ok. I guess.

I just wish my memories could be turned off sometimes like when I feel like blubbering in the grocery store when I see a brown haired little girl in soccer cleats. I'm glad I did take the time to just stand back and observe her growing up instead of orchestrating every second.

Yard Work

Once upon a time I wanted a big yard. I loved it for about a minute. Now, its a jungle of weeds, vines, more weeds, more vines, runaway hedges, patchy grass, wierd bugs, shedding trees and roadside trash. I hate it.

Oh, don't get me wrong....it has potential. It just requires a team of people to work on it. I don't have a team. Boo! I have worked out there since 10 am this morning and feel like I have not accomplished anything. Just to make myself feel better, here is what I DID do:

picked up 4 wheelbarrows full of twigs and branches and winter debris
hosed off the deck and deck furniture
raked out one ivy bed to reveal one peony peeking through
trimmed back one bush
removed a small amount of honeysuckle
chased the dog around the neighborhood as he got loose for about 1/2 hour
hung one mini wind chime on the new porch
and most importantly: called a landscape company to give me an estimate on work

I am no stranger to yard work. Growing up we had two Saturday morning choices: inside with mom or outside with dad. Sometimes it was both. We had to be like mules or something when outside, and interestingly, no matter what we did or how we did it, it was wrong. From pushing a broom, running the hose or carrying bricks --or the infamous slices of sod -- I always seemed to earn a ration of name calling and belittling. The lure to go back in and scour the tub with comet was overwhelming since that job I knew I could do and my mom never said I did it wrong. (I suspect I probably did do it wrong, but she just didn't care) .

Never the less, Saturday has always felt like a work day to me and as exhausted and sore as I am, I would feel worse if I didn't work very hard to clean house and do the yard.

Now, to punish (torture?) myself more, here is what I didn't do (yet) and need to get working on:
hedge trimming
weed whacking
mulching
more twigs and debris clean up
mowing (lawn mower still being repaired)
planting and transplanting
painting (shed - porches and deck)
removing the trimmings and twigs to the dump


....there's probably more. Ugh.

t-o-r-t-u-r-e

A long time ago, during the longest war the U.S. has every participated in, (but we are gaining ground!) a POW used Morse Code to blink the word torture. Jeremiah Denton http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeremiah_Denton was held prisoner for eight years by the North Vietnamese. When we learned of his torture and those of his fellow prisoners, we (the U.S.) was outraged. Rightly so.

Now, the U.S. policy on torture isn't so clear. Republican Candidate, former POW, McCain said, “Anyone who knows what waterboarding is could not be unsure. It is a horrible torture technique used by Pol Pot and being used on Buddhist monks as we speak.”

While the president said, "The bill Congress sent me would take away one of the most valuable tools in the war on terror," Bush said "So today I vetoed it," Bush said (March 8, 2008 - Google it!)

Now, you can think what you want, vote the way you want, (this is not an endorsement of McCain) however, think about teaching that stuff to 12 year olds. They watch the news, they know what torture means (have you been in a middle school locker room recently?). They can't understand why the president would veto an anti-torture bill when they are learning about torture used on American POWs. They can't understand why there was not a march on Washington for this issue! I wish 12 year olds could vote!

Ok, after I typed the last line, I thought of Hannah Montana. So, nevermind.

Speaking of torture, for 4 days a week I stand on my feet from 7:55 until usually 4:30 or 5:30 on high heels. I inherited my grandma's bunions. Why do I torture myself so? I'll tell you why......fashion bitches!!!! And, heels make you look 10 pounds thinner!!! Srsly!!!!

Changes

Ok- so I'll probably pramble on way too long to say that I've had a revelation in the last few weeks. It started a few months back when I discovered a blog oracle.tayker.com - actually acquaintances from www.fredtalk.com, which led me to wouldashoulda.com, which led me to iambossy.com, which may have changed my life in a way. I started reading both woulda and bossy daily. OK, obessively checking them multiple times daily. I love the stories of wouldashoulda's life raising small children, and I love the way bossy writes in general and her treatment of her family history.

I actually went to DC to meet Bossy on her famous road trip. I've been quiet about it so far, but I was blown away. I met a bunch of people who are way too cool for me, yet didn't act that way. And bossy herself is so courageous and brave and an inspiration. I feel stupid for cutting her off in mid-sentence when I saw her Obama button. I don't think she realized the world I live in -surrounded by the religious "right." I saw her Obama button and my mind just went *kapaow* Anywho, check out her blog and read her archives, her family history archives an all comments....then we'll talk.

