I Debated...Then Decided To Go For It.

This is one of those school stories that I just shouldn't tell.  Seriously.  I'm gonna get caught.  I'm gonna have to explain myself.  I just know it.  But it is too good to not tell.  For you, I will risk my very career.

Background Info:  The sixth grade classes in my school take a required health course.  Somehow, long before my arrival in this community of learners, someone began calling it Puberty Class.  Now we all just call it Puberty Class.  Or, if we are pressed for time, "Puberty."  As in, "C'mon kids, settle down now; it's time for Puberty."  I love my job. 

The Scene:  Ms. Sheep is attempting to herd her students out the door before the winter snows pile up so high that they can't get the door open.  They do not seem to feel the same sense of urgency she feels at the prospect of being trapped together for the night and are having some difficulty pulling themselves together. 

Ms. Sheep:  OK, Treasured Ones.  It is time to pack up your things and take your leave.  Our minor winter weather event has turned into something a bit more "interesting" and we need to get you all safely out to the buses in order that you might arrive home in a similar condition as when you left this morning.  Step lively, now.  Ms. Sheep will miss you terribly, but you must go.  Seriously.  Move it, people.  I need to drive home in this too, you know.

Student Who Is Now My Favorite For What Will Become Obvious Reasons:  I'm good.

MS:  No, no my precious.  You must go get your coat or you will catch a chill.

SWINMFFWWBOR:   Don't got one.  

MS:  Well, the proper way to say...oh never mind.  Just stand here and wait for the bus.  Think warm thoughts.  You'll be fine.

SWINMFFWWBOR:  Oh!  Wait!  I won an award today!  I gotta to go get that out of my locker.

MS:  An award, you say?  Well, by all means!  I'm so very, very proud of you!  Let's go get that Bad Boy!

Ms. Sheep and her student proceed to the locker to secure the piece of red construction paper that has been carefully laminated.  SWINMFFWWBOR proudly shows it to his teacher.

MS:  A reading award!  Dude!!!  I'm so proud!!!  Reading is really hard for you...wait.  Does this say what I think it says?

SWINMFFWWBOR:  Yup.  I got an award as A Puberty Reader.  And that word there is, "appreciation."  I'm appreciated.  For the Puberty Reading.

MS:  ....

SWINMFFWWBOR: (waving bright red construction paper acknowledgement)  Hey, Ms. Cheerful Teaching Assistant!  Lookit my award!

MS:  He's a Puberty Reader.

Cheerful Teaching Assistant:  .....

SWINMFFWWBOR:  (seeing that his teachers are wavering between hysterical laughter and the need for clarification)  No one else would do it.  Every time they needed someone to read in class, they'd just get all stupid.  And stutter.  Drove me nuts.  I had to keep saying, "it's vagina!!!!!"  Whatta buncha idiots.

MS:  I love my job.  I love it so very, very much.  I love it more than Snow Days and shoe sales.  

CTA:  No one believes me.  I try to tell them what I do here.  They just don't believe me.  

MS:  Love the job.  Love it.  I'm never going to retire.  Ever.  

 The SWINMFFWWBOR beamed happily until his bus was called.  Then he headed home to show his mom his award.  Still beaming.  I love my job.  And I love this kid.  And he loves his award.  And the Puberty teacher appreciated him.  And told him so.  Then laminated it.  

I didn't knit today.  I had to drive home in a blizzard.  Then I had to go to the grocery store where it was mobbed with people who were also out of Mountain Dew and low fat chips.  There was a palpable feeling of anxiety there.  And not much of the Good Will Towards Men.  But I didn't care.

Someone in my class got an award for being a Puberty Reader today.  And I defy you to find someone else who can say that.

SA

I Like Wednesday

Seriously.  Wednesday is good.  Minimal Thinking Day.  I get to come home, make panini and do the Wednesday Night Bullet Post.  Very relaxing.  This is good because I am feeling exceptionally scattered today.  Here's your bullet points on this chilly middle-of-the-workweek-evening:

*Weird commute this morning.  The sleet had stopped sleeting and the roads were delightful.  Everyone at school agreed on this.

*Which is why we were all so surprised when we fell down in the parking lot.  Apparently, there was isolated icing.  Who knew?

*For the record, it is always better to slip on the ice when everyone else does it.  It makes you part of the "cool crowd."  When you fall by yourself, you just look stupid.

*Lookit what Cathy sent me today:

Finn and Shetland...does it get any better?  Can you see the possibilities here?  And it just so happens that I have a vacation coming up.  Tee-hee!!

*Between that and the candy that Trek sent, I'm good for the foreseeable future.  I like to be prepared for Snow Days and unscheduled zombie invasions.  I will venture out for chocolate and fiber regardless of the circumstances, I fear.  It's good to have supplies on hand.  

*I have had a headache all day today.  It is either my sinuses, an incoming low pressure system or a symptom of being a teacher in December.  Or all three.  

*I should eat more chocolate.  Just in case.  You never know.  

*Gratuitous Blurry Kitty Photo For Mia:

Um... hello.  Can I help you?  I was sort of in the middle of thinking deep thoughts, here.

*Have I mentioned that I am trying to learn how to speak Scottish Gaelic?  

*I am out of my mind.  I really stink at languages.  I couldn't conjugate a verb if someone was holding a bag of moths to my stash.  I'd have to buy a new stash.  Or live stashless.  

*Sometimes I get it into my head that something would be a super-keen idea.  Now everyone who drives past me on the morning commute gets to see me yelling at my dashboard.  They probably don't know that I am trying to tell a CD that it is talking too fast.

*I really only need to know how to order pizza and locate the restrooms.  I can't see how I'd require any other phrases should I happen to take a knock to the noggin and wake up in the Outer Hebrides someday.  

*I can't say either of those things yet, so I'm thinking about wearing a helmet until I finish the course.

*I am starting to think that I should finish the Christmas shopping.  I don't want to rush it, though.  People hate it when others get their shopping done early.  I'll just sit tight for a little bit longer.  Plenty of time...

*I have just come up with another possible reason for my headache.  Denial takes a great deal of the blood supply from other thinking processes.  

*One more small weather event this week and then we get a break from the precipitation until Sunday night.  No one wants to talk about Sunday night so we are still unsure about how much snow we are going to get, but I always get nervous when no one wants to talk about something.  It usually indicates that a lot of something is heading our way.  

*I bound off another scarf tonight.  I'm now in the process of coming up with some sort of unique and eye-catching fringe to distract the recipient from the fact that I ran out of yarn at an awkward point in the pattern.  I'm pretty sure I can pull it off.

*Seriously.  Is there no end to the reasons why I have a headache today???????

Tomorrow is Thursday so I'll have to go back to more coherent posting.  That'll be nice, right?  Meanwhile, I'll just enjoy my Random Wednesday, eat a little chocolate, think about fringes and pet some new fiber.  Tomorrow things will just click right into place, I'm sure.  

Right?

SA

To Clarify...

