texas grind

San Antonio was sunny, busy, warmer than here, and one day, downright hot. I stayed on the River Walk, which is super touristy at night but quite pretty all the same. It almost manages to be the right kind of river for me. If only it was a little less Hard Rock Cafe and a little more Yuri Jazz Cafe, it would be perfect. I like the vines, the old stone, the arched bridges, the wrought iron. I like the precariousness of narrow, slippery paths dropping right off into the river (which seemed to me like a canal), combined with ample drinking places. Kind of European, or Asian, or any less litigious continent than mine.

I was not planning on going to the Alamo. Alamo, I thought - whatever. But when I told that to my dad, he acted like I had just said I was no longer going to pay taxes (although he doesn't seem to have let tax evasion affect his love of one Mr. Willie Nelson). So out of father-induced guilt, and because I basically stumbled right over it as I walked through a busy part of downtown, I did go. I asked the Alamo people how I could cut the hourlong audio tour into a much shorter time, and it seemed like they had been asked that before. Anyway, the first line of the audio tour was something like, "The biggest misconception about the battle at the Alamo is that it was part of a war between Mexico and the United States." I privately blushed a little then, and realized maybe I would actually learn something. And I did. But I'm not going to tell you what. You will have to google it, or go to the Alamo yourself.

I also went to a place called Mission San Jose, which was pretty. I saw wheat being ground into flour on a millstone. Jealous?

I had some trouble finding things that I could eat, so a few meals consisted of bloody marys.

I was taken to cool places, away from the tote-baggery of the teacher crowd that had landed en masse for the convention, by some friends of Alec and Mollie. They were so nice and interesting, and I got to see where people who live in San Antonio actually go.

My hotel had a snack bar called Muggs. I kept wishing that various members of the Detroit band the Muggs would be there. That would have made the whole trip so much more exciting and fun. I would have hung out around the lobby a lot more than I did. Plus, I am sure that Danny would have brewed me a mean cup of coffee.

Oh, I also went to a lot of conference sessions and got a lot of cool ideas and fresh inspiration for teaching. But that's not what you want to know about. You are all about the millstone...

bad dumb poem made while lying on my back, laptop on my stomach

Winter has descended.
I cannot feel my toes.
My glove is soaked in gasoline
from a leaky hose.

Don't want to pack a suitcase
or be a good fore-planner.
Just want to get to San Antone,
come back a little tanner.

Yeah, I'm going to San Antonio tomorrow. It is not a place I ever had any particular desire to go to, but now I'm excited to meander in a new place - any new place. It is for an education conference, and I am not paying for flight, hotel, or conference fee. The conference should be really good. Barbara Ehrenreich is one of the keynote speakers! But I can't think about the conference or which sessions I will go to; all I can focus on is the fact that it's going to be mid to high 70s and sunny. There is a pool at the hotel. Will I have time to sit by it? That, and will I find things to eat? Going out to eat has become not that fun to me. And it's Texas... (sorry, Jen).

It's only November - kind of early to be desperate to get to a warmer place. Also, it is already after 9, but I cannot seem to make myself pack. I'm either ahead or behind on all things, as always.

Our new national dish

OH MY GOD. I logged on all ready to explain about my lovely day and the nice food I made, and someone on the radio is talking about putting earthworms into a quiche in place of bacon. Umm... I know it's bad economic times, but are we really already at the Great Depression-esque eat-whatever-scurries (or slithers)-by point of the recession yet?

I also happen to have a very serious worm thing. I didn't think it was that bad until I read our new science curriculum and realized that we were going to have to keep worms in the classroom and do experiments and activities with them. Can you imagine? My coworkers said, "You just keep them in a jar with soil," and I was like, uh... jars are clear. That is a problem. Can't anyone else see that?

It leaked to my students that I hate worms, and they came in from recess the other day, which was rainy, saying, "We touched you FAVORITE animal today on the playground!" Of course I made them wash their wormy hands, but they definitely brought in the combined smells of a rainy day - wet leaves, rain, grass, mud, and worms.