I felt so scared going to a club in D.C. after school on a Tuesday. Alone. On the metro! I wore heels! And a stupid sparkly sweater! I met a bunch of articulate, funny, nice people -- fair trade.

I felt inadequate sharing our blog: stilltruckin. Not really a blog, but a way to communicate with the women folk in our family. It has been a great experience to write and read our lives. I only wish **we** would write more. Ahem. Nancy, Marianne, Zsuzsi.

Anywho, I found out that blogging has been going on forever, and there is a network of women bloggers and even women bloggers who apparently make moola off their blog! I'm not interested in the money, but the connectivity with other women world wide is historic! Which leads me to my shower the other day....

I was pondering my dorkiness and bossy's coolness, along with shallowgal, vuboq, merrymishaps, and the rest, when as I lathered my wintery leg hair growth for its spring shave: history!

I love history~ I always have - since my very early days here, I have recognized it's importance. I wrote a letter to Nixon when I was 9 about oil and Arabs. If only he would have listened! I tell my students all the time that EVERYTHING has a history. We joke about it, but it is true. I have them tell the history of all kinds of things, and it is fun. So, back to the shower, I thought why not have a blog with a purpose, a theme!!! (Ok, I overheard ALL of the blog women at bossy's gathering)

And such, The History of.... is borne. I love putting e's on the end of things. I have a ton of ideas on which to write...and have started to make a list! Bunions and socks being the only teasers I will leave here. I know I won't have the time or patience (until summertime) to put in pics and fancy fonts, etc. (even videos!) yet, but I have words! Lots and lots of words!

blah

I can't sleep late anymore. I keep waking up, listening to Scott snore and snorkle and choke, and then just get up. I've taken to sipping coffee in the living room with the laptop and Felix. Sometimes I watch infomercials.

I really want the shark steam mop.

We're going to Farmville and then Lynchburg today. Scott hasn't seen Kaiti's dorm room and she is not coming home for the 3rd weekend - a record. She's been working hard on school stuff and getting involved there which is a good thing.

I watched C-Span for a long time the other night. Barbara Boxer is awesome. She stands up for what she believes in and sticks to her word. Hillary wasn't even there for the vote. None of the pres candidates were. Politics has become too.....political. And strayed light years away from what it was intended to be.

Holidays rapidly approaching. I am not going to be stressed about them....I am looking forward to taking a break from school. The kids are draining me.

3-day weekend! I'm turning the phones off on Monday.

loss

a slimy puddle of saliva and tears
in front of the archway in my living room
a wail
a second moan/wail from Scott
.....

I keep reliving that moment at weird times.

It was Thursday. September something.

I wailed.

He said to talk.

I said, "I never told her how much I loved her, how much I wished I could be like her. She's beautiful, so smart, she has it all...."

Then the guilt washed over me and I was paralyzed. Lying in my puddle of tears and saliva. I just wailed. Sobbed. Sobbed. Sobbed.

I wished someone would pound a knife into my heart because it would have felt better than that pain.

exercise, reading, relaxing, life

I wish exercise had more instantaneous results. If I sweat, I want to look thinner right away.

Not much going on here. I am sick of having a depressing/depressed husband. He is never happy - cept when perhaps eating or sleeping. It is like dragging around eeyore -- if eeyore weren't cute and was dead. I am tired of scheduling a social life and activities only to have him complain and moan. It makes me very depressed and unhappy - and I just want to have fun. I know that there are "issues" in the world, but we have so much to be thankful and happy about I just can't stand always being brought down.

I am going to make a list of goals for the week and see if it helps me:
-calls -- temp agency, school
-fax - benefits office
-clean - floors and walls, usual stuff and upstairs, oh, and caulk the tub again
-paint - hallway and bathroom
-look - at tile for the kitchen backsplash
-fun: read --reading 3 books now! Ruth Rendell short storys (Pirhana to Scurfy), 13 Steps Down, and A Thousand Splendid Suns
swim - awesome time at pool last week - gonna repeat this week, hopefully without the sunburn
gym - also going to be brave and check out an aqua ex. class and do more exericise on the machines
nap - maybe in the hammock if the bugs will leave me alone
finish the scavenger hunt - only 5 more things to find.

uhhhh - that should be enough to keep the week going.

