Ahhhh....

We've been noticing that our bed isn't very comfortable lately. Actually, it has been quite crappy for a good long while. But who the hell has the cash lying around to go out and buy a really good mattress? Not us. Well, we didn't think we did, anyway. But then we remembered our wedding money. Yeah, we did get married just about a year ago. And no, we haven't spent any of our wedding gift money.

So...for all of you who were generous enough to gift us with cash for our wedding...thanks, you've just bought us a very comfortable, very cool tempurdedic mattress.

We're hoping it is as great to own as it was to lounge on in the store.

We tried the regular, much less expensive mattresses, but we just kept coming back to the tempurpedic. And so, after much discussion and justification for such a large purchase, we decided to take the plunge.

While we were at it, we picked up a platform bed frame that will support the mattress without the box spring. We can't wait!

SSSSShhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Sometimes it is really hard for things to remain, as Lauren would say, "all secret squirrel." Most times, you actually want to know what people are keeping from you. I guess that's just par for the course in human nature. I mean, really, who likes not knowing what's going on?



But honestly, it seems that NOT finding out what goes on in the newly released Sex and the City movie is virtually impossible. I mean, every single one of those stupid entertainment shows is running stories about it. It's all over the internet. It was even the lead-in story on msn.com yesterday! And in the biggest shocker of all, there was a review of it on NPR last night! I make haste to switch the channel, because we all know that "review" is just a euphamism (or however the Christ you spell this word) for "movie spoiler."

So, everything from the actual movie images showing Carrie in a wedding gown, from the ceaseless "reviews" of the movie on the TV, radio and internet, have all but given the entire plot away.

But will I still go see the movie?

Bet your ass I will!!

Mmmmmmm...........

Delicious wine. Try it.

Crisp. Smooth. Citrus-y.

Excellent at ten dollars a bottle.

Get thee to your local packie.

Things Heard in the Teachers' Staff Room

Remember how, when you were a kid, you used to wonder if the teachers were talking about the kids during lunch? Eventually you'd convince yourself that the teachers would never do such a thing. Besides, didn't they have more interesting things to discuss?

The truth of the matter is that we absolutely do spend our entire lunch time (all 22 minutes of it) discussing our students.

I like to think that even though we sometimes vent about the less savory moments of the day, we still respect our students and have their best interests in mind. In short, our conversation is not malicious gossip, but rather mild venting, or problem solving to make the situation better.

I have a new student. He just arrived today. He has led a very difficult life. To say the least.

I found out about this boy's arrival when I walked into school this morning. He was there with his mom and his many siblings, and the principal introduced me to him and his mother. One of my colleauges, an obnoxious kindergarten teacher, had the audacity to say, "Boy....what a pain in the neck to get a new one at this point in the year," right in front of the kid and his mother. I did a quick damage control by turning to the boy and saying, "I'm really happy to have you here."

What a jerk, right?

Eventually I took my leave of the office to head up to my classroom to prepare for the day. The hideous kindergarten teacher, in spite of the fact that she will have no contact with this incoming 8th grader, lurked around the office listening to the rest of the conversation between the principal and the mother. I could not figure out why the principal didn't invite the woman into her office and close the door. It seemed clear to me that the woman was trying to be discreet.

So at any rate, the day gets under way and this young man ends up in my homeroom. He seemed like a nice enough kid; I'm sure it was difficult for him to turn up in late May as a member of our graduating class. He confided some pretty awful stuff in me. Enough to give me a snapshot about his incredibly difficult life.

Whatever.

Later at lunch, the kindergarten teacher who had been lurking in the office raced into the teachers' room, bursting at the seams with information to share. She launched into a rant about this kid and his family, revealing issues of a very sensitive nature in a loud bellow in front of a room full of people. I don't really care that she was sharing the news with my 7th and 8th grade colleagues we are all actually teaching the kid. But she was broadcasting these details to a bunch of people who have no reason to know them. Not to mention....the woman has no reason to know these things.

I did not allow her rant to last very long. I eventually put my hand up to silence her and reminded her that each and every student is entitled to "tabula rasa" status when they come to our school. We will give this young man the respect and dignity he deserves and do the best work that we can for him in these last 18 days of school.