What I was PLANNING to write about is that I haven't had a day like today in a long time, where I just wake up at my leisure, hang around in bed for awhile, make a big pot of coffee, and start a cooking project that will take a little while, because I don't really have anywhere to be. Isn't that nice? The past week was long and hard, due to conferences and a psychologically broken student. I had been wanting to try Heidi Swanson's cornmeal crunch recipe, but every evening was filled and there was never an hour to spare. Still, I could imagine exactly how it would taste and what it would be like to eat. And, oh my god. I was right. It is amazing. I want it to be available everywhere I go. Made with parchment paper instead of butter and flour on the baking dish, it is gluten free. I also left out the cheese, but I think it would be really good with it, too. I kind of want it to be our new national dish. It fits, right? It's inexpensive and wholesome, which is what people need. It's got that comfort food warmth and texture. You could top it with lots of different things, or dunk it, as she suggests. It seems like a perfect recession food. FAR superior to earthworms.

getting heavy, like the blanket of smoke at the new way bar

I tried to go to bed early, but it didn't quite work. I swear I still smell the smoke from the bar last night, even though I have taken TWO showers to get it off me and washed the clothes I wore. I think I may have sat on my bed before taking the clothes off, and that small contact must have transferred the smell to my bedding. When, oh WHEN will Michigan get that public places smoking ban in place? Last Tuesday, voters passed medical mary jane and stem cell research proposals, after all. The smoking thing seems relatively easy. I really liked the bands I saw last night, and despite being spooked by a possible psychopath or sociopath and ending up being accidentally alone at the show with a whole bunch of youngsters, I had a great time. The youngsters seemed to accept me into their fold. It was just the damn smoke that makes me feel like I never want to go to another show again.

I continue to get emails, invitations to various online networks, etc. from a guy I went out with ONCE last fall. At the time, it was immediately obvious to me that I just had to get through the date politely and then I would never have to deal with him again. It was originally an aesthetic turn-off, which made me feel shallow, but it quickly turned into a total personality revulsion. He was clingy, needy, and totally inappropriate in his "feelings" for me after ONE MEETING. It was ridiculous, and I was very clear that I was not at all interested.

This week I have gotten an invitation to his flickr page, another bullshit invite that I can't remember now because I deleted it (oh, after googling myself just now I see it was an invitation to be his friend on amafuckingzon.com), and an email titled Halloween, which I haven't opened. I have gotten several other emails over the last months, and I just don't even open them, but clearly this is a person who cannot take hints? I should probably just respond with a "fuck off," but I don't want to engage the crazy, I guess. I have tried to remove all traces of myself from the internet and managed to make my flickr and some other things stop showing up, but I can't figure out how to disable my amazon profile (even though it's got no information in it, it still shows up). And I have a facebook page that he has tried to contact me through, but he can't get past the basic page or look at my (less than ten) friends.

I know this is not the kind of thing I usually write about, but it is seriously upsetting me. What kind of loser just keeps sending missives out into the ether even though the person not only never acknowledges them, but removes evidence of herself as a result? Does he think he is going to wear me down or something? Twisted.

I am actually paranoid about internet dating because I'm afraid he would be on there posing as someone else! That is very telling of my level of anxiety, huh?

Also, if you google me (try it!), he comes up as the second hit for friending me on my amazon page. Nice, huh? Love that my workplace also shows up there. Ugh. Why can't I have a name like "Mary Smith?" My combination of first and last are unique, according to google...

important lesson

Right now I'm wondering about skinny jeans, and if there is any kind of law about me wearing them or not.

Also, I am enjoying reflecting on this moment at school today, as students were grappling with the economic concept of goods vs. services:

Me: "Well, services are things like getting your car washed. Or having someone cut your lawn. I would hate having to cut a lawn, if I had one. I live in an apartment, so I don't have a lawn. Or, some people get their nails done, and that's a service. Obviously, I don't (holds up hands for all to inspect)."

God, why didn't I just go on with things like, "Obviously, your moms all have personal trainers or tennis coaches and I don't. Check out this flab! And your parents probably have financial advisors. I pretty much just let whatever happen with my money, since there is so little of it. Oh, but I do have a real estate agent. That's a service! Of course, I'm trying to only look at things under $90,000. Your houses cost at least five times that, if not more! But it's cool. At least my preferred candidate won the election"

Then we all would have shared a large, deeply unflattering belly laugh, they would have advised me to never wear skinny jeans, and I would have totally agreed.

