Daylight Savings

I'm sure lots of other folks are posting about this right now. I'm 41 years old, and I can never remember if it's Saturday or Sunday night that the time changes. I get the "Spring forward, Fall back" bit; that's no problem. I just am always confused on the Sunday after the change.

So, I called Katrina and asked her. And found out it was 7am, not 8am, like I thought. Oops.

I feel very accomplished this morning. I've done two loads of laundry, washed the dishes, made a Better-Than-Sex cake (yeah, we'll see about that), and started a pot of low fat chili (using soy ground crumbles, which are supposed to taste just like ground beef. Again, we'll see). Oh, and I've taken out the trash.

All before 8:30.

Let me tell you about the cake. I found it on a recipe site linked to Weight Watchers. It sounds pretty good, and since I have to take a treat to my writer's group meeting, I thought I'd try it. I'm breaking one of my rules however; I usually never bring food I've made if I haven't tried it out beforehand. I have a small list of specialties, and I try to stick to those.

Ah, but WW has changed all that. I have to try to bring food I can actually eat. Did you know that a small, unbuttered bag of popcorn at the movies has an average of 573 calories? And even without butter, 35 grams of fat? sheeeeeet. That would be 14 points, which is more than half of my daily allowance! (yesterday I made Smart Pop popcorn at home and snuck it in. Only 4 points. And much cheaper, I might add).

Okay, so here's the cake recipe. Get:
one box of devil's food or chocolate cake mix
10 ounces of diet Coke (I used diet Vanilla Pepsi)
1 egg white

Mix it all together and pour into a 9x13 inch greased pan. Bake at 375 for 25 minutes until a knife stuck in it comes out clean.

During the last few minutes of baking, combine in a small pot:
7 ounces of fat free sweetened condensed milk
6 ounces of fat free caramel ice cream topping

heat until just blended.

After taking the cake out of the oven, poke holes all over the top. (I used a fork, and the holes weren't really big enough. Next time I'll use a chopstick). Then pour the caramel mixture over the cake, filling up the holes.
Then, if you can believe it, put
1/2 bag of Heath or Skor bits all over the top.

Let cool.

Now, the recipe says to "frost" the cake with non-fat cool whip, but I hate cool whip. I'm just leaving it off. The non fat stuff is very weird anyway.

makes 24 servings at 3.5 points each.

Hooray.


You can do stuff with other cake mixes too. You know, use diet Sprite or 7-up for a lemon cake, or Ginger ale with Spice cake. Lots of things.

I'll let you know how it all turns out.

October, the month of not enough time

Daylight savings time starts this weekend. Poop. I can't seem to get as much done when it gets dark early, and of course, this is when I have more to do than ever.

Someone else was commenting the other day how October is a hellish month for teachers; I think it is for everyone. Yeah, for me, the honeymoon is over with the kids, some of their grades are really starting to drop, their essays are now looking at me with evil grins, knowing they will wait for me, no matter how long I put off grading them.

First quarter report cards go out next week. I'm strapped for time, trying to get all the kid's work graded, and plan the next unit with the other time-strapped teachers. Tonight was a BTSA meeting, from 4-7. I don't think they really need to be that long, but the food was good.

Which reminds me, I need to go "track" what I ate tonight. As I suspected, I didn't lose weight this past week, but that's okay. I've lost a total of 16 pounds, and that's just fine.

So far. I definitely want to keep going, and I am motivated. I have put my own carrot out there; when I go to Paris in the Spring, I want to be able to buy a piece of clothing there. There really aren't any plus size shops there, so I've got to get my body in shape enough to wear a normal Misses size.

I'm very tired tonight folks. Nothing very interesting going on right now.

Cheers.

Weighing in

Wish me luck. After my fabulous weekend in San Francisco, I'm not sure the scale's going to go in the direction I would like.

After that, book club, so can't write anymore.

I'm thinking of

The 90 essays I have yet to grade.

The trip to Paris Katrina, Chloe and I talked about last weekend.

Charlie pooping and peeing on the rug again yesterday, even though I wasn't going anywhere.

The taste of the Weight Watchers shake I just had for breakfast.

My right ear. It itches.

The Grand Conversation, which we are doing today in class.

Whether or not I lost weight or gained it this weekend.

The $999 couch I just discovered at Crate and Barrel.

And the $549 ottoman that went with it.