I was really annoyed. This was not a useful FYI informational session with the guidance counselor or principal or somebody else whose responsibility it is to see to the well being of this young person. This was a malicious, gossip-spreading dog and pony show put on my some waste of oxygen who should really never have been allowed to stand before a class.

The funny thing is this...

There have been lots of times where I've wondered whether I've effectively taught the material in any given lesson, or whether this or that lesson tanked. However, when I think about the way some teachers treat the kids, with a complete lack of regard for their humanity, I realize that I'm doing pretty damn well by these kids. I try my best to teach them the skills they need, but more importantly, I think, is the fact that I actually try to extend a bit of kindness to them and let them know that somebody in their life cares about them.

Memorial Day Weekend...A Time to Remember Fashion Trends Long Forgotten

We celebrated Memorial Day Weekend in New Hampshire, at the much written-about cabin. As per usual, conversation and beer flowed freely and a good time was had by all.

On Sunday we decided to take a hike. We opted to go to Cherry Mountain. The experience on this mountain just reinforced my belief that the first hike of the season should not be a trek straight up a relentless trail to the top of a mountain. Granted, most hiking does involve some elevation gain, and I have never been opposed to a little physical exertion out there on the trail. It just seems that one should ease one's ass (and back, hips, quads, calfs, hamstrings, etc.) into the hiking season on a more gentle, even ambling stroll through the woods. I have no qualms with a long distance hike, or a hike that takes several hours to complete. But this 90 degree push to the top of a mountain has never been my exact idea of a cup of tea. Again, the fact that this was my first official hike in months only served to further complicate the matter.

By the time we reached the top of the thing, I was dying. In fact, I think I was close to tears a few times as I would reach the top of what I thought might be the peak, only to see miles more uphill trail stretched out before me as far as the eye could see.

The real reason for this post, though, is this...

On our way to Cherry Mountain, we stopped off at the store to pick up some water and a few snacks. The young, twenty-something year-old woman manning the register was sporting a look that was so clearly a throw-back to 1984 that I almost fell over when I saw her.

She was rocking the pleated acid washed jeans (and yeah, they were pegged and tucked into her socks!) and the tassled acid washed waist-length jean jacket. I thought I had seen it all until she turned to get a bag for our purchases. On the back of her jacket, she had a huge Tweety Bird decal, with her name (Stefani) airbrushed in glittery rainbow itallic font!

OH MY GOD!!!

Even Stephen, who has the fashion observatory skills of our good friend, Stevie Wonder, noticed that strange things were afoot at Mac's Supermarket. He was asking me silently with his eyes, "Is this as bad as I think it is." I just nodded in the affirmative and we headed out to the car, where we both just sat in contemplative silence for a moment or two.

The funny thing is this....

In small town America, the time warp in fashion and music seems to be the norm. Aren't these people watching TV and seeing the latest fashion trends? Do they not know that the rest of the country has moved beyond the piggyback perm?

Or maybe they are watching TV, but the local affiliates of the major networks are still airing "Full House" as the prime time fare. Maybe they think the Michelle Tanner is current and that the is setting the up to the moment fashion trends?

Anyway, I'm not sure what's happening there, but it is strange!!!!

OK, enough of that...



I HAVE to know what happens at the end of the book "Wicked."

My good friend gave it to me for Christmas. I tried to get through it. No, that's an understatement. I made a heroic effort to get through it. I got all the way to page 274. But the talking animals and kingdoms and evil spells are all just deal-breakers to me. I'm not a fantasy person, you see.

But here's the thing, I MUST know how Elphaba, who seems to be quite nice in the book, turns Wicked, and how Galinda, who seems like a shallow jerk, turns out to be good. Can anybody shed any light??

Yearbook Jitters.

I am the yearbook advisor to the 8th grade class. Well, let me rephrase that....the advisorship to the yearbook committee just kind of fell into my lap. There was an official club, separately funded, for the yearbook. A guy was the advisor, and he was being paid to do it.

Several weeks ago, the guy approached me and said, "Would you think about taking over the yearbook committee?" I tried to run as far away from that one as I could. Turns out the guy was leaving the kids, and would no longer be their yearbook advisor. So, the kids were officially in a lurch.

