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Scary is: Chuck has to work all weekend, and we have a very full week ahead. One reason he has to work all weekend is this: 
Now that’s scary.
>I wasn’t sleeping well. I’d call it more of a series of naps between coughing fits. But during those naps, a collection of dreams floated into my subconscious.
We were traveling. Traveling where, I wasn’t sure, and eventually it turned out we were out of this world. Seriously. The other travelers were in human form, acted like Earthlings, spoke American English, but called another planet home, too.
We (Chuck, La Petite, Amigo and I) were staying in a small rental cottage on stilts. Flood plain, perhaps? I don’t know. I remember searching for a clean pair of track pants because my jeans were all dirty, and having to climb a second ladder/ staircase to get at our extra luggage. I kept digging and digging and, in true dream form, never found the clean clothes I needed. My sleepy mind kept repeating “And I need a shower, too!” as I rummaged through the bags.
Another group of (interplanetary) travelers pulled up to the cabin on stilts and told us they were in dire straits. Their cottage had been flooded by the storm and they needed a room so they could rest and get on their way. We moved our cases (of dirty clothes, apparently) and let them have the storage room for the night. They were suitably grateful for our willingness to assist, and the group leaders (parents?) sat up with us for a while to describe their ordeal.
I don’t remember the details of the experience; that dream sequence must have been interrupted by the rude awakening of another coughing jag. My sleepy impression is one of a Katrina-type hurricane, but maybe it was an asteroid shower.
As both groups (my family and the galactic folk) packed up the next morning, I once again dug through the luggage for the mythical pair of clean pants. We tried to exchange addresses with our new friends (email and snail mail) and then gave up, realizing that the postal service and Internet wouldn’t be able to figure out the ins and outs of the inter-planetary delivery. In the back of my head the little voice continued to rant “But I still need to shower!!”
Note: I put on my pajamas on this dream-filled night at 7:00 PM. After a tiring week of teaching, meeting with parents for conferences, and fighting off a cold and cough, I needed to go to bed immediately. Mid-day Saturday, I was still in my pajamas and had no energy to start the weekend laundry. Maybe the nagging voice in my dreams was telling me that the steam from a hot shower could help me fight off the nasty bug or at least ease the symptoms. Or maybe, just maybe, all was just a product of an overtired and overwhelmed subconscious.
>Amigo enjoys road trips. He can’t see the changing scenery or play the alphabet game on billboards, but he enjoys the travel nevertheless.
We’ve talked in an abstract way about taking a Route 66 vacation some summer. “Why?” you might ask. “Why Not?” we reply.
The highway itself has been largely replaced by interstates, but some of the blue highways and small towns near the old Mother Road still exist. It’s the towns, the scenery, the ambiance, the history that attract us.
Family trips usually revolve around a purpose or an ulterior motive. Our visit to Nova Scotia was aimed at following Chuck’s family history, filling in more of his research on the Lockeport branch of his family tree. Getting there by way of the Cat Ferry was a bonus. Amigo and I were along for the ride, taking our bikes around town and walking on the beach while Chuck waded through the archives of the historical societies.
Last July’s trip was a celebration of our 25th wedding anniversary. We chose the destination (Seattle) and method of travel (Amtrak Empire Builder) for fun this time, but also to include life interests. Chuck is a train lover; I’m a coffee addict and a green machine. Amtrak to Pike Place Market? The Perfect Couple.
So why Route 66? Americana. History. People.
We met some wonderful and unique people on the Empire Builder.
Interstate highways are designed to get people where they’re going quickly, directly, with as few stops as possible. The stops on a back road would be more like our Funday Friday adventures when Amigo and I choose a local restaurant or diner for lunch. Diners. Local family restaurants. We run into people we know and people we don’t, but we always enjoy the encounters – and the foods. On a long trip, we’d rather sample local and regional fare when it’s available, rather than the omnipresent McDrive-Thru.
For now, it’s not a plan. It’s more of a vague “maybe someday” kind of thought. I think we’ll get our kicks on Route 66, someday, eventually. Of course, I’ll blog the experience if and when it happens.
>I read this typo in the boss’ weekly memo, and instead of automatically making it seem right, my brain started changing it around.
In the midst of an inspirational saying, she suggested we teachers might
A ray of hoe? A row of hay? A hoe or a shovel? Or are we calling a spade a spade? A rake, perhaps? No, let’s just Leaf well enough alone.