The need for a tissue that my runny nose is dictating.

I'm thinking of the garbage men, picking up the recycling cans out front right now.

What choices I have to wear today.

The front door being open, and if I should leave it that way when I get into the shower. Even though I took my dog for a little walk in the dark this morning, at 5:45, he still didn't do his business. The last two times he pooped on the rug, it happened when I was in the shower.

How I love my dog, even though he's been a pain lately.

The load of work I have at school, and wondering how I'm going to get it all done.

The few folks who visit this blog, and how I appreciate the comments they make.

The soup I had Saturday night. Yes, I know what it looks like. But really, it was good. 

Hurry up and wait

That's what I'm doing.

I got off work early today so we (Katrina and I) could get going early. We're off to San Francisco to visit a third friend, Chloe.

Yet, here I am, two hours later, waiting for Katrina. I probably don't have time to explain it all right now, but let's just say that our communication styles are different.

See, I had to drop Charlie off at the place where I'm boarding him. It's on the way actually, so why didn't I drop him off after we left? Well, Katrina doesn't want to go that way. It cuts 15-20 minutes off the drive, and I told her as much, but she said she didn't think so, and she wanted to take the coast.

Even though I live at the base of the highway that is shorter, and picking me up and going back to the other highway is longer. Even though we could drop Charlie off on the way.

Nope. So, meanwhile, I have to get off work at 1:45, go home, get the dog, and race up the hill to get him to the kennel, then back down again to be ready to leave at 3pm.

I do it, but school is always a headache. I have to set up for the substitute, return all phone calls from parents over the last 24 hours, type up the lesson plan, make sure my afterschool class replacement knows what's going on, return e-mails to parents, make copies of all the work needed tomorrow, and fill out the 20 weekly progress reports I have for my students.

Did I forget to mention that Charlie decided he didn't want to be housebroken anymore this morning? Came out of the shower and there were 5 little "gifts" on the living room carpet. I picked 'em up and searched around for any liquid "gift" and couldn't find any.

That is until I got into the car and looked down at my new leather purse. Which had been on the floor.

Argh.

I love Rick

That's all.

hope

Maybe tomorrow someone will comment on what I've written.

Sunrise from my driveway 

What's important to me

Being honest. As much as possible, even when it's not pretty or admirable.

Taking responsibility for one's actions. I once knew a man who would totally break the rules. He'd come to work late, have a beer during his dinner break, wouldn't call when he said he would, and would lose his temper.

Yet, he'd never lie. He'd be right up front about anything he did. I loved that about him. Didn't always agree with his choices, but his ability to tell things exactly the way they were was something else. I am nowhere near that.

A sense of humor. Yeah, everyone says that, but what do they mean? I don't mean sarcasm, even though I'm guilty of it often. I'm talking about seeing the joy and silliness in life. In day to day life, in heavy things, in everything. It's hard to explain it exactly; I don't want someone cutting up about my pain, nor do I want to be joking during every conversation.

I think it's related to honesty. Laughing at myself isn't always easy, and I know a few people who are incapable of it. They goof up, and instead of smiling about it and moving on, they pretend that it didn't happen. Or they refuse to show that side of themselves to the world. It might make them look weak, or stupid or insipid. But we are all weak and stupid and insipid sometimes.

A sense of humor for me, is that sense of connectedness. When a person can laugh at him or her self, it shows me that I'm not alone. Laughing together is even more important. No one is "in charge" when everyone is laughing.

Kindness. This is huge. It takes a certain amount of confidence to be kind. Not the pet-the-little-lost-puppy-dog kind or the send-a-card-on-a-birthday kind. no. I'm talking about letting another person have the last word or allowing someone their faults or thinking ahead so that one's own words or actions don't hurt another. I'm talking about a real apology when it happens, not the "I'm so sorry you feel that way" or "I didn't intend it that way, don't be so sensitive" half-assed attempts at apology. I mean the real apology. The one when you admit you messed up. Sometimes the kindness is just letting someone be. Leaving someone alone.

A mind open to discussion. A mind willing to change. A mind that doesn't need to resort to mockery or disparagement when disagreeing with another. God, I love discussion. I love getting into it with a smart person who doesn't agree with me, and yet doesn't dismiss my ideas simply because we don't see eye-to-eye. What makes it so hard sometimes is how flat-out mean people can be when ideas are different. And then, there's the person that won't listen to me because I'm a woman, or a Democrat, or a Christian, or a teacher, or a single person, or a childless person, or a person over 40, etc.

