Sunday, January 28, 2007

Need a new goal


Waaah! I can't get over the sheer productivity of Dave Eggers. I was just on the McSweeney's website - and that dude has started a whole slew of non-profit kids' tutoring centers focused on writing! Maybe they've been around awhile, but this is the first I've heard of them. There's one in Ann Arbor! The website is amazing and the workshops look great. I wish the fourteen-year-old me could take one. Could I still pass for fourteen, do you think?

Yes, productivity. The one magic wish I want for myself is productivity. Although I did grade almost 250 pieces of student work Saturday, which is saying something. Maybe it's drive that I'm lacking. Dave Eggers must have a lot of drive, running a publishing house, writing long books, and now these tutoring centers. I finished What is the What today. I loved it (thanks, Jen!). My students are even referencing it, just because I told them about it. "That reminds me of What is the What," they have said a few times lately.

I have a writing date with Mollie for Thursday night. Perhaps that is the day I'm destined to discover my inner drive at last.

Last night was Mollie's b-day party. I loved everyone there. It was great fun. Kuntry Luv (our band of yore) had a 3-song reunion. We sang our biggest hit, the hymen song. I also co-created a new secret handshake of sorts, and talked lots to M's Arkansassy brother, Charlie.

All night long I had the urge to do a backbend, the splits, or to put my foot behind my head. All signs that I'm feeling pretty good about things. Oh, and I'm a sofa owner. It will be in my possession within a couple of weeks. My long-term goal has been realized sooner than I expected. Now I need to identify a new long-term goal. Any ideas?

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Your Miss Montgomery

I really need some new clothes, especially for work. I don't know what happened, but I almost literally have nothing to wear. What the hell did I wear last winter? I don't want to know. Anyway, the same few pairs of pants keep reappearing in a rather predictable cycle, and I'm just waiting for one of my students to point it out. This is not an unfounded fear. Comments so far this year include, "Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?" (I had worn nothing even remotely similar); "You wear those earrings a lot, don't you?" (So? They're just earrings. It's not like they have to be washed. Plus they're super cool earrings!); "You really like that outfit, don't you?" (No, not really); and "BLUE? You never wear blue! You wear black!"

I don't want to end up with a reputation like that of Miss Montgomery, of St. Andrew's College, the private school outside Dublin that my sister and I went to. She was the headmistress, and also taught some of our classes. And she wore the exact same outfit every day! I mean, we had uniforms, but the teachers didn't. Some were even almost stylish (I'm talking to you, Miss Kelly; your clothing choices almost make up for the cruel things you said to me during field hockey practice!). But Miss Montgomery wore the same head-to-toe-gray ensemble day in and day out. I don't remember other kids talking about it, but I sure as hell noticed. Or maybe my mom pointed it out. It still comes up in conversation to this day.

So, yeah, I'm trying to avoid that sad fate, a fate not quite as bad as the jumper, but comparable in tragic connotation. It's just overwhelming to need a whole bunch of clothes. Clothes are not cheap. There are about 5 things that I need in the $100-$150 range right now (including Windows for Mac; a haircut & highlights, already; a plane ticket that I'm not going to end up buying; some FLOR tiles for my home; and shoes, running and other). I've not managed to procure any of those, so a heap of clothes seems unlikely. Maybe I should just start with some damn pants.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Born into a goatless home



i had dinner at my mom-n-dad's tonight and looked at more old slides. I love our wallpaper in our living room and dining room in the house we lived in when I was small. Pretty cool, huh? Trees are my favorite motif today, possibly due to this wallpaper.

My lust for international travel was cooled down just a little after seeing Babel yesterday with Deborah. That Deborah really knows how to make a girl not want to travel. Or was it the movie? That could be it. Recovering from a gunshot wound in a little hut in Morocco, encounters with nasty guards at the U.S./Mexico border (not like they'd have a problem with me), annoying tourists (among whom I'd be numbered), dust in the eyes, and the goats and chickens. My god, the goats and chickens!