It wasn't all that long ago that I was rhapsodizing about the joy that is a Snow Day.  Teaching is full of all sorts of nifty perks like daily opportunities to learn about how mean and uncool you are or all the water you can drink from the fountain in the hall.  Pretty sweet...if you don't think about how many kids have had their germy little lips on that water supply, anyway.

But the Snow Days are better than all those fine benefits combined.  There is really nothing like getting up, watching the news, then going back to bed.

However...

I may have overstated my love of the Snow Day.  Getting one every so often is quite a delight.  Getting one before Christmas rolls around is actually kind of helpful.  Getting one after weeks and weeks of endless toil is sheer bliss.  But this does not mean that we want them all the time.  Well...I kind of do want them all the time.  However, I think that this is the definition of "unemployed" and I'm not really ready for that right now.  There are one or two rather nasty bills coming up and all.  And then there is the part where we have to make up the snow days.  You don't just get them for free.  They come with strings, most notably an extra day in June when the humidity is high and the kids hate you more than spinach and educational television combined.

To recap:  Snow Days=Good.  Too Many Snow Days=Bad.  Are we all on the same page?

I am rather nonplussed by the weather reports of late.  It seems that, having decided to drop the white stuff early this year, Mother Nature is feeling the love for the whole process.  There is a great deal more of it, along with a little of the ice and whatnot, scheduled for our morning commutes in the next few days.  Now, the reports have adjusted themselves a bit and it is not looking quite so challenging for tomorrow's slide into work as I'd feared, but the long range forecasts keep telling me that there will be more snow for me to play in soon.  

This poses several problems, not the least of which being that I do not play in the snow.  I do not care for the snow unless it gives me a Snow Day and, as I have already mentioned, we can't be having too many of those or there are consequences.  

It's a conundrum.  

My Cheerful Teaching Assistant (who did not have to go to her other job tonight as the weather conditions were looking bad for driving and who gave "cheerful" a new definition as a result) was chatting with me this afternoon about this 'n that as colleagues are wont to do.  I queried as to how her first knitting project was coming along.  She beamed proudly and spoke of the progress she'd made last night after getting home from work.  I do love having a knitter in the room.  I'd forgotten just how much I like to talk about the knitting.  But, she is new at it and I wasn't really sure if we were truly on the same page.  I decided to put a little test out there.  I said:

Boy, a snow day sure would come in handy...

She brightened.  Her eyes lit up.  She began to chatter eagerly about how much she could get done on a snowy winter's day when the schools were closed and the hours were her own.

She's got it.  She's really, really got it.  She used to go outside and do things like snowshoe or ski.  I like to think we've put a stop to all that.  I cannot help but feel a little twinge of pride.

Now I'll have to teach her about silk and cotton.  I think we are going to have quite a few Snow Days to make up come the end of the school year.  It fear that we will be knitting together right up until The Fourth Of July and wool isn't going to be quite as comforting at that point.

SA

This Magic Moment...

I think we've all been there.  In fact, we most definitely have been there in that it was once us who said, "Golly, I surely do think I'd like to learn to knit..."   I remember it well.  I'm sure you do, too.

 But, I'm really talking about that moment where we witness the beginning of the conversion.  That instant where it becomes clear that we are in the presence of Creation.  It is a deeply profound sort of thing and one that calls for a certain amount of reverence.  It is that moment when another announces their intent to take up the needles.

Sometimes you can predict who is going to go through The Change.  There are those who just give off a Fiber Vibe.  You can spot 'em a mile away.  They show great interest in mittens and are often heard to rhapsodize over how wonderful life would be if only they could knit a sweater.  This is usually followed by a fiscal statement regarding how cost efficient it would be to create fine knitwear.  Why, one could have a closet-full of sweaters at a fraction of the cost of the department stores.  Then they mention how they would knit for every holiday and special occasion, thereby saving enough money to eventually purchase a small island for vacationing.

We try not to laugh.  We may let a little smirk slip through.  But we don't really discourage them...it's one of those things people sort of have to figure out for themselves, after all.  I've been knitting for years and I don't have a closet filled with fine sweaters nor is there an Isle Of Sheep on any map at this point.  We let it go because they are the Knitters To Be.  It is inevitable.  

Then there are those who surprise you.  You just don't see it coming.  You have been knitting away in their presence for nigh on a year with nary an inkling.  You prance about, flaunting your handknit socks and get little in the way of a reaction.  Even when you stick your foot right in their faces and demand fawning compliments they demonstrate minimal emotion.  (aside from the obvious distaste for having feet stuck in their faces)  They just don't seem to want to walk in the way of the wool.  It's all right.  It takes all kinds to make the world go 'round, after all.  We don't need everyone to be knitters.  That might impact the yarn supply and we don't need that right before the holidays, now do we?

And yet, you just never know.  All those wool fumes we've been giving off may just be having more of an effect than we thought.  There are those out there with deep, dark desires and who aspire to wield the needles.  They hide it well.  But, eventually, their passion will burn through their cool facades and the words will be spoken:

You know, I think I'd really like to learn how to knit...

And, if you happen to be there for those most sacred of words, it is an experience akin to seeing the moment a flower blooms or a wee, little babe takes his first steps.  You almost expect to hear a chorus of angels.  There usually isn't one.  I'm assuming that the heavenly choirs are a little busy right now what with all the seasonal stuff going on so it isn't all that surprising.  But a little of the harmonic humming wouldn't be out of place.

I was present for those fateful words on Friday.  And they came from one of those unlikely sources, one for whom I would not have predicted a future with the yarn.  Following the uttering of those magical words, my Cheerful Teaching Assistant, a girl who has never once shown a single bit of interest in my knitting obsession, left me for her weekend.  And during that weekend, the leap was made.  She arrived this morning fairly beaming with pride and produced that item we all know will be made public soon after the declaration is made.

The bulky weight scarf on size 11 needles.  

It is tightly knit.  It always is, after all.  The edges pull oddly, giving it something of a zig-zag effect.  The beginning is in stockinette stitch.  But it has somehow magically transformed into garter stitch along the way.  The needles from which it hangs are metal because they make that neat "clicking" sound like knitting is supposed to do.  It has been knit upon all weekend.  Sleep was lost.  The hands that created it are aching from the effort, but knitting does not cease.  

It has begun.  And yes, there are plans to finish five scarves in time for Christmas.  I'm not going to be the one to tell her.  It would just be cruel.  She is so very happy right now.  She is transformed from my Cheerful Teaching Assistant to my Extremely Cheerful Teaching Assistant With Blisters.  Or are they really, "bliss-ters?"

I'm a little weepy.  It's just so darned beautiful...

SA 

Weekend Wear

I am of an age where I no longer find it necessary to be fully coiffed to go to the grocery store.  Don't get me wrong.  I haven't sunk so far into middle aged lack of caring that I'm wandering through the aisles in my slippers and hair curlers or anything.  I am fully dressed and may even have matching socks on my feet.  I'll check my teeth, maybe even swipe a little mascara on the old lashes.  Maybe...

