Thursday, March 08, 2012


Something I wore. It doesn't get any better than this. #marchphotoaday

The princess movie and Thomas the Tank Engine sounds that used to fill our house have been replaced with the rat-a-tat-bleh!-bleh! of dragon-slaying on the boy's XBox, and a shrill loop of the Muppets' mahna-mahna from Roo's room.  I'm happy we're all techno-savvy, but it's really crampin' my write. (And, I might add, my bandwidth.  I do not like sharing.)

Gawd, I wish I had a quiet little office.

The gatos are snoozing on couches, in direct defiance of our efforts to provide them with a brand-new multi-level, four story walk-up in the family room.  For now it's too new to be awesome.  We keep putting them up there and they keep leaping off of it in a wide-eyed panic as though cat martyrdom is preferable to the smell of new carpet.

+1 life point for me:  I've got chicken and rice in my belly.  I cooked it.  Not Grandma Lila's recipe with the onion soup mix, but a kind of less-salty impostor.  Real onions rather than the brown powder.  Close enough.  That makes two nights of real cooking, and I'm feeling better in my soul.  Auntie Wendy messaged me the other day to suggest I cook and go hug my grandparents to get myself out of this funk.  (I'm going to make good on the second thing this weekend.)  So far, a definite improvement just from the cooking.

I have one more day of this week that won't end.  Teachin' weekends (or coaching weekends, as the last one) make one week bleed into the next and make me want to lay down and die a little bit.  Admittedly, so does judging three periods a day of proficiency speeches in my freshman English classes.  We're on day three of four.  Even the good speeches are becoming a little fingernail-on-chalkboard-y at this point.  I'm getting sooo restless.  The malapropisms abound and I have to bite my cheek so often that I'm getting a little sore spot.  Grading these speeches has become an exercise in patience and a special kind of gymnastics for my kind spirit.  My special little snowflakes.

We finished speeches a bit early in sixth period today.  A kid randomly plugged an ELECTRIC GUITAR into a portable amp and just started strumming away. In English class.  (IS THIS WHAT WE DO NOW?)  I about lost it.  No, I don't want to hear you jam right now, son.  PASS.

So much noise.  I can't wait for quiet.

(Admit it... you just heard Animal yelling QUIIIIIIIEEEEEEET! --or is that just me?)

1 comment:

  1. Plugged in his electric guitar during class and started playing...who does that?