Wheeling And Dealing Sans Ascot

Perhaps it is because I live alone that I have such colorful inner dialogues. In the absence of other humans, I find myself quite able to chatter colorfully along for hours and hours. Or maybe it is because my professional life has been pretty much based on walking people through what motivates their behaviors and helping them to learn from the journey. It might be that I'm merely loony and just not ready to accept it yet.

I don't think so, though. I think most people converse within their own skulls from time to time. I'm maybe just more willing to admit it. It could also be that I'm so starved for conversation that I don't care what strange things I'll profess, but I don't want to go there today.

The pondering of purchasing an ereader, however, came out of a "real life" conversation. The Cheerful Teaching Assistant and I first began drooling over them well over a year ago. Even after we stopped working together for a while, the memory of those digital marvels lingered. But the process of buying one wasn't something I could ever do without at least a million Arguments With Self.

The first of those debates was philosophical. I call it the If I Was A Classier Person Syndrome. In this case, it boiled down to my thinking that a "good" reader was one who liked the smell of paper and the feel of hard covers in the hand. These readers never dog ear pages or accidentally drop books in the tub. They buy their favorite titles in hardcover and they never, ever lose the dust jackets. They have a shelving system.

I am not that kind of reader. I am hard on books. I read a lot. I drag books everywhere. I fold pages almost half way down to make sure I can get back to the right page. I don't buy hardcover books if I can help it because they are heavy and the ink from the bindings leaks everywhere when the aforementioned tub-drop happens.

That's not to say I don't like the feel of a book. I do. I like it a lot. But it's the words that get me and what keeps me in the story. As much as I'd like to be the type who reads great literature in a chair by the fire, I'll just never be able to live up to the image. I don't even own an ascot, for crying out loud! And you just know I'll tip the brandy snifter all over everything.

The next inner chat came down firmly in favor of the digitized reading experience. Shortly before that, something else came down. Namely a stack of books in my bedroom that was at least waist high. It scared the cats and irritated the people who live downstairs.

I have a lot of books. Hundreds. Sure, I go to the library. And, yes, I can always sell off a few at the used bookstore. But I like owning books. I read them over and over. And over. I am loathe to part with any of them. Even the most boring books in my collection are mine, mine, mine and woe be to those who eye them covetously! I can never own a bookstore because I'd always be flinging myself between the shelves and my customers with tears of horror in my eyes. I'd only ever make any money on the pastry cart and that's not even a sure thing. I also happen to like pastry a great deal.

An ereader would hold lots of books and they wouldn't be falling on my toes all the time. This is a good thing. Plus, the books are a bit cheaper and the world is a little greener without me demanding all the trees be cut down so I can build a book fort.

I still didn't buy one, though. The next debate was with my purse strings. Digital readers can be pricey and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't spending the catnip and frozen pizza money with wild abandon. I also have a tendency to get all starry eyed in the face of "features." Features make it hard for me to breathe and forget that I really just want to read a book. I don't need something that will pick my nose and do the laundry. I just need words on a screen. I fought mightily against my desire for all things shiny and did some research. There are some very good readers out there at a reasonable price. Maybe they don't offer the ability to purchase a book from atop a windswept mountain in the middle of nowhere, but that's not any more my lifestyle than the hardcover book by the fire.

Finally, with fingers fairly itching and the purse strings loosening, I made a deal with myself. It went thusly:

OK, self. Here's how we are going to do this. If you (meaning "I") can agree to wait until we (meaning "I") get paid for teaching those Safety Procedures Classes and to purchase the simple reader that will do just what it says and nothing more, then I (the other "I") will give in to the need to satisfy instant gratification and not order the cheaper one online. We ("I") will go to the store on Friday and pay the extra twenty bucks to get the thing for this very weekend. Do we/I/you/whomever else is living in this head have a deal?

We/I did. The school district came through with the monies owed (finally) and Friday afternoon the contract was executed. Sure, it seems kind of weird for a day of knitting and reading to look like this:

No fireplace, no ascot, no smell of fresh paper...

Yet, it is no less satisfying. Of course, I still can't read in the tub. That could be disastrous. But I may have one or two other bits of reading material around here that will suffice. I'll just go visit the book fort.

SA

It's That Time Again!

No, not just Wednesday. Although Wednesdays are rather nice in that we get to have a Wednesday Night Bullet Post and all. But tonight is that OTHER kind of Wednesday...

The kind we call Parent/Teacher Conference Night (and I don't have any scheduled conferences.) That's always fun, right? Let's see how the night is moving along:

*I did not have a single conference scheduled.

*Not one.

*The contract says I have to stay and, since I get paid the same as everyone else, I don't quibble with that.

*Nor do I blame anyone.

*Long night, though.

*Long with a side of boredom.

*Except for the part where I have to find excuses for not doing the work currently piled up on my desk.

*That is challenging, especially when there is ample time to get all that done.

*Gotta get creative if there is gonna be any knitting tonight. Wouldn't want to get sucked into paperwork...

*I did paperwork earlier when I didn't have any conferences scheduled.

*Taxpayers relax. I am working.

*(mostly...)

*A parent came in earlier.

*Kid is in my class most of the day.

*She met with lots of other people.

*Not me.

*Which I find odd.

*I was at the book fair buying new books.

*It seemed like the thing to do since there was no one scheduled to meet with me this afternoon. Or tonight. Or any time in between.

*No one has put out an emergency page or sent a concerned email regarding my not having met with this parent so I guess teachers failed to note that this kid isn't in any of their classes.

*Or they had more to say than I on the matter...

*I was at the book fair. I was happy. I guess it all worked out.

*Everyone else is at dinner right now.

*Potluck.

*Parent Sponsored.

*Very Kind Thing To Do And Much Appreciated.

*However...

*I cannot eat potluck because I don't know which parent's child hates me and spit in the food before it was delivered.

*Neither does anyone else. Better to eat snack mix in my room rather than worry about it.

*Everyone down there just let out a big cheer which probably means that the food was spit-free.

*Darn it...

*I have not worked on that sock I brought with me.

*The one I started last night just so I'd have something to work on during the empty hours at Parent/Teacher Conferences.

*It's not like I can keep hanging out at the book fair.

*The librarian will think I'm a stalker.

*Or a book thief.

*I have a parent coming in at 6:00.

*He didn't actually ask to meet with me but I'm poaching the conference because everyone should have someone tonight, right?

*Ms. Sheep is the wallflower of Parent/Teacher Conferences.

*This kid is in my class part of the day so I won't look completely out of place.

*Restraining orders will not be necessary.

*Unlike the book fair situation.

*I might have to go back there just to see what's left on the shelves.

*Spring book fair has lots and lots of sale items.

*Found a zombie book but am too lazy to link right now.

*Mrs. Secretary Who Sits At The Back Desk has informed me in no uncertain terms that she does not want me wandering down to talk about my zombie book in the office tonight.

*But she smiled when she said it so I think she might be amused if I did...

*Mrs. Secretary Who Sits At The Front Desk went home at 3:00 today but she thought it was pretty nifty.

*We have similar tastes...

*Not so much with MSWSATBD but she loves me anyway.

*OK. It's getting close to the next conference so I should dash now.

*Actually, it's getting close to my ONLY conference and I'm maybe getting overexcited about the whole thing.

*Still should dash.

*Maybe use the restroom since I'm so excited about seeing another human being and all...

Happy Wednesday to those of you not sitting alone in a classroom and fervently hoping you haven't forgotten all your social skills. Go breathe some fresh air for me and embrace the world in all its wonder.

I'm stuck here 'til 8:00.

SA

Webster's Take Note

Apparently, I have my own definition of the word "triumph." I also seem to see the word "victory" somewhat differently than most. Don't even get me started on how I use "crowning achievement..."

I meant to blog last night. I was actually rather excited about it. It's been a while since I finished anything of a knitted nature and I looked forward to presenting the blogging community with my recent triumph.

See that? I called it a triumph.

The fact that it was only a single sock meant nothing to me. I crowed over what I was soon to accomplish as if it was the greatest victory ever claimed by a mere mortal.

And there it is. Victory.

I didn't dwell upon my having started this sock before Christmas. Or how it sat unworked for months. And then, once picked up again, still took weeks to get near the finish line. This single piece of footwear was nothing short of the crowning achievement in my long knitting career.

That's the last one. Crowning achievement. For a sock...

But when push came to shove, I didn't finish those last few rounds. I was so close. The toe was doing that thing that toes do and it would take nothing for me to close the deal. Still...I set it aside. It was almost like I wanted to fail, for crying out loud!

This left me with nothing bloggable. Not a thing. I didn't even have a good cat story to tell. I let the blog sit untouched, much like the poor sock. I was not the victor.

Today, I finished the sock. I grafted those last few stitches and gazed in wide eyed wonder at that which I had wrought.

The word "victory" was used several times. Shamelessly.

Yes, a single and simple sock is now the yardstick by which I measure greatness. You'd have thought I cured the common cold or figured out a way to get that weird aftertaste out of Parmesan cheese. I probably should be working on my understanding of the word "delusional," but I don't see it happening any time soon.

First I want to knit the ribbing on the second sock. That will probably cause me to redefine how we use the words "epic journey."

SA

Bright As A Shiny, New Nail!

Most people don't find cause for angst in a simple oil change. I, however, have a long history of car disasters and oil changes have often led to revelations of a more pricey nature. Frankly, I'd avoid them altogether except for the fact that my car gets rather panicky when I pass the recommended mileage mark. It flashes messages at me well beforehand and those missives increase in frequency until I give in.

I've learned to see the bright side in having to drag the chariot down to the dealership. If I have to go, I might as well have some fun with it. It's not always easy, mind you. And the new car doesn't have nearly the same level of drama my poor truck experienced so I don't really need to go to all this effort. But it's best to be prepared.

I got up bright and early in order to be ready for today's appointment. Of course, the most important thing was to check the sock bag because it was the sock that was going to see me through this trial. I was pleased to see that I had miles and miles of plain knitting ahead of me with nary a toe decrease in sight. With that little task behind me, I set out for my designated service bay and began searching for bright spots.

Bright Spot #1: Peppy Guy At The Desk

(Sheepish Annie arrives early for her appointment and is displeased to see that a stranger sits behind the desk. She really prefers it when N is there because she is nice and helpful and adjusts the bill when things start to edge over the thousand dollar mark)

Peppy Guy At The Desk: Good morning! That'll be an oil change and tire rotation, right?

Sheepish Annie: How did you...never mind. I don't want to know. Yes. That's me.

PGATD: Well, you just sign here and we'll get started! Is the car running OK?

SA: Yes. Well...there's the tire thing.

PGATD: Tire thing?

SA: It's shaped like a triangle.

PGATD: It's not supposed to do that. It's supposed to stay round. Like a circle.

SA: I read that somewhere.

PGATD: Why don't we take a look at that?

SA: You're the expert. I might suggest it needs some air, though. If it's OK to offer an opinion.

PGATD: Of course! We encourage participation!

Bright Spot #2: Bright Colors And Life Lessons

I settled into my Waiting Room Chair and broke out the sock bag. The room was rather full this morning. I was, however, the only woman (a fact that is not exactly relevant but will soon become almost funny in a roundabout way). I was also the youngest person there. (which is saying something considering that I'm 44 at the moment)

The television was on and, for reasons known only to the person who made the choice, set to cartoons. I don't mind cartoons. In fact, I like them. I've got cartoons on right now. I am used to cartoons as background noise. These, however, were not edgy, cool cartoons. There was nary a hint of violence. Not a single character is currently on a t-shirt because no one has ever heard of these cartoons. They were not the kind of cartoons that an adult can watch and find a subtle undercurrent of grown up humor.

The first half was about the importance of sharing and how teamwork is a faster way to get things done. The second half was about the value of persevering even when you don't win the game. Happy doggies played the key roles. The average five year old would have been in heaven.

Which is why I was so startled when I happened to glance up at my fellow Waiting Room Prisoners and saw that, to a man...

THEY WERE ALL WATCHING!!!

And I mean intently. Mouths were agape. They were transfixed. I almost had to leave the room for fear of disturbing them with my peals of laughter...

Bright Spot #3: The Return Of Peppy Guy At The Desk

All good things must come to an end and soon I was alone again. The older men with cartoon fetishes all got their cars back and went home to lie about what they watched on TV that morning. A new guy came in and found the remote before he got sucked into the madness. I almost missed the cartoons and was a little sad. Then PGATD came back.

PGATD: Well, we've figured out the triangular tire thing.

SA: Really? Do tell.

PGATD: You had a nail in your tire. That leads to triangles.

SA: OK. Mental note: Stop driving over nails.

PGATD: You should probably also consider not driving over screws because we found one of those, too.

SA: That's a lot to remember.

PGATD: I'd also advise not driving over broken glass and railroad spikes just to be safe.

SA: I'm getting that tattooed on my forearm...

PGATD: We can patch the tire and have you on your way soon.

SA: (Smiles knowingly. "Soon" isn't something that factors into routine maintenance.)

Bright Spot #4: Thinking Ahead.

Unfortunately, the guy who found the remote wasn't content to control the TV. He needed more in the way of power. Hence, he decided that I might benefit from his Waiting Room Wisdom.

The fact that he wasn't wrong in his concern over how long I'd been waiting didn't help matters. He had no way of knowing that waiting is just the way things go for me and that asking doesn't do anything other than make me have to get up more often than I want to. It takes as long as it takes and, for me, it always takes longer. That's just how it is.

It also didn't help that it took most of a sock foot to get to this point. I was nearing the spot where I thought I might have to decrease but was loathe to try the thing on so publicly. What we knitters see as perfectly reasonable behavior is kind of odd to the rest of the world. But I needed to be doing something if I was going to send the Begone Well Intentioned But Ultimately Unhelpful Creature vibe.

My choices were limited. I could decrease and hope for the best. I could knit on and hope for the same. Either could work out well or could result in my having to pick out stitches. It was a quandary, I tells ya!

Thankfully, I'd thought ahead. My library book was right there in my bag and waiting for me to use it as an impenetrable barrier against Car Gurus. It took a while for him to get the hint, but finally I was allowed to read in peace.

And, soon enough, my name was called. Of course my helpful friend couldn't help but comment on how worried he'd been about my having to set up housekeeping at the dealership, but that was all right. I'd made it to the finish line!

Bright Spot #5: Shiny, Happy Car Sans Triangles!

I drove away in my freshly washed and vacuumed vehicle and reveled in the sound of rolling round rubber. Ahhhh! That is the greatest reward, isn't it? The message center in the dashboard showed naught but my mileage and looked happier than it has in days. All is right with the world!

At least for another three thousand miles...

SA

WNBP: Minute By Minute, You Get What You Get

It is Wednesday. I often am confused about the day and today is no exception. But it's not my fault because they changed the teacher's meeting to this afternoon and we usually have those on Tuesday. Hence, it is forgivable that I might think it is Tuesday. It is also understandable if I wish it was Friday but that is the kind of thing that can't be changed by a last minute email from the principal.

Here's your bullet points for this week:

*I was greeted this morning by a frantic fellow staff member.

*Apparently it was the special ed department's day to take notes at the staff meeting but no one else was going due to schedule conflicts.

*I said I'd take the minutes.

*I did not want to take the minutes.

*I've never taken the minutes.

*I don't even read the minutes when someone else takes them.

*Frankly, I'm not sure if I know how to take the minutes.

*Shortly after I arrived at the meeting, the person who asked me to take the minutes came in and sat right next to me.

*Which I thought was rather bold...

*Another person from my department was sitting across the room.

*I took the minutes, but I spelled stuff wrong.

*Spiteful Spelling.

*Best Conversation Of The Week:

Ms. Sheep (to The Stalker Who Has Followed Her Since Fourth Grade And Through Three Different Schools): I'm sorry but you can't stay in the class today while you wait for your bus. I have to take the minutes at the staff meeting because the entire special ed. department has been stricken with some horrific minute-taking allergy.

The Stalker: That's OK. I'll just wait downstairs. Of course, I'll look really stupid sitting there all by myself and that is the sort of thing only candy can cure.

MS: Oh. My. God. You are adorable. Beyond words, I tellya! Plus I'm really happy because I thought you were going to give me crap about this.

TS: (Happily pocketing his candy) I was. Then I realized I could get something out of this.

MS: You make Ms. Sheep so proud. It's like you're my very own son...

Proof of knitting.

*It didn't snow today. That's nice.

*Second Best Conversation Of The Week:

The Great Debater: Ms. Sheep! Ms. Sheep! Hey!!!

Ms. Sheep: Oh, for crying out loud! I was talking to someone else. Every single time I try to...

TGD: Look at my project! Look! Now!!! LookLookLookLook!!!!!!

MS: Wasn't it you who told me just last week that I should leave you alone? I believe your exact words were, "cut the umbilical cord, why dontcha?"

TGD: Yeah. I did. Now look at my project!!!

MS: You need to learn to live without my constant attention. You are going to high school next year. Ms. Sheep will not be going with you. We need some "apart time."

TGD: Nope. Don't see it happening. I'm like your second kidney.

*That sock I'm knitting is very much full of the sparklies. Should make for interesting footwear.

*Glad I bought new clogs.

*Didn't knit at the teacher's meeting since I was so busy taking minutes for all my colleagues who couldn't be there except for the part where they were there.

*The kids in my class are working on a bridge building unit.

*Thus far, I have had a tower of hardcover books crash down upon my knee, been burned by hot glue while holding together popsicle stick trusses and hurt my back hoisting weights upon rickety structures which will not support them ever in this lifetime.

*I am concerned about the recent news from my insurance company regarding rate raises and lowered coverage.

*Fortunately, I received my letter from the school department confirming their intent to rehire me for next year.

*At least I'll have a paycheck to cover the difference when I'm squooshed by a student project.

*I wonder if anyone will notice I'm missing while I'm trapped beneath the balsa wood.

*Probably. They'll be needing someone to take the minutes at the next meeting...

And that's all I can think of for today. Now I must go ice various parts of my bridge-injured body and edit the minutes from the staff meeting so they can go to the principal. And I'd also like some candy, now that I think of it. I should get something out of this, right?

SA

Idiocy Explained

I was not exactly on top of my game today. This is often the case and I'm not trying to suggest that I am normally casting pearls of wisdom hither and thither. I am scattered. Today, however, I was really over the line. It was all the worse for knowing why and not really being able to articulate this. Of course, now that the day is over, I find myself a little more capable of putting it into words.

So here it is. The Idiot's Guide To Idiocy.

Friday's Contribution:

As previously explained, my part of the planet was smote on Friday. The winds howled, the rains fell and trees suddenly decided to see how life would be if they cast off their roots and headed into people's living rooms. Oceans and rivers thought it might be fun to travel new paths and began merrily dancing their way down the pavements. The miracle that is electricity was no more and we were all reduced to savagery.

"All" being a relative term. My power came back on mid morning. However, I can assure you that during those dark cold hours of uncertainty, I suffered mightily.

All that Armageddon was very exhausting. It took a lot out of me. I did little on Friday except ponder the meaning of it all. And try to figure out a way to get to my doctor's appointment which, despite being a mere five miles away, required some creative navigation if I was going to make it in a timely manner.

Saturday's Contribution:

I've been helping out with the Maine Academic Decathlon for years now. Not long ago, I managed to rise through the ranks and obtain a paying position. It is a great honor and an even greater responsibility. I get to use White Out. And alphabetize things. And sort by numerical order.

I have not reached the point where I am trusted to run any of the more technical equipment. You have to be certified or something to do that. You need a certain amount of training to run the test forms through the scanner. I hope to someday attain that level of expertise.

That won't be happening any time soon, though. My nine year old niece-by-proxy came to help this year since her Dad is the Head Scorer. She, by virtue of genetic predisposition, got to run the scanner. She was quite good at it, too. Really good. One might even say "gifted." Frankly, I see no way I'm going to make it to the scanner under the current circumstances.

I love helping out with this endeavor, scanner or no. I get to see good friends, meet amazing kids and eat free pizza. Sometimes I even get a t-shirt. But it's a long day. There's no getting around that fact. It's a whole Saturday and one that ends with me collapsing into bed by 9:00.

I got to work a few rounds of sock, though. It's not quite the same as being allowed to run the scanner, but still...

Sunday's Contribution:

I was still pretty tired and couldn't seem to get my act together. I didn't do the grocery shopping like I was supposed to. Or anything else, really. I managed to find some shoes so I could get out the door to go sit with SIL Sheep at 3:00 and that was an accomplishment.

SIL had surgery recently. Since she is lying abed, it only seemed right that I settle in there, too. I wouldn't want her to feel awkward. I am a good guest, one that does not wish my hostess to experience any social discomfort. After an hour or so of lying down, I began to see the possibilities in this lifestyle. Lying down is good. It's even better if the neighbor is willing to make a pizza run and there is a TV nearby. Frankly, I think I would make a great invalid!

When Baby Brother Sheep came home from his activities, I happily pointed out my new discoveries, but he still said I had to go home. Apparently, he is not willing to have two invalids lying abed. I found that to be a little selfish, if you want the truth. I was forced out of bed, into my shoes and out the door!

Monday's Contribution:

There were many. First, I was promised a storm today. Further, there were still a number of power outages in my school district. Even though I knew it would be a bad idea to be thinking I was going to get a four day weekend, a part of me couldn't help but believe it might come to pass.

It didn't.

I had no bagels for breakfast. I had no apples for lunch. I had little in the way of sustenance to get me through the day. All the Armageddon, Sorting and Lying Abed had turned my weekend routine completely upside down! I wasn't ready for this day. Not one little bit!

Perhaps if the Cheerful Teaching Assistant or the students were awake, I might have been able to use their example to my benefit. But the CTA was sick all weekend and the kids didn't want to be there any more than they usually do. We basically did the best we could and muddled.

It was probably a bad day to have them work on their bridge-building projects. You don't even want to know how many hot glue burns we have to our credit now. And the splinter situation wasn't good either. Most of the latter were mine to bear. The former were suffered by the children and I'm imagining that there will soon be A Very Special Movie Of The Week about my callous singeing of innocent youngsters.

At least the pain woke us up temporarily...

So there you go. The reasons for my idiocy today. I hope this clears matters up. Sure, I'm a dope, but I have an explanation for it. It is not my fault. It was a convergence of events, all of which were beyond my control. There is no way anyone can blame me for being an idiot today.

Now I need to get ready for bed. I'm going to need a good night's sleep if I'm to come up with an excuse for tomorrow's poor performance...

SA

Blown Away And Flooded With Hysteria

As I was driving home from school yesterday, I heard a very quiet little voice from the back of my head. I almost missed it because I truly did need to be focused on the road. However, it made itself known.

Ahem.

I stopped thinking about how disturbingly close the water level was to the sides of the road and remarked, "That's odd! I think I heard something..."

Another voice intruded, one I know quite well. It is the voice I hear in my head most days. It is the voice of reason. It was Rational Mind.

Ignore her. You know who it is and you know where she's going with this.

I agreed wholeheartedly. I most certainly did recognize that voice once I thought about it. And this was no time for Hysterical Mind to be distracting me. The wind was darned near blowing me right off the road for heaven's sake! But still she persisted.

A-HEM!

I turned up the radio. I hummed loudly. Rational Mind applauded my efforts and spoke words of encouragement.

Don't let her get to you. Everything is fine. It's rain and, yes, it is going to flood. That much is certain. But we aren't going to let this turn into a disaster movie scenario.

Teeth gritted and hands clenched on the wheel, I continued to make my way through the storm. I could barely see through the driving rains and the wind howled so loudly that it pretty much drowned out everything else. Yet, I still thought I heard something.

Give in to it. Just relax and let Hysterical Mind take care of everything. You know you want to...

It was a close call, but I didn't fall prey to the hysteria. I remained firmly entrenched in Rational Mind's camp. There would be no flailing of arms nor predictions of doom on this night, by gum!!!

I stayed the course right up until bedtime. I slipped into slumber secure in the knowledge that I was Rational. Even the howling winds and periodic rattling of the windows didn't bother me. Neither did the flickering lights. Nor the sirens.

I awoke sometime in the wee hours. Four-thirty, to be exact. Something dragged me from sleep, but it took me a moment to recognize it. It was the gentle voice of Hysterical Mind.

Wake up. C'mon. Waaaaaake uuuuup...

I did not want to wake up. I still had half an hour of sleep left to me and I wasn't going to waste it listening to HM. But she was persistent.

Hey. Have you noticed anything? Something...different?

I squinted around blearily. Everything seemed fine. Except that it didn't. Something was different. It took a moment. And then I had it.

"I'm cold!" I said. I was pleased to finally make the connection but concerned about the chill all the same. HM seemed almost amused by this.

Very good. And what else?

That one took longer. I just couldn't figure it out. Finally, HM stepped in with a hint.

Isn't it usually more RED in here?

Red? Why would it be...wait! The alarm clock! The alarm clock numbers are red! But I didn't seem them. And then I realized that I wasn't hearing the refrigerator. Or seeing the light from the lamp I always leave on in the living room in case the zombies come. Nothing was running! Nothing!!! What was I going to do?????

Are you finally ready to let me take over this operation?

I groped around for Rational Mind, hoping she might be somewhere close and able help me figure out how to stuff HM back into the recesses of my brain. I called and called but all I got was a recording that said:

RM is currently out and unable to take your call. Please leave a message after the beep.

And HM said:

BEEP!!!!!

I surrendered. The power was out. Clearly things had gone from rational to hysterical during the overnight hours and it was time to accept it. I checked the battery operated travel clock I keep by the bed and got the correct time. I grabbed the cell phone and clicked the link HM put in there in case I couldn't use the laptop or TV on a snow day. It said that a terrible storm had taken out power all over the state and that roads were closing. So were schools, mine among them.

I lit the candles that she made me buy in bulk when they were on sale even though we have no place to store them.

When she told me to go get that fondue pot she picked out at the thrift shop last July, I reminded her that we had no gel fuel for it. She told me to look in the cupboard by the fridge.

And then directed me to set it up on the pizza stone in the kitchen where it would be safe to heat water for our coffee.

As I drank my morning brew, she began whispering in my ear again. Now she was talking about eggs. I explained that we could not cook eggs today because we were in a Very Serious Crisis That Only Allows Us To Eat Crackers All Day. She begged to differ and referred me to that website she found a while back. She'd read it to me but I wasn't listening at the time because who wants to think about cooking eggs in the dark? Apparently HM does and she remembered every word.

So we had eggs with sweet yellow peppers, cheddar cheese and the last of the cooked pork that wasn't enough for a meal but just enough for eggs.

Once breakfast was done, HM directed me to wash up the dishes (so we wouldn't die from rampant bacteria) and then triple check the gel fuel to make sure it was extinguished. (Actually, we checked it many, many times but she will only admit to three...) Finally, she made me set up a cooler to chill down all those sodas she wanted me to put in the fridge yesterday because she knew this was going to happen but did I listen to her? Nooooo....

Then she allowed me to sit down and knit for a while. This was something of a relief since HM can be exhausting when she is full-on Disaster Mode. She did, however, chastise me hourly for not charging the Blackberry before bedtime because we were really wearing down the battery every time we needed to check in on the progress of the disaster.

Around mid-morning, the power came back on. And it stayed on. I was able to watch TV and take a shower and make coffee...all the "normal" stuff. HM started to fade away as hysterical thoughts will often do when the lights are on. Rational Mind started taking credit for our morning because it all looks very rational and responsible when a person has the supplies to deal with flooding and high winds. RM and I sat back and watched reports on how others fared in this storm with an almost smug attitude because we'd thought ahead. How very rational of us!

But, deep down, I know otherwise. And even if I didn't, I'd still have that little voice nagging away in the back of my head. The one that tells me to buy a fondue pot in July because it would be handy to have someday. Or remembers to get gel fuel and sees the potential in a pile of discount candles. It's the voice that trumps Rational Mind while she's screaming about how we are out of cupboard space. And sometimes it's the voice that says:

I told you so.

SA

A Folksy WNPB

The raindrops are pitter-pattering their way across my landscape and the week drags on. But, as forty people told me today, it is Wednesday. It's all downhill from here, right? Any minute now, I'll have a weekend. I don't have a weekend right now, though. I do, however, have a Wednesday Night Bullet Post and that will have to suffice.

Here's the day's highlights:

*It is raining.

*Tomorrow, I hear it will rain some more.

*Then, just for a change of pace, I believe we will get some rain.

*It was supposed to be snow so I'm trying to not complain too loudly.

*The snow can sometimes hear you.

*Then it comes a-runnin' just like a dog to a whistle.

*That's Folksy Talk.

*I have concerns about my sock-in-progress.

*Picked up a whole lotta heel stitches.

*Not stretchy yarn so I figured it wouldn't hurt.

*Now the sock looks kind of big.

*Whatever.

*I'll just stuff 'er down into the ol' shoe like a prom queen fillin' out her dress with the tissues.

*I'm all over the Folksy tonight.

*It's the rain.

*Muddles the thought processes.

*Busy weekend ahead of me. Lots to do.

*Places to go, people to see...

*Which is why I am wearing my pajamas with shoes.

*New shoes. Need to break them in.

*Tight shoes.

*I'm multi-tasking so I won't have to break in my new shoes over the weekend.

*While I'm busy going and seeing.

*Can't wear the gigantic socks with the new shoes.

*Too much with the gusset stuffin'.

*Socks will be worn with my old shoes that have already been broken in and which are more Giant Sock Friendly.

*I should really vacuum the carpets tonight.

*Busy weekend=weeknight multi-tasking.

*Can't vacuum. Breaking in new shoes.

*Too much multi-tasking isn't good for you.

*When it's raining.

*Why, a gal could get so bamboozled with all that doin' of tasks she might get all turned around and start breaking in the carpet while she vacuums her shoes.

*Folksy. Very, very Folksy.

*But not so good for the carpets.

I'd best be getting back to all that giant sock knitting and not vacuuming. And these shoes aren't going to break in themselves, now are they? They might have if I'd gone a half size larger but who can say for sure?

Maybe they'd still be as stiff as a wet acrylic sock straight outta the freezer...

SA

In A Fog

We've had an amazing run of good weather up in these parts. There was a storm last week...but it was a dud for most of us. What little snow that managed to sneak through has melted. There's been a decidedly "springish" feel to the air.

This appears to be ending. A round of Weather is headed my way. It's not "snow day" weather, at least not yet. There's the possibility of something later but, for now, it's just drizzly, soggy and moving towards winter again.

Weather has a way of affecting a classroom. Low pressure is not a friend to those of us who work with the younger set and it tinkers with the delicate balance of power between Us and Them. To make matters worse, it slows cognition markedly

To put it mildly, we were all stumbling around today. It wasn't pretty.

The Cheerful Teaching Assistant, perky under most circumstances, returned to school this morning but was still feeling the effects of jet lag after her whirlwind London excursion. I started off strong, but faded quickly as the dismal weather closed in. The boy who is Gauged And Aerodynamic lasted through math class then had to go lie down. He could barely keep his eyes open and was rapidly losing much of his aerodynamic personae. The Stalker (who has followed me since fourth grade and through three schools) was cursed by having his required Triennial Assessments scheduled for today and we had to forgive his mood. It's not his fault that federal regulations require this kind of thing no matter what the weather.

Frankly, the only one who had his act together at all was The Great Debater and don't think he didn't know it. He was the King Of Logic today and owned us all.

I think that He Who Needs A Nicotine Patch By Noon had it the worst, though. On the best of days, he is grumpy as the lunch hour approaches. He tries, bless his heart. But sometimes the pressure of the educational system and his faulty sleep patterns have their way with him. Not to mention the fact that the average middle school doesn't offer a smoking section.

All this could go a long way towards explaining why my class ended up talking about donuts today. I know that we started with a science class. I distinctly remember planning their projects. How we got to snack foods, I have no idea. It just seemed to...happen. One minute we're doing that for which I get paid and the next HWNANPBN was trying to explain which of the donuts was his favorite.

He'd been trying for some time, but just couldn't find the right words to describe this confection. He told of the color (dark brown). He told of the texture (chewy unless it's stale but it's still good). He told us exactly where it is placed in the box as compared to the others (two in from the right and close to the center).

But we still weren't getting it. He couldn't get the true wonder of this donut imprinted upon our brains. By this time, he was leaning helplessly against the window, framed by the shimmering rains that fell in sympathy with his plight. He even beat his head slightly against the glass as if to somehow jar loose the right words.

Finally, with eyes shut tight and with hands clenched into fists he cried out:

They're just so GOOD! They taste...they taste like...THEY TASTE LIKE LOVE!!!!!!!

And that, gentle readers, is the definition of Donut Devotion. There is no higher praise. I only wish I could think of something in my own life for which I felt such passion.

I'm trying to work up the same sort of feeling for that sock I'm knitting. I like it. Don't get me wrong. It will probably come in handy now that winter is coming back. I have an affection for the sock.

But it will never taste like love...

SA

Last Of The Vacationing

I remain firmly entrenched in denial, but I'm going to have to face it sooner or later. Preferably sooner since tomorrow morning's coffee depends upon my getting it ready before bed. Vacation is over and tomorrow I have to go back to school. The future doctors and lawyers of this fine land are counting on me, after all...

I suppose a good note upon which to end would be with a training film review. I would never let a week of respite go by without sharpening my skills. The future doctors and lawyers of this fine land will be counting on me in the coming Zombie Apocalypse, after all...

And it's marginally knitting-related since I finished up the Mittens 'o Shame while I was watching, right?

The sad fact of the matter is this: I've watched a lot of zombie movies and it's getting hard to find good ones. Some are OK. Some are better than that. Others? The best you can say is, "they tried."

Last Of The Living falls somewhere in the middle, I think. It doesn't offer much in the way of new material, but there are always lessons to be learned. One can't afford to let a training opportunity pass by without taking advantage. That's just forward thinking. And when that opportunity is found for five bucks at the local department store, so much the better.

I might quibble with the quick thinking guy in the marketing department for reissuing the product with the label, "Zombieland's Got Nothin' On These Slackers," though. That's stretching things a bit. Still...it was pretty enterprising.

The tips I have to pass along after this particular educational session are as follows:

1. As much as we like to think otherwise, our good friends in New Zealand are not going to be spared in the coming apocalypse. In spite of having their very own center for viral study, it's just not going to work out well.

2. I find the spelling "centre" far preferable to "center." It's classier and inspires confidence in this particular Yank. However, it will make no difference in the end. It's all the same to the undead roaming the halls.

3. Whether it is a "centre" or a "center," it would behoove its planners to put more in the way of medical equipment around the place. Security might be helpful as well.

4. New Zealanders are rather impressive in a crisis. Most of them will develop almost ninja-like skills in the face of the menacing, moaning masses. They will also step up with the witty repartee.

5. The down side of this is that a few of the zombies, in full defiance of the example set by their shambling peers, will also begin sprinting nimbly about. This is confusing since it's hard to tell which ones are limber and which ones are more sedate.

6. For the record, the ones that hiss seem to be quicker but I'm not sure I have enough data to back that up. Screeching can be a good clue as well, I think.

7. A zombie in a parachute is funny no matter what the circumstances.

8. Don't go getting all sentimental about witty, ninja-like New Zealanders. Everyone is expendable.

9. The lacrosse helmet is often underestimated.

10. No one needs a new CD so badly that it's worth going out in the middle of the Zombie Apocalypse.

I think that about covers it. You are now better prepared to battle the undead army when the time comes. Feel free to print this material for your personal use, but remember to include the Sheepish Attributions should you disseminate it. I get royalties and whatnot, you know. This is hard work. I'm planning for the survival of the whole world here!!!

OK. I don't really get royalties. Mostly I just get a lot of strange looks...

SA

Dirty Little Secrets

We all have a dark side, right? Things we're not proud of? Things we'd rather just let faaaaade into the background? I have oodles of dark secrets that should never, ever see the light of day.

However, confession is good for the soul and I hear that karma likes it when you come clean. What's the use of having a blog if you can't periodically use it to unburden your soul onto unsuspecting readers, right?

Deep, Dark Secret The First:

It appears that I really hate cleaning. In fact I hate it so much that, when faced with a display of shiny toilet seats in the discount store, I will lose all sense of responsibility. I will think, "You know what? It would be easier to buy a new one of these thingies than it would be to clean the old one."

This is not even close to true. Nor is it one of my prouder moments, but there you are. It is what it is. I considered buying a new toilet seat to be more efficient than wiping down the old one. My mother is beside herself with the pride.

To be fair, the retired seat came with the place when I bought it twenty years ago and you can't say it didn't do the job. And the new one is pretty darned spiffy. It took some wrangling to get it connected since my toilet is, apparently, not "standard size." But it's on and it's beautiful. Truth be told, when I sit myself upon what is sometimes crassly referred to as "the throne," I sort of do feel like a princess! I really, truly do!

It is shiny enough to put the rest of that particular household fixture to shame, but it seems a bit over the top to replace the entire toilet. Even if it probably would be easier than cleaning...

Deep, Dark Secret The Second:

First of all, let me say that the Olympics are amazing. They represent the world at its best and bring us all together in the spirit of competition and cooperation. I have great respect for the tradition of the Olympics.

However....

It's still sports. Worse, it's sports played outdoors. In the cold. Except for the ones that are inside, but there is still something of a "chilly" vibe going on there. I don't care for watching sports. I am even less inclined to watch sports that involved people wearing winter gear.

This year, I have watched nary an event. Not the opening ceremonies. Not skating. Not skiing. Nothing. I accidentally caught a bit of the curling but that was more of a problem with my remote not responding quickly enough rather than my suddenly developing an interest in the sweeping of ice. (which is, as you know, cleaning and sports put together...yikes!)

Don't get me wrong. I'm as excited as the next guy when we take gold and I've kept track a little bit. Sort of. I'm proud of our athletes. I just can't sit and watch sporty-type stuff without getting bored.

Besides, everyone is Twittering all over the place about it so it's almost like I'm watching, right?

Deep, Dark Secret The Third:

On Wednesday, I announced that I was really getting into the vacation schedule. I confidently stated that I was now ready to tackle all those projects that I'd left undone while I "adjusted" to this workless state. That was probably a mistake.

I started off strong. But then the whole "toilet seat" thing happened and it was pretty much all over after that. It's hard to keep to the schedule once you've taken a left turn of that magnitude. How do you top it?

I ended up sitting in front of a movie for the rest of the afternoon. (A training film, granted and one that offered a few helpful tips I may use in the coming Zombie Apocalypse, but still...) Most of the things I thought I'd get done this week while I had the time remain undone. Sheepie hangs her head in shame.

For what it's worth, I finished the stupid Mittens 'o Shame. But that hardly seems to make up for the sloth.

Deep, Dark Secret The Fourth:

You know what? It really does feel good to confess! In fact, it feels so good that I'm going to confess on behalf of another. I want everyone to feel as clean of soul as I!

Half-Priced Candy Day began on Monday and I fear I was a little over-enthusiastic. I always say I'm going to keep things within reason, but it's hard when you're faced with a whole table of half-priced goods. Why I thought I needed a bright pink fleecy throw covered in fancy hearts, I don't know. It goes with nothing in the manse. And I have enough blankets here, Lord knows. But I guess I blacked out for a minute in all the excitement and suddenly I had a hot pink blankie. With a matching pillow.

I don't much care for it, truth be told. It's a little too frou-frou for my tastes. But there is another who loves it. Someone who fancies himself a real man's man. Someone who names himself the Protector Of The Household and Lord Of The Manor. Someone who, in my opinion, clashes with bright pink and has no business swaddling himself in it.

Err...I can explain...um...

He's going on and on about how cats are color blind, but that doesn't explain his being so attracted to the heart pattern. He just doesn't want to admit that he's gotten in touch with his feminine side, is all.

He's feel better if he just manned up and spoke true. There's no shame in pink hearts. I wish I could say the same about new toilet seats...

SA

WNBP: As Intended

Hard to believe it is actually Wednesday. I had to check. I usually do. Days of the week only make sense to me when I think of them within the context of the prime time TV lineup and that isn't always something you can count on.

But Wednesday it is and it's time for some bullet points. So here they be:

*Today was the kind of day I envisioned when I thought about school vacation week.

*Did I mention it is vacation week? I can't remember...

*It is.

*I was very productive today. I did lots of things that a vacationing person who isn't going someplace interesting should do.

*I cleaned one shelf in the fridge.

*Then I got a tetanus shot.

*I steam cleaned my wool coat.

*I mopped the kitchen floor.

*I did rather well until about 1:00 and then I played computer games for four hours.

*We'll try for a longer session of productivity tomorrow.

*None of this productivity included knitting a thumb.

*I suspect that a great deal of today's activities revolved around the avoidance of that thumb.

*Tomorrow. The thumb will be knit tomorrow. It has to be.

*I like February Break. It's the first vacation of the school year that doesn't come with obligations.

*The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty is also pleased to have Mommy home.

*This creates an obligation in that he wants to play while I want to not be obligated.

*I finally broke down and got out a new Dollar Store Cat Cave with which to divert him.

*He likes them when they're new. They still have a shape and aren't all tattered.

*Which is ironic given that it's his love of the Dollar Store Cat Caves that causes their ultimate destruction.

But how do you deny an AGK the thing he loves most?

*I stock up on the things whenever the Dollar Store gets them.

*They look at me funny at the Dollar Store.

*Not sure what was going on in this next picture. He might be yawning.

*Or grinning broadly.

*Or singing a loud, lusty love ballad in praise of the Dollar Store Cat Cave.

Or gearing up to take a bite out of my face...

*Yesterday's snowstorm was a bust, in case anyone was wondering.

*Three inches, tops.

*In my area. Others got more. Others got less.

*It all melted.

*I'm not the least displeased by this turn of events.

*Proof that knitting three rounds on a thumb will appease karma and keep it from dumping snow on my head.

*I hope...

That's it. Unless you want a detailed description of my plan to clean the toilet tomorrow, that is. And I'm assuming you don't. Hopefully, the siren song of the computer game won't lure me away from my dreams of a fresh, clean bowl. Again, though, I'm thinking you don't want to hear about that. I should probably just wrap things up now.

The End

SA

Paying The Piper

There is always a price for not paying attention to the karmic balance. I forget that sometimes and always to my sorrow.

I do stupid things. I ignore a mitten that should have been finished a million years ago because the thought of picking up those thumb stitches is just too much for my fragile psyche. I forget to clean the cat box. I send the car payment late enough that even I can't come up with a good excuse when the bank calls. (they no longer believe me when I say I have a chronic condition that causes me to break out in hives when I come into contact with stamp adhesive) I blithely go about my days as if there are no consequences. If the car needs an oil change, I'll get to it when I get to it. If the leftovers in the fridge have been there long enough to develop emotions and the ability to share them, I'll just consider them new friends. It will all work out. What could possibly go wrong?

But karma always gets you in the end. Any of the aforementioned things could have caught its attention. Each is worthy of a little bit of the smiting. I have a sneaking suspicion that it might have been something else though.

I think it could possibly be that it is a bad thing to torment your snowbound friends and family on Facebook with the fact that all the snow has melted where you are. It might be the sort of action that gets you into trouble later. It will seem funny at the time, granted. But a bad thing will happen. There are rules to the universe and one of them is this:

Taunting frozen relations will lead to snowstorms during your school vacation week.

There's nothing I can do about it now. What's done is done and I offer up my heartfelt apologies to all involved as well as to my fellow Mainers who must now suffer for my mistake. It isn't nearly enough, I know. But it's all I can do. For what it's worth, I'm chilly and didn't get nearly enough half-priced, left-over Valentine's Day candy to see me through an extended weather event. I'll probably run out and be left with naught but canned vegetables.

And I've learned my lesson. Truly I have! As I checked the weather report this morning and realized that the snow was coming, I did what little I could to make it right with karma. I picked up that mitten and promptly started the thumb. It felt good to do the right thing.

Of course, I didn't finish it. I just did three rows. But they were heartfelt rows and fairly dripping with contrition. I think karma will be OK with that...

SA

Fair Warning

I'd like to take a little break from the regularly scheduled excuses for not picking up thumb stitches and finishing that stupid mitten to address a very serious topic. It's that time of year again and we must be sure to remember the solemnity of the season.

I think that the best way to remind people of the occasion is to relay a conversation I had Friday afternoon as I was leaving school. In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably tell you that this is not an exact transcript. While it is primarily based on that exchange, it also includes elements from similar discussions throughout the day. Not that it really matters, but I like to be up front about these sorts of things, you know.

The Time: 2:35

The Place: The main office of A Very Happy Middle School

The Players: Ms. Sheep, Colleague #1 and Colleague #2

Ms. Sheep: I am leaving. I know it is early but I deserve it because I didn't kill the kid who is Gauged And Aerodynamic. He walked close to the line between life and death today but I didn't give in to my baser instincts.

Colleague #1: Nice job!

Colleague #2: Kudos!

MS: Thank you.

C#1: And have a nice vacation, too!

C#2: Yes! Enjoy!

MS: Vacations are good. Especially when they fall during The Most Exalted Of Holidays.

C#1: Pardon?

C#2: What's that you say?

MS: Sunday. You know...Sunday? It's Half-Priced Chocolate Eve!

C#1: Half-Priced...Oh! The day after Valentine's Day.

C#2: Aren't you clever? I think that should be a real holiday.

MS: It is. But you don't get to celebrate. Sorry.

C#1: Pray tell, why?

C#2: Yeah. What she said. The pray tell part.

MS: Half-Priced Chocolate Day (or "week" if you take it to extremes... and I do) is the single girl's holiday. It is the day we get to purchase some of the finest chocolates at reasonable prices and without guilt. We can stock up for months of single days and nights. It's our day. You get the day before.

C#1: That seems rather unfair.

C#2: Yeah. My husband doesn't remember to get me anything.

MS: You made your choice. You could have gone a different way with this. Besides, I seem to recall you saying something about him shoveling the driveway and helping you move the sofa. You went for brute strength. That is not my fault.

C#1: What about me? The voters of this great state opted to not recognize my civil union as a legal marriage. Don't I get something for that?

MS: I see your point. It's a valid argument. But no. Under the laws of Half-Priced Chocolate Day, you are legally married. It's an equal opportunity holiday and not subject to questionable/unethical TV spots aired prior to election day. For what it's worth, anyone in a relationship of more than 12 month's duration can't celebrate it either. It's for those of us who act as our own Valentines.

C#1: I have the right to buy chocolate whenever and wherever I want, you know.

C#2: Yes. As do I. You cannot stop me.

MS: Perhaps not. And I know it seems unfair. But I didn't invent the rules, you know. There are lots of things I didn't invent. Here's a partial list of those things:

1. I did not invent the Sad, Pitying Smile or the Accompanying Sorrowful Head Shake.

2. Nor was I the creator of the Hush Up Now, The Single Gal Is In The Room So Let's Stop Talking About Our Valentine's Day Plans game.

3. The words, "Don't worry, lots of people find their Special Someone at your age" were not first uttered by me.

4. I was also not the one who came up with, "I think it's so, um...great...how you live such an, um...independent life..."

5. I am not the great innovator who first conceived of The Blind Date As A Kind Thing To Give The Single Friend Who Has Everything Because Surely She Cannot Stand To Be Alone On Valentine's Day.

C#1: You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?

C#2: Yes. Lots of thought. When do you find time to teach?

MS: For the record, that last one has forced me to fake raging sinus infections and astronomically high fevers for the past twenty years. It's a great deal of work and takes away from the thinking of important thoughts.

C#1: Well...enjoy your winter break. However you celebrate it.

C#2: Yes. Enjoy. However you do that.

MS: Thank you. And I trust that our paths will not be crossing at the clearance tables next week.

In closing, let me say this. We The Single People are generally good sports about this day. Whether our singular nature is by fate or (as in my case) by choice, we have a sense of humor. Further, we maintain that jovial attitude when Half-Priced Chocolate Day, our holiest day of the year, rolls around. We don't deny others a bit of the bounty. But please remember that those crumpled, heart shaped boxes mean more to us than the shiniest of diamonds and that they smell sweeter than the long stemmed roses currently gracing tables throughout the world. We probably won't fight to the death over the matter. We are not likely to resort to hand to hand combat over dark chocolate truffles. We are civilized beings in spite of our somewhat misunderstood status.

But you can't be certain of anything. It's hard to say how these things will go. I'll leave you with this warning. Should you be of a mind to get yourself a some of that discounted candy tomorrow, please remain alert. The partnered among you are obvious, especially on February 15th. You have a look about you and are often sporting new jewelry. If you happen to be reaching for the last box of the good stuff, be sure to look both ways first. You just never know.

This may be the face you see coming at you.

If this is the case, drop the dark chocolate truffles and proceed to the nearest exit. It's not worth it. There's always next year...

Happy Valentine's Day!

SA

WNBP: The Art Of Misdirection

I normally try to think of Wednesday as a positive kind of thing. It is midweek. It marks the beginning of the end and puts us closer to the weekend. It's not Monday. That last one will work if you are really stuck for something nice to say about your day.

This week has proved itself to be endless. It might as well be Monday for all the good the passage of time is doing me. At least I have the Wednesday Night Bullet Post to look forward to. Let's see how things shook down today:

*No storm up here. This is good. I'm kind of over this whole "winter thing."

*Yes, a snow day would have been nice. Especially given the snail-like nature of this ridiculous week. I would have enjoyed that.

*But it's better to think about not having to make up the day in June at this point.

*Plus it's the week before school vacation so that kinds of takes the sting out of it.

*The Cheerful Teaching Assistant is sickly right now. She's sneezing. A lot.

*This is an issue not just from a "Sheepie's fear of germs" standpoint.

*She leaves for London early next week.

*London hates it when American tourists come over and sneeze all over the scenery.

*We are thinking healthy thoughts.

*And offering up preemptive apologies to the international community for whatever may happen.

*Several kids did very well in art class today and earned extra "choice" time. They "chose" to play computer games. The boy who is Gauged And Aerodynamic was pleased by this turn of events and, as a result, more chatty than usual.

*This resulted in The Best Conversation Of The Day:

Gauged And Aerodynamic: Did you know that if you die and no one finds you, your cats will actually eat you if they get hungry? That's just gross!!

Ms. Sheep: Well, they're not like people. You can't blame them. They're just doing what instinct tells them to do.

Cheerful Teaching Assistant: I don't feel so good...

GAA: I mean...dude! Seriously! Eaten by your cat! That's a bad way to go.

MS: Yeah.

CTA: (blows nose and looks wearily at the unmoving clock)

GAA: It just creeps me out. My cat starts nibbling on me if I just go to sleep...

(MS and the CTA immediately start mentally composing their respective Facebook updates, trying all the while to hold back their giggles)

*I am of the opinion that the manufacturers of whole wheat pasta should have to answer for their crimes against diners everywhere.

*GAH! I hate whole wheat pasta.

*It always seems so healthy and I get guilted into trying it.

*False advertising. Bad pasta. Bad, bitter, gritty, slimy pasta.

*Join me in a class action suit, people! Rise up against this injustice!!!!!

*The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty seems perplexed by my having used duct tape to secure the cabinet he keeps opening.

*I wouldn't mind except he takes out all the pots and pans.

*The Big Fluffy Kitty refuses to do anything about it.

*She is immune to my waving around the "You Are The Big Sister And Therefor Responsible For What Goes On Around Here During The Day" clause.

*If I die and people find me, I'd appreciate it if someone steps up to explain all the duct tape.

*Looks crazy. And could be mistaken for bad decorating choices.

*That didn't come up today in the Dead At Home With The Cats discussion, but I'll be sure to mention it tomorrow.

And there's Wednesday. As this week trickles away towards its end point, I am finding little to celebrate. The pasta was whole wheat, the weather is drizzly (albeit not stormy) and the clock won't move no matter what I say. However there is one thing I managed to accomplish.

I avoided discussing the unfinished mitten with the gaping thumb hole sitting right in the middle of it.

SA

Me Vs. Actual Me

I have this image of myself. Sure, I know I'm flawed. But I like to think that the image is pretty close to what I envision.

I won't bore you with the details. You probably don't need to hear about how I am poised and clever in all social situations. Or how I can wax philosophical at the drop of a hat and that everyone is always fascinated by what I have to say. In my own personal view, I am also the type who regularly saves kittens from trees and little old ladies from mail fraud. I think I can also fly sometimes, but even I know that is a little over the top...

Yes, in my mind's eye, I'm pretty gosh darned nifty. And my greatest quality? Well that's an easy one to identify. I happen to be a Great Knitter Of Mittens!

Having a good self image is probably something for which to strive. Except for the flying and kitten-saving delusions, I think it is good for my character to think positively. What is not good is being faced with stark evidence to the contrary. That is something of a downer.

As much as I want to believe myself a Mitten Maven, I don't think I am. Would such a person take over a month to knit a pair of mittens? Would she take advantage of every excuse to not knit a mitten just to avoid getting to the thumb part? Would the High Priestess Of Hand Coverings consider not doing the daily ride on the little exercise bike because that is her usual knitting time?

Probably not.

I may have to rethink my Perceptions Of Self. Even if I get to the finish line with these mittens, I don't think that this will qualify me for greatness. A pair of plain mittens, especially plain mittens that are the sole project upon which one is working, should not take over a month. I'll get them done. I'll probably even get them done soon. That is something, I suppose. But it does not make me a Great Knitter Of Mittens.

Time to rethink my whole life and my list of good qualities. But I'm keeping the part where I save little old ladies. And I'll probably fill in the blank left by the mittens with something along the lines of "Lion Tamer."

That will help take the sting out of it...

SA

Safety Lapse

My being designated one of the school district's Safety Procedures Trainers has nothing to do with my skills. The decision was not based on my innate sense of safety. I was not handpicked from a list of eager applicants. This dubious honor came about by virtue of the fact that I was home when the secretary was cold calling people to see if they'd do it.

Essentially, the whole thing boils down to my being too lazy to get out of the house and too curious to not answer a ringing phone...

I swore that, after the first year, I wouldn't do it again. Unfortunately, I was one of several who made this declaration. Even more unfortunate was my failure to do so before my colleagues. By the time I got around to quitting, the pool of instructors had dwindled markedly and I was begged to stay on for just one more year.

I'm now in year three and have accepted that it is probably better to teach it than it would be to have to take the class from someone else. These are the sorts of things we tell ourselves when we are trapped at the bottom of a well with no hope of escape. "Gosh, it could be worse. At least it's not raining and I haven't seen any alligators yet..."

I normally teach the class a few times a year and with two other people. This year, however, I've had coverage problems in my classroom and, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make it work. I've had to abandon my fellow Safety Instructors more often than I've been able to help them out. I felt badly about that and offered to teach one of the classes by myself to make up for my poor attendance.

It didn't sound so bad, really. I'd have control over the timing and content. In fact, I told myself, I could probably have this whole thing over and done with by 1:00 if I put my mind to it. That would make for a nice, early start to the weekend!

I amaze myself with my ability to dream big. I really do...

As usual, I wasn't totally prepared. That was OK. I can fake preparedness. Of course, there was no way to get around the issue of people coming in late. Or how this happened to be a chatty group who could easily take me so far off course that I was nowhere near where I needed to be on the syllabus by the time they were begging me for a lunch break.

I suppose I could have thought more about how I was going to demonstrate two and three person holds when I was all alone. How I failed to take into account the need to observe everyone performing the various moves within this short time frame, I'll never know.

The 1:00 hour passed and we were nowhere near done. Despair gave me the energy I needed to push through, though. Never before in the history of Safety Instruction have a group of people extricated themselves from front and rear choke holds so quickly. Supported escorts and evasive maneuvers were executed at speeds approaching the sound barrier. I would imagine that anyone glancing into the room might think we were reenacting scenes from those old movies where everyone is racing about all herky-jerky. I didn't care. We were getting through this or we were going to die trying. I may have missed my 1:00 dream deadline, but 2:00 was not out of the question. An early end to this day could still happen!

And so it did. The final test was handed out by 1:40 and the trainees were all happily exiting the classroom shortly thereafter. While they agonized over the brief, open book test, I cleaned up the room so I wasn't all that far behind them. Most people said that they enjoyed the class and one even commented on how she learned more this time than in any other. It should have been a triumph on my part, but it didn't feel that way.

The death knell came early in the class. I looked over at one of the trainees, someone I know well from my own school. She seemed happy and serene. She was almost placid, despite the hurried pace of the course. And why was this? She managed to remember the thing that I forgot. Yes, I forgot many things but this one was my undoing. Watching her made it all the more painful.

She remembered her knitting. I did not.

SA