 I grocery shop on Sunday mornings so it is likely that I have tossed on some clothing that sort of matches and is probably clean.  That's really about it.  I'm presentable, but not much more than that.  And it is safe to say that, on those days when I may have slept a bit later than I'd planned, I am teetering on the very edge of presentable.

It doesn't matter, really.  While I used to teach in the town where I shop, those days are long since past and I no longer have to worry about the kid who used to be in my homeroom bagging my unmentionables.  In fact, I have made something of an effort over the past few years to work in schools that are some distance from my home.  I like knowing that there is a little space between myself and my job.  The commute can be tricky sometimes when the weather isn't cooperating, but the benefits of knowing that the work day is well behind me when I get home far outweigh any inconveniences.  

I don't, however, have any control over where my co-workers choose to live.  They are free to settle wherever their little hearts desire and sometimes there are one or two who feel the same way I do about sanity being found in a 45 minute commute.  

Which is a rather lengthy way of explaining why I almost didn't buy any vegetables this morning.  

There I was, having thrown on The Sheep's traditional weekend wear and clearly exhibiting the look of one who has just stumbled out of bed.  This is because that is sort of exactly what happened.  There is a small window of time on Sunday mornings where the shopping is good for those of us who don't like to be in close proximity to our fellow man.  I'd slept a bit late and almost missed that window, hence the unwashed and mismatched look.  It was really much worse than my usual attire.  

It was not the best day to see my boss strolling around the deli.  Really, really not the best day.

  I caught sight of him before he saw me, so I was able to make a quick detour into the produce section.  This feat was made all the more challenging by my having selected The Cart With Authority Issues and its desire to go in any direction other than the one I was considering, but I made it.  

It wasn't enough, though.  My boss, dressed in his Sunday best, was hot on my heels.  He still hadn't seen me...but it was just a matter of time.  I could almost feel the ticking of the imaginary clock.  A single bead of icy sweat ran down my neck.  My heart began to hammer against my rumpled sweatshirt.  I had to think and I had to do it fast.  

Maybe if I just don't buy vegetables this week!  I don't like 'em anyway...  No, no.  That won't work.   I don't think I ate any last week and I'm one meal away from malnutrition.  I'll just go really, really fast!!  I can do this!  Don't waste time with those stupid plastic bags!  Just toss loose onions and carrots in the cart.  You can corral them later!  Go! Go!  

All my efforts really accomplished was to make me rather red and sweaty when my boss finally spotted me doing my speed shopping.  I suppose I was hard to miss at that point.  Anyone who is storming through the produce department, head down and muttering, "Make like a potato...try to blend in," is probably going to attract a little attention.  

To make matters worse, he happily pointed out the contents of his cart which contained only cookies and cakes for the after church gathering.  The dented onions and loose tomatoes rolling around in my cart paled in comparison.  It made me sad.  I'd missed getting my black and white cookies in my attempt at avoiding a Sunday Morning Greasy Faced Encounter with my boss and I fairly wept at the sight of all the baked goods neatly stacked and ready for bagging.

The final insult to my dignity came after we'd parted.  I happened to look up into that weird convex mirror thing that lurks in the corner and is designed to give the staff a good view of any potential shoplifters or crazed veggie grabbing Sheep.  In its reflection I was horrified to see a piece of my newly cut and colored hair standing straight up at attention.  It was probably just trying to show off its pretty new color for the nice man with the cookies.  But, it really only served to make the whole Sheepish picture that much closer to "crazy."

Tomorrow's day of meetings should be fun what with all the avoiding eye contact.  

Let's look at some knitting, shall we?  I do believe I've had enough with the reliving of my shopping humiliation for one evening.  Having had good luck with the Villandry Lace Scarf 

pattern and seeing my stylist's happy reaction yesterday upon receiving my first attempt at this scarf, I thought I might just try another.  If I could crank one out in a week using a light worsted weight, surely I could go faster and farther in a bulky weight?

And I can...I really, really can!!!

By gum, I may be holiday knitting after all!  I'm wondering if I might even be able to finish one up for the school secretary before things shut down for the winter break.  I don't see how I can't, barring plagues of locusts or finger cramping.  A day and a half of on again/off again knitting, interrupted by hair appointments, snacks and naps netted me almost three feet of scarfage.  This is most definitely my favoritest scarf pattern of the '07 season.  It probably would have been nice to have discovered it a bit sooner, but you work with what you have, right?

It's for the best anyway.  A shorter knitting time for the holidays will allow me to move on to my next knitting mission.  Hats.  

Specifically, hats for wear in the grocery store.

SA

Pain...

Pain serves a function.  It gets a bad rap, really.  Mostly because it hurts and all.  I'm sure that we would all just wish it away if we could, but that would not serve us well in the end.  Pain is the body's way of saying, "enough, all ready!!!"  Without it, we would all be walking with numerous contusions and overly plucked eyebrows.  This is not a good look for anyone in this somewhat appearance conscious world, right?  

But pain is not fun and we should not confuse its necessity with desirability.  You have to find a way to make it better or else there is a great deal of screaming and that could prove distracting to those of us who are trying to count K2Togs.  I have a few examples which might help illustrate this.

Example The First:

There has been an epic battle in my classroom for the last month or so.  It has raged on day after day, week after week, mostly in fifteen to twenty minute intervals.  It has consumed the space with its ferocity and the combatants have shown no inclination of surrender.  Until yesterday, that is.  The battle shall forever be know as The Great Monopoly Wars Of '07 and you will most likely see it in the newer versions of the history texts next fall.  

One of my students has a hatred of math class that is becoming the stuff of legend.  The mere sight of the math workbook is enough to bring on obstinacy that would make a donkey stand up and salute.  I've had some luck with photocopying the pages in a not-so-subtle attempt at fooling him into thinking that we are not working from the school district's required program, but it doesn't always work.  Hence, I have been using the game of Monopoly to work on basic computation skills.  It is a pleasant way to pass the time, I suppose.  Except for the fact that we are both a bit competitive about the whole thing and the game has become something of a spectator sport amongst some of the other folks who wander by the classroom.  It seemed this game would never end, so committed were we to destroying each other.  

Yesterday, though, the whole thing came to a rather pathetic end and I was forced to admit defeat.  Everything was mortgaged, my piece was on Boardwalk and parked in front of a hotel.  I was in financial ruin.  As the generally accepted rules of play dictate, I was forced to do the clean up.  And watch an eleven year old do a victory dance complete with a song whose lyrics, while not of the rhyming variety, featured my name and the word "loser" prominently.  

It was painful.  Brutally so.  But, his computation skills have really come a long way.  This does not ease the pain quite as much as you'd think...but it helps a little bit.

