>The Most Scariest Time of the Year!

>

To the tune of “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”
It’s the most scariest time of the year.
With incumbents campaigning
The pundits complaining
And bending your ear…
It’s the most scariest time of the year!!

My “kids” are too old to trick or treat, but they’re not too old to enjoy the holiday and the candy that comes with it. They’re of different minds about the upcoming “holiday” on the first Tuesday after the first Monday of November, however. Amigo would mute every political commercial and hide the campaign signs in the front lawn. La Petite, however, enjoys experiencing political events through the lense of her camera and proudly wears an Obama/Biden button on her backpack.

My household costumes won’t qualify for the cutest or the most creative of the 2 and under set, and I doubt they’d work for over 3 either. But Halloween fun? No one is too old for that!

Here are the Three Blind Mice: three intermediate teachers.
Amigo loaned them an old white cane so they could make theirs look more authentic.

Here’s a rabbit auditioning for a part in a Monty Python movie as the Beast Like No Other.

And last, but not least, here’s a cow masquerading as a rabbit. Or vice-versa. You decide.


Parent Bloggers Network has links to number of this weekend’s Blog Blast posts and the Blurb/PBN Flickr pool as well. Blurb is a book publishing platform that anyone, yes, even you, can use. They’re the sponsor of this blast. Nope, don’t feel disillusioned, I wrote this post for fun. I’m not even eligible for the photo contest this time. Blog blasts are fun, with a contest element involved sometimes.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Money makes the world go round…and voting decides who will control the money

>”How’re you?”
“Overworked! But that’s good. It means I’m working.”

Indeed. While my salary isn’t keeping up with inflation, is anybody’s?

Health insurance costs are skyrocketing. We’re still negotiating a contract, working under one that expired last summer. Site budget costs increase, leaving us to cut back even further or pay out of our own pockets, out of our lagging paychecks. But at least I still have a paycheck.

I’m getting more vigilant about freebies. Whenever I send in a book order, I look for coupons and bonus items. If I can get a few more books into my students’ hands, it’s always good. I’m reusing paper for copies, assigning more textbook pages than worksheets, increasing my use the overhead and my class’ set of white boards. In a small way, we’re going back to the days of kids and slates.

I’m a scavenger. If another teacher retires and lets us pick through her materials, I’m there.

On the family side, I clip coupons and watch the sales. I’ve used online discount codes to buy ahead for holiday gifts so we don’t have major debt in January. I feel grateful that my husband doesn’t have to wear an expensive suit to work, racking up dry cleaning costs. He and Amigo dress casually, very casually. La Petite is a sale shopper like I am; she’s a frugal college student (is there any other kind?).

And yet I feel pressure, both Husband and I feel pressure, to bring in extra if we can. Our incomes are not growing anywhere near the rate of inflation. Despite our efforts to cut our food budget, we can’t control gas costs, electricity, or heating fuel increases.

The only way I can raise my salary is through earning additional graduate credits, which (you guessed it) costs money. I have to pay for 6 credits every five years to renew my license, but beyond those 6 I have to calculate how much it’s worth. Will the tuition costs return in the form of increased salary or not?

Husband’s 401k went way down in value. He set his head in his hands when the last statement came. My retirement account is fluctuating as well. We’re feeling lucky we’re not retiring anytime soon; our retirement funds have time to regroup and recover (crossing fingers and knocking on wood).

This election has a lot riding on it. The morale of the country has a direct impact on the economy, and the economy has a direct impact on morale. If people aren’t confident about spending, holiday shopping goes stagnant. Retail outlets fail, large companies fail, employees lose their jobs. Those employees don’t have money to spend, spending goes down, morale and confidence sink and the problems spiral larger and larger.

Money? It’s not about the cash or the numbers. It’s about security, stability, knowing that the roof above will stay above our heads and our table will be set tomorrow and the next day.

My workload grows as our budgets get tighter. My job gets more difficult as my students move in and out, can’t do homework because they’re hungry, can’t find shoes to wear in the morning.

Overworked? Yes. But at least I’m working. I’m grateful for that.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Vouch for this, Senator McCain.

>

Senator McCain, poor families don’t need vouchers.