Instead, here I am, still not sure.

Conspiratorial angst

Why did I get an email from John McCain just now, asking me to vote for him? Considering that all my monetary gifts go to Planned Parenthood, I don't really know where his campaign may have gotten hold of me as a potential love interest.

I am really scared about tomorrow. I'm glad I don't have to go to work; school will be used for voting. I would be unable to focus or maintain the neutral political stance required by my job. I'm just really scared that bad shit is going to go down, and it won't matter how people actually vote. I'm in a conspiratorial place.

I wish I had something good to eat right now. I have nothing. good. to. eat. in my home, ever. I should change that, maybe. No, wait. I am all twisted up with nerves. I couldn't eat even if I had something good, like almond-stuffed olives, guacamole, and/or fresh vegetarian grape leaves with pine nut hummus. Well, maybe I could eat the grape leaves. Yeah, I probably could.

Ohio Power

I think we should have set the clock back 25 hours instead of one. I could have used a whole extra day this weekend. I say this as I survey my surroundings, which have somehow erupted into chaos when I wasn't looking. I have laundry that i haven't put away yet, half-graded papers strewn around, and the components of my Halloween costume on the floor. I was the Statue of Liberty at school (and then slutty Statue of Liberty that night). (Just kidding, but I kind of like the idea). I was a hit with children and adults alike. Apparently no one could tell the difference between me and the actual SoL, it was so realistic. It's amazing what a nicely draped sheet can do.

Instead of tidying all this up, I went to my nephew's championship football game. They got to play under the lights because it was already dark. It was also super cold. I got confirmation of something I already suspected: Something in my brain refuses to understand the rules of football. Something with claws will not let go of my unwillingness to understand it. Mostly I just did funny hairstyles on my niece and occasionally was reminded (usually by an obnoxious parent) that a game was in progress. I realized at some point, too, that all of the players who were acting all tough on the field were going to be going home in car seats. Did I mention that they are first graders?! Anyway, my neph's team won, I am pleased to report.

Has anyone heard the new Pretenders? I love the idea of it - the Pretenders do country - and I also love that they recorded it in Chrissie Hynde's hometown of Akron. It does an Ohio girl's heart proud. Dave Grohl just had a street named after him in my hometown. His hometown is my hometown. Ohio power, everyone. Ohio power.

dazed and confused

I went to the Hentchmen show tonight. They have been playing for 16 years, and I have been watching them for most of those. I wore boots of questionable sluttiness to mark the occasion. I was happy to see that hardcore Hentch fans Long Haired Guy and Old, Jean Jacket Guy were there, too.

On the way home, after dropping Alice off, I found Dazed and Confused on the radio. If there was an all Led Zeppelin station, I would be happy (except when Fool in the Rain or whatever it's called came on; then I'd have to change the station). Anyway, I was rocking out to Dazed and Confused, and didn't realize until it was too late that a Who song came on next. It turns out that I had listened to quite a lot of the Who song before realizing it. The thing is, I hate the Who, and I always have. Really, I just had gotten to thinking about other things, but nonetheless it made me feel like I had lost my ability to discern between things that I do and do not like. I feel like that happens to people as they get older. I am not ready to accidentally like the Who yet.

I feel like you need to see what my bedroom walls looked like when I was a kid (above). Maybe it's because I am in house-buying mode; I am all pre-approved and ready to go. Soon I will have chosen a house, and will only have to decide things like, "should I replicate the walls of my youth?"

She and I are not ignorant (but she and me are)

Tonight I learned that I don't like gluten-free beer. At least, not the brand I tried at the Berkley Front. Could it have anything to do with the fact that when I requested it, the bartender had to consult with the waitress and then disappear for awhile, eventually bringing it out from a mysterious room, then dusting it with his shirt before setting it down? Still, nice that they had it at all.

The dude at the next stool tried to woo my friend/coworker and me* away from our drinks with offers of more drinks and darts at the place next door. I had to laugh, wondering which overheard snippets made him all into us: the endless conversation about a mentally ill child, or the complaining about feeling old and broke? All so hot.