Once we stop listening to each other, there's nowhere to go.


There's lots more, but that looks like a good place to stop.

I Don't Remember

I don't remember when I fell for Shaun Cassidy.
Nor do I remember when I got over him.

I don't remember ever wanting to be a teacher, although my mother said I did.

I don't remember our house in New Hampshire very well, but I remember playing in the warm rain the summer before we moved.

I don't remember a time I didn't know how to swim.

I don't remember where I put my favorite sweatshirt, from UC Santa Cruz. I lost it in 1983.

I don't remember what happened to my Nana's white gold watch. It's been gone since I lived with two roommates on Alta Vista Drive.

I don't remember most of my first days of school. I don't remember anything about that first day of kindergarten except not getting picked up. Junior high? Nope. High school? Nope.

Not even my first day teaching in Japan, or my first day at LCJH, where I teach now.

All gone.

I don't remember when I realized that typing was quicker and easier than writing things out.

I usually don't remember where I put my glasses, or the remote, or my keys, or the scissors.

I don't remember where any of my grandparents were born. I don't remember my grandfather's death.

I don't remember when I stopped wanting to be a ballerina, or an Olympic swimmer, but I became neither.

I don't remember when I became a good cook.

I don't remember the names of most of my students, once they graduate. I wish I could. I know their faces when I see them, but the names have just left the building of my brain.

I don't remember how to write in Japanese.

I don't remember much of what I learned in college.

I don't remember to hold my tongue most of the time, but I'm working on it.

I Remember

I remember my aunt Prue used to always give me Nancy Drew books for Christmas and my birthday.
My Nana used to give me slips.

I remember the day we moved to California. I sat with my dad on the plane, and he made me eat the vegetables before I could eat the cake with powdered sugar on it.
The day we moved into our new house, I met Lori S. She was my first best friend. She was five and I was four.
Gina and Lolly lived down the street. They were the same age as my sister and I, so they were our friends too.

I remember when we just had to be the same age and gender to be friends.

I remember my mother forgetting to pick me up the first day of kindergarten. Linda Somebody's mom drove me around the neighborhood (I didn't know my address) until we saw her weeding in the front yard.

I remember she was embarrassed.

I remember when kindergarteners didn't know their addresses or phone numbers.

I remember going to Mexico in a camper when I was seven. It was hotter than I'd even known. And my sister got mumps.

I remember my heart breaking for the first time. He didn't love me, and it didn't matter how much I loved him; he wasn't going to change his mind.

He still slept with me though.

I remember throwing tantrums at school when I didn't get my way. It never worked either.

I was quite a brat. A crybaby, a tattletale, and a smartass.

It's a wonder I had any friends at all.

Debbie was one of them. She was new in the fifth grade, and had a speech impediment. She put her tote tray next to mine one day, and after that we were friends.

I remember I saw her the last time in ninth grade after she moved to Oregon. She and her grandmother stayed at the Hollister Motel, and we went swimming in the pool.

I remember when I didn't like Las Vegas.

I remember when my friends were the most important people in my life.
They still are.

Charlie has a very big head 

Planned Parenthood has a huge book sale every October. It lasts several days, and during the last two hours of the last day, teachers are allowed to come in and "shop" for free. I've gone several times over the last few years (not last year because I was at Tornwordo's wedding in Canada), and made it to the last 1/2 hour this year. Last Sunday at 7:30 pm I got the phone message from another teacher, "It's today, not tomorrow like we thought! It's 6:15 right now, and I'm here. I hope you get this message."

I skee-daddled over there and picked up a few good things. My big thing is always teen books for my classroom library, and dictionaries for those kids who don't have them at home. Or those kids that say they don't have them at home.

Anyway, both sections had been picked over pretty well, with lots of those silly "left behind" books that I refuse to actually provide for my students. They can read whatever they want for outside reading, but I'm not encouraging that nonsense. I picked up 3-4 old, smelly dictionaries too.

However, I was able to find Stone Diaries, which had been recommended to me, and Be Sweet; both books I've been wanting to read. I also found a couple of writing books; my good find was one by Natalie Goldberg (of Writing Down the Bones fame). This one was written in 1990, called Wild Mind, Living the Writer's Life.