Example The Second:

I may have The World's Greatest Stylist/Life Coach, but a visit to the Happy Hair Place on the day of their annual Christmas party is going to mean some pain.  Everyone is frantically multi-tasking in a effort to get out a bit early.  There is obviously a great deal of coiffing that needs to happen because, if you work as a stylist, it is probably best that you attend staff functions with good hair.  In fact, I suspect it is mandatory.  

Hence, there was more of the pulling and tugging today than is usual.  Had it just been time for a cut, this might have been bearable as it is a short appointment.  But today was Turn Back The Clock For Sheepie Day and there was color involved.  Little, tiny individual hairs needed to be located and put into place in order that my artificial highlights look as naturally occurring as is possible.  Copious amounts of heat had to be directed at a scalp liberally painted with caustic chemicals.  And it all needed to be done by a person who was watching the clock, cleaning the shop and attending to the million phone calls that were coming in.  

But, as I have The World's Greatest Stylist/Life Coach, this was all manageable.  All I had to do was submit to a bit more pain than the process normally requires.  The scalp, she is crusty and red.  There is a tingly sensation from all that individual hair tweaking.  I'll probably need prescription pain killers to get through it.  But, we suffer for beauty and it is a small price to pay.  

As an added bonus, time did not allow for the heating of the curling iron.  Thus, The Sheep was allowed to escape without the 8th grade prom hair that so often results from time spent with a stylist who has a few extra minutes.  This is good.  Very good.  I'll take a little pain if it means a super-quick appointment and hair that will fit within the confines of my vehicle for the return trip home.  

Example The Third:

The pain of separation is quite brutal, in spite of it being mere emotional pain.  It can become a rather sharp physical sensation as the object of one's desire is wrenched away.  Especially if that object is one into which one's time and energy have been invested.  But sometimes you have to let go.  It may even be for the greater good.  You must take a breath and work through the pain.  It is right and good...

Love for a scarf does not make it yours, after all.  It was meant for another.

And you know, the joy of giving can really go a long way towards setting one on the path to recovery.  The Villandry Lace Scarf was bound off last night and fringes applied.  I even had the time to give it a little wash as it will be living in a home with dogs and I thought that perhaps my Smaller, Less Fluffy Kitty having lain on the yarn might be an issue for them.  It was gifted this afternoon to my stylist and her happiness with it was a joy to see.  Sure, I love the scarf...but I love her even more so I think it was a fair deal.  And my highlights are to die for, thus taking the deal from merely being fair to being downright lopsided.  I mean, really!  A skein of Carons Simply Soft Shadows and a few hours of my time in exchange for good hair? It's a no-brainer!!!

So I guess you have to take the good with the bad.  A little pain may net you some progress in calculation skills, accurately placed highlights and a happy stylist.  Maybe even a little glow from the joy of giving.  It may also send you down another path.

I've started another scarf for gifting.  Deadline knitting is another pain and one that I do not bear well.  And it's self-inflicted....

SA

Per Request...

This little break in the Friday Blog-fast is brought to you courtesy of Beth, who requested a few

more snow pictures. Since I happen to have a little extra snow lying around right now and also happened to remember to grab the camera this morning, I am happy to oblige.

Here we have the front of my building at 6:15 in the god-forsaken morning and a fun glimpse at the start of The Sheep's daily commute:

Anyone else see a zombie behind that bush to the far left of the photo?  Just curious...

And here's a few I took of the playground from my classroom window.  It was overcast and very chilly.  All hail the mighty zoom feature!  It allowed me to take pictures from the second floor without having to venture outside.  I hate outside.  Especially the cold outside.

There you go, Beth!  Maine's early December snows!  Who knows how long they will last, but I have a feeling that we are in for a very white and chilly winter this year!  More of the regular bloggy goodness tomorrow...

SA

The Warrior

I've mentioned before my somewhat odd teaching circumstances.  With two different grades, several different schedules and very little consistency working between any of them, I don't have a typical teaching day.  Hence, I also don't always have a designated lunch period.  Last year was particularly difficult and I pretty much had kids working in the classroom from 7:40 to 3:15.  

But, I am also contractually allowed a twenty minute lunch break per day.  So, I got in the habit of carving out those twenty minutes for myself regardless of the day's routine.  If there were kids who needed to be in my classroom, I simply set them up to work independently for that block of time and called it, "lunch."  And, since I don't really eat much during the day, I usually knit.  I had to stay in the classroom, but I gave myself permission to wield the needles rather than the chalk for that little slice of the day.

However...for those wandering by (perhaps on their way to lunches in the child-free teacher's room) this probably looked a bit odd.  It may have even looked like a certain Ms. Sheep was a bit derelict in her duties.  Teachers, who are a generally responsible lot, like to think that everyone is doing what they are supposed to do.  It is very likely that they might raise the alarm if they think a colleague is flagrantly breaking the rules.

And that, my friends, is exactly what happened last spring.  

Now, before you get all up in arms and start organizing yourselves in protest of this horrific violation of my Civil and Fiber-Related Rights, please know that I considered this a "no harm/no foul" sort of situation.  Anyone who doesn't work my schedule isn't necessarily going to consider the issues that come along with it and it was easy to see how they might misinterpret the scene.  None of the parties involved were trying to be Meanie-Heads and everyone was more than gracious about it once the situation was explained.  

However, I opted to quit with the knit while at school after that.  Sure, I could have continued freely, but you have to choose your battles in this life.  If it came up once, it would come up again for someone who missed the original mini-drama.  I really don't have the energy to keep explaining my schedule and, to be perfectly honest, I don't really always understand it well enough to do so with any real clarity.  

Although, I do have to admit that the idea of a throng of knitters all converging outside my classroom window waving handknit banners with cleverly stranded words of support and singing, "We Shall Not Be Moved" tickles me mightily.  It would almost be worth the resulting "discussion" in the Principal's office later.  But don't do it, please.  The weather has really taken a turn up here and the winds are rather brisk.  Even with the finest of scarves, sweaters, hats and mittens, you would likely catch a chill.  I'd feel badly...

Tomorrow, though, we are suspending the self-imposed moratorium.  I have given it a great deal of deep and complex thought.  I have weighed my options.  I have come up with three very, very good reasons for taking the needles with me to work tomorrow:

1.  Tomorrow is report card day and, thus, an early release day for the students.  The theory behind this may be that those students for whom the news is not good might need the extra time for "explanation."  We like to accommodate our charges.

2.  I have, for reasons that escape me entirely, decided that I must have a hand knit scarf ready for holiday gifting by Saturday morning.  This is doable.  But, the extra knitting time once the children have gone home to face the music will make it more of a sure thing.  This scarf is for my Stylist/Life Coach, after all.  It's not like I can just show up empty handed.  She's doing my color.  We take no chances.

3.  One of the things I've put on the schedule for tomorrow afternoon is a meeting with one of the new teachers to help him work on a behavior support plan for a student.  This is the same teacher who, at the recent district workshops, spent a good twenty minutes grousing about the women in his earlier sessions "just sitting there and knitting the whole time."  He then had to sit next to me in awkward silence while I knit a sock during the final activity of the day.  I think that bringing my knitting along for our meeting will be not only appropriate...it will be necessary.  