*I'm tired of people thinking that this should be "I" instead of "me." People have over-generalized some rule they once learned about "You and I, not you and me" to the point where I am paranoid that people think I am ignorant when I use it correctly (as above). You don't think I'm ignorant, do you?

My feet, they are cold. Almost like blocks of ice already, and it's still October. It is supposed to go down into the low 30's tonight, so I guess it makes sense. Having a house guest (the lovely Chris) motivated me, at least, to turn the heat on. Also to clean the tub and coffee maker.

I'm thinking about how nice and warm my feet were in the picture above. I was in Santa Fe, sitting by the pool at the Sunrise Springs resort. I was on a break from writing, and I had my Amy Hempel book there at the pool with me. I felt a little bit guilty reading at the pool during a designated writing time, but no one cared. We were there to write like adults, not like kids. It had to involve wine and frequent breaks in the sun or the shade. It had to involve plenty of snacks at all hours. Some people even napped, but I am not a good sleeper. Despite all this, I was productive. It was those blocks of time. Now the project I started there is almost due and I had to force myself to work on it tonight. I enjoy working on it. I always, always enjoy writing. It's just getting myself to do it. I do think it's harder when my feet are cold.

I like this picture. I like the dog wandering in (although I think it is the same one that snarled at me). Unfortunately, the junk on the roof is kind of reminiscent of some of the bank-owned houses I looked at with Chris last weekend (note to self: do not look at any more bank-owned houses). But that aside, I like this picture very much. Was I really in New Mexico in June, driving around on my own and exploring all kinds of little places? I know it was, but it seems like so long ago now.

Circus Peanut Pumpkin Dreams

That is a seasonal candy given to me this morning by a crafty student. It is made from a - you will like this - Circus Peanut. Oh, Circus Peanuts, you still exist? That is kind of gross, yet comforting in a way. I just found out that one ingredient in the Circus Peanut is pork-skin derived gelatin. Also, that some cereal dude sliced one up on his cereal and that led to Lucky Charms. Yeah, I googled "circus peanut." Anything to avoid the debate. I followed the Liveblog on Jezebel.com, and even that made my blood boil, so now I'm just going to pretend I live on Planet Circuspeanutluckycharm. There are unicorns and rainbows everywhere! And the Circus Peanuts make lovely pillows.


This is my green-on-green-on-green, etc. salad, a.k.a. tomorrow's lunch. First I cut up some Swiss Chard and massage it with a tiny bit of flax oil until it bends to my will. Then I throw on some steamed broccoli, some fava beans, some pepperoncini, and some avocado. It is delicious, and also quite pleasing in its monochromaticism. I have other things I could add, but they would ruin the color scheme.

I am up late for the recent me, but tomorrow isn't a real day, really. It's one of those days where the kids take a state-mandated test all day and I "proctor." They pretty much have to do all the thinking. I just have to tell them, "Sorry, I'm not allowed to help you with anything. Oh, you can't read the directions to the math problem? Apparently the math test is also a test of reading, because I'm not allowed to help you with that at all, according to the state. Best wishes to you."

Mean state.

My Dinner

I made an actual recipe for actual dinner tonight! I planned ahead, bought the ingredients, and followed all the steps. I am very proud. Lately I have just been eating in a way that shows very, very low expectations for myself. But it's fall, and I wanted something warm. I wanted lentil soup, specifically. I wanted to make a very typical Lebanese lentil soup, but then I found this recipe in Heidi Swanson's cookbook, Super Natural Cooking. I love her website, where she mostly tries out recipes from other cookbooks, and her book, which consists of her own recipes. I had already made the Black Tea Spring Rolls, which were awesome, although slightly unconventionally shaped due to my, um, overly creative methods. So tonight I made the Chunky Lentil Soup. The chunkiness comes from butternut squash. I had to watch an internet tutorial about how to cut a butternut squash, because all day I carried a vague anxiety, knowing I had this potentially digit-removing activity ahead of me. I like having fingers. It turns out that my usual method was correct. Cutting squash is just inherently risky. I enjoy life on the edge as usual.

