No resolutions

I'm sure lots of folks will be posting about their goals for the new year; I'm just not one of them.

The camping trip was cancelled for the second year in a row due to rain. Two years ago, I had one of the best New Year's Eve's ever. Three couples (and the singleton, yours truly), went up to Lake Cachuma in RV's and barbecued and drank and played board games. Then, we just had to change into our jammies and go to sleep. It was great. No worries about how I was dressed or if I could have one more beer or if I was going to get hit by a drunk driver on the way home.

Last year I just stayed home. The thought of going out was just too much. I didn't feel bad about it at all either. I watched a movie, and went to bed around eleven. I felt great the next day.

Does this mean I'm officially grown up?

Tonight I'm going to go out with some friends to a couple of bars. If I don't like it, I can always just go home. No stress.

Only thing is, I have nothing to wear. I have this really cute sequined tank top thing I bought in October to wear, and it's already too big. I've never ever worn it. Of course, I thought I was going up to the lake again until this morning, so I didn't even go out and find something else to wear.

Shoot. I need to go. The next hour or so is going to be spent trying to gussy myself up.

If you're lucky, I might even take a picture.

Cheers.

The last sunrise of 2005 

Won't be going to the beach again anytime soon.

So Katrina, Jelly, Charlie and I went to the beach yesterday. It was a negative tide, and we thought it'd be great.

Not so much. The huge (and beautiful) waves of the last week have removed all the sand from the dog beach. Lots of rocks and exposed tidepools, which is lovely to look at, but not so easy to walk dogs on.

In addition, look closely at the picture. Kinda looks like snow, doesn't it? Nope, it's foamy, yellow-tinged grossness. We spent the better part of an hour yelling at our dogs to stay out of it. Which of course made them all the more interested.

We're sticking to the park for the next couple of months.

Miracles never cease

After Pierogi and Christmas dinner and drinks and pasta out with the girls last week, I lost another 1.2 pounds!

That's 27.8 total. Oh boy.

Good news all around

So, my sister and another person very close to me are both pregnant. Both told me last week, within a few days of the other. They are due almost the same day.

I have unbelievable mixed feelings about it. Of course I'm happy for them, but at the same time, very sad that this hasn't happened for me. I know it's not about me, and I keep telling myself that, but then I hear a stupid song on the radio, or read a poem, or even see a picture of a baby and start weeping.

Being sad shouldn't be something to be ashamed of; yet I am. As if I'm selfish to think of myself at all. I am thrilled that I'm going to be an aunt. I'm thrilled that my family is going to continue on. I'm thrilled my friend is going to have a child.

But in the back of my head, the thought keeps going through my head, "Why not me?"

If I believed in reincarnation (and I'm not sure I don't), I would think I must have done something absolutely rotten in my last life. You know, so in this life, I don't deserve to find a partner, or have children and a family.

That's me being dramatic. I know it. But, just putting it off to "bad luck" only goes so far. I know I'm a good person. I bring a lot to the table, yet no one so far has wanted what I have to offer. I've been in love a couple of times, had my heart broken a couple of times, but for the last several years, nothing.

Dry spell doesn't begin to describe it.

At one point a gay friend and I talked seriously about having a child together. Then he moved. Far away. Poof. There went that chance. I'm not one to have a child on my own. I don't have the finances to stay home, and I don't want to have a child without a father.

So it's a choice I've made. Sort of.

Yesterday I bailed out on a wine tasting trip with my friend Michelle. She and I had set it up last week. Her dad was visiting, and the three of us were going to spend the afternoon together. Well, Monday she called to tell me when she was going to pick me up; and told me that her friend Layla and her 18-month old baby were coming with us. Layla is also six months pregnant. What pregnant woman goes wine tasting with a toddler? And Layla is Michelle's friend, not mine. Michelle has done this before, made plans with me, and then invited other friends of hers along without telling me.

Normally, I'd just be irritated, but this time I was truly disappointed. See, I haven't been able to talk about this with anyone, because each of the people I would want to talk to is either expecting the child, is the mother of a daughter expecting the child, or on vacation. I knew I could talk to Michelle. But with pregnant Layla and her baby, I couldn't even talk to her. It was going to be all about if the baby was hungry or tired or needed to be changed or what cravings Layla had, or if she had to pee again...

I'm being quite bitchy now, but I just couldn't face it. I called Michelle yesterday and told her I'd had too much to drink the night before and couldn't go. She cheerily said, "Okay, then we'll just go Wednesday."

