Huge Debate (Or JJ and I have no life)

I was watching a commercial for Gears of War (I guess) and it juxtaposed images of warfare with a soft version of Mad World by Gary Jules. That has been rattling around in my head, but I didn't know the artist until today. The reason it made such a huge impression on me is the original by Tears for Fears. It was a track on their first album, and I've owned it almost since it came out.

I raised the Bigun on Tears for Fears, Crowded House and all those '80s standards. She still remembers a lot of them. However, she had no clue about Mad World when I asked her about it. She and all her friends assumed that it was new.

JJ, who loves music, looked up a song for me tonight from the CSI Vegas credits. Turns out that was originally Kate Bush's Running Up That Hill. Then he searched out Faster Pussycat's You're So Vain.

All that to make a point; everything old is new again.

That started JJ on a quest to find all maner of songs that had been remade so we could listen to them and judge whether they were sufficiently the same or sufficiently different to be interesting. Let me tell you how glad I am that he did this, because I am a doof who committed myself to making over 12 dozen Oreo Balls tonight and it took a lot out of me. I was so tired after work that I was ready to collapse on the couch, but he kept me awake until I could finish.

God bless that man. I keep telling him that we'll never run out of things to talk about. It's true, too. We're still debating the paradox in Terminator. Regularly.

See? No life. But that's okay. "No life" with him is better than life with anyone else.

Dang, I'm so tired the word "life" doesn't look right anymore.

I have a weird sharp pain behind my right ear, so this will be brief.

People who can't add shouldn't be in charge of money.

People who wait until the last minute to do things deserve a bumpy ride.

People who live life as freeloaders shouldn't be surprised when they aren't invited along where it costs money.

People who can't keep their thoughts to themselves should be able to figure out why no one tells them anything.

Mean people shouldn't be surprised if no one wants to help them.

I suck at this

Dang, another post-twelve post.

Oh, well, funny thing happened today. The Little Critter wanted to take a walk after school. She never wants to do any such thing, but I decided we'd go. We don't get out enough since the days are shorter, and it was a good chance to just talk. We decided to just make the block and come back home. I mean, no reason to overdo it.

As we turned the second corner, we saw Miss Amy, a friend and prayer group member I've known a few years. After chatting with her, we headed down behind our house. Here we saw the house catty-corner behind us where Michelle and Michael live. Right next door to that, we see little Ali, daughter of one of my good PTA friends. She greets us, we go on, and then I stop dead in the sidewalk.

Wait a minute. Ali? I knew they lived around there, but was that her HOUSE?

I remember this little goofy girl named Ali who peeked in between fence boards and made Cowgirl bark herself hoarse. I remember her brother who climbed the fence and drove the pooches crazy. Or got on his roof and scared me to death.

All I knew of the family behind us is that they had a girl named Ali, they barbecued occasionally in the backyard, and that they were all familiar with Cowgirl's bark.

That's my friend Brenda's house! We've lived behind each other for over four years and didn't know! I had to call her and confirm, and sure enough, that's them.

For the record, I warned her the next time she barbecues, I'm coming over the fence.

And Now for Something Completely Different

I'm too upset to talk about what's really bothering me, so I'm going to have some fun thinking about my classes. I started out teaching seven classes a week, which was great, but soon it became apparent two of the classes would not have sufficient students. This put me at five. However, one lady who teaches the older students has been experiencng morning sickness from hell, so I get to sub for her a lot. Temporarily back to six.

Tuesday is the long day; I teach 3-4 at an elementary school, then down the road from that school I sub at 6:30. Yikes. But the students are fun. The elementary class is full, about fifteen students, and they're mostly experienced by at least a year. However, they all know each other and spend a lot of my time trying to impress each other with their wackiness. I can deal. Especially since the boss told me the last teacher they had was really not a stong classroom order-keeper. I tell you, I have got that down. I hit them hard with warnings early in the class, toss a couple of kids out of an exercise here and there, and by the end they are right where they need to be to finish.

Last week they performed short duet skits and I could see how much they had improved since September. These scripts had all been covered previously, so nothing was new. That gave them time to get comfortable with their setting, blocking, facial expressions and timing. This is NOT the class I started with, and I'm proud of that.

The older class has six girls and a guy in it. The guy is a clowny type, which can be fun, but too often his goofiness takes away from the scene. The girls are under-motivated, probably not comfortable looking uncool. They are also tied to scripts, holding them through any exercise. I'm trying to break them of that. It's a crutch, and it gets in the way of physical stuff.

Thursday I teach back to back young elementary and older elementary classes. The young class is probably my least remarkable class, but there are two girls who do really well in there, and one guy who will do well when he loosens up. The Little Critter sometimes has to go with me to that class, and so she gets double lessons. The older class is the most experienced bunch I have, and the most challenging. Oh, and loud. They rock the script memorization, but the class clown in there is a girl. She's so cute and so distracting! Luckily, I have a nice tambour to bang when they can't hear me. That's fun. I think all parents and teachers need to be issued a tambour. It would make the low pay bearable.