This is my first year with a grade 8 homeroom. How could I say no? So, I accepted the job, but on my own terms. I refused the pay, first and foremost. You might call me crazy, but here's my thinking...

The official yearbook meetings were taking place on Fridays until 5:00 PM. No way in HELLS am I interested in staying around until that late hour on a Friday afternoon. I have to get to the gym, and more importantly, start my weekend. Damn, cuz!

So, I figured if I were doing this on a volunteer basis, I could name my own hours and not be compelled to fulfill any time requirement, or stay on any specific day. Whatever.

What I didn't know when I reluctantly agreed to take on this project is that they had decided to do a digital yearbook. No paper. Just CDs to be distributed to to the kids at the end of year.

WTF????

As if I have ANY CLUE as to how to put this thing together.

I called the tech guy for the district, and he happily agreed to come and help me. Apparently the yearbook will be composed through a program called Microsoft Movie Maker. Seriously, folks, has anybody ever tried to use this thing? Let me just tell ya....it's impossible! I can figure out stuff on my Mac, but this world of PC is just a mystery to me. I scan pictures and save them, and then have no idea in Christ where they are when I go to find them in the computer to fill into the program.

Luckily some of the kids know how to use this thing, but still....

Is is right that I have more end-of-year anxiety than the kids in my class???

I mean, really, though. a CD yearbook!!!

This Must Be True Love

I have a great husband. There are big and little things that he does on a daily basis that make me realize how lucky I am to have him in my life.

If I don't feel well, he puts everything aside to take care of me.

He joins me in watching Jeopardy every single night, even though he hates the show.

He never, ever complains when I'm up crashing around the apartment getting ready a full hour before he even needs to get out of bed.

I can't remember a time that he has ever gotten angry at me or said anything even remotely unkind to me.

However....(and you knew the "however" was coming), I can't believe some of the crap that he likes. Crappy science fiction movies. Bullshit fantasy movies. I mean, he doesn't watch that much of this junk, but please, even one second of it is too much. At the video store, if I see any movie with dragons, castles or wizards on the cover, I retreat to the other corner of the store...even as Stephen is moving closer to take a more in-depth look.

The fact that I will even be in the same apartment as this crap when it is playing on the TV must speak to the true love that I feel for my husband.

Because kids, make no mistakes, if this were anything less than love, I'd be having NO part of it.

That said, I really don't actively participate in it. I just either type away on the computer, read in the other room, or busy myself elsewhere and with some other task.

THIS JUST IN.....TWO SECONDS AGO...AND TWO SECONDS BEFORE THAT...AND TWO SECONDS BEFORE THAT....AND TWO SECONDS BEFORE THAT....

Maybe you haven't heard the news. Maybe you live in a cave or under a rock somewhere. Perhaps you call the middle of the most remote corner of the Australian Outback home. Maybe you're stuck in the past, sometime before the advent of television, radio, cell phones, internet and, hell, even the printing press.

Senator Ted Kennedy of Massachusetts is suffering from a malignant brain tumor.

Yes, this is tragic. Sure, I feel bad for Kennedy (even though he left a woman to die under the ocean of Cape Cod while he went home to sleep one off) and his family. And yeah, when I first heard the news I saw surprised.

But here's the problem.....

THE DETAILS OF KENNEDY'S ILLNESS ARE BEING POSTED/ANNOUNCED/WRITTEN ABOUT EVERY TWO SECONDS. It is horrible. The moment I turn on the TV, log onto the internet or tune into the radio, the latest Kennedy news is being broadcast.

Senator Kennedy is resting comfortably in his hospital at this hour.

Senator Kennedy is said to be watching the Red Sox with his family in his hospital room.

Senator Kennedy has ordered dinner from Legal Seafood.

Senator Kennedy has ordered his senatorial staff back to work today.

Senator Kennedy has requested that he be discharged from the hospital.

And today, as he's driving home, helicopters are following overhead giving the play by play.

Senator Kennedy is turning left.

Senator Kennedy just flashed another driver the finger

Senator Kennedy just mooned another motorist out the back window.