Long pause from my end.

See, lying always gets one in trouble. I tried to tell her that I hadn't known that her friend and baby were coming along, and that it just seemed too crowded...

Still didn't work. She thought I was being a bitch (I suppose I was).

Finally I told her. I just couldn't face spending several hours with pregnant Layla and her child. I tried to explain why, but I don't think Michelle really understood.


"If you can't fix it, you've got to stand it."

That's a quote from Brokeback Mountain, a movie that will stay with me quite a while.

I've got to figure out a way to stand this being alone.

A few days left

Last night I went to dinner with some girlfriends and had a great time. We went to The Palace, which is my favorite restaurant (and where I went with Henrietta the Cheapskate the day after Thanksgiving. I never finished that story, did I?). For once, I wasn't driving, so I drank a bit too much. Not so much that I can't function today, but more than I should have. No, I didn't drink all the cocktails in the picture, just the Cajun Martini. That's the one in the front with two big peppers in it.

After the last few days, I'm pretty sure I've gone over my point limit for Weight Watchers. Oh well. Life is short, and I'm not going to gain back 25 pounds in a week. I'll just start back up today, and who knows how much I'll have taken off by next Spring.

Christmas day was nuts; I got up in the dark, took a shower, and was on the road back to my Mom's house by 7 am. I got to my mother's by 8:48. My brother was about a half an hour late. We waited for him, although my mother had said to me the day before,"well, if you aren't there by 9, we'll start without you." I don't know why she gets so keyed up about stuff like that.

The other silly drama happened actually the day before. See, my sister and I both have dogs. Mine is a big old wimp, and as submissive as they come. Basically this means he gets along with most other dogs, because he has no need to be an Alpha male. I call him the Zeta dog.

My sister's dog, on the other hand, is very assertive. My sister was always worried about the two of them in the same room, so for a year and a half, they never met. Silly, in my opinion, but whatever. Finally, last summer, the two dogs met... and they could not have been less interested in the other. Basically just ignored each other.

So, last week, I told my mom my plan to drive to L.A. with Charlie on Christmas Eve, spend the night, and then come back the next day, stopping off at my house to drop my wonder dog off, and pick up all the presents.

"Oh, don't you want Charlie here? I got him a stocking."
"But what about Indy? Don't you not want the two of them together?"
"I think it will be fine. They got along fine last time, didn't they?"
"um... okay."

See, Mom has this horrific fear of dog fights. Even though the dogs have been together several times, and last time it was at my sister's house, my mother still gets skittish when there's any chance of a problem. As a child she witnessed her own dog kill another one, and understandably, she doesn't want to ever see something like that happen again.

But, she was encouraging me to bring Charlie? Okay, I thought, great.

So, Saturday, I decided to bring the presents all over before I left for L.A. You know, so I'd just drive straight from Carol's house to my mother's house, and I wouldn't have to tempt anyone with boxes of presents in my parked car. I call Mom on my way over there, and she flips out.
"Oh no dear, we can't have Indy and Charlie in the same room. There's food in the stockings."
"What? Mom, didn't you say I should bring my dog?"
"No, I said you'd need to discuss that with your sister."

After gnashing my teeth against my lower lip, and deciding that my mother must sometimes operate in an alternate universe, I tried again.

"Mom, my original plan was to drop Charlie off on my way back tomorrow, before I came over. That and pick up the presents I'm bringing. But I thought you said that I should come straight from Carol's house. I specifically changed my plans, and that's why I'm bringing the presents over now."
"Now? You can't bring Charlie in, Indy's here."

What would you have done, dear reader?

Luckily, before I said something truly rotten, my phone cut out. Sometimes that's not a bad thing.

I got over there, and we tried to avoid the conversation. Mom had locked Indy out on the balcony, which didn't do much for canine relations, but we left pretty quickly.

Oh, and Christmas? The dogs got along famously. Chasing each other around the house, sitting quietly while we were opening presents, and both in the kitchen begging for food.

Every once in a while, my mother gets herself all worked up. It frightens me a little, just because she can be so caustic and cutting. She is such a generous and loving person most of the time; it's always a shock when she lashes out.

My fear is that I do the same thing.

Okay, I put on the damn hat. Are you finished now? Merry Christmas. 

Just some cool little mushrooms growing at the dog park (thought I'd give you a break from all the precious photos of the wonderdog). 