Oh, the soup also has tomatoes and smoked paprika. It's super good!

Blame-placin', ma'am style

I'm kind of tired of people calling me "ma'am." I just don't believe I am a "ma'am." But if I examine the evidence....shit. No matter how long into my thirties I insist on shopping at Urban Outfitters, I am still a "ma'am," really. Just a slightly hip ma'am.

A few weeks ago, Jen and I were having a drink and they were playing Band of Horses at the bar. I recognized some of the songs (ok, mostly I recognized the one used in a commercial), and I bought the album from ITunes the next day. I love it so much. It is what I want to listen to these days. I don't even care that they gave some car company commercial rights to their song. It is just beautiful.

Reality hit me today that I have a deadline. The article I started in Santa Fe is due soon. They gave me this gorgeous, perfect writing experience for very minimal cost to me, and in return, I owe them a polished, finished product. As of a few hours ago, the article was anything but. I have been working at it diligently over the last couple of hours, though, and I think it will be OK. But what have I been doing since late June? All I can say is, it's so typical of someone whose root chakra is blocked... That, plus long-term effects of gluten poisoning, are my new excuses for everything wrong with me. Why haven't I followed through with the part-time writing thing I pursued this summer? Root chakra. Why didn't my students score better on their end-of-year writing assessments last year? I was in a gluten (pictured above) haze and couldn't properly coach them. Why can I never get anything mailed in a timely way? Obviously root chakra!

I am being facetious, but only kind of. I got confirmation of the whole gluten thing this week, and it is staggering to realize that I have been unknowingly harming my body for who knows how many years. I have always tried to be a healthy eater, but all along I was malnourished. It explains a lot of vague health problems I have had. Ugh.

Time for a fresh start.

the degrading thing that i do

Sheeesh. One month into the school year and all my stories relate to school. There has got to be more. Um, I could tell you about my chakras, I guess. I found out via an online quiz that my root chakra is terribly blocked. That is one thing I have recently learned (I have been doing Kundalini yoga, and it is apparently a gateway drug other new agey things?). Another non-school thing is that I talk too much about gluten. See, all of these things are coming together in my mind and making me realize that I might need an intervention. A "please stop talking about school/chakras/gluten" type intervention.

But I don't know what else, so just one last school story before I start living it up in some other way and can tell you about that instead.

There is a thing I do that I don't internally approve of and did not come up with, but that is a needed thing for this one kid in my class. It is a daily update sheet that goes through each part of the day - "Writing," "Math," "Snack," etc. I have to assign a smiley face, a straight-mouthed face, or a frowning face for each part, as well as comments. Anyway, I started thinking about what it would be like if someone was following me around all day with a clipboard containing that sheet. Hoooo. That's a horrible, horrible thought.

Getting up: Frown (major abuse of snooze)
Drive to school: Straight line (went kind of fast on the curvy road)
Pre-student-arrival: Straight line (could have been more sharing with the copier)
etc.
I would have gotten a smile at snack (ate all of her banana! GREAT JOB!!!) and possibly at science (effectively used a healthful flower at second dissection attempt!).

But, oh my god. It just adds a whole new perspective. Especially if I have to imagine that the kid actually has to complete the sheet. How degrading!

Lilified

Just when I start thinking I can drink many glasses of wine on a Thursday night without fretting about my extra-long teaching day on Friday comes one like today. i really, really could have used all of my brain functionality today. Or maybe it wouldn't have mattered, really. It went something like this....

Wouldn't a flower dissection be an interesting way for kids to learn about the parts of flowers? Why yes, it would! Pistil, stamen, anther, etc. - I brushed up on it a bit, but in the end I felt like I needed to buy flowers with as clear-cut examples of these parts as possible. Looking at the alstromeria at Trader Joe's, I couldn't see everything. The more expensive lilies, on the other hand, were gorgeous, big, and very obvious in their anatomy. I decided to buy an extravagant amount - one for each kid, plus a bunch left over to brighten the classroom. I spent a bit more than I meant to, but I thought, fuck it. A lot of things have been hard/upsetting/disappointing lately, and I should buy the prettiest flowers possible.