I am glad I wasn't born into a goat herding people. I don't think I'd do well.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

listen to records day eve



No school tomorrow. Its "records day." I'm supposed to work on record-keeping, at the locale of my choice.

My choice is to stay home and listen to records.

At 5:45 yesterday afternoon, all dressed for my 7:00 spinning class, I sat to read for a spell and I fell asleep, fast asleep. Asleep-er than I usually manage at that time of day. Anyway, I woke up at 7:58 and totally freaked out. I tore out of bed and stumbled around pulling on clothes, any clothes, cattywampus clothes, and yelling right out loud. "I still have to put in my contacts and brush my teeth! Oh my god, I'm so late! There's no way I'll be there by 8:10!" Be where? To school, for I thought it was 7:58 the next morning, twelve minutes before 28 children were due to file into my classroom, expecting to be taught and guided, or at least guarded, by an adult with a plan. It's not an easy job to show up late for.

I rushed to the bathroom, thinking I should call my coworker, not the mean secretary, and realized my contacts were already in. I was really disoriented. "What's going on? Did I sleep with my contacts in all night? Why didn't my alarm go off?" Slowly it crossed my mind that it could be evening instead of morning. How could I find out for sure? I looked out the window and it was dark - was it still dark at 8:00 in the morning? I realized I didn't really know. It seemed possible, this time of year. I'm always already at work then, or sleeping if it's the weekend. So I had to turn on the tv to base my decision on the programming that my rabbit-eared tv was receiving. That clinched it. Definitely evening.

I'm glad I realized it before I called my coworker and hysterically announced that there was no way I was going to make it on time.

I'm getting a head start on Records Day now, listening to Kristin Hersh. No way I'm getting up to find out about the state of the sun at 8:00 tomorrow!

Monday, January 15, 2007

greens and green



Couldn't get a good picture using just my computer as a camera, and with the wrong lighting, and clicking the "3-2-1-cheese!" button with my big toe, but I thought I'd show you anyway, because it's unbelievable. You see, I am a cooker of kale. Kale is a regular lunch item for me, and I steam it the night before, or sometimes I'll do something else with it. Usually just steamed in a bit of water, though, then sprinkled with plum vinegar. Today I thought about how variety is the spice of life, and I boldly bought PURPLE kale instead of regular kale. And the steaming water turned the craziest green I've ever seen. Not vegetable green at all. Not kale green. It turned spearmint green. Green like the emerald city. Green like jello and easter egg dye. A crazy and lovely green. And dude, I'm tired. I had to get up early and wait for my phone to ring with news of school being canceled due to ice. I had to lie in bed before my alarm and focus on my phone. Kids were already off but teachers had to work. I had to lead a training at my old jr. high school and was NOT enthused. "Ice, ice, baby," I said to my phone, but the call never came. The ice barely even came. It's coating all the trees and had encased my car, but hadn't made the roads bad enough for the phone to ring. So I had to go through with it, my long and belabored day, then lackluster spinning class, and yet despite being this tired I still managed to rouse the energy to take this picture. So that should tell you what a lovely, super-special kind of green this is.

Not kermit green; closer to glowing alien green when the lighting is a little dim.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

once upon a pea-green booth


Things about Drake's, which you might find interesting or amusing even if you never went there:

1. There was a "chicken loaf" which would periodically have to be sliced and made sandwich-ready. Only employees 18 and older could use the chicken loaf slicer. One night when I was working, my co-worker S. had her inaugural chicken loaf slicing experience (I had removed myself from the task on grounds of vegetarianism - but did the loaf contain meat?) in the basement. Mr. Tibbals, grouchy old man with expressive cane/owner of Drake's, came in later that evening and saw that the chicken had been sliced. "Where are the scraps?" he demanded. "Scraps?" mused S. "The chicken scraps! For the chicken salad!" "I threw them away, sir. I didn't know." Pause. Tap of cane. "Well go get 'em!" Then he watched wheezily as S. dug bits of chicken out of the garbage. We warned customers against that batch of chicken salad, unless one of our sworn enemies came in. You know how many enemies I had back in the day.