Poor families need food. They need housing. They need jobs. They need security.
When a girl in the class down the hall couldn’t come to school because she didn’t have shoes, we asked her little sister what her mom did with the paychecks from her job. She said, “She saves all her money so we can get a house.” Get a house meant find a place to rent, not buy one. They were crowded into a small flat with their uncle (four kids and a mom) and wanted to rent an apartment on their own. They owned no furniture, no appliances, no basic supplies. All they wanted was to establish their independence.
This girl wanted to come to school. When her shoes broke, she worried that she was losing her record of perfect attendance. Despite her poverty, she wanted to be here. School for her was a safe and secure place to be, a place to be a part of things. A place to learn.
Senator McCain, do you know who found shoes for her? Her teacher found two pair of spare gym shoes and brought them to her house so she could try them on. I found another pair in my closet after I found out we wore the same size. This girl doesn’t need a private school; she needs financial security for her family. She needs inflation to ease so she can buy shoes as her feet grow. We’re not talking about designer heels or peep-toe pumps; simple sneakers will do. She needs gas prices to stabilize so her mother can go to work each day and consistently earn money that will pay the rent.
Senator McCain, look past your expensive shoes and your multiple houses. Look beyond your wealthy colleague and her privileged lifestyle. Look at those who are already suffering and fear the potential of an oncoming depression.
When your volunteers called asking for support, I told them, “Not a chance” and hung up the phone. I’m on the front lines seeing families suffer. Trickle-down economics won’t help these families. Neither will your private-school vouchers.
Senator McCain, you are woefully out of touch with the real world.
I’m voting for Senator Obama.

photo by La Petite, June, 2008

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Recipe for changing the dynamics of blogreading

>Chuck Westbrook posted an interesting idea last week for bringing bloggers and readers together. Here’s the basic outline:

**THE BIG IDEA**: Ending the Tragedy of Under-Appreciated Blogs
This is a problem we can do something about without too much trouble. Here’s what I’m thinking.
Gather some nice bloggers who believe in helping good content rise. The more the merrier. This becomes our group for the project.
A good, lesser-known blog is chosen. Everyone in the group will read that blog for two weeks.
At the end of the two weeks, the group moves to another blog to read.
With scores of bloggers focused on a particular blog, the author should see many nice things happen over those two weeks, especially if the blog really is a hidden gem. This includes discussions, traffic, constructive criticism, encouragement, and connecting to some of the bloggers in the group. That author then joins the group and we move along and do it again.
Imagine how it would feel to have those numbers and those people looking at your blog after it’s been frustratingly quiet for months. It would be tremendous. That blogger would be permanently bolstered, and it would all be because of the strength of their content, and anything that allows bloggers that focus fully on content to succeed is great for the medium.

If you’d like to participate, go to Chuck’s blog and sign up. I plan to join in and find some new blogs to add to my daily reading list.
I’d love to welcome his clan to read Compost Happens, too! I’ll serve cake! Or cookies! Or homemade tomato soup!

Note: I’ve fixed the link to Chuck’s blog, and Chuck stopped by with the permalink. Thanks for alerting me to this mistake!

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Brett, Brett, Brett. What now?

>

An Open Letter to a Talented Quarterback, a Confused and Conflicted Soul

Dear Brett:

When you announced your retirement, you must have wondered how you’d fill the hole left empty without the NFL, without the Green Bay Packers. You ended up back on the field in a different shade of green, no gold. Tough interviews in public, statements that hurt from both sides. The trade happened, and the saga was over.

Or was it?

Turning your back on your former organization and burning a few bridges caused pain on both sides. But intentionally assisting the opposition? Sleeping with, er, text-messaging the enemy? I hope the rumors are just that — rumors. I sincerely hope the unprofessional phone calls and lengthy tutorials didn’t happen, that they were blown out of proportion or, better yet, are completely untrue.

Brett, you are a valuable person, win or lose, playing or not. If your old team wins, it’s still to your credit. Remember, Aaron Rodgers learned from the best.

Please, Brett, get help, and get it now. Before you tarnish that reputation beyond repair.

Sincerely, Daisy
A concerned and caring fan

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Pass the Timothy Hay, please!