Wearing a tank top

Walked the doggie this morning, he rolled in something, and I had to give him a bath. All before 11 am. I've got a million things to do today, and a party to go to tonight. I'm trying to find something to wear, but everything's too big. That's a good thing, right? Well, yes, but I still need to clothe myself.

I suppose I could wear sweats, but that's not too festive. I really don't want to go and buy new clothes, because I'm not finished changing my size yet. I'm certainly not going outshoppng today.

I have the ingredients for the Pierogi, and am about to begin boiling the potatoes. Here's the recipe:

PIEROGI

DOUGH:
2 c. flour
2 eggs
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 c. water
about 1 tbsp. oil

Mound the flour on board and make a well at center. Drop in 2 eggs and cut into flour with knife. Add the salt and about 1/2 cup water and work by hand into uniform dough. Cover with warm bowl and let stand 10 minutes. Divide in 2 and roll out thin, cut into circles (with biscuit cutter or glass, 3-4 inches).

Place a teaspoon of filling in center of circle, fold over in half, pinch edges shut, sealing well and cook in large kettle of boiling salted water, about 5-8 minutes, after boiling resumes. Do not crowd, as they will rise to the top when they are done. (Boil just enough pierogi at a time to make a layer in your kettle.) Remove with slotted spoon to drain.

Soak in pan of melted butter, or serve plain with or without a touch of butter. Also, a mixture of bread crumbs with butter may be sprinkled over all. Another option is a dab of sour cream as desired.

FILLING FOR PIEROGI:
Potato: Peel, cook and mashed 1 1/2 pounds potatoes. Lightly brown medium chopped onions in 3 tablespoons bacon drippings or oil and add to cooled potatoes. Add 1 egg, 2 tablespoons bread crumbs (and optional 2 tablespoons chopped chives). Mix well.

Cheese and Potato: Cook and mash 1 pound potatoes. When cool, grind together with 1/2 pound farmer's cheese. Simmer 2 chopped medium onions in 3 tablespoons butter or oil until slightly browned. Add to mixture, season with salt and pepper; mix well.

Cheddar Cheese and Potatoes: Saute 1/2 cup finely chopped onion in 1 or 2 tablespoons bacon drippings or oil, or butter. Cook and mash 5 or 6 medium potatoes. Add the onions and 1 cup grated cheddar cheese. Mix well.

I'll be making the cheddar cheese and potatoes one. How can I miss? There's also prune and cabbage fillings, but they are both gross. Besides, after making 30 of these babies, all I'll want to do is take a nap.

I really hope the last box from Amazon shows up today. One of Carol's presents is in it.

Anyway, might be a couple of days before I post again. I already have plans on Monday and Tuesday for catching up with friends who are in town for the holiday.

Take care of yourselves.

But it's warm up here... what do you mean, I'm not allowed? 

The week before Christmas

Everything is so expensive right now. Charlie got sick Monday, and I woke to the sound of vomit. Vomit Vomit everywhere. Who knew such a little dog could create so much mess? $156 later, he was at home, looking pathetic on the couch, with a big lump on his back. The vet gave him subcutanious (don't know if that's spelled correctly at all) fluids under his skin, and it was all squishy at the site. He wasn't allowed water or food for the rest of the day, and I stayed with him to make sure he didn't get worse.

He's back to normal now, ready to go for a walk. That's next on my list.

Yesterday I drove to Big Lots in Ventura, and Target. Let me tell you, Target is not where you want to be 4 days before Christmas. I finished up all my shopping, except for my aunt's husband who is a real pain in the butt to shop for. I'm still waiting for two boxes to come with things from Amazon.com; but after that I think things will be wrapped up.

See, for the last 22 years, I've spent Christmas Eve at my friend Carol's mother's house. Well, except for the one year I stayed in Japan, but if I was in the country, I was there. Well, this year things are changing. This year her mom went to her older sister's house up north, and I'll be driving with the wonder dog down to the Valley (Like...ohmigod... I'm so sure...) to spend Saturday with her and her partner and their two dogs and two cats. I'm the one making the pierogi this year, even though I'm not Polish by any stretch. See, Carol does not cook. Barbecues, boils, microwaves, but does not cook. She said she'd buy frozen, but it's just not the same. So, I'm scouring the internet, looking for the right recipe. I think I've found it, but I'll have to let you know how it turns out.