2. Mr. Tibbals arrived by cab around 8:00 or 9:00 each night. He mostly sat in a little room in the basement, smoking and...we didn't know. I feared he was lost in the sad mists of "good-old-days" style nostalgia as his punk rock employees freely stole from the cash register (I didn't though! honest!). He'd usually still be there at opening time the next morning, then be taken away by cab shortly after. Whoever opened had to go make sure he was still alive.

3. Mr. T. believed that girls should wear skirts with our Drake's t-shirts. So we would wear our regular clothes and then frantically get changed into skirts just before his arrival time. Once Steve O., who had long hair, wore a skirt, and Mr. T. thought he was a girl. Mr. T. also thought S. was a boy because she had short hair. She went with it because then she didn't have to change into a skirt.

4. Mr. T. insisted that we put mayonnaise on everything (Note: I have a total repulsion towards mayonnaise and have since I was a kid), even peanut butter and jelly. He also had a one-scoop-per-shake rule. These rules made the food bad and so were followed only when he was sitting at the counter over his Campbell's clam chowder.

5. Drake's was famous for the limeade and the lime ricky (limeade with fizzy water).

6. We paid ourselves out of the antique cash register each night, some more freely than others (see #2).

7. All the employees were heavy smokers. I was not. All the other employees were basically on a smoke break the whole time. I was not.

8. There were lots of kinds of teas and they were served in little orange plastic pots.

9. There were jars and jars and flat thingies of candy, some of which had clearly not been opened since the 30's or 40's (anything anise was dusty-looking), others which had to be refilled regularly (like the turtles and the malted milk balls).

10. Downstairs in the basement was the "chocolate room" where all the backstock of candy was kept. It was an exciting place to be, all quiet and sugar-scented.

11. Mr. Tibbals told a story about a time in the 50's or 60's when the bread was still homemade. It would be left to rise overnight. One morning, a lady (in a skirt, I'm sure) baked it and then sliced it, and blood started squirting out. Turns out a rat had climbed in and slept there as the dough rose, then had been baked into the loaf. Telling this story was the only time I saw Mr. T. laugh.

12. Customers wrote their orders on an order form and left it on the counter. When the slackers behind the counter had prepared their feasts, perhaps some olive salad on toast, cut on the diagonal into fourths, or a Princeton double-decker sandwich (I'll have to dig out my souvenir menu to remember what was on that one), the order was yelled out for the patron to come fetch.

13. You never really knew who was there, in the high-backed booths, but chances were Prince-of-Wales Tea guy or White Chocolate Covered Pretzels Guy or any other number of regulars were there.

14. The olive salad was a can of olives pressed through this metal grinder that looked like a pencil sharpener. Of course, it was then mixed with mayonnaise (I can't write "mayo." Sounds too collegial, like I'm using a pal's nickname). Sometimes I'd leave out the mayonnaise for my own personal delicacy.

15. Then there was The Drake's Five. Quite a dramatic sitch. Mr. T. could barely see the clam chowder in front of him, poor man, let alone tell genders or sexual orientations apart (#3, above). So when two very butch women were sharing a bowl of soup, Mr. T. flew off the handle and kicked them out (side note: he kicked some people out for singing once when I was there, too). Why did he kick them out? He had a strict rule against people sharing tea or whatever. You had to get your own order. But the two women insisted they'd been kicked out for being gay, and soon a sad little picket line formed outside of Drakes. Some former Drake's employees counter-protested. The whole thing is hilarious to think about.

16. Awesome old phone booth in back, plus the Walnut Room and Martian Room, both upstairs, the Martian Room all space-age 1950's, only open when the main floor booths were full (rare by the '90's). The Walnut Room was used for storage but was a swank ballroom dance venue in its day.