Here is what I am NOT going to do:
1. Worry about GD Money.
2. Try to drag eeyore along in my fun.
3. Visit my mother-in-law
4. Go to DC for fireworks (well, maybe not)
5. Overeat

summertime

I don't really want to get a summer job. I have one for two weeks lined up, but I want to stay home and read and do nothing. I need money to pay for tuition, and somebody needs money for school. It is very frustrating to have a teen home who doesn't really want to get a job. She only pays lip service to it, but if she wanted one, she would have one. The shit is hitting the fan because I am not giving her gas money anymore until she gets a job.

My arm is hurting really bad and I have 2 teeth that need to be pulled. That, plus the skin cancer on my face is getting me down. I refuse to make a list of all the things I should get done. Maybe I will do them, maybe I won't.

Sunday

Hanging around waiting for Scott to wake up. I've cleaned upstairs, just need to put sheets on the beds and towels out for guests. Cleaned most of downstairs -- our room needs to be cleaned, but he is in there snoring so I'll wait. I shoud be working on my school crap and perhaps I will go and get it in from the car in a few minutes. I've read the paper, had 2 cups of coffee and walked the dog. Decided that I don't need the house to be spotless for our graduation festivities. Don't even need all the projects to be done.

I am pretty adamant that I want to put this house on the market. I really think we'll like a town house better. A newish one. Brick. I want it to have a fenced yard, deck, more than one bathroom and real closets. The ones I've seen also have a nice basement area, with garage (Idlewild) so Scott can have his man room (geek room) and I can have an office area near the bedroom, and then a guest room/kaiti's room.

Kaiti is pretty much done w/school. She is sort of looking for a job. I dont' think she understands the importance. She will come September when there is no money for spending. Oh well. Hard way learner, like me.

old blog entry

Friday, December 23, 2005

Annus Horribilis

Or whatever the Queen said. I am glad to see the end of 2005. It was a year I would only want to repeat a few months of....perhaps July.

A lot of crap happened this year - and each with their own good and bad attached. I had my gastric bypass on Dec. 28th. The following month sucked with liquid diet, immense pain and depression. I lost about 23 pounds that month. Since then, about 100. So, it has turned out good. I still have trouble eating and can over do it easily and have to lay down. I have some sagging skin, but not anywhere people will see. Control tops work wonders.

My dad had emergency surgery for a blocked intestine - gave me a real scare. Then he went bonkers in the hospital and had to be tied down. Very hard to see my dad as a feeble old man. He has recovered and is very strong like I remember him to be now. He'll have more surgery next year on his shoulder.

Scott had to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance in November. The call I got was terrifying and I had to rush out of school. It was kidney stones and he is fine now. A big scare.

September was the lowest of the lows with Kaiti running away. That was a life changing experience and I am still dealing with the consequences. I have immense hurt, anger, and worry to deal with. Depression too. I worry about Kaiti constantly - even in my sleep. It never ends - constant worry worry worry. I try to be hopeful and calm and I struggle with that daily. I struggle with each parental decision. It doesn't help that she is my biggest critic and can cut me to the bone with one or two words.

Katrina devastated New Orleans and most if not all of Scott's friends and family there left. (They are all safe, albeit in new cities with new sets of problems)
The war wages on and Bush is more corrupt than ever.... I think even his diehard supporters are starting to crack.

Ok - so that is the bad stuff..... The good stuff this year:

I lost 100 pounds and can wear clothes from normal stores (no more Lane Bryant)
I have a ton of energy and actually want to exercise
We got Rosie the little kitty who is a dream
All the other cats are well and we may get a dog
We went to California and I could breathe - seeing all my favorite places on the earth.
We spent a ton of money, but can still pay the bills well - Scott takes care of it all well.
Katie was found alive
Michael got married to a nice girl
Shannon and Bobby have a gorgeous baby girl
Marianne is going to go to school
I found out I have a lot of people who care about me
I saw Robyn for the first time in a long time
My classes this year have a lot of nice kids and a lot of kids who need me
We got new windows and a new furnace
I am almost done decorating the main floor
We've had 3 snow days already!
I found blueberry pop tarts without the frosting
I have discovered getting up with the sun isn't too bad

this doesn't help

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/06/06/missing.teen.ap/index.html


God...fuck that...WHY does this shit happen????

Can't someone abduct some wrinkled ass useless windbag prune instead of someone full of promise??

My own beautiful (actually resembles the girl in the story) girl was at Target recently. It could happen anywhere, I fucking know that. Shit.