I walked into school this morning all Miss America-like, with this big spray of lilies across my chest. I was so excited, and expected the kids to immediately start quizzing me about them when they walked in, the way they start quizzing me if my hair is sticking up or I have accidentally worn a similar outfit as the day before. No one said anything about them, though, which I was also kind of happy about, because it would be such a great surprise come science time.

The room was all lilified and fragrant by 11:00. The tighter blooms had opened in the sun. I cut one for each kid, and gave the first set of directions: to make a sketch from the top and one from the side. As I was cutting, I noticed that the anthers (yeah, I've internalized at least that vocab word) were fucking full of pollen. Like, tons of pollen spilling out. I'm not that smart and didn't think much about it except, "Wow. That's a lot of pollen."

Soon, coughs started up around the room. Kids started clearing their throats. "I don't feel right," someone said. "Me either." "My throat itches." "My eyes burn." "My head hurts." "I'm dizzy." Then my personal favorite: "My tongue feels funny."

That did it. As a person with long-standing tongue-feeling-funny paranoia, my attention was caught. I took a good look around at a sea of watery eyes, blotchy skin, and woozy expressions. Shit. I had triggered a mass respiratory event in my classroom! Now my throat was itching like mad, too.

The next minutes were a blur of emergency lily confiscation, rapid-fire hand washing, and classroom evacuation to the fresh air of the outdoors. My fears worsened when about half the class opted to sit listlessly in the wood chips on the playground rather than actually play. I pounded on a colleague's classroom window and asked her to remove and destroy the lilies, open my windows wider, and alert the principal. This colleague later reported that the lily smell upon opening my door was overwhelming, sickening, unbearable...

I gathered the kids in a temporarily empty classroom and read to them, hysterically noting in my mind who was reacting normally and who was not, hoping my voice wasn't betraying my own swollen throat. My students were bizarrely sedate, glassy-eyed, zombie-esque. One girl's throat bloomed with red splotches, and I sent her to the office to be watched over.

I finally took them to lunch, then cried a little from stress and worry. This day was a low, low point in my teaching career thus far. Almost any job seemed preferable. I would have strongly preferred to be a fish-catcher, and I have deep existential fear of both worms and fish.

Instead of eating my lunch, I scrubbed every possible pollen-harboring surface and sniffed the air fretfully. By the time the kids came back in, only a lingering perfume remained. We talked about what had happened, and I explained that the room was now totally lily-free, even though the scent was still there a little.

"Don't we get to take our flowers home?" they cried.

Uh...no.

Heavy Metal Food Fight

Oh my god! Mike Hentch told us at TV Nigh about doing this heavy metal food fight voiceover for the Del Taco website, with Danny Muggs playing backup on guitar. He had kind of demonstrated, so I knew he had some skillz, but wow. I am so proud to say I know him. If you click on each item at the bottom of the screen (for some reason they are hard to click just right, but be persistent), you can hear their interpretations.

Doomy, gloomy mornings

I have been springing out of bed so easily these days, because when my radio goes off early, I don't want to loll in bed and listen to NPR like I usually do. I want to propel myself away from the radio, source of all the terrible news and doom and gloom that seems to be so relentless lately. Luckily, my radio is on the side of my bed near the wall, so propelling myself away from it gets me to the bedroom door, not against the wall.

I always thought it would be cool to have some effective way of giving myself reality-check messages in the morning. I used to leave notes: YOU HAVE TO GET UP NOW BECAUSE YOU NEED TO STOP FOR GAS ON THE WAY TO WORK!!! or, YOU DIDN'T MAKE YOUR LUNCH LAST NIGHT AND IT TAKES FOREVER! But when the alarm went off, I never looked at the notes. Even if I had looked at them, I would have thought I was above the person who wrote them. That's how I am in the morning.

Maybe this is one of those pragmatic reasons for cohabitation, like free rides to the airport: someone to make you get up.

With all this American doom/gloom blasting into my ears in the morning, though, I'm able to handle it on my own just fine.