Saturday I teach two more classes. The younger class is cute, but with three girls who like to take turns getting off-task, and three boys who have trouble controlling themselves and following directions. It also has the boss's daughter. The older class has its clowns as well, but often I get good stuff out of them. That's my international class, with kids from England, Scotland, India, Mexico, Bangladesh, China and California. (Har!) By this time all my lesson bugs are worked out and I usually get a good class.

In February, we'll have parents in to see things we do, and in May we'll have the year-end performance and awards ceremony. I hate to think of what I will do without them in the summer.

Deep Breath

As if.

It was crazy. I had a school store meeting in the morning to catalog shop for new items, and when we opened the cart to see what we had we found a ton of stuff we didn't know was there. I had to completely empty it, check everything, and repack it. It took forever. M and J did the order while dodging inquiries from one of the troublemakers.

And dis bre'r rabbit (or sissa rabbit, I guess) she say none.

Then there were all the reports that had to be done for the board meeting. Ick. Ick. Ick. Why did I sign up for this job? The reconciliation wouldn't reconcile, I lost documentation for two checks, and the reports looked funny. I found a few errors, but I will have to finish the reconciliation soon, and that I don't look forward to. It took almost the whole school day to get the paperwork done, and then no sooner had I got home and made dinner than back again to explain what I had printed out.

Stupid meeting. It took me hours longer to prepare than it did to hold. And for what? Watching the problems mount up and be tabled.

I need a raise, and a big one at that.

Shoot

Thought I had made an entry yesterday. Pooh. Off to napsville and then I'll make up for it.

Big Deal

So I did Black Thursday shopping with Kohl's, Target and Sears this morning. I'm amazed I'm still conscious. I didn't go to sleep, but instead headed over to Waffle House at 2 a.m. for breakfast and ad perusing. After picking up hot chocolate to go, I joined the Kohl's line. Once the door opened, I was inside almost immediately, and was almost immediately run down by a karate shopper with a cart.

Aaaaah, bargain-hunting.

I finished there in less than an hour and joined the Target line. Again, near the front, I had a much less positive experience with that line, as we were on the north side of a building in a zippy north wind. Oh, and people who cut in line suck.

Then off to Sears for stuff for JJ. Thank God he picked the things out, because I don't speak Hardware. Everyone there was so nice and friendly and relaxed, probably because it's only a Sears Hardware store and not the full department store. Otherwise we'd have been mobbed by mommas going after daddy gifts between getting the hot new electronics items and the big clothes markdowns.

I was done by 6:30 and back home in time to pick JJ up and drop him at the park and ride.

A brief three hour nap, and then I was up for the day, getting the tire fixed (I needed three new ones and apparently a front-end alignment to be done in the near future) and cleaning and trying to recover. My back's a little sore from all the standing in line, and I didn't follow any of my resolutions from last year except for getting there earlier, but at least I knocked out a few things on the list and can take a few days off before going out and braving the crowds again. I hear Tuesdays are pretty good shopping days.

Anyone get any good deals yet?

Happy Thanksgiving

Oh, I didn't want to go. But we did.

We discovered a nail in the tire of my van this morning, which would have been an excellent excuse to stay home. But the alternative was driving the not-yet-legal car JJ uses to get back and forth to the park and ride. Needless to say, we're back and safely home. Don't try that, should it happen to you.


Dinner was great, if swift, and the family was goofy as ever. This time, however, they started a new tradition.


My little sisters husband was being a doof, trying to bug her by licking her ear. That got them in a half-wrestle, which the Bigun broke up by squirting Reddi Whip on my sister's hand. So a Reddi Whip battle ensued, and I, being the smart one, hid under the table.

This turned out not to be the smart thing to do.





She got me.

And then she got just about everyone else: her grandmother, her uncle, her dad, and her aunt again.

So for Christmas, send me whipped cream. I need ammo!

Missed one due to migraine

Happy Thanksgiving - I'll add more later. I have hopes the headache will be gone by then. Hate to cramp my turkey-eating style.

Forwarded

I am not a message forwarder.

I get maybe thirty e-mails a week with messages from recipe exchanges to good wishes to prayers, all from the same people. OK, to be fair, I WOULD have done the recipe exchange, but I didn't know ten people I could send it to who would participate.

Still, it used to take effort to pass something along to someone. One had to cut out an article or copy it, write a note to go with it, find a stamp, locate the current address and pop it in the mail. Now it's click and send. So while the internet makes it so much easier to share, people are sharing crap.

It isn't like someone picked me out specifically to receive one of these messages, or found just the right sentiment to suit me. I'm usually one in a list of fifty people so honored. And of course, it isn't just good thoughts. I can't count how many warnings a month I receive, whether on political issues, dangerous new ways of being attacked, scam alerts, ingredients to avoid, dangers of over the counter meds or killer toys. Oh, and missing children. Those abound. People are sure I'll buy the wrong thing, forget to be vigilant when out, eat crap that's bad for me, and buy my children things that will lead to their imminent demise. And while I'm out doing those things, could I please keep an eye out for this missing girl?

Thank God for snopes.com and truthorfiction.com. Without them, I'd still be wildly paranoid and boycotting Proctor and Gamble products. My usual response nowadays is to hit "Reply All" and post the link to the debunking and a mild lecture to the tune of "Please check these sites before you jam up my inbox with this excrement."

Still, it hasn't helped much, because messages are going around now with "Snopes says this is true!" or "Verified by truthorfiction.com." Besides the issue of these statements being lies, there are no corresponding links to the purported rumor's discussion.

I can't decide if I'm a curmudgeon about it or just ticked off at four seconds of my life being wasted. Logically it shouldn't affect me as much as, say, Darfur. But I get so much more worked up over it than genocide, so my priorities are way out of whack.

I love it when

...people who crap on you find they need you soon afterwards.

...stuff you touch works wonderfully well.

...you have cash for Christmas.

...you find a huge coupon stash on your doorstep.

...your dog gets out and lets himself back in.

...you have a free day to yourself and shopping to do.

Maturus Interruptus

Some people.

I am a bit too miffed to post the details, but suffice it to say that there's some interferin' goin' on. Someone could have learned a valuable life lesson this year about responsibility ten times over, and others are conspiring to thwart the lesson while it's still relatively cheap. I shudder to think of the consequences. Truly.

But at least JJ was there to save the day. He prevented my spinelessness. He propped me up and never left my side during the weekend. Love that man more than chocolate.

Drive-In Heaven

We had a blast at the drive-in! The kids in the next car were a little noisy in parts, but they settled down fine. The hardest part of parking next to them was that the dad drove a diesel. Can you say LOUD?

The food was good (we had a shrimp basket with fries, popcorn and a pretzel,) the screen was easy to see six rows back, the sound came in fine through the radio, and the place was really well-run and well-maintained. I think my biggest problem was with JJ toting up the salaries, possible revenues, expenses and other income statement items to see if he could get in on the fun with a drive-in of his own.

We saw Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, which I expected to hate and didn't, and Bee Movie, which I expected to like and didn't. The Little Critter said she laughed during Bee Movie only once. But hey, two movies for $5 and the price of food and we didn't come out too poorly.

Weekend Update

...but a lot less humorous.

We did about $425 at school store today; this would have been stellar last year, but we've all raised the standards and so we're glad, but not elated. We are, however, a little pleased to discover that we're $450 away from making the budgeted income for the year.

I'm happy it's Friday, for sure. Usually I'm so busy the weekend sneaks up on me, but this time I'm ready for it. After I work in the morning, we're hoping to track down the rumor of a drive-in theatre still operating outside Tomball. The LC had another great report card, so we thought that kind of treat would be in order. It will be a first time for either of us to go to a drive-in. JJ will be in heaven.

Hopefully nothing will happen this weekend and I will get some needed down time. Or shopping time. Or coupon filing time.

What I really need to be doing is researching low-cholesterol recipes, as JJ has been to the doctor and earned himself a prescription of Lipitor. He's cringing at the thought of giving up queso, as his motto has always been that there isn't anything that can't be made better with cheese. I can tell you, though, the new Green Giant Healty Weight, Immunity Boost, and other varieties, however good or bad they are for one, taste really good! He says they taste vegetable-y, but he ate them. Good. Because unless he's tripling his life insurance coverage, he's lowering these numbers pronto.

Snot Nosed Brat

Okay, not really, but I nearly called him one.

"Noah" is a kiddo in the Little Critter's grade, and his mom has been having medical crises du jour for a number of weeks now. His mom is my friend, but this series of issues is bringing out a side of her that I'm not comfortable with.

They live around the corner from the school, in easy walking distance, and the boys are in third and forth grade. They've been used to their mom picking them up after school with the rest of us at the side gate, but since her medical issues began, she can't walk up to the school and/or drive up and get them. It's not so much pain as the medication she's taking. But every day she wants someone to bring them home to her.

So she calls endless times among us who meet on that side of the school, wondering who will get her kids each day. I was driving them home most every day except when I work. Another friend who has a daughter and four grandchildren, two of whom go to the school, was rounding them up with her crowd when her DIL couldn't get the grandkids. Eight kids don't fit into her vehicle, so it's always a little of a hardship to get them. But she managed when she could help.

The boys' mother, though, took to calling my friend and pretty much demanding to know who would be bringing the kids to her. Not a smart move. When my friend became more selective about answering her phone, messages would be left stating "Call me when you figure out who's picking up my kids."

This lady is also the chair of the school store, so we've stepped in and kept that going since she couldn't be there, and you all know how proud we are that the store is making a great deal of money. But she calls my friend and says "There's a lady who signed up to help, you really need to call her." Um, she made a phone call to tell my friend to make a phone call she could have made? I've caught her doing this to me as well. She asked me, while I was obviously away from the computer and couldn't possibly know, whether one company or another had better deals on wallets. It rather puzzled her that I replied that she should look online, compare the two, and then decide.

Apparently it's gotten so bad that my friend ends up on the phone with her for over two hours at a time, listening to her go nonstop about everything and running up huge cell bills for my friend. And on a day when my friend had to get her DIL to pick up all the kids because she was taking her 14 year old dog to the vet to put it down, their mom queried "Why didn't you pick up my kids?"

OK, all that to say this.

Noah and his brother met me outside the gate today as usual. I picked them up even though I was on my way to work, but it was either that or hear their mom call six times looking for another person to ask. I would have had them the previous day as well, except I got called in to sub for someone. I had called and told their mother to find someone else to get them and then I arranged for my friend to pick up the LC.

Well, Noah comes charging out, the little bugger, and challenges me with "Where WERE you yesterday?" As though I owed him an explanation.

Oh, uh-uh. "Excuse me? You don't talk to me that way. And I'll be taking it up with your mom."

So after my phone call to her, he's supposed to apologize. And after his mom talked to my friend, the new arrangement is that one of us watches them cross the street and make it to their own street, whereupon their mom, who can SEE THE CORNER FROM HER HOUSE will watch them home. Apparently the boys are tired of being shuttled around and never knowing who will see them home. "And we're not?" I didn't say, but thought really loudly.

The kicker is that there are three neighbor families on their street with whom the boys play regularly, who pass right by the boys' house on THEIR way home. And it never occurred to their mom to have those people, who wouldn't be going out of their way to do this, see them home.

Blessings

In hopes of cheering myself through the holiday season, here begins the list of blessings, to be lengthened as I go on.

#1 - JJ. JJ is absolutely my prop, my cheerleader, my partner in every sense, my unindicted co-conspirator. He can't pass me without touching me or asking for a kiss. He puts up with much more voluminous detail about the Crap that is my Volunteer Hobby than a reasonable person can stand. He even adds his defenses of me to my running commentary. He swears I'm the best thing that has ever happened to him, but I know it's the other way round. I am not going to disabuse him of the notion, either.

#2 - Work. Teaching Drama has been a surprisingly good fit for me. I love all my students (I last counted over 60) and have a blast sharing my love of performing. I can see so much improvement in them after a couple of months, and I enjoy looking for it. Seeing the light go on in their eyes when they nail something is so rewarding. And I'm working at it for a boss who is so willing to follow my lead in managing my classes. She trusts me to sub for the other teachers even if I haven't taught that level's activities before, and is so positive and encouraging. If there's a bad thing about working for her, I swear I haven't found it yet.

#3 - Couponing. That skill has garnered me more respect in the weirdest places than anything else I have done. I't s cool to be able to bring free stuff to school or wherever and just give it away. It's flattering to be told that people have confidence in me when I help them plan a grocery trip. And it's nice to be the Coupon Fairy to others, because they always come back and return the favor.

#4 - Libraries. I have checked out everything from Goldwater to Miss Manners recently, and have a ton of books on order at the local branch. Every book leads me somewhere else I want to go, and I end up ordering more books than I can possibly read in the time allotted. Still, I'm feeling smarter these days, something that helps when I'm frustrated with The Way Things Work. Forget paperless books, I'll never be able to get used to that. Give me paper any day.

Wow, I feel a little better already. Time to go pick up my partner in crime. And count the seconds it takes him to kiss me.

The Battle Begins

Over PTA issues? No.

Over what to have for dinner? Uh uh.

Over who gets to wash the dog? Not even. (Though I'll take volunteers!)

Over bedtime? Possible, but not this time.

No, the battle is over the holidays, specifically Where We Will Spend Them. My little sister has been calling, and has recruited the Bigun as well, to find out whether we're going "home" for Thanksgiving and Christmas. People, it's the thirteenth! I've got whole days ahead to make up my mind! What's the urgency?

OK, to be rillyrilly honest with myself, it isn't a battle between the family and us. It's a battle between me and myself. The Dutiful Daughter who tries to do what she THINKS the family wants, meaning the action likely to garner the least snippy reaction. The Dithering Wife, who just wants to wake up in her own bed for a holiday. They battle it out every year, and the rest of the family just do their thing.

The Bigun said her biodad wanted to fly her and her friend to Hawaii for Christmas, but oops! Boatman (to whom she has given the title "Dad" which infuriates me) hasn't quite got the cash nowadays to do that, what with him getting a DIVORCE and all. Oh, yeah, I just got that news recently. So now the girls want to go find military transport (whee!) but sadly will not have much dough to do anything else. I was waiting for the "Mom, loan me a couple hundred bucks" request, but it didn't come. Of course, it's hard to make that request when one's mother is saying "Well, call me later kthxbai!"

I don't want to be grumpy this year. I don't! I think I'll have to start a Counting my Blessings post just to keep my head on straight.

But college is years away

At the PTA Council meeting, we heard speakers on the subject of dual credit programs and community college scholarships. Honestly, I didn't know there were so many opportunities to go to school in so many different ways, but then, the Bigun chose her own way without even a little nudge from me. So I guess I'm excused.

There was also information that districtwide, all 9th and 10th grade students will now be certified in CPR and taught to use defibrilators. If that ain't a kicker. And another school is enrolling all students in the community college system no matter where they are accepted. I don't quite know why, except to be able to say "All of these students are enrolled in a post secondary education program." Um, yeah.

In other education news, my friend J had a rough time in her daughter's class today. We parents were substitutes for the first couple of hours of school so the teachers could attend a special breakfast, and J had apparently scored the class with all the demon children in it. Not only demon children, but by her reckoning, the stupid demon children. She never said that, but I heard her think it. She was amazed at how little they were able to do, so she set them to working. Poor thing. Poor kids. Poor teacher. As for me, the LC's class was decently behaved and said I was cool. So damnit, I may not get to be homecoming queen this year, but my little clique of nine year olds likes me.

This just in!

Anybody know why the paragraphs aren't registering spaces?

I am so lucky - I got a good nap in today. Of course, it was after I had an astonishingly normal (read: typically annoying) day at work today. For the first time since its inception, I didn't dress for PJs and Pancakes day. We were short a caregiver. One class had to triple up, maxing out at 22 kindergarteners in the class, until an adult made it to the other two classes. In one case, the teachers just breezed in an hour after everyone arrived. In another, there never were teachers; nobody came to teach that class, so it wasn't until the caregiver arrived from her first assignment that those kids were moved.

This is typical. They complain about the cost of providing an adult in every room, and move to teacher volunteers. Which would be great in a setting of typically 7-8 kids. We get 13-20 in most of the classes. It would also be great if teachers were there to greet the kids when they arrived so that the kids wouldn't feel shuffled around from room to room. Most teachers arrive after the kids do lately. So I have one classroom with one paid worker and 22 children that should have been three classrooms with 2-3 adults each. Theory and practice are definitely two different animals, but nobody admits that.

And it isn't like they're being paid a pittance and we can't find people. They pay $12 an hour for these teenagers. We could find them. You can't make that on almost any other starting job. But because the place is what it is, they tend to hire church members' kids, who feel a sense of entitlement to the job once they get it. That's sad enough. But you have to really REALLY screw up badly to get fired. I've only known it to happen twice; once through three years of complaints FINALLY getting through, and even then there was some sort of incident I'm not sure about, and once through attrition. It's hard to fire someone when they just stop coming, so I shouldn't even count that.

On top of the teacher volunteers, they instituted a parent volunteer program a couple of years ago, where each parent takes a turn in the class for the worship hour. Great idea. Except during the worship hour, all the kids are transported into another building, up a flight of stairs, and down three hallways to an enormous room with a hundred other kids. There's no one in charge of that room; it's just a bunch of adults sitting on the perimeter and a mosh pit in miniature in the middle. Well, I admit it isn't always that bad, but some days it's insane. Few parents have felt bold enough to go correct dangerous behavior. Then the late parents who sign in up there make it even more complex, as the parent volunteers now have to remember all the new kids who came in late, and remember to get them back to the classroom too. Even the architecture of the room comspires against order, with half-walls set 4 feet high with an occasional porthole just large enough to fit a wiggly kindergartener. They might as well have printed on them:

Dear Curious Kindergartener,

Please enjoy these lovely half-walls; they are here for your climbing pleasure. Oh, and don't forget to partake in the delights of squeezing through the portholes to slip out the back of the room, threading yourself through all the portholes in turn, hiding in the portholes from your assigned caregiver. We are here to make your worship experience all it can be!

Sincerely,

The Half-wall

I swear, I'm gone when the December schedule is done. I've said it for two years, but this time, I've totally had my fill. I am so done.

Decisive

The Little Critter had the option to download games today, and she was struggling with which one she would download. That's not unusual, bit it highlighted a trend I've recently noticed. She would ask JJ and/or I to pick a movie, a book, a game for her. Almost without fail, when we would pick one, she'd say "Pick another one." When she didn't do that, she'd just go ahead and choose another one anyway.

Where does that come from? Is it the Inner Contrarian that wells up in her? Why does she feel the need to ask if, when she chooses, she basically says our choices suck? Does she judge the value of her choices by how opposed they are to ours? Why does she keep asking?

This came up last night, when we were deciding which movie to watch. We've tried to instigate a movie night whenever she can't have anyone over, so we told her to pick a movie. She offered five choices. I picked one. She tossed it back in the box. JJ picked one. She set that one aside too. Finally she announced two from which to choose and then chose one. So I made popcorn, snuggled in next to her on the couch, and then a half hour later she abandoned JJ and me for the computer.

I didn't mind seeing Shrek again.

Still, I'm extremely decisive. I make a lot of wrong decisions, but more often I do okay. I find that for myself, much analysis equals paralysis, so I go with my gut. I realize the LC isn't going to do everything the way I do it, but this I don't understand.

Who's running this thing?

This morning I was at the school and got the new year's roster (It's November, didja notice?) for the PTA board. Interestingly, former volunteer and now-PE-aide "SC" is on the roster for running Pizza Night. This after a few of us went recruiting and got a new person to be interested. SC is already Secretary, and isn't doing very well at that, so we were very suspicious. I had already given the president all the contact information for the new gal last month, and the gal hasn't even been contacted.

So Miss J went to ask SC, and no, SC doesn't want anything to do with it. Hmmmm.

Then I notice that the Evil Former Carnival Chair is on the slate to run it again. This after I recruited another new mom to run that. I had already given the president all the contact information for this new gal too, who also hasn't been contacted.

I called the prez:

"So I notice EFCC is on the roster for carnival again. Is she going to do it this year?"

"Yeah, I talked to her at Halloween."

"Oh, well I had a meeting with that new mom we recruited set for Monday to pass on the binder. I should cancel, right?"

"Um, well, don't cancel just yet. I haven't heard back from EFCC in a while. I'll call her and confirm."

Is there any wonder why this year is harder?

And in the middle of all that, rumor has it that there's a triumverate planning to run a particular candidate for president next year, just so I won't get it. Look, y'all, I'm in high school all over again! Anyone up for a slumber party?

Note to Self:

When you save drafts of posts, the dates get all funked up. So that was Thursday the 8th, and so is this.

Ferry Landing

Dang has this been fun! I realized I needs me some more stories. So last time, JJ and the locksmith were approaching the boat:

Thankfully JJ left the man's collar alone, and I met them at the car. In two seconds the poor, harassed locksmith had the door open. It took longer than that to write the check. Not so poor locksmith after all! But I digress. So finally I was able to get off the boat, but I think I recall making JJ drive. JJ’s reaction to getting in the car was: “We got into the car and turned on the air. Sweet air.”

By this time it was getting late in the afternoon, we were hot, tired, and hungry, and about sixty dollars poorer. Plus a little seasick, what with one thing and another. As soon as we were off the island, and this is what kills me, JJ turned to me and said:

“Honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

I was waiting for the disappointment, the frustration, the “I’m never letting you drive again” reaction. And while I’m bracing for it, ready to hear all evening about what a doofus I am, he’s hugging me and expressing his sympathy, worried about how I feel after five (FIVE!) trips on this godforsaken ferry boat. A short way up the interstate was a Cracker Barrel, and with money we didn’t really have, JJ offered to take me to dinner there. Food never tasted so good, WATER never tasted so good as after that ordeal. The whole evening he never blamed me or fussed or made me feel bad.

But such is the man I married. All that frustration and worry, and he’s being all solicitous about me.

All of which goes to show, upon reflection, that I really should have expected what came next; that he’d turn it into a party routine. I was off the hook that day, yes, but I’ve been paying for it for ten years since in every social situation. But that’s okay. I’ve got stuff on him that,… well, crap. Nothing tops that. I got nuthin’. Except to say, it wasn’t ME that thought jeans and hiking boots were beachwear.

Ferry Story Limbo (Or, Don't Ask a Man)

With the best of intentions, and no supervision, I asked my darling JJ to add the next installment of the story. I worked a fifteen hour day at the polls, but forgot to remind him, so he studied for his class, took a test, wrassled the Little Critter, and then greeted me at home with such joy and relief I couldn't ask him again until this morning.

I am hoping he comes through, but I won't know until later. It just doesn't flow as well without his voice, but I will come back and do his part if he can't. And I'll make crap up, too, to make me look better. Oh, yes I will.

Oh, honey, was that a gauntlet that just hit the floor? I believe it was!

UPDATED!

So JJ adds this, but bear in mind, he's wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a golf-type shirt, and it's Texas' Gulf Coast in the summer:

I turn around and it was gone. The Ferry. How could they?

Well since it was gone, I really could not do anything so I went over and put my last 50 cents in the coke machine and got a drink. And chugged it. Literally. Gone in a few seconds. I sat down on the bench and waited. Ferries came and went. I watched one leave, then I saw a guy walking up from the parking lot. He asked:

“Anybody looking for a locksmith”

I literally said “Thank God, you are here! The car is on the ferry. It gets here, you do your thing, and we are done.”

He calls his girlfriend who is in his truck and tells her that he found me. We talk about things when another ferry arrives. A car is pushed off. Stalled. (We're not the only ones having a lousy day.) After a few minutes, a lady walks over and says

“Can one of you give us a jump start”

I said “Ma'am, I locked my keys in the car and we are waiting for the ferry to return. I am sorry.” in a stressful manner. I was trying not to be rude but I was very wired.

She says “Well, My son wanted to see his dad at the beach and my husband did not want to come, and now the car is stalled and he is very upset.”

I said “Ma'am, as soon as I get my car unlocked, he (the locksmith) can help you but right now that is the only thing we are waiting for.”

The son walks over and says “He (the stepdad) is really upset.”

I looked over to the water hoping the ferry was coming. It wasn’t. The stepdad walked over and I basically repeated my statement. He seemed to be cool about it. But the locksmith I don’t think really liked my attitude. He called his girlfriend to move their truck over to the stalled car. As she did this, she unintentionally broke the line to the ferry. An offense of up to $200. The security lady at the ferry office came flying out, saying “You can't do that! You can't do that!” The locksmith told her that she was moving the car over to the stranded car and finally the security guard was ok with that. At the same time, the stepdad flagged someone coming off the ferry and they were going to help them. They left before we did.

The next ferry was ours. As it was docking, we were standing on shore waiting. They would not let us on until the port side cars unloaded and then we could go on. I almost grabbed him by his collar.

The Ferry Story, Part III

Let's see, where was I when I last wrote? Ahhh, yes, I had just pulled away from the Galveston side, headed back to Bolivar on the ferry, sans husband. Sans cell phone. Sans soda.

So, The ferry has left JJ stranded on Galveston, and I'm on my fourth (FOURTH!) trip across the bay. (Did I say I wanted to ride this boat? I hate boats. Boats are stupid. This boat doesn't even GO anywhere. Dumb boat.)

The ferry ride had gotten pretty old by my fourth trip. I climbed up into the air-conditioned passenger cabin and sat on a bench, trying hard not to cry. Out came a tech from the cabin.

"Hey, is that your car?"

"Yeah, it is."

"What happened?"

"I locked the keys in it."

"Woah!"

He left quickly after that.

Pretty soon, other passengers climbed up as well, to get the view from the upper decks. I considered hiding in the bathroom, but if you're smart, you don't even look in the general direction of the bathrooms on a Galveston ferry.

"Did you see that car sitting backwards?" one said.

"I wonder what's wrong?" another said.

I'd had about all I could take, and nearly braved even the bathrooms by that time. But soon they were gone, and I was too chicken to watch the onloading around my car again. I decided a nap would be the best defense, so I closed my eyes and stretched out on the bench. For my fifth trip across the bay. Not that I was keeping count or anything.

After the boat set out for the island again, the captain came out of the bridge and said hello.

"Is that your car?"

"Yes! Yes, that is my car. In which I locked the keys."

"Happens all the time. Don't worry about it."

And for the first time since the saga began, I started to feel better.

He spoke again: "It just usually doesn't happen in the center of the back of my boat."

At which statement I actually did retreat into the bathroom, at least until we were approaching Galveston again. I knew I had to check to see whether my husband had remembered which boat we had been on, and whether he had got any help while I was on my pleasure cruise.

Damn boat.

The Ferry Story, Part II

OK, when last we met, I was telling you I had locked the keys in the car smack in the back center of the ferry from Bolivar to Galveston. I used my spare and we were so relieved that I had the foresight to place that extra key in my back pocket.

OF COURSE I didn't have a spare. This is ME we're talking about.

So we tried to decide what to do, and JJ went to the operators and asked for help. Nope, no can do. Not allowed, they said. Call the towing company, they said. Call a locksmith, they said.

Someone offered us the use of a cell phone. OF COURSE we didn't have cell phones. We were poor. So he tried to make a call to a locksmith company on the island. They apparently couldn't understand him.


"What street are you on, sir?"

"I'm on the ferry."

"Sir, what cross street is that located at?"

"I'm in the middle of the bay!"

"So, sir, is that Ferry and Bay streets?"


So we started looking for another answer. Both of us eyed the block sitting behind the tire to keep the car from rolling in transit. Hey, bust window, get key, problem solved.

But we can't do it.

Someone else offered us the use of a coathanger, but alas, these locks were not made for coathangers to find purchase under.

As we approached the island dock, we were getting a little panicky. They offloaded everyone and JJ ran to see whether there was a pay phone at the ferry station. No sooner had they got the cars off than a full load was driven on, all of them facing my car. As JJ raced back aboard, it seemed we were about to make the journey again, pointed in the wrong direction. And make it we did.

"Hey, why is your car on backwards?" some doofus asked. "I drove it on backwards." I replied. OF COURSE I did.

Back at Bolivar, JJ again looked for a pay phone. I couldn't leave the car, because then it would have been a huge mess. (Come to think of it, I probably could have left it, but it would have been towed to a lot and we'd have spent the night in Galveston trying to get it out.) The boat horn blew the departing signal, and JJ had to race again to get back on.

That was our third trip across the bay.

So after looking at the same scenery a third time, I was getting bored, and went up top to see it from a higher view. Upon landing, JJ dashed off again to the pay phone, and got one working. When he turned around, the boat was gone.

And me and the Mazda with it.



I kinda like these cliffhangers! I'm having fun stringing you all along! But I swear, it won't take all of November to tell.

The Ferry Story

This is why I married the man I married. We have dined out on this story, and have practically got it honed to a routine. He loves telling it more than I do, the reasons for which will quickly become apparent.

It was summer, and it was hot, and JJ and I were newlyweds, living in Austin. My brother and family had rented a beach cabin near Galveston, and had invited everyone down. At the time, the Bigun (then 7) was living with my folks, and so she was already at the beach when we made the trek. We spent a great day visiting and catching up, and were about to head back. We had come to the Bolivar Peninsula overland, and yet the ferry to Galveston was SO CLOSE, and I really wanted to take the ferry back to Houston, and thus to Austin.

I proposed it to my husband, and JJ said, "Nah, I don't think we ought to."
I proposed it then to my father, and he said "Nah, it's easier and faster if you go back over land. Trust me."

At this point, nearly thwarted before I'd begun, I stomped my foot (literally) and said "I WANNA RIDE THE FERRY!"

