The election and all of that is now officially OVER. Time to return to, as they say, the land of the living.
I was off Thursday and Friday this week for teachers' convention, and it only served to remind me of how wonderful life can be when you don't actually have to go to work every day. Unlike most days off, I did not set myself an endless list of things to do, and so I just coasted pleasantly through the last couple of days, relaxing and such, and enduring a lengthy spa treatment of sorts yesterday. I'm still sore today from the good shoulder and neck massage that came with the facial, but in a good way.
I'm preparing a little Thanksgiving package to send off to K on Monday, which so far includes a package of Thanksgving napkins, a bag of candy corn, and a jar of macadamia nuts. Both the supermarket and the CVS are already stocked full of Christmas decorations; there just isn't much to get to make your house all Thanksgiving-y. R said that she never saw candy corn in Wales last year, so I'm assuming K won't see it in Germany, either. (Yes, I almost sent R a box full of Cadbury eggs for Easter last year, until I remembered that Cadbury comes from the U.K. Duh.) I may have told the macadamia nuts story before, but in brief, it's a funny little Thanksgiving tradition that is now several years old. We used to have the big T family meal at here at our house (and in our apartment before that), and for some reason, my father would always arrive first. Without my mother, I think; I guess my sister picked her up and brought her. But my father would arrive early and hand over a jar of macadamia nuts, which I loved. He brought them because I loved them; almost no one else even ate them. But over the years, he got confused, and he would arrive with the jar and announce that he had brought them for K, because she loved them so. Since about 1995, when I first had a diverticulitis attack, I can't eat nuts. But he would bring them every year, because he was confused, and K and then everyone else would finish the jar so he wouldn't know that he was mixed up. He's gone now, of course, but T just isn't the same without the nuts, so I sent R a jar last year and K is getting hers now. It doesn't matter if they eat them; somebody will.
I learned how to do two neat computer tricks today. First, I plugged in a cheap little microphone and made a recording of a story I have to tell in school on Monday so I can listen to myself say it again and again and again. I used to use a cassette recorder for this technique, but find one of those these days. Last Monday, I went to the Child Care class and taught them how to present a picture book to the pre-schoolers, and tomorrow is lesson two, how to tell a story from memory. My story is "The Journey" from Mouse Tales, by Arnold Lobel. It's very short, less than a minute and half, which is just fine with me. I used to tell "The Wedding Procession of the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle and Who Was In It" from The Rootabaga Stories by Carl Sandburg, which totally appeals to my sense of surrealism. I guess "The Journey" does too, in a way. I used to be very good at memorizing and telling stories, but since I don't work as a children's librarian, I've kind of lost the knack. Even so, I got the thing recorded and even transferred onto the iPod, so I can explain to the kids how to do that, too, if they need to.
The other trick was that I learned that the DVD playing software on my computer will also do screen captures. This is good, because R and I were watching Shrek2 before, and boy, did I want that Puss In Boots big-kitty-eyes scene for my desktop wallpaper. It is just too cute. And now that I know how, I think I'll amuse myself one of these days by capturing all kinds of scenes from DVDs. I never watch them on my computer; I couldn't believe how much better the picture looks that when you watch it on the TV. Mmm, Rocky and Bullwinkle, here I come.
Aside from the storytelling, I'm involved in a bizarre situation at school -- a personality conflict with another teacher, of all peculiar things -- that's been on my mind, and which should be resolved on Tuesday. I'd like to just tell this bimbo to grow up and leave that petty shit on the schoolyard where it belongs, but that may not be the best approach. Frankly, I'm too old to give a crap about this kind of thing, but I'll have to see what happens. I'm meeting with her Tuesday morning, along with an administrator. Nothing can actually happen to me -- I haven't done anything, and my penchant for conflict avoidance is legend -- but it's like a fly that I can't get to stop buzzing at me. I'll feel better when it's over.
Finally, an entry about real life. Again. It's about time.
--------------------------------------------------
I'm watching Pleasantville
--------------------------------------------------
last ::
next
Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
A Message From Our Sponsor - 12.16.2006
|