Then, I'll spend the night, and turn around and race home to be at my mom's by 9 am. It's going to be small this year; it's my brother's girlfriend's family's turn to have them over for Christmas dinner. It feels weird calling her my brother's girlfriend; they are both 44 years old, and have been together since they were 17. Every couple of years or so, they talk of getting married, but I'll believe it when I see it.

Boring post, I know. But, that's my life this week.

Oh yeah, I lost another pound. 26.6 pounds total lost since 9/1/05. Yea me.

I'm back

So, last week was a rough one. I'm still hawking up lung meat, but I'm feeling better now. School's out for two weeks, and I can get my act somewhat together.

I finally got my darn 25 pound magnet. I got to 24 pounds lost the day before Thanksgiving, and it took almost 4 weeks to get one more. So, in 16 weeks, I've lost now 25.8 pounds. For those of you who don't know what it's like to be so overweight that teenage boys in the mall call you a porker, it's a big deal for me. I know I'm more than my weight, and all that, but the storefront does matter.

What I mean is that I could have the best products in the world inside, but if the store window is dusty and dirty or rundown, it will be hard to get people to come in to see. I know it's all packaging, but packaging matters. I struggle with this, because I think it's unfair, but I also know it's a reality.

I'm going to tell you a couple of stories that are a bit woe-is-me, but which should also explain my point of view.

When I was in college, I was a Resident Assistant my junior year. Our dorm had a formal dance, and I had to go, but I had no one with whom to go. I was pretty cute that year (or so I thought). A girl on my floor had a friend she said she'd set me up with. Great. He and I talked, thought it would be good to meet before the dance, and he came over. We talked for about 15 minutes, he left, and within the hour, I got a phone call: "sorry, something's come up. I forgot about it before."

Huh. Later I found out that I was just too "chubby" for his taste. The idea of spending a couple of hours with me was so repellent that he was willing to go back on his word.

Okay, I hear you saying, "he was a jerk." Yes, he was, but that doesn't take away from what happened.

Next. There was a man I met working at a summer camp. David McMullen. Yeah, I'm using his name. He was a friend back then. He was a little intense, a little goofy, but I thought he was cute. Nothing ever happened between us, but we kept in touch all throughout college and in our early 20's. This was before email, so we wrote long letters to each other. We made mixed tapes for each other. I went and visited him once in Colorado, and we held hands and had long deep conversations that only 23-year-old's can have. Still, even though something seemed to be bubbling, we didn't act on it. I went to Japan to teach English, and the letters kept going back and forth. We had a strong friendship and a question mark about the future.

I came home for a few weeks the summer I turned 26. My two good friends Carol and Tami and I went on a road trip across the western US. We had a great time, and met up with David in Yellowstone. He was living in Wyoming then, and teaching science. We spent a few days together, dancing around the subject, until I couldn't take it any more.
"David, if we weren't so far apart... if things were different, do you think we would be more than friends?"
"uh...um...no."

Okay then. Asked and answered. But no, he felt he had to explain himself.

"See, I know that... well, I'm not proud of the fact that... I just... the bows and ribbons are important to me. The pretty wrapping paper, the outside. I know it shouldn't matter, but it does."
I gave him a blank stare, not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

"See, I really care about you Becky, but I've always pictured myself with a slim, beautiful woman."

Oh.

Wow. This wasn't from some flake I met for fifteen minutes, this was from a man I'd been friends with for years.

I said, "You can stop talking now."

Later, back in Japan, I wrote him a letter and told him how much he had hurt me, reducing the importance of our relationship to what I looked like. I said he could have just said he didn't have romantic feelings for me and it would have done the same job in a much less hurtful way. I also told him that he was kidding himself if he thought he was going to end up with a super model.

I got a letter back from him in less than a week. He told me that "the truth hurts" and to "fuck off." I never heard from him again.

Okay, another jerk? fine. I agree. However, this jerk said out loud what how many more polite folk haven't?

I have two very good-looking friends. Both have commented to me that I'm lucky, because I can trust that the men I'm friends with really like me, not just want to get into my pants. Again, a compliment? I think not. Even my friends acknowledge in this way that I don't have the kind of beauty or sexual appeal that is in the forefront.


What's my point? I don't really know. This losing weight thing is getting to me. I've lost two and a half bags of potatoes already, and I still weigh over 200 pounds. I'm trying not to let that bother me, but it does. I'm a loyal, honest, kind friend, and I contribute to the world everyday.

