I never thought I'd see the day when I'd think shopping wasn't fun

But yesterday? Not fun.

I spent the afternoon at Robinson's May and Ross (complete with screaming babies, careening toddlers, loud youngsters, messed up racks, and rude people). I came home with a pair of hoop earrings, a brown dressy sweater, and a pair of plaid pants. I bought the pants because I can wash them and dry them in the machine, and they fit, and they were cheap. I wasn't thrilled though. I'm trying to think ahead to my trip, and what clothes I'm going to bring. Very limited choices here.

As my close friends know, I'm very picky about the clothes I wear. Not that I need a designer label, but that I find all kinds of reasons why I don't like something. Let's see if I can list a few:

Acrylic - It doesn't keep me warm if it's cold out, yet makes me sweat if it's pleasant weather. It pills and looks cheap.

Backless slides/heels - I'm a klutz. These make me fall down.

Crewnecