The War On Teachers Goes National

“If Scott Walker sees 100,000 teachers & firefighters as his enemies, maybe it’s time we take a closer look at his friends.”  Well said, Elizabeth Warren. In my neck of the woods, we call them his “handlers” or his “sponsors.” Walker fools a lot of people, and he has a lot of help from some very deep pockets.

A talented and caring colleague told me, “I don’t tell people I”m a teacher anymore.” This was a few months after the misnamed Budget Repair Bill became the dreaded Act 10, the one that stripped away rights that had been negotiated over decades of negotiations. We teachers were singled out by the public, despite the fact that thousands of others were affected by the damaging bill.

Today, Scott Walker officially declares his candidacy for the highest office in the land. Don’t kid yourselves, people: he is all about himself and his millionaire handlers. Today’s children? He doesn’t care. And those children? They’re too young to vote — until it’s too late.

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Organizing the Disorganized

Since “Unorganizable” isn’t a word recognized by spell check, I used disorganized in the post title. The shelves were not really disorganized, not so much, well maybe a little. The varied sizes and types of containers made it difficult to put things away or take anything out without disturbing the delicate balance and watching several tumble to the floor.

Step one in the organization process: Take a “before” picture.

Top Shelf

Top Shelf – before organizing

Step 2, if I’m completely honest with myself, went like this: forget you took before pictures and completely forget that the shelves need organizing. Ahem.

Step 3: remove the small and tiny spice and herb containers.

This helped a lot.

This helped a lot.

And finally, after sorting and stacking a little more, I could reach into the shelves without (much) fear of an avalanche.

Less chaos! Better access!

Less chaos! Better access!

The shelves still teeter a little, but they’re much more stable and I can find (almost) anything I need. Ah, the feeling of a practical project well-done.

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The MomVan Adventures

It seems like yesterday that Chuck was complaining of a stomach ache, refusing to take fiber, and then talking trash about my minivan. Remember this exchange?

“Here, dear, I found a jar of Metamucil for you.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Not ready?”
“I like my Saturn. I don’t want to drive a Buick yet.”
“I took it years ago when I was pregnant with Amigo.”
“And look what you drive now!”

My minivan — he’d dissed my minivan! The minivan that took us on more than a few vacations, moved La Petite to and from college, brings big batches of yard waste to the brush dump every summer, took my carpool to graduate classes for two years, and more!

My poor Pontiac Transport finally entered its last days when we discovered the power steering was showing signs of failing. It was a ’98 vehicle, old enough, and we’d put plenty of bucks into repair and routine maintenance. It was time. Vehicle Replacement Procedure led us to a 2012 Dodge Caravan with reasonable mileage.

Owning a new-to-us used vehicle has not been without its own adventures. Amidst a weekend with a few other disasters (a lost wallet at a school reunion, a set of keys lost at a Culver’s restaurant), the minivan suddenly lost power on the highway. It felt and sounded like a transmission problem (enter the famous punctuation series #?*!). We were lucky, though, on a number of counts.

  • Chuck knew a mechanic at a Green Bay garage that also had a Stevens Point location, about an hour north of where we’d stopped.
  • Chuck’s mechanic friend generously called the other garage and arranged for a tow and a loaner vehicle.
  • We were parked in a Kwik Trip parking lot, so we had everything we could possibly need (except a working vehicle) including snacks, sandwiches, and drinks.
  • Our calendar for the next several days was such that we could cope with only one vehicle, if needed.

How did it all end? The short version can be summarized in this text message from Chuck to me:

Just got a call re: van. Tranny is ok, but wire from fuse block are damaged, chewed by mice. Need some wires and fuse block replaced. Lots of $$$, but could have been a lot worse. Good thing we’re getting a new garage.

And perhaps the best part of the story: everyone is healthy. No tummy aches in the family, fiber or no fiber, at the moment. I think I’ll bake some nuts and twigs banana bread just to keep things in order. The newly repaired minivan can take me to the store for bananas.

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Summers “off”? For teachers, that’s a myth.

A typical day at Chez O.K.

A typical summer day at Chez O.K.

I’ll identify the important parts of the photo so you can see what a summer day “off” means to this teacher.

  • On the left, peas waiting to be shelled.
    • these peas will go into the freezer to be cooked and consumed in the dark cold depths of winter
    • I’m not your typical doomsday prepper, but I call this filling of the pantry and freezer “preparing for the Walker apocalypse”.
  • On the far right, coffee mug “So many books, so little time”.
    • good coffee, special mug from a special person
  • In the middle, laptop computer about to be logged into graduate course
    • 3 graduate credits toward renewing my teaching license
    • Online course for convenience and for the learning experience
    • I’m taking two courses right now – 6 credits in all. When compressed into the time span of June, July, and August, this is a significant workload.

My point, readers, is just a simple reminder that while my paychecks may spread over a 12 month period rather than the 10 months I’m actively in class, the summer months are not time off. These months are full of necessary and valuable activity for my professional responsibilities and for my family.

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Packer colors?

As seen at local store:

Muk Luks, not.

Muk Luks, not.

The colors are all wrong, too. This store has a contract with the NFL to use the Green Bay “G”, but the logo on these purple/fuschia/pinkish slippers just looks like an afterthought.

I own a piece of team stock. I own real Mukluks. I don’t need to own these ridiculous slippers.

And I won’t even mention some of the garb available in other nearby departments.

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A little Deja Vu on Friday

Last week you saw this picture of Amigo enjoying a metal sculpture before we wandered into the restaurant for our Fun Day Friday experience.

Performance Art?

Performance Art?

Last week we ended up in the Milwaukee suburbs to visit La Petite. She recommend a nearby Mexican restaurant, and look what we found at the entrance.

"Let's go in, Mom, I'm hungry."

“Let’s go in, Mom, I’m hungry.”

Inside, we nibbled on the freshest guacamole I’ve ever tasted.

Crock of Guac - amole.

Crock of Guac – amole.

I sense a theme here. We didn’t set out to eat Mexican this summer, but June Fridays happened that way. Now what? I’ll let you know, readers.

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Bells or Chimes

I was watching rummage sales and thrift stores for wind chimes. We have a large wind chime hanging on the front porch. Beside the house, on the shepherd’s crook that’s a little too weak for a large and heavy set, I want to hang smaller wind chimes. I think the sounds would mesh well with the larger one around the corner.

I was on my way to check out at a local estate and vintage store when I picked this up – literally. I picked it up to look at something underneath it, and then heard the bells ring. You know me well, readers. You can guess that I picked it up, bought it, and then hung it from the crook beside the house. Good call, readers. That’s exactly what I did.

Ding, dong merrily!

Ding, dong merrily!

Around the base you see peas and the ever-expanding mini mums. Oh, and the hose. I really need to do something about the un-aesthetic hose.

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