I've just started reading it, and it's got lots of ideas for warm-ups. I'm going to use some of them here, and some in my classroom. I forget, in my pursuit of the California Standards, that writing used to be fun in my classroom. I need to work very hard to bring that fun back.

Fridays are good

This has been a long ass week. I have meetings, as usual, coming at me from everywhere, and have been just trying to keep up with what I'm teaching at school.

This year I'm teaching more directly out of the textbook than ever; but that also means I'm not quite sure how long a certain lesson or part of a lesson will take. It's frustrating for planning. I will sub for another teacher during my prep for the 5th or 6th time this year, because we are so short on regular substitutes, that the school has to cover classes with regular teachers (each of us has a planning prep). I really hate doing it, because it means I basically get a 33 minute lunch, and 4 minutes between classes that I don't have to be "on." It's tiring. Especially Monday this week. I went into the 7th grade classroom, and there were no notes left at all. Nothing. No books, no overhead transparencies, no seating chart, no attendance list. Turns out it was in another room. The attendance chart I mean. The only other item was a post-it note that said,"have students study for test."

Oh my. You try telling a bunch of squirrelly 7th graders, during the last period of the day, to "study for the test." I don't know their names, I don't teach history, so I don't even know what they're supposed to be studying (the rise and fall of the Roman Empire), and there are no textbooks. I looked for the most scholarly looking kid and started having the students quiz each other.

And I'm subbing again today during 6th period. This teacher assures me that it will be a snap.

I'm glad I don't have to sub for a living.

Dry dry dry

Little flakes of nose skin hanging off my nostrils... my back and waist where my pants hit, chaffed and red, cracked heels laughing at the lotion I apply... this is my body right now.

After posting yesterday, I looked in the mirror, and noticed that I had somehow scratched my nose. Right at the tip, a clean, slanted line. I did this somehow in my sleep. I don't have long fingernails, so it must've been my ring, but how is a mystery.

I was going to post a picture of it, even asked Tornwordo if he thought I should, but I have a bit of vanity left. My students were staring at it yesterday, asking how it happened (because they are so tactful), and even one of the teachers mentioned it. Like by 3:00 yesterday I wouldn't have figured out there's a big red line across my nose.

On other news, I weighed in yesterday and lost another 5 pounds. Brings the total up to 14.2 lbs. Yahoo. I do think there's some kind of lag time though. Last week, I was very careful, exercised and all, and gained a pound. This week, I fell off the wagon up at the lake, and didn't get out as much as I would've liked to walk or hike. Yet I lost so much this week.

Next week will be the test. I'll keep you posted.

I bought a pair of pants yesterday, and they're slightly on the large side... might be ready to go down another size before too long. I dream of the day I can buy clothes again in the regular size area. The day I'm not regulated to the third floor, behind housewares and bedding. the day I don't have to plow through 25 tunics to find a shirt that doesn't end mid-thigh. A day when elastic-waisted pants don't mock me. A day when I can try on, dare I say it, a sexy black top, rather than one with appliqued pumpkins and witches on it.

Gosh, I hope that day gets here soon.

Santa Ana Winds

I used to love them as a kid. Now, they scare me a little. Our fire danger is unbelievably high right now, and I live at the base of the mountains. If there's a fire, my street is one of the first evacuated.

My allergies have also gone into overdrive. The wind picks up every dried up and floating thing from the other side of the mountains, and carries everything over here. Sneezing, runny nose (which is now cracked and sore on the sides from blowing it so often), itchy eyes with no make-up because it would just be rubbed off.

Such a pretty girl. I take Claritin which doesn't work too well, and dream of taking Benydryl. But see, although Benydryl does the job, it also makes me a zombie. Which in and of itself isn't so bad except I have to teach 131 kids today.

I have to go water my plants.

Morning at the lake 

Mama and her babies 

Lake Cachuma 

"Blogger is Temporarily Unavailable"

So, this time I haven't written much not only because I'm busy, but because the last two times I tried to log on, Blogger has been "down."

Oh well, it's not like I've been writing during the week anyway. See, I can't log on at work (it's blocked) and because I still can't get DSL, the dial up at home takes forever, and sometimes I'm booted off 2 or 3 times when I do log on. Okay, there's my litany of excuses.