As I was pulling on to the beach highway, I begged once more to JJ "Come on! It'll be FUN! It's a boat! You LIKE boats!"

Reluctantly he gave in, under the following condition: "If there's a long line, we're turning around." Sure, fine, whatever; I was RIDING THAT BOAT.

As we approached the ferry line, I noticed it wasn't too long. So we waited while they loaded on all the cars ahead of us, and then closed the gate. This would have made us the first car on the next boat. But then they discovered there was room for just one more, and squeezed us in to the spot at the back of the boat, almost dead center.

No delay after all! A fun trip across the bay! Wheeeee! Wait, what's that? Is that some weird foreshadowing music?

Oh, nevermind!

So we'd collected our things from the Mazda, and it was one of those cars where you had to lift the handle to engage the lock. I lifted the handle, slammed the door and simultaneously blurted out an expletive.

I'd locked the keys in the car. On the ferry. In the last space in the center of the back of the boat. And we were taking off.

I'll add to this tomorrow - it's much more fun to tell serially!

Time Out (And I did it again)

OK, I did find a little time for R&R today; I went with the Bigun to Comedy Sportz. She was in the High School League last year, and I got to see her in all of one (ONE!) match. So she took me tonight to the Big League match.

I got two words: Freaking Hilarious.

CS is a professional improv theatre experience, and invites a lot of audience participation. Some of the "rounds" are:

Dumbell Races - three players answer audience questions with the dumbest line, thereby advancing in the race

New Choice - Players start acting out a scene and in the middle, the ref will call out "New Choice" and the player who just spoke has to come up with another line

My So Called Life - An audience member s invited onto the stage and gives details about people in his life; players have to act out their interpretation of a day in that person's life, and are awarded points based on how accurate they are

Da Do Ron Rap - Players have to sing "Da Do Ron Ron" rap style and find rhyming lines in a lightning-fast elimination round

BooYea - Players alternate telling stories about given situations, offering positive statements (inducing a "yea") and negative ones (inducing a "boo")

We had a blast, of course, and I learned they offer improv workshops. On Mondays. Which I am ABSOLUTELY NOT going to sign up for. At all. Really.

Oh, but I want to.

In other news, I hauled myself over to the election center (which took over an hour) and picked up my materials (which took fifteen minutes) and am all ready to go. When I got back I even had time to attempt to recreate a fabuous dish I had at an Italian restaurant last month involving farfalle, sun-dried tomatoes, asparagus and chicken. I have also begun revision of How We Met in order to offer more juicy details. But I think tomorrow I will tell you an even better one. You didn't know it, but I have my own Ferry Story (you read that right, but it's a great verbal trick.)

Technically, I didn't violate the NaBloPoMo spirit, I guess, if you consider that today is the end of Daylight Savings. Right?

OK, but not by much

I missed the 2nd, but only just. I spent the morning selling school store stuff (setting another record at $650) and then off to drama classes, dinner with JJ and the LC, and then an evening of battling with the LC and her friend trying to get them to behave. In between we started watching a financial planning video series.

So sue me!

I did write a draft this morning about how JJ and I met, but I wasn't sure it fit, so it sits on my draft list. I might touch it up later and actually publish it when I've had time to think about it.

Mostly I spent today tired. After school store and making the deposit at the bank, I went home and napped. While the LC was in drama class, I napped in the chairs in the lobby. I'm running low on energy, so it's time to look into vitamins or buying my meds online so I can get back on them. I teach in the morning, then run across the city to pick up the election materials I will need for Tuesday. In the evening, the Bigun has asked me to go with her to Comedy Sportz, so no early night then either. Thank goodness I don't work this Sunday, because I will need the time off. Monday I go get my teeth cleaned in my hometown, and then Monday night set up here for the election, and then Tuesday work the election for fourteen hours or so.

I've pencilled in sleeping a few minutes on Wednesday, but we'll see how that goes.

The Pressure is On

Hello, November! Did you know you are actually my favorite month? Of course you are! What glorious things happen in November! You, dear Month, are awash in comestibles. From the first day, when all of the leftover Halloween treats force me to shove them in ever more creative places so I can't find them, to the last week, when the smells of my childhood (and a lot of the feelings, too) return to entice me into the kitchen for an average of six meals a day. Yes, November, you rock.



I appreciate that you started out with some decent weather. I'd love more, if you please. I also thank you for the many opportunities to overschedule myself. Next year I promise to lighten the load a bit, though.

I counted; there are 53 days of shopping left until Christmas, including today. So my goals for November are pretty small. I'm making that list starting today. I'm getting the Christmas stuff down early. And I'm thinking of a great excuse to stay home for our first Christmas ever. Since the in-laws will not be coming down, they've made it a bit easier on us. Now it's my half of the family we have to convince.

So far there's money in the bank, food in the pantry, cool-weather clothes in boxes to be unpacked, and a coupon for a free turkey on the counter. It's looking to be a great month. And best of all, at least at this moment, I have fulfilled 1/30th of my NaBloPoMo requirement!

Happy November! Happy Posting! Get busy, y'all!