So why do I care so much about getting into a size 10 pair of pants?

relapse

So, I thought I'd skated through it, but no. I haven't.

Got up today and felt like crap. I have no energy, and certainly not the spirit to get out and finish the shopping I need to do.

And yesterday? I applied for my new passport. I look haggard in the picture that was taken. You know, the one that I'll have to live with for the next 10 years?

Of course, my last passport expired 10 years ago, and I got it when I was 21. Now, that was a cute girl. But we were all cute when we were 21.

I remember getting it taken because I had horrible allergies that day, and no make-up. I was a doll.

You all know that 10 years from now I'll look at the picture from yesterday and wish I still looked like it.

We are never satisfied.

It figures

I was talking to an old friend two nights ago, and said that I don't get sick anymore.

And now I'm sick.

And cold.

And crabby.

So I'm not going to write anything else for fear of what I might regret.

Be good to yourselves.

Almost a full week has gone by

Things are getting hectic again at school, hence no blogging. I barely get on to even comment on my friend's blogs. I can't access blogger from school, which is probably a good thing, but after being at school for 10-12 hours every day, I don't have much energy left other that to walk the dog and pass out at 9:30 in the middle of Law and Order.

My student teacher started her takeover last week, and my first year teacher (whom I'm "mentoring") and I have a huge project due on Thursday this week. That, plus meetings with, shall we say, challenging parents , and SST and IEP (Student Study Teams and Individual Education Plan) meetings as well. Grading papers? Essays? What are you talking about? Who has time? Oh yeah, that's what the weekends are for.


Have I told you that our district has seen fit to increase our hours but not our pay? Yep. Until November 16th they actually refused to even discuss salary with us. See, every year the state decides on what the cost of living increase will be. This year it was 4%. Every district in California gets this increase, called COLA (Cost of Living allotment). Then, the district decides how to disperse that COLA funding. Oh, they got it in July.

So, When they finally came to the table, in the middle of November, after we'd been working two and a half months, they basically said,

"Sorry, we can't offer you anything. Times are hard. We know, we started taking $105 out of your paycheck every month this year to help cover health care costs. We had to, don't you see? We know, you're all making actually less money than last year because of this, but what can we do? You are the easiest cut to make. COLA? it's 4% yes, but we have increased expenditures.

Oh, by the way, we also propose changing your contract language. Yes, we want to add a half hour to your required daily time at school. We don't want anyone running off two minutes after school gets out, you might not get your work done. Oh, also? We want you to work an extra six adjunct hours a year. Come on, it's just six more hours. You know, like a week or two of lunch duty or chaperoning a dance... stop whining. Other people have it worse than you.

Something else too... we want all junior high school teachers to have parent conferences. You know, like the elementary teachers do. Oh, we know elementary only have 18-22 students, and you all have 135-156 students, but we think you should do it. You know, before school, after school, on your prep period?

The last thing we'd like to add is another Back-to-School night in the Spring. Right now you are only required to be at one night time school event, so we need to change that too.

Be happy you get to live in Santa Barbara. Oh wait, I forgot, 30% of you don't live here because it's so expensive. Okay, be happy you get to work here. Remember, there's always some young pup ready to take your place if you don't like it. And besides, we don't have to pay them as much.

When I say that teachers don't get respect, this is what I'm talking about. It's not the general public's attitude, it's our districts' administration. It is now December, and yet again, we have to go to the board meetings, speak and plead our case, and probably go back to picketing in front of our schools every morning. This is just to get a cost of living increase that is lower than the state average. A cost of living increase that the state sent our district.

We don't get raises for a good job, we don't produce widgets or have sales quotas. I don't believe in paying teachers more when their students have higher test scores. The only way we can break even is to get the pittance of COLA. Which, every year, we have to fight tooth and nail just to get part of. Over the last three years, our district has only passed on 25% of the COLA funds to the teachers. So every year, the cost of living goes up, and teachers' standard of living goes down.

Now, I love everything else about my job. I know what I do makes a difference. I still do it, even though I make less money now than I did last year. I'm a good teacher, and I help my students become learners and critical thinkers, in spite of the emphasis on standardized testing. I don't want a reward for that.

What I would like however, is a district that doesn't force it's teachers to make a stink just to get what is due.


(p.s. I haven't forgotten about Henrietta the Cheapskate. I'll get to the rest of it soon.)