This weekend was one of those that started off with no expectations. I had no plans, and most of my friends were busy. Katrina and Sam were going to a "forty-tenth" birthday party up at Lake Cachuma; it's about 30 miles away, and a wonderful camping getaway. I hadn't been invited, but I'm not one of the inner circle of friends of Dan, the birthday boy; more like a friendly acquaintance. They were staying overnight Friday and Saturday, so no dog walking with Jelly this weekend. Then, of course, Victoria wasn't in the mood to do anything. I called her Friday and asked her if she wanted to go sit in a cool movie theatre for two hours, but she declined. I haven't spoken to her at all about Cookie, but I was thinking it might be a way for her to escape for a couple of hours. You know, be with someone, but not have to talk, sit in the dark, and lose oneself in what's on the screen...it's something I would do, but not her, I guess. Also, it was about a million degrees on Thursday and Friday (okay, more like 90) and school has no air conditioning.

I then called my friend Helga, and we decided to go for adult refreshments after work. I went home to change ( a school staff polo shirt is not the height of fashion), and left to meet her at the Brewhouse downtown. Nope. Got to the car, and what I thought were my keys in my pocket was my cell phone. Duh. But, Helga doesn't have her cell phone with her, so I can't call her and tell her I'm going to be a bit... uh... late.

I pry the screen off my kitchen window, and climb in. Climb in over my dish drainer, full of drying dishes, and my sink, which is full of dirty dishes. I scare my dog, and get my pants dirty, but I get in, get my keys and leave again.

Get to the Brewhouse, and it's Oktoberfest time. Waitresses in St. Paulie girl outfits and bartenders in Lederhosen (not sure how that's spelled). LOUD oom pa pa music out back, and a bratwurst eating contest. Not a relaxing kind of time. We have a couple of drinks before Helga can't take it anymore, and leave.

(You know, if this is mundane and boring to you, don't feel you have to keep reading. I'm just babbling, ha... get it? just babbling here because I've not been able to post lately, and if you haven't noticed yet, I have verbal diarrhea... )

So, Saturday, I'm cleaning up the place, doing laundry, no plans, and Katrina calls from Cachuma.
"What'cha doing this weekend?" and proceeds to invite me up for the rest of the birthday party. This is typical of her style. There have been several times when there's been a get together in which no one is "formally" invited. Because I'm in the outer circle of this group of friends, I usually am invited through Katrina or Jillian, another friend. Katrina rarely passes on the invitation until the last minute, sometimes even after the event has started. The worst example of it was when she called and invited me to a big Superbowl party. She called after half-time. I don't know what the deal is, and I used to be much more sensitive about it, but whatever.

I packed up a bag and Charlie and off we went. Sam took Katrina and I on a little tour of the lake (no swimming allowed, but boats are fine), we ate and drank, sat around a campfire, drank some more (a bottle of wine is 10 points), and I went straight from sober to asleep. I think I was out by 9 o'clock that night. Woke up in my clothes the next day. Completely missed the excitement.

See, the guys stayed up late drinking... and a mama raccoon and her two babies showed up. They were up in a tree, and Gary, the daredevil of the group, decided he was going to climb the tree and "catch" them. How he thought he was going to do that, I don't know. And if you know anything about raccoons, you also know that they can be vicious. They have razor sharp claws and teeth... and it was a MAMA raccoon with babies.

Anyway, he didn't catch the raccoons because he fell out of the tree. And broke his leg.

I miss all the fun.

October already

Turns out the information I had about Cookie wasn't quite right. She didn't die of "bloat" after all. It matters because her death wasn't as horrible as I thought. Victoria sent out an email Wednesday and said that Cookie had advanced tumors and that she died at home with Victoria on Monday. She requested us not to ask her about it, and not to worry if she doesn't answer the phone or call back if we leave a message.

I was surprised at the pain I felt. I couldn't stop crying for two days. Even my students noticed something was up "Are you sick, Ms. T? Your face is all red." Cookie wasn't my dog, but I loved her. I can't imagine seeing Victoria without Cookie at her side. Charlie and I would meet them at the coffee shop or the beach or the dog park and walk together. It used to be almost every weekend. When Katrina would have a party, Charlie and Cookie were always invited too. Cookie would wander around school after hours when Victoria was working late or on the weekends. Cookie loved having her backside scratched. If you stopped before she wanted you to, she would make her sound, "oooo..wooo...oooo..." which would get louder and louder until you resumed scratching.

I'm going to miss her.