Or maybe we should talk balloons. In the latest non-story, a local news report called the escaped balloon sans-child a “man-made” balloon. Um, wait a minute. Have you seen any balloons occurring naturally these days? I haven’t grown any in my garden, I know that much. If one came up, I’d probably be waiting for it to flower like my broccoli did.
I’ve got to stop working on Sundays. It makes me overtired, overstressed, and ridiculously punchy. All that and a Packers game, too — enough excitement for the weekend already.
>The table at my side holds tissues, the television remote control (off), my current pleasure reading choice (Knit Two by Kate Jacobs), and three, count ’em, three beverages.
Yes, I’m feeling under the weather. But it could be worse!
My class has been almost holding the record for most kids absent for the past few weeks. I thought missing 5 kids was a lot until the day I had 8 out and one more left by 9:30. My attendance sheet sounded like a laundry list of flu-like symptoms: Fever & cough, fever, fever, fever & cough, fever and headache, fever… you get the picture. In between cleaning like crazy (wiping down the computer lab with antibacterial wipes, among other chores) I’ve established a file of make-up work and another file (color coded in red because I use it so often) of homework lists for families able to pick them up. The workload has been increased, and I’ve had to modify instruction considerably to allow for reteaching as kids get back.
Meanwhile, I opened a fortune cookie that told me, “Good health will be yours for a long time!” While laughing out loud, I realized it could be worse. I’m sick on a weekend! Yes, that’s a pain in its own way, but it means I don’t have to call in sick or prepare sub plans. If I really had influenza, I’d be planning on a sub for a week, minimum. Most of the kids who have been sick have missed five days of school or more.
Chuck and Amigo are visiting La Petite for her college homecoming. We knew I’d be too busy to enjoy the festivities after a week of parent-teacher conferences, so I planned to stay home. That worked out well; I slept on the couch last night to prop up my aching, coughing chest. Between coughing jags, I napped. Really, it could be worse: I didn’t worry about waking anyone except the rabbit, and she (like a cat) never suffers from insomnia. She’ll catch up on her little furry beauty sleep.
So today I rest, stretched out on the couch with my laptop for a friend, beverages and comfort foods by my side. The cough is under control, only breaking out now and then, and I can nap all I wish while the Boys in the family are gone.
Seriously, it could be much worse.
>I’m the last holdout in my family – the last one without a Facebook page. I just feel like I don’t need it. Of course, I don’t need Twitter or Plurk, either, and I’m still on both of those.
What’s the difference? And why, you might ask, am I on these sites to begin with?
Conversation. I keep up with friends, both virtual and real-life, on both sites. Some provide interesting and informative (and fun) links to news articles and blogs. I’ve posted my own links on Twitter now and then to bring in a few more interested readers.
Twitter reminds me of the old chat rooms. There are several lines of conversation going on at once. Following a single topic isn’t always easy. Twitter posters respond to a single question: What are you doing? Well, that’s the intent.
Plurk’s timeline is rather nice. I like knowing how recent a particular post might be, and I really like seeing all the responses to any one post all together. It’s so much easier to feel like a part of a true conversation when the chatter is organized in one section.
I’m not a major collector on either site. I’ve blocked as many Twitter followers as I’ve followed in return. Sorry, marketer-folk, I’m just not that into you. To me, Twitter is social. Period.
Plurk has Karma. Plurk Karma ratings grow as followers and friends increase in number, but most of all Karma goes up as Plurkers Plurk more and more and other Plurkers respond. The eventual reward with higher Karma is Plurk Nirvana, which comes with a whole new set of emoticons. Emoticons! They’re part of the fun of conversing on Plurk. Silly little smileys that convey a thought or feeling, bananas that dance – well, you have to be there.
But Karma, like lengthy lists of Tweet followers, is largely irrelevant. Both sites for me are all about interaction and relaxation. Conversation, chats, back & forth and give & take. Purely frivolous; pure fun. Well, I should consider the PLN, the professional learning teacher network and the discussions we have about teaching and technology…nah. Still fun.
I don’t need Facebook. Not yet.
>Freezer diving. Shop-the-Shelves. Pantry raid. Call it what you will: it means cook or bake something with what you already own. My family cooks Planned-Overs.