House Schooled

I had a pile of the Mindless Cutting Tasks that come with being a teacher, and as is my habit, I turned on the TV for distraction. House was on. I watched this show when it first came on a few years ago, then I stopped because every episode was so much the same. It still really annoys me, I found out. Like, they really tolerate this assholery day in, day out? I started to imagine the elementary education version of the show. I am the star, and i am just impossible. However, my genius in the education of children, and solving complex educational problems through out-of-the-box thinking, is unparalleled at my school. Almost every day, or at least on Tuesdays, I get sulky when something doesn't go my way, and I take off, just when a third grader most desperately needs my expertise. My colleagues bumble around ineffectively, trying out different, ill-conceived instructional techniques and losing valuable time. Finally, a male colleague is sent to my house to beg me to come back to work. I make some sexually degrading comments towards him, and he rolls his eyes a bit, but he just refuses to give up on me. He knows that deep down inside, my heart is crying out in pain. They all know it. Finally, I agree to go back, but I twist it to make it seem like it's all on my terms. I sit down with the suffering student, say the rudest things I can think of to make him or her feel like shit, and then a random, over-heard snippet sparks an idea. Just like that, the solution comes to me in a flash of certainty. I know now how to solve this educational problem, and I do so, swiftly and skillfully, in the harrowing last ten minutes of the school day. The student tries to thank me, but I just gnash my teeth and criticize his or her body.

Wouldn't that be an awesome show? I'm going to start thinking about who should play my male colleague, the one who refuses to give up on my frozen heart.

Poor DFW

Ugh. So sad to hear about David Foster Wallace. I really liked his stuff (although I don't think I finished Infinite Jest, despite a friend urging me on). I still remember picking up Girl With Curious Hair, not really knowing anything about him. There was a story about an actor going on David Letterman that was hilarious and brilliant - at least, I remember it that way. He was also the guest editor of the 2007 Best American Essays, and at first I was not pleased with his choices. They seemed like too much work. I wanted easy, clever essays. These were on a different level, requiring my full attention. His introduction was, of course, extensively footnoted, and he questioned the whole point of choosing the "best" essays. In the end, I enjoyed most of his choices, and appreciated that he didn't just pick the most popular kids of the essay world, as I would surely have done. Now I'm remembering that I had been meaning to check out his collection Consider the Lobster, since I liked the title essay when it appeared in, I think, Gourmet. I guess I still can, right?

Just sad, though. Not like he didn't come across as the depressed type, but it is still shocking when someone who seems to have reached so many of his goals makes the choice to kill himself. Like I know what his goals were, or anything about him, or that it's even a choice! Ha. Silly. Anyway, I obviously put writers on some kind of pedestal, or at least I put The Writing Life on that pedestal. I imagine that if you are able to not only make your living that way, but also be widely lauded for your talent, that would be everything. It's like I missed the Literature 101 class about tortured, depressed, yet successful artists.

It rained all weekend. I stayed home and nursed my cold, except for the hours when I hunched over in the rain, bailing water that was about to stream into my parents' basement.

Autumnal Breakfast, plus My Little Conservative Charges

I went to bed really early last night (after watching a grainy post of the last Project Runway episode on Youtube), hoping to sleep off this cold that has suddenly sprung up on me. When I woke up today to rainy gloom, I had that fall feeling, even though it's supposed to be in the 70s today. I felt like eschewing my summer breakfast and making something more autumnal. So I made this polenta and tomato concoction. I just sliced some polenta off the tube, sprinkled some pepper and nutritional yeast on it, added a layer of tomato slices, then more pepper, parsley, and a little salt. I baked it for fifteen minutes and it was just exactly what I wanted it to be.

Some recent political comments from my classroom as we have been reading articles about both major candidates and the conventions:

"A Democrat is a person who want to raise taxes and make gas more expensive." (in answer to the question "What does the word "Democrat" mean?")

"John McCain is COOL!" (EEEEEEwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!)

"Sarah Palin is sooo pretty!" (Uuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!)

"Democrats are tiny little losers!" (from the same kid: "My sister's friend thinks that global warming is real. Isn't that hilarious?")

"Barack Obama kills babies" (OK, that was actually from the classroom next door. Still....I had to hear about it).

Sigh. Ugh. Ouch. Yuck. Gross.

All I can do is keep saying, "Well, that's an OPINION. Let's talk about facts."