>Come feeding time, pets let us know they’re hungry. Even bunnies have their own way of saying, “Feed me, Seymour!!”
Peanut, the tricky little fellow who convinced his lady friend Sadie to chew through our alarm clock cord, used to climb up on the back of the couch and stare at us at feeding time. If I tried to put it off too long, Peanut would gradually approach me until he was sitting almost on my shoulder. By that time I’d usually end up laughing at him, so I’d go get carrots and greens for my little furball.
The bigger furball, the one by the name of Buttercup, likes to hang out near me and chew on various and sundry toys like cardboard boxes and firewood. When she starts chewing on furniture or carpet, it means I’ve waited to long to get out the food. What now?
Butters, as we call her, doesn’t need a lot of food. In fact, we overfed her for a while. The vet told us to put her on a diet and encourage exercise. Exercise? How does a conscientious pet owner exercise a rabbit? If you find out, drop me an email. I’m still working on it.
Official feeding time isn’t the only time our bunnies show their feisty personalities. Peanut loves anything salty. He and Sadie will run into the room and harrass anyone who dares eat popcorn or chips. We’ve tried feeding them right before we bring in the popcorn, but it doesn’t work. It’s like chocolate to a woman with PMS. Yes, that bad.
Buttercup, the big friendly furry bunny that weighs almost double the other two put together, isn’t a popcorn and potato chip eater. However, Amigo has to guard anything fruity or sweet. The big bunny with the bovine appearance will attack and plunder a serving of fruit snacks or a fruit roll-up, and forget hoarding those gushers. Suddenly you’ll see what it’s like when the Beast like No Other attacks.
If we spoil our small (and not so small) furry creatures, it’s in their attention and their living quarters. We have an outdoor playpen for the pet rabbits to use in good weather. We brush them, make sure their nails get clipped regularly, and buy organic carrots (with greens attached!) at the farmers’ market. I have to admit, though, we feed them the garden cast offs, too, like the broccoli stalks and the old bean vines. It’s not all gourmet academy salads.
Feeding, changing the litter boxes, brushing their fur, or showering them with TLC, the bunnies are no effort at all compared to the unconditional love they give us all the time.
The iDog might not masquerade as the Easter Beagle, but it won’t cost much to feed, either. It won’t shed or chew on your shoelaces. Get one at Burger King (watch out for the guy in the tights and the creepy mask) until November 2. Maybe this critter can keep your child busy while you’re waiting in line at the polls on the 4th!
This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Burger King Corp. I’ll have a burger; you can keep the king. Seriously.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Dreams…dream, dream, dream…

>Over and over, night after night, my dreams have had the same theme. It’s a different location, different people, but always the same. A labyrinth of hallways, traveling here and there, steadily, quickly, sometimes alone and sometimes with a guide who knows the way. In last night’s variation, it was actually a walled city of sorts or a ritzy parking garage, because I drove part of the way in a sporty little car. At one point I could see the outside, a large lake (Michigan? Green Bay?) in the distance, but I couldn’t find the exit.
Saturday night the maze was a set of hallways in and under a hotel complex. I was leaving a restaurant and heading outside and a hotel staffer was helping. It seemed that was part of his job, like a bellboy or other customer service type person. Near the end, he got called away briefly (paged? cell phone? don’t remember) and told me to wait. I didn’t. I got lost again, within sight of the end.

Every night my dreams have included something like this. It could be work-related stress. Parent-teacher conference preparation, multiple meetings on the same day, turning down committee work that I know I’d enjoy because there simply aren’t enough hours in the day…it all creates an overwhelming feeling.
It could be family. Amigo’s health issues are ongoing. We don’t know what’s causing his problems, and we expect news soon. Is that why I can almost see the exit? It reminds me of the light at the end of the tunnel turning out to be an oncoming train. I’ve forced the “What ifs” to be quiet, but that doesn’t mean I’m done worrying.
Could these dreams also mean concerns for our country, the election and how it’ll affect me and my loved ones? It may seem abstract, but it’s not. The economic woes of the federal and state governments have a direct impact on my job. I have a job, a fairly secure one, but we’re counting paperclips to keep to our budget, and it’ll get worse before it gets better. Election results matter; not doubt about it. The Democrats must win and win big, or the families I work with will suffer even more than they are now.
The first night I had this dream, I woke up thinking the hallways represented Children’s Hospital. The physical appearance of the halls made sense. But now that I’ve dreamt this a few more times in a few more variations, the book isn’t as easy to read.
Maybe I need to make myself more comfortable within the walls instead of looking for the exit. Maybe if I focus internally instead of toward the external, I’ll relax and find my way.
In the meantime, I’d better update my gradebook, make sure Amigo’s prescriptions are in stock, and check on my campaign signs.
After all, it’s better to do what I can than to stew over what I can’t.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>the pictures I didn’t take