Senator Kennedy pulled over to take a piss on the side of the road.

I'm not kidding you guys...it is THIS bad. I have never wanted to know this much about any person, let alone Senator Kennedy.

As I said, I'm not without compassion for anybody dealing with illness; I just don't want a detailed journal of their every bowel movement!

Off Target

I was able to give blood today. My iron level, as predicted, was pretty low, but I was still able to give. The initial "finger prick" test, (which I SWEAR is the worst part of the entire ordeal), showed that I was too low on iron. But the nurse asked a colleague to come over and retest me. They didn't simply re-test the blood they'd already drawn, but rather pricked another finger. Christ! This time, the iron count just managed to eek to where it needed to be.

Anyway, I was like a speed donator. It only took seven minutes for me to fill up my pint bag. (I've been known to knock back a pint of beer in under seven minutes, so I guess there's some poetic meaning in that.)

Upon initially retiring to the "snack center" for my juice and cookies, I felt completely fine. However, as I continued to sit around, waiting for my friend to finish up, a lightheadedness started to creep over me. I made the mistake of mentioning this to the woman manning the snack center. She was all ready to call over the doctor. I assured her I would be fine, but she still insisted on calling the doctor over. The doctor wanted me to lie down in some cot. Mercifully there was already somebody else there who hadn't reacted so well to the donation. So, the doctor let me sit where I was.

It was my first time in this particular school building, and I was eager to walk around and check the place out. However, as I gazed up on the stairs, they almost started to swim in my vision, so I decided it best to leave that for another day.

I guess I wasn't too effed up, because I managed to go to Target after leaving the blood drive. Although, truth be told, I didn't go into the Mecca of shopping with my usual gusto. If anything I was rather lethargic as I made my way aimlessly around the place. Me not being psyched in Target? That's when you know something is wrong. I usually love that dump!!

So, I am home now. Not after waiting an entire hour for the bus that would eventually take me here. Man!

I skipped the gym. I guess I'm not meant to exercise after giving blood. All the better, because I'm just not up for it.

Crazily enough, I could really use a beer. I don't think I'm supposed to do that, either, but I might just have to ignore doctor's orders.



I

Blood Money

Tomorrow there is a city-sponsored blood drive at one of our public schools. I signed up to donate blood at 12:45.

Tomorrow is an early release day. The kids get dismissed at noon, but teachers are contracted to stay until 2:45. I was told that if I signed up to donate blood, I could go over, donate and then immediately leave to go home.

Now don't get me wrong. I believe in donating blood. I have done it more times than I can count. However, the last three times, due to low iron levels, I was unable to donate. That most likely will be the case again. But nobody will find out, right?

So, tomorrow I get to give a pint of blood and then head home.

Hell...at this point I'd give a kidney to get out of work a little early.

shopping woes

I know I've posted about this before. Indulge me.

It was a beautiful day today. In my meanderings through town, I stopped off at a few clothing stores. I am pretty desperate for some new summer clothes. Why not head into TJ Maxx and the Gap. A little shopping never killed anybody. Well, maybe it never killed anybody outright, but I'm sure it has killed a few people's self-esteem. I know it has put a major dent in mine.

Here's the problem. The clothes all look terrible!! Is it me, or is it the clothes? In an effort to preserve my sanity, I'm going to blame it on the clothes.

Here are the offending factors....

1. The huge, gaping pockets located square on the side pockets of every single pair of pants I tried on. Now, in a cruel twist of fate, they are even making skirts with these things! Jesus...I'm all set with heft in the hip area. Why do these clothing manufacturers think I could possibly want to look bigger in that already vast expanse??????

2. The looooooooong skinny shirts. These things literally come down to my knees. And they cling to every last inch of my bod. Gross. Sausage, anyone?

3. Conversely, the big, puffy hippy shirts. These are the things that are tight-fitting around the bust and then flowing through the bodice. Keep in mind, I've tried everything to make these things work. Because they're so loose-flowing around the bodice, I've tried going down a size from what I normally wear. That's great, save for the fact that the bust is then so tight that I look like Heidi, the German milkmaid. If I try on my normal size, the bust fits, but I'm swimming in the rest of the shirt.
So, I guess that means I can either look pregnant because the shirts are totally long and tight fitting, or I can look pregnant because the shirts flow off of my ample bosom and create the "pregnant tent" appearance. How flattering.