Like I said...you need to choose your battles.

SA

WNBP In A Winter Wonderland

We seem to be having a little bit of difficulty getting past the "snow" portion of the weather this week.  No major storms or anything like that.  Just a general overcast feel to the days and the occasional burst of flurries to remind us that winter came a little early this year.  And the cold?  I can't even talk about it without having to rush off to the kitchen in order that I might procure a cup of hot chocolate.  At this rate, I'll be adding another layer to The Thanksgiving Stuffing Girth in no time at all.  

So, to distract myself a little bit, here's your Wednesday Night Bullets:

*I already mentioned the cold so we don't need to go there again.   

*I almost jumped out of my skin this morning while I was scraping a layer of ice off the truck before starting the morning commute.  The end of my hand crocheted scarf fell from my neck  (it was very artfully arranged if I do say so myself) and fluttered a bit in the breeze.  I was convinced that the movement I saw out of the corner of my eye was one of those early morning zombies that I worry about so much.

*Give me a break.  It was dark.  Things lurking over your shoulder in the dark are generally not good.  It is a rare day that someone says, "There was this thing lurking over my shoulder in the dark and it turned out to be a  handsome fellow who wanted to share some pleasant conversation and peanut butter cups..."  Seriously.  Have you ever once heard someone say that?

*My Christmas tree is still a bit on the "light deficient" end of the scale.  I'm planning to go light shopping tomorrow after school.  That one sad little string that represents the only working lights in the whole bunch is just not doing it for me.  

*Actual conversation from my classroom today:

Ms. Sheep: (through a mouthful of salt and carbohydrates)  Oh my god...why am I eating pretzels??  How did this start???  I can't have pretzels on the Post Thanksgiving/Pre Christmas Self Loathing Diet!!!

Cheerful Teaching Assistant:  Well, as I recall, you were over by the cabinet and announced that you get to have pretzels because you have almost finished your teacher recertification paperwork.  I have to admit, I found it a little odd.

Ms. S:  OK...I do recall being by the cabinet.  And I also remember mentioning something about pretzels.  But, half a bag is missing!!!!  This isn't registering with me at all!!!  I've got Pretzel Amnesia!!!

Student Who Is New To The Classroom And Isn't Really Sure If  We Are For Real:  Do you guys talk like this all the time?

*For the record, we pretty much do talk like that all the time.

*I also ate two apples for lunch today.  That is really a very healthy thing to do, but doesn't celebrate the first time in almost twenty years that I have not only started, but almost finished, my teacher recertification requirements within the first year of the five year cycle.  I usually do it during the last ten minutes or so.  

*Even a four row repeat on a simple scarf can be a challenge when you forget a yarnover.  Yarnovers mean you have the right number of stitches and this is a good thing if you are trying to follow a "pattern."  

*The scarf is fixed and only one stitch was dropped in the process.  This was accomplished while riding my little exercise bike. 

*Which means that I dealt with the pretzel poundage, the dropped stitch and my recertification paperwork all in one day.

*That's a lot for me.  I am very tired now.  

*I could have added "zombie dispatching" to the day's list of accomplishments had it not turned out to be my artfully arranged scarf attacking me this morning.

*The same student who was witness to my Pretzel Paranoia today has been sent on a mission to find out what the scoop be with the holiday party in his classroom.  All my students come to me from other classes so, if I want to score some sweet stuff on paper plates, I'm going to have to crash a few homeroom parties.  I prepped him for this mission like we were in the CIA.  

*He did his teacher proud and came back with some amazing intelligence on the Party Situation.  More on that another day.  I get a little misty eyed when I think about it.  I couldn't be prouder of him if he were my own son.  

*Mommy's Little Mole...

*I've been a little remiss with the Hanukkah wishes this year.  So Happy Hanukkah you guys!!!  Have a latke for me, 'kay?  I love those things...but they are probably worse than pretzels for my waistline so I'll just enjoy them vicariously.  

And so ends another Wednesday.  I hope that yours was a good one and that your trudge towards the weekend is all downhill!  And free from attacking zombie scarves...

SA

Snow Days Are Special

The Snow Day is, without a doubt, the finest part of being a teacher.  For a brief, shining moment you get to live like a child and caper about merrily at the prospect of a day off from school.  It's a beautiful thing...disagreements with Christmas tree lights notwithstanding.  That little debacle, complete with less than "seasonally appropriate" commentary wasn't exactly in the spirit of The Snow Day.  Otherwise, though, it was so very, very special and pretty much makes up for any of the stress that comes along with the job the rest of the time.

But what makes The Snow Day such a special thing is that it is rare.  Much like a well-cut diamond, a fine wine or finding a Snickers bar in the back of the freezer when you thought there was no chocolate in the house, it is its somewhat singular nature that makes it so precious.  In other words:  I had to go back to school today.

The truck was coated in an inch thick layer of ice, the roads were only marginally plowed in places and the passing semis threw layer upon layer of slush upon my already icy windshield.  I was later than usual in getting to my classroom and readying things for the day.  

The students were bleary eyed until recess when the opportunity to frolic in freshly falling snow gave them a new burst of energy and zest for life.  They came back in fairly dripping with the zest and leftover snow so there were puddles everywhere for the remainder of the afternoon.  The staff never really got their zest on, though.  This was highly evident during a fifth grade staff meeting where I was the target of a particularly nasty attack by a colleague who I think has just been lying in wait for this sort of opportunity for a variety of reasons.  Fortunately, her motives are well-known by others with whom I work and I was given tacit permission to respond to her in the manner she deserved.  

I also got a lot of sympathy afterwards which is pretty sweet.  I can work that for a week or so...

Upon arriving home, I discovered one kitty waiting at the door and this is one short of the usual number.  The reason for this was quickly discovered as the blinds from the living room window were on the floor and the cord dragged halfway across the room.  It didn't take a master detective to figure out why a certain smaller and less fluffy kitty might be hiding from Mommy.  We are keeping an eye on her, though.  She's a little skittish tonight and I want to make sure that there is no injury involved, here.  She's old and less than steady on her feet on the best of days.

Kitties don't usually come out the winner when the blinds attack, after all.

But, in my mind, all of this is good stuff.  Not a potential kitty injury.  Even if she was playing with the blinds when she knows better, no one deserves a boo boo when Mommy isn't home to kiss it and make it better.  For the most part, though, a trying day just goes into The Making The Next Snow Day More Special Fund.  You gotta have a bunch of regular, no-fun, maybe even a little aggravating times if you really want to appreciate the moments when you get a nice surprise.  

I also have a lovely reminder of the whole happy snow day.  The new scarf is moving along splendidly thanks to a day off and 45 minutes on the little exercise bike this afternoon.  (No...I didn't work out yesterday.  Like I said:  snow days are special!!!)  I think I may have found my new default scarf pattern for the foreseeable future!  These four simple rows are taking a couple of leftover skeins of Caron's Simply Soft and making something rather nice.  I do believe I may even have it done in time for gifting this weekend!  The World's Greatest Stylist/Life Coach is not wise to the ways of wool and no amount of coaxing on my part is going to make her understand that wool can, in fact, be soft.  This will be the perfect fiber for her.  Hopefully, I'll have it ready to go when I stumble in for a little color Saturday morning.  In case anyone was just burning with curiosity over what pattern might inspire The Sheep to actually knit a holiday gift after swearing on a stack of Interweave Knits that this was not going to happen, fear not.  I shall happily share!  It is the Villandry Lace Scarf.    I can't remember just where I first saw it, although saying it appeared to me either in a dream or on Ravelry would probably be in the ballpark.  Either way, it is a simple, no fuss scarf pattern that works up quickly and is something a little different from my usual one-row wonders.  That is something sort of special too, I suppose.

Not as special as a Snow Day or coming home to two cats and functioning mini blinds.  But very nice in its own way.

SA

"Season Of Lights" my foot!!!

The Magical Snow Day Rituals seem to have done the trick.  The early morning cancellation lists all included my school district and a merry little dance was performed by yours truly to celebrate the first Snow Day of the school year.  It was a happy little moment, that's for sure.  I then began pondering just how best to spend this day that was gifted unto me.

*Note:  "Gift" is sort of a less than descriptive term since schools are legally required to be open for a certain number of days and this day will be made up to ensure that we are compliant.  But, a Monday off is a Monday off and I refuse to let little details get in the way of my enjoyment.

I normally put up my Christmas tree during the first weekend of December, but I sort of let the weekend get away from me this time around.  I figured that a snow day falling right after my breach of personal tradition must be a sign of some sort and that the tree was meant to go up today.

*Note:  My yearly assembling of the mighty fake pine is not something to which I look forward.  I do it because I consider it to be my last stand against the onset of grouchy spinsterhood.  There will come a year that I decide to just forget about it, citing the fact that I am the only one who ever sees it and that hanging tinsel from a houseplant or two is just as festive.  But I know that this will also be the year I accept the transition into that phase of life which involves people shaking their heads sadly over my existence or insisting that I join them for various celebrations to ease what must be my loneliness whether I like it or not.  

As this is not a year during which I have opted to become the Pathetic No-Christmas-Tree-Lady, the tree was dragged from it's hiding place in the back room and the pieces laid out on the floor for assembly.  I then spent some quality time observing The Annual Berating Of Self For Not Clearly Marking How To Put The Branches On In The Right Order Like I Swore I Would Do Last Year After I Put The Tree Together Upside Down.  This is a time honored tradition in my home and, more than anything else, signifies the true meaning of the season for me.

*Note:  The move to an artificial tree was made a number of years ago after a rather horrific incident which involved me being trapped under a fallen and ice-coated pine in the middle of my living room.  There was every reason to believe at the time that I would be stuck there until spring.  While you are entangled in the dripping, sticky branches of a freshly cut Christmas tree, you have a great deal of time for reflection.  I vowed that, if I got out of that situation alive, I would purchase a fake tree for the following year.  After all, it would be so much easier...

With the first portion of the day's festivities complete, it was time for the more fun aspects of the task.  Trimming the tree always makes me glad I went ahead with the whole process.  I carefully go through each ornament, remembering from whence it came and reliving Christmases past.  First, though, the lights must be carefully and evenly strung.  

*Note:  If you aren't picking up on the foreshadowing here, then you just aren't trying.

Things went so wrong at this point that it is almost impossible to describe.  Before a single ornament was placed, there was a tantrum of such epic and non-Noelish proportions that I fear I may be banned from the whole holiday on general principle.  My fool-proof system for storing the lights from year to year, the one that has served me faithfully for nigh on a decade now, failed me in such a manner that one might even call it treason.  

*Note:  We are not yet in an emotionally safe place and will not be ready to admit that we may have inadvertently wound the lights up last year in such a way that getting them ready for stringing was pretty much impossible.  We will work on this and may find the inner strength to take responsibility before the New Year.  

The lights proceeded to clench themselves into a tight ball of green wire and bulbs, clinging all the more tightly in response to my efforts at coaxing them apart.  I started off chuckling about the whole thing and resigning myself to an extra ten minutes of light wrangling.  When those ten minutes had expired, I moved into a slightly more miffed state of mind and may have even said, "gosh darn these things" once or twice.  Thirty minutes later, with the lights now hopelessly enmeshed, there was a great explosion of "holiday spirit" which culminated in my vigorously kicking the light ball across the living room and into the new laptop.  Now there's an image you won't see featured on any of this year's Hallmark line...

*Note:  The laptop is fine.  

After a brief time-out and the consumption of some coffee, I felt able to return to the job.  After all, to have come so far and to not have a tree to show for the effort would be just heartbreaking.  As Kris Kringle was my witness, I was going to have a lit tree to admire!!!

*Note:  This is a second chance for those of you who missed that foreshadowing thing from before...

It should have come as no surprise after all the tugging and kicking that two of the three strands of lights were no longer functional.  You really don't have to be an elf or an electrician to figure that one out.  Fortunately, by that time, I was a little tired from all the exertion so there really wasn't much left in me for another tantrum.  I put up the one sad little string that was functioning and, as the weather wasn't really conducive to venturing out for more, called it a day.  I was not, however, without the ability to get in the last word and those words were uttered with great force as the offending lights were tossed into the trash can. 

*Note:  The forcefully uttered words do not bear repeating. 

**Note:  I will purchase more lights this weekend.  I've not lost complete faith in the process, you see...

The remainder of the day was spent watching online episodes of all the television shows I've been meaning to catch but always seem to forget about on the designated viewing day.  This more than made up for the tree debacle and my blood pressure is now well within the correct limits.  I even opted to try a little holiday knitting as an homage to the falling snows and half-lit tree.  I've an appointment with The World's Greatest Stylist this weekend and I sort of like to give her something knitted for Christmas.  I figured that a scarf might just be doable in a week's time, even for me.  

Artfully arranged photo for your viewing pleasure.

And now we can all safely say that The Sheep has fully enmeshed herself in the holiday season.  The tree is up (such as it is) and she is actually attempting to knit a Christmas gift in full defiance of her self-imposed ban on all deadline needlework.  I guess that's what a little snow will do for you...

But, it is also true that I may just be one year closer to becoming The Pathetic No Christmas Tree Lady.  I'm not sure my mental health will survive another Season Of Lights.

SA

Inside Out.

If you ever find yourself sitting around and suddenly thinking, "gee, I'd surely like to know what's going on with the weather," you have a few options.  You could consult a meteorologist if you happen to know one personally.  If not, you could just turn to any readily available media and get what you need.  Newspapers, television, Internet...any will do.

Or, you could just ask a teacher.

Most of us aren't "weather experts" or anything.  At least not in a way that would allow us to put it on a resume.  But we are pretty darned invested in the whole phenomenon.  Obsessively so, some might say.  Depending upon the geographical location, the time of year we start really becoming Weather Watchers may vary.  In my neck of the woods, that time has come.  My colleagues and I have begun the scanning of the skies and the contemplating of the clouds.  We are waiting for that special event that comes rarely, but is welcomed with arms so open that shoulders get dislocated.

Snow Day!!!

Think back on your school days and imagine the face of your crustiest, grumpiest, least-cool teacher.  I'm talking about the one that only smiled after extensive dental work and the resulting pain-killers kicking in.  The one who called your mom when you didn't finish your lunch or who wouldn't let you use the "good" ball at recess.  That miserable example of humanity could be found pressed up against the window on a snowy morning, cheering the advancing flakes and letting out a big, ol' whoop of joy when the television or radio announced that the day was a freebie.

You don't have to believe me.  I'll understand if you think it unlikely.  But, I speak true.

Last Friday, we slipped seamlessly back into Snow Mode like clockwork.  There was a rumor in the wind that there was a storm a-comin' Sunday night and it was all we could do to contain ourselves or show a modicum of professionalism in front of the children.  We don't want them to think that we like Snow Days or anything.  We need them to believe that we are so committed to our work that we come in even when school is cancelled and spend the day wistfully tidying up our desks or teaching each other until the nightmare is over.  This is a better image, really.

But it's a completely false image and I could be drummed out of the Teacher's Association for sharing this.  Keep it under your hat 'kay?  Thanks...

In fact, we are so invested in the idea of a Snow Day, that we have many insane little rituals and superstitions around the whole thing.  They vary from school to school and you won't always see the same things, but there is a little consistency.  For example, in most teaching communities it is perfectly all right to discuss what you think might happen regarding the weather and the superintendent's decision making process, but it is never OK to say that you definitely plan on staying home.  That is "jinxing" the whole thing and everyone will blame you the next day should you have to be in your classrooms.  Some schools I've worked in have a certain item for lunch on the day before a potential storm.  Others have special greetings or incantations that the teachers like to say to one another to help bring the precipitation.

I've worked in a number of Maine schools.  I jump around a lot...I get bored easily, I suppose.  And in that time, I have found a ritual that, unlike some of the others, is consistent.  I can't tell you if this is a nationwide sort of thing or if it is just a state tradition.  But, everyone does it.  And if they don't do it, then they will lie and say they did.  It's that important.  If you don't want to think about your child's teachers doing something so ridiculous that you will never be able to look them in the eye again during parent/teacher conferences, then surf away now.  'Cuz I'm gonna tell you what I'm wearing to bed tonight:

Inside-out pajamas.

Yup.  If you live in Maine, chances are that your child's teacher, the one in whose care you place your most precious little bundle of joy five days per week, will be wearing his or her jammies inside out tonight.  I don't know when this little ritual started.  I don't know how it spread.  I can't even comment on it's reliability as a tool for getting a three day weekend.  I just know that it is tradition.  

It may be a little bit of over-kill, though.  This is our weather forecast for tonight into tomorrow.  At the risk of taunting the Snow Day gods, I think it is safe to say that there may be some down time tomorrow.  I'm not predicting that there will be...that would break the rules, after all.  But, c'mon!  I'm not made of stone, here!  It is hard not to get excited.  The idea of staying home, doing a little holiday prep, maybe breaking out the spinning wheel like I meant to do today but didn't sounds awfully appealing.  I'll still pack a lunch, iron my clothes and set the alarm.  That's the responsible thing to do, after all.  

But, when I'm done with all that I'll be sitting around in my inside-out PJ's and dreaming of a Snow Day.  You can count on it!

SA

But Everything Is a Dollar!!!

I'm a sucker for the Dollar Store.  And, with the holidays upon us, I'm even more easily seduced by its siren song.  No.  I don't do my Christmas shopping at the Dollar Store.  Although, I must admit that if I thought I could get away with it, I'd probably do it in a heartbeat.  

But, I know I'd get caught.  This is sort of how things work in my world. 

You can't beat it for boxes, ribbons and cute little package toppers, though.  This is the kind of place that satisfies my need to embellish with wild abandon and still have money left over for purchasing gifts that reflect my true affection for people.  That would be more than a dollar, just for the record.  I like my friends and family for the most part. 

However. I am in between paychecks at the moment so I decided to put my disposable income towards food and kitty litter rather than wander through the Store Of Cheap Goods.  The plan was to go to the grocery store bright and early, thus avoiding the temptation of the Dollar Store that lurks next door but which doesn't open until 9:00.  I would triumph over my desire to purchase irregular tube socks and oddly shaped plastic tree ornaments.  Yup.  My new motto is:  The Early Sheep Catches The Penny Saved And Eats A Worm...or something like that.

But, I got a little distracted by the joys of lolling about in the early morning hours, I'm afraid.  I enjoyed that second cup of coffee.  I chatted with the engaging Rabbitch.  I watched a few cartoons.  In short, I let the morning get away from me and, before I knew it, the 9:00 hour had arrived.  I'd missed the early shopping window.  

Which is how I ended up spending $25.00 at the Dollar Store.  But, I found some really cute little tins for packaging up edible goodies and some cinnamon sticks that will be perfect to go with the oranges and lemons I'm drying right now.  What can I say?  I am weak in the face of a dollar-based pricing system.  And besides, can you really put a price on a nice, relaxing morning?

I'll find some sort of support group after the holidays.  Meanwhile, let's set aside this unpleasant addition to my list of obsessions and look at a sock, shall we?  

I may be a Dollar Store addicted lay-about, but I can still make some progress on a sock if I put my mind to it.

It's a bit more clear now how the decreases in the cuff change up the patterning a bit.  But, I still think that the fit will more than make up for that.  In theory, I'll have a less constricting experience at the calf, while still enjoying a smooth fit at the the ankle.  I do hate ankle baggage, you see.  This, of course, remains pure theory.  I haven't tried them on or anything crazy like that.  And I do believe that Sockotta's cotton content is going to lead to some loss of fiber memory no matter what I do.  But, I love the crisp look of the stitches and I think that these will ultimately be pretty comfy even if the fit doesn't quite work out as planned.  You can't get that for a dollar, that's for sure!  Even I can admit that...

Lastly, thanks for the good feedback on Thursday's post regarding children and the protection of personal information.  That's one of those topics that sort of fell into my lap that day, frankly.  It is also one that might lead readers to think we should all live in a state of high alert and fear.  But, that is never my intention.  Quite the opposite, really.  I have been an educator and counselor to families and children for many, many years now.  In that storied career, I've worked with both victims and offenders.  (and many who fall into both categories by the time they reach adulthood)  It's kind of my job to be a little paranoid.  But, I don't teach that.  Instead, I preach empowerment.  I think that the whole point of living smart is to avoid having to live in fear.  The world is a pretty good place (yes, I really do believe that) and it doesn't have to be scary at all.  