>Our day with Amigo at the big clinic/hospital could have been illustrated in pictures. The parking garage; it’s so huge and complex. Construction cranes; there’s always construction on the medical campus somewhere. The elevators, the skywalk, the never-ending hallways that all seem to look alike. Thank goodness for good signage, or I would have been lost several times. Somehow, with my own child under anesthesia getting major tests to find out why his pain won’t go away, the motherly mind was a bit too preoccupied to notice landmarks.
The waiting room overlooked a helicopter pad if we looked up, and emergency room parking lot if we looked down. The most dramatic event, however, featured the window washing crew maneuvering their scaffolding across the lot. It would have made a decent picture if I’d had a zoom lens, but I only had my phone’s camera.

Lunch at midafternoon in the complex’s dining hall: husband had soup and salad, I had a chicken taco stuffed potato. We used our “guest passes” as parents of a patient to get a small discount. If I’d taken pictures here, they would have illustrated the endless hallways to get there or the private phone booth tucked into the bathroom hallway.

A long way from the days of no cell phone, no nothing, the hospital had wi-fi access in the recovery and waiting rooms. Husband did some geneology research. I updated my family and coworkers of our progress by way of email, twittered and plurked a bit to pass the time in between correcting the mountain of school papers in my bag.

The doctor (student? resident? fellow?) saw me correcting math papers and commented that she had found fractions hard in fourth grade. (My random thought: she must have mastered math eventually to go on through the rigorous advanced chemistry of undergrad programs and medical school!) She shared the photos of Amigo’s innards and explained them well. Don’t worry, squeamish readers, I won’t post them.

As Amigo ate his post-op popsicle and gradually came out of his post-anesthesia stupor, we packed our bags and gathered our after care instructions. We piled our groggy teenager into a wheelchair, headed back through the labyrinth of elevators and skywalk and parking garage, then tucked him into the backseat of our Saturn with a pillow and snuggly blanket for the ride home.

That’s where I took my one and only picture.

Yes, that’s a wheelchair corral, like the cart corrals at the grocery store. We parked Amigo’s borrowed chair, tucked him in, and hit the road, leaving the chair for the next family who would need it.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

>Oops Soup

>In college, they’d serve us a soup they called minestrone. We called it “Oops Soup.” It would have a tomato-like broth, and in it would be leftovers from all the week’s meals. Mixed (very mixed) veggies, several kinds of noodles, we even found a whole hamburger in it one week.
My Oops Soup is better. At least I dice the leftovers into pieces.

This week it started with a tomato soup that didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped. It wasn’t tomato-y enough, a wee bit bland, and just not up to the standard of the usual fresh tomato soup in our home. So…the leftovers didn’t go in the freezer; they went back into the crockpot.

Added to the leftover tomato soup (I could call it Oops Soup Stock):
1 can dark red kidney beans
1 can black beans
1/4 cup frozen corn
1/2 cup rice
a dash of fresh thyme (from the deck, of course)
leftover noodles (from the chix noodle soup Amigo was eating: he was on clear liquids, so he couldn’t have the noodles)

Served as a side with stuffed pork chops.

Why not more vegetables? That is a valid question. The original tomato soup had many, many vegetables grated and blended into it. I could have added more, but why? A can of tomatoes might have looked good, but the taste and the nutrients were already in it.

Oh, yes. Cooking time! In the crockpot on high for 3-4 hours. This soup just had to heat through, not cook thoroughly, so it didn’t take as long as most crockpot dishes.

Oops soup it is. See, Mom, I did learn something in college!

Share and Enjoy !

Shares