4. The sleeveless shirts are all absolutely massive around the arm openings. The look then becomes this "expose my entire bra and oblique area because the arm holes are so massive." Sorry to make reference to my big chest again, but Christ, if I can't fill in one of these shirts...who the hell can????? Who are they making these things for?

5. The pants that are so long that I'm stepping on 16 inches of extra material...even when I try on the freakin' petit length. Again, who are they making these pants for? I'm like six foot nine. If these pants are too long for me, I NEED to see the person whom they're designed for. I really need to see these women.

I don't know. I'm just saying.

I HATED the way every single item of clothing that I tried on looked. Then again, it is my own fault. I've been bitching about the damn Gap for ages, and yet I keep going back in there. That's it. I'm swearing off the Gap for the rest of my life. Or at least until the next time I'm in Coolidge Corner.

Hey....check this out. I got on a train today and I swear to God it was being driven by Saddam Hussein. I think they need to exhume this bastard's grave, because if I didn't know any better, I'd say he's driving the B-Line route on the green line.

Lost

Have you guys seen the show Lost? Probably. You're all probably completely up to date on the happenings. That said...DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!

You see, I'm still watching season 2.

It all started out a little something like this... We had been renting and watching the Showtime series, "The L Word." We were about to rent out the first disc of season 3, but the guy who owns the little rinky dink video store down the street didn't have anything beyond season 2. Stephen was waiting outside in the double parked car, and I felt the pressure to just grab something quick. I was already in the "television section" (and I use the word "section" liberally as the guy only has like 12 videos in his entire collection), and alphabetically at the L's. So, having heard decent things about "Lost," I figured it was just as easy to grab season one disc 1.

We brought it home and watched it. My reception of the show at first was lukewarm at best. There was some talk of a monster early into the series. I am totally opposed to any dragon, monster, fantasy crap, so that was almost a deal breaker for me. I remember hunkering down to my computer to play Scrabble online with my friend John in China while Stephen watched the end of the episode.

However, eventually my attention was drawn back to "Lost" and I've been hooked ever sense.

Renting out the discs was costing us an arm and a leg, so we decided to join Netflix. Our first installations of "Lost" on Netflix came just two days after we joined up. Pretty impressive.

According to my colleague, Bill, it is a good idea to rent Lost on discs because the show is only on sporadically at best, and at that, they repeat episodes for ages before just moving on. So, the frustration factor is completely absent. That's the up side. The down side is that I have to do a bit of television coreography to make sure that I don't see sneak previews of upcoming current episodes when I'm watching else on the boob tube. And I have a few students who love Lost and to whom I have made the mistake of telling that I'm watching the show. Although I've told them that I'm way behind, and although I've implored them not to discuss current episodes, they still let some details slip.

But anyway, if you're looking for something cool to check out, I suggest "Lost."

self-spoiled.

We all know that I'm an absolute sucker for cool Apple products. Today i visited the brand spanking new Apple store in Boston. It was, as expected, very sexy and modern. I was prompted to visit by the fact that my iPod mini busted yesterday. The control wheel was completely jacked up. I was not even able to press it down to control the functions of the iPod. So, I just gave up on it and decided to go for a Shuffle. I went for the 1 gig model. It holds 240 songs. That's more than enough for me. I just want it for walking and for the gym. I can't envision needing more than 240 songs for any given outing. Besides, when I buy my new desktop in the fall, I'll get my educator's discount package, which includes my free iPod mini.

I decided to spoil myself with this purchase because this has been a hard week. The kids have been emotional, which has manifested itself in their being combative, weepy, or oppositional. Today, one of or seventh graders was celebrating his last day with us as his family has moved out of the district. He decided to call my colleague, his homeroom teacher, a few choice filthy names, and to threaten her. The police were called, and a stern warning was issued.

Jesus!

It's the freakin' weekend, and I'm going to tune into my new iPod shuffle to tune out the crap.

Free!!

Today I was free. And so was Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. Let me explain.