17. I could go on, but... is anyone still reading??? Now who's lost in the "sad mists of 'good-ol-days' nostalgia" (see #2)?

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Not understanding how time works


Today I cooked a brown rice salad that has corn, avocadoes, toasted almonds, onions, and dill pickles in it! I also made a cucumber-fennel salad, and I did the first step in a six-week eggplant curing process. I also mopped the kitchen and bathroom floors and I did some other housewifery type things. I will have good things to eat this week, and could even eat them off the floor if I wanted to!

Last week was all about insomnia, which I associate with deserts. Each night was its own separate desert, stretching agonizingly flat and dry, with barely enough sleep to fit in the shadow of one cactus. It's hard not to approach breakdown territory when these two things are true: 1. You have barely slept for three nights in a row, and 2. Your students, after several weeks of learning about local, state, and national government, think that Washington, D.C. belongs in the "Local" category. Yes, hard not to approach breakdown territory then.

What's saving my bacon* right now is that I don't have a regular day tomorrow, so I probably won't have insomnia, because I won't be worried about having insomnia, because I can sleep a little later than usual, you know? And here's how my understanding of time goes: I don't have to be at the place I have to be until 8:25 - an hour and a half later than I usually get to work. So I believe that means that tonight I can stay up as late as I want, and can also plan to get a bit of exercise in the morning, stop at the bank so I have cash for lunch, and stop for coffee. In my mind, I don't actually have to be there until 1 p.m.

*When I had the translation company job, there was a British guy who did German translation from our office sometimes and if I did him a favor he'd say, "Thanks, you've saved my bacon this time!"

That just reminded me of going into the basement of Drake's in Ann Arbor, the amazing candy store/sandwich shop of 1929 vintage and of questionable health code status, and finding several containers labeled "Fish Grease."

And that made me go online for pictures, etc. of Drake's, which made me kind of blue and nostalgic. I could write a whole lot about crazy Drake's... too bad it's a Bruegger's Bagels now, and they ripped out all the pea-green booths and covered or removed the beautiful tin ceilings. Wouldn't want it to look different than the other Bruegger's Bagels, right?

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

She said with slouched back, from the edge of a mussed bed

Today it was like I had no muscles. I was tired. Exhausted. Depleted. Spent. At the library, I looked at the staircase to the second floor and wondered, "Can I do it?" I did do it, it turns out, but the library jaunt (which is not the right word, since it implies jauntiness) was followed by a long time in bed unable to do anything. The sky grew dark. I still hadn't gotten out my lesson plan book. The sky grew darker still. I hadn't written my 28 thank you notes to my students. The sky got really freakin' dark, and I hadn't gotten my school things ready for tomorrow. Finally I dragged my muscle-free bones out of bed and accomplished the three above things in amazingly good time. I'm going to get back into bed now, and hope that my muscles come back. It takes not only muscles, but energy, great bolts of energy, to get through the first day of school after the "holiday" break...

(I put "holiday" in quotes because it's a funny euphemism. Our school calendar totally revolves around one set of holidays only...).

Oh, and as I fall asleep, I'm going to listen to the first podcast from season 1 of the Ricky Gervais Show! I bought the first season from ITunes today and I'm excited. I haven't heard any of it, but I love him so.

ONE MORE THING: I feel like the tide is starting to change. People like me are finally getting some credit, some power in this society. We are the shameful neighbor, daughter, cousin, friend, sister no longer! Now we are somebody to look up to! What do I mean? Well, in the last few weeks I have acquired the following new pieces of information, based on Science:

1. Slouching is better for back health than sitting up straight.
2. Unmade beds are more sanitary than made beds.
3. Neatness in the workplace is actually a sign of wasted time and money, whereas messiness in the workplace is, paradoxically, a sign of productivity and the basis of many a EUREKA! moment.

I'm so happy! Who the hell needs muscles? I have the world!