Unless, of course, you are me and have given in to your two great obsessions in one week.  For those of you keeping track, there has been one Underpants Purchasing Incident (bringing my current total back up to somewhere around 40) and a Dollar Store Detour.  This is scary, indeed!

SA

I'm A Heck Of A Nice Person.

Not only am I nice, but I think that most people are.  Yup.  There's a whole bunch of nice folks wandering around out there in the world.  But, not everyone is nice.  Consider this:

I finished up another fun-filled day of educating the masses in a much less tired state than I've been exhibiting most of this week.  I even stopped by the local department store on the way home to pick up a few odds 'n ends.  And underpants.  I was doing well with that for a while, there.  I hadn't given in to my unquenchable desire to purchase underpants for months, now.  But, then the whole thing came up again on the blog and I got to thinking about underpants and how my new stuffing-enhanced girth might benefit from some fresh elastic waistbands. Besides,  giving in to the Underpants Urges makes me awfully happy...

Whistling a happy little underpants themed tune of my own making, I let myself back into my home and was greeted by my answering machine displaying 5 new messages.  This is unusual.  Normally, this means that it is the day before an election or I have neglected to pay someone some significant amount of money and they are resorting to mildly threatening phone calls in order that I might begin to see the importance of sending them my dollars.  But, I was all happy from the new underpants at that point, so I figured I'd play the messages anyway.  It's not anyone's fault that we live in a democracy or that I sometimes forget to put the checks in with the bills, after all.  

This round of messages was different, though.  It seems that there is a little girl in my town who really, really needs to talk to her friend.  I mean she really, really, really needs to talk to her.  Badly.  Tonight's activities depend upon it.  Lives may be at stake.  So intent was she in her quest to make sure that her friend understood the importance of this conversation, that she spent a great deal of time on these messages.  I now know the following:

1.  Her name

2.  Her friend's name

3.  Where they are going tonight and in what area of the building they will be meeting

4.  What time they will be there

5.  The color and make of the car that will be dropping her off for this meeting

6.  Her phone number

7.  Her address

8.  Directions to her house

9.  She is concerned about her friend's lack of response and would really like to know what is going on..she's maybe even a little distracted by this turn of events.

10.  And, from her voice, I can assume that she is between the ages of ten and twelve

Let's take a minute and think about what one of those not-so-nice people might do with this information.  Are you getting a picture yet?  Are you envisioning the potential for disaster?  Are you maybe starting to wonder just how much information kids give out over the phone without realizing it?  

After several power outages and having to re-record my outgoing message about a billion times, I finally just decided to leave it on the default setting.  Hence, the voice that callers hear is a computerized male.  There is no identifying information about the residence given.  This youngster had no way of knowing that she was dialing the wrong number.  She trusted that this was her friend's house.  Kids are like that.  They "assume."  

Fortunately, I was home for her last attempt at reaching her friend and was able to let her know that she was not calling the right number.  Hopefully, she reached her friend and they were able to confirm their plans for a fun-filled evening.  I know from her calls that she was willing to move heaven and earth to make this an easy process.  There were any number of options given for making the meet-up happen.

I, like most people, am a very nice person.  I do not have any interest in the social schedules of young children.  Nor do I care where they live and how long it will be before they are outside the protection of parental supervision.  I just want to sit around in my jammies tonight and work on my Sort Of Purple Sock That Might Match Something I Own.  I'm a simple girl in addition to being pretty nice.

But not everyone is.  And I'm wondering if that voice in the background on those messages was her mom.  And if she really understands how lucky she is that I am so nice.

SA

Back To The Routine

OK.  We're back on track and will do the Wednesday Night Bullet Post on the right night.  Routines are good and healthy.  If we didn't have routines then we wouldn't know what day it is.  And then how on earth would we know what is on television?  It would be anarchy, I tellya!!

Routine bullets to follow:

*I am still tired.  

*The kids in my class are still tired.

*This is making for some interesting days at The Learn-a-matorium.

*Maybe not so much "interesting" as "irritating."  Whatever.

*I haven't knit much this week.  I've been too busy with all the being tired and everything.  But, I am almost through the gussets on Sort Of Purple Socks That Might Match Something I Own.  

*This represents the fastest knitting I've done in months.

*My Post-Thanksgiving Diet is going swimmingly.  I haven't attacked any small children for their half-eaten cookies or been found begging in the streets for sticks of butter.

*Don't count your chickens before they've hatched, though.  I could snap at any moment.  

*Maybe you should count your chickens after all.  I may have eaten one...

*The apple and pear I had for lunch today never magically changed into steak.  I said all sorts of incantations and wished on any number of objects around the room that looked like they might contain a genie.  No dice.

*I stopped on the way home and bought a diet Mountain Dew as a little treat.  

*Then I got distracted and forgot it on the counter at the store.  

*They are so nice at the little convenience store down the street...they hardly laugh at all when you have to go back for the only item you purchased, but still forgot to take home with you.  

*Did I happen to mention that I am tired?  And maybe just a little bit hungry...

*This is Chocolate Pie:

*I took that last week when I was on vacation and the world was a magical place filled with leftover pie as far as the eye could see.  Those were happy times...

*I'm thinking about breaking out the sewing machine this weekend.  I have some brilliant ideas for stunning projects.  I'm a genius when it comes to the having of brilliant ideas.

*I'm not so handy with the execution, though.  No good will come of this.

*It is possible that I am hallucinating from the lack of pie.  Everything seems like a good idea when you are pie-deficient.

*That's right.  I now consider pie a nutrient.  Wanna make something of it?

*I took a pair of my skinny jeans out of the closet this afternoon just to say, "hi!"  They didn't say anything back to me, though.  It seems I miss them more than they miss me.

*The weather has taken a turn for the "seasonal" lately.  Time to break out the scarf I crocheted last summer!  Maybe over the weekend when I'm allowed to eat solid food again, I'll have the strength to put up a picture or do a scarf-link of some sort.  It is quite pretty...

*I'm also hearing rumors of snow in the near future.  Monday might be an interesting commute to school.  I'm packing a couple extra pears just in case I get stranded on the highway or something.

*That way, if I find that I am facing a wintery death trapped in my car, I won't care so much.  Extra pears don't exactly inspire one to trudge out into a blizzard seeking shelter.

Tah-dah!!!  A nice, rambling, routine post for your Wednesday pleasure!  I can now officially say that the week is more than half over.  I can also give myself a little break tomorrow and wear a nice pair of loose fitting jeans.  You know the ones:  straight leg, mid-rise that doesn't quite hit the waistline, just the teeniest touch of Lycra to help everything stretch out of shape and away from the body...yeah, those jeans!  

This will be a nice little treat after three days of holding my breath whilst wearing my Professional, But Waist-Cinching Because I Over-Ate During Thanksgiving Trousers.  I wonder if moving a little oxygen in and out of my lungs will help with the tiredness...

SA