The Dunkin Donuts part is easy. Once a year, they offer free small iced coffees to all customers. I guess it is their way of officially welcoming warm weather and introducing customers to their refreshing iced beverage.

As for me being free....

I took my personal day today. It was GREAT!!!!! I basically decided to use it this week because next week is our big state testing week and after that, all kinds of 8th grade graduation stuff needs to be put into place. So, this seemed like the idea week. I chose Thursday because my favorite aerobics instructor has a Thursday 9:00 AM class on Thursdays that I obviously never get to make.

It was a great day. I took full advantage of the step class. And I also took FULL advantage of the Dunkins offers. I hit the Cleveland Circle dunks this morning and this afternoon, the Porter Square Dunks after my step class, the Harvard Square Dunks before getting onto the bus. And I don't think that was all...although I can't exactly remember where else I went.

Having the day off was excellent. I am NEVER out! NEVER. It is such a sweet feeling to look at my watch and think, "Hmmm...right about now I'd be starting third period. I wonder if so and so is behaving himself." But I have to let it go because I'm not there!

Long live personal days.

Miracle Cure

If you don't like pimple talk, this might not be the post for you.

I have been pretty lucky with my skin through the years. Sure, I've had the occasional, errant blemish. But for the most part, my skin's been pretty decent to me.

But have you ever had that kind of horrible, painful, huge, under-the-skin pimple that just won't budge for weeks and weeks on end? And although it stays under the skin, the hideous red bump that lifts itself up is just sitting there, impossible to avoid? If you have not had one of these things, consider yourself very, very fortunate.

Anyway, from time to time I get one of these disgusting things on my chin. Always on the chin. I even think about touching the thing, and a bolt of electric pain shoots through my entire head. It is horrendous. And it literally feels like it is staking its claim on the entire space of my chin.

A few years ago, when I had one such pimple, I tried everything to get rid of it. Nothing worked. It was getting bigger and bigger and more and more painful by the minute. I stopped into Aveda out of sheer desperation and asked if they had anything to help with acne. Even as I was asking, I thought, "How stupid of me." I mean, sure, these people make nice cleanser and moisturizer, but these cosmetic companies really can't do anything about acne. Or so I thought.

The guy working there immediately pointed me to the above pictured product. He began to launch into his sales pitch by explaining that this product is a pure oil. I stopped him dead in his tracks and expressed my doubts about applying an oil directly to the blemish. Seems a little counterproductive, right? The guy went on to clarify; "It's not crisco!" he insisted.

So I bought the thing. I remember standing there in my bathroom mirror for minutes on end, silently encouraging myself to put this pure oil on my hideous pimple. Finally, I did it. I remember feeling the panic set in as I watched my now oily chin and my big old red mountain glisten in the bathroom mirror. Unable to look at it any longer, I shut off the light and took leave of the bathroom. I headed to bed. When I awoke in the morning, my chin no longer felt oily, but rather pleasantly dry. I touched my chin to discover that the size of the offending zit had shrunk considerably. Amazing. When I looked in the mirror, it was all but gone. One more day of treatment and it was entirely gone. Amazing!

So, I have taken to using a couple of drops of it blended into my oil-free, sensitive skin moisturizer every time I moisturize. This was upon the suggestion of the good people at Aveda, whom I trust with these issues for obvious reasons.

Anyway, Friday night I was coming home on the bus and I just so happened to feel a little itch on my chin. To my utter horror, I felt one of these pimples taking shape. It was going to be massive and agonizingly painful. I already knew that I had run out of my oil product and had not stashed up. On Saturday morning, my chin was in an abysmal state. I could hardly stand looking at myself in the mirror. Gross. And it was so sore!

I finally made it over to Aveda in the afternoon, and started the attack on the zit with my oil. I thought this one might even be beyond the capabilities of the magic oil, but I figured I should give it a try.

Lo and behold, today, Sunday, the thing is totally dried out, flat and there is nothing but a little tiny dot of red visible on my chin. I don't think it would even notice except for the fact that I know what had been lurking under my skin just mere hours ago.

So...if you are looking for a magic potion for those pesky blemishes, look no further. This is it.