Like Leftovers, planned-overs are the extra: the chicken breasts thawed on the grill as the fire dies, the double batch of chili in the crockpot with half intended for the freezer, the extra spaghetti without sauce that will become carbonara later in the week.
Planned-overs are frugal, green, and efficient. Starting a few potatoes on the grill (I live in tailgate party country, okay? We honestly cook this way) lets me turn them into bakers or twice-baked in the next day or two. When sweet corn is all over the farmers’ market, I cook at least one extra ear each meal. Sliced off the cob, it makes a great addition to any casserole or soup of veggie mix. I’ve even added corn (along with the perpetual grated zucchini) to chunky tomato sauce. Steaming extra veggies one night to become soup the next saves time and doesn’t take any more energy.
Planned-overs. At my house, it’s what’s for dinner. Enjoy.
>What’s that white stuff? Snow flurries? Already?
The Farmers’ Market, two weeks away from closing, was like a ghost town. Only the most dedicated vendors and the die-hard customers (like me) were there. All were decked out in warm outerwear, gloves, hats, the keep-warm collection. It was windy, too. Brrrr. I bought honey crisp apples for lunches, a little sweet corn, peppers in green and (mostly) red. The peppers we’ve bought from this stand lately are delicious. I’ll cook some and freeze a few.
I’m a sucker for a good cause. A polite young Boy Scout asked if I was interested in buying popcorn. Chuck and I are not supposed to eat much popcorn, so we’ll probably bring the box to La Petite next time we visit. I’ll call it her fall midterms Care Package. Of course I bought it! Did you need to ask? After I finished buying lettuce and carrots (with greens) for the bunny, I passed a local nonprofit cafe and their coffee of the day dragged me by the taste buds through the door and to the counter. White chocolate strawberry, if you must know. That kept me warm while standing in a much-too-long line at the post office.
Actual conversation while tearing down and uprooting dead and dying garden plants:
Me: “I’m getting the last few beans.”
Chuck: “Give them to my parents. They love beans, and they just pulled in the driveway.”
Me: “I don’t have many.”
Chuck: “They don’t need many.”
Me: “I have, like, five beans.”
Silence.
We sent them home with fundraiser cookie dough instead.
One anti-static dryer ball is lost. One. They work in a pair, and this pair has last me 6 months already and is still going strong. Now one is lost. One. I felt a twinge of guilt adding fabric softener to the washer. Only a twinge pulled at my eco-heartstrings, however, because after all, I’ve done largely without fabric softener for six months.
The garden is nearly ready to hibernate, the last harvest is in the sink to be cleaned, laundry is in, Chuck is painting scenery for his model trains, and Amigo is watching college football. Life is good. I think I’ll make some cappuccino or hot cocoa and have a cookie from my own stash of fundraiser cookie dough. Shhhhh.
>I ordered a sub sandwich Thursday and saved half for Friday in another teacher’s refrigerator. Her water bottle tipped, and I had a soggy sub for lunch.
Sometimes there are days like that.
I didn’t want to cook last night, but couldn’t justify ordering out or going out. I threw a few things together and called it Kitchen Sink Casserole. Dirty rice (with ground beef and miscellaneous spices and garden vegetables), meatsauce from last night’s spaghetti, egg noodles, the tiny bit of leftover spaghetti, all in a casserole dish. It was actually rather tasty. But yes, indeed, it was an Ultimate Leftover.
Sometimes there are days like that.
The newspaper never showed up on our porch. Sometimes our carrier is a little late, but she’s usually reliable. I don’t remember her ever missing us completely. Chuck has been on a roll with the evening crosswords this week; this will wreck his perfect record.
Sometimes there are days like that.
I gathered up a stack of Time magazines to mail to La Petite and discovered that Buttercup the hungry bunny had chewed on two issues. One was still readable; I’ll send it anyway.
Sometimes there are days like that.
My minivan may need work on its exhaust system, the garage door is turning temperamental, my tomatoes look awful, but the zucchini keep growing and growing and growing and growin. They’re the energizer bunny of the neighborhood gardens.
And as long as we have zucchini, we will not starve, even on days like that.
>On top of my file cabinet, in front of the sub folders, evidence exists that I’m a fan of books and small cute animals. Underneath it all, I’m still a Green Bay Packers fan. That, and the top of the file cabinet is ugly as all get out, so I used the title towel to cover the worst of it.