I may be getting us all signed up for target practice of another kind. At least mace.

don't wanna

Go to school. I is tired. Kids don't want to be there either. Oh, well. I will enjoy joking around and being goofy today. NO stress. The tests are over! I'll have to write about yesterday's experience with those later.

motherhood, etc.

You know last Friday she said she'd be home around 10. I try to be cool and pretend I am not worried about some idiot hitting her in the car, or some other thing I call "daymares." Those happen when I allow my worst fears to come out. At least in my mind. I usually try to squelch them for the fear that even the thought of the thought will make it happen. And I dare not say them.... So...its 11:00. Don't worry. Grow up. She is fine. 11:30. Your'e controlling. Just go to bed. 11:40. Called her cell. Went straight to voice mail. 11:45 Call where she was supposed to be. No answer. Maybe I dialed wrong. Call again. 11:53. That is it. Hit the road, we're looking. I heard the dog bark and it could have been that "Timmys in the well bark." (He IS a collie). Fight with husband who is the angel on my shoulder telling me its ok. Meanwhile, the devil on the other is telling me my world is about to end. 12:03. Still no answer. 12:10 Finally- her BFs stepbrother is on the other line and doesn't know when she left....oh wait....she's still there. FURY. A 5 second phone call could have avoided this panic attack. TEARS. SOBS. YELLING. Why doesn't he understand. Who understands that she IS my world. No, not my only thing in life. Just, my life. How could I go on without her? I can't face that again. I don't know who can. Yet, I know people do. They walk through the darkness and terror that is my "daymare" I am sure they would trade my fury and sobs and relief for their loss and pain any day. And so I remind myself of that, and try to not be angry with her too much, forgive. I have her another day. I try to hold on to each day. Even the bad ones. This lesson I have learned, only by reading the internet and its one-way conversational blogs. Everything has a reason and a equal and opposite reason.

I talked to my mom about it. She understands. It never ends she says. Never. I talked to my aunt - 4 grown kids. Never ends she says. Her kids are lawyers, executives, entrepreneurs, rich even. Still, never ends. Just grows with grandchildren. As her graduation approaches, what should be elation turns to more trepidation. Every year there are stories of kids killed on graduation night from cars, drinking, partying. I can't keep her in a bubble. But I want to.

tired

the list of things to do around here before the graduation festivities is incredible. It would not be so bad if some people would help me and stop telling me i am dumb for wanting to do any of it. I managed to scrub the porches and the deck - just in time for rain - delaying the painting of the porches. I cleaned the driveway and the garage door, and the retaining wall. I'll need to paint that too.

Kaiti said she'd be home by 10 on Friday. At 11:43 I tried to reach her. No answer at Mark's or on her cell. Scott got mad that I freaked out and wanted to go look for her. We went anyway. Finally reached her a little after 12. Her cell was dead, and Mark's stepbrother was ignoring the call waiting. Nice. I know I am a worrier - but I don' t think I was being unreasonable. Lafayette is a dangerous road and there was an accident last week.

I applied for a job at Ikea this week. I think it will be fun if they hire me. I also am considering helping to write test questions for 2 weeks in PW for 25 bucks an hour. I guess it won't matter how much I make, or how much I spend or don't spend - Somebody (S) will bitch about money. I try to buy the cheapest of everything. We really are just building major resentments. I don't know if we'll make it. Some days things are fine. Some days they are shit. No major highs or great times. The big D is a tough choice and the reality is we are too connected with debts and money.

I think selling the house and moving to a townhouse will improve things. This house and yard are too much for us to keep up with. Neither of us is very energetic to keep up the yard, and neither of us finishes projects. I looked and found some decent townhouses around here. Fenced yard, deck, basement-den, lr, dr, 3 br, 2.5 baths - a little space to do some yard work, but not overwhelming. I know I think about doing this every so often, and I get melancholy about leaving this house. Oh well.

goodbye commute

because he won't post them in this milennia...i stumbled on the goodbye to the commute pics the old man took, and while i pirate his desktop, (kid is dominating laptop, and I am really toooo lazy to walk up the stairs) I will post his pics. heeeeeeeeeeeeeheeeeeeeeeeeee

Edit: he saves his pics in "raw" format, and I don't know how to do anything. I know he'll put up his pics on flickr, so if anybody cares (not me) go check them out. Meanwhile, the new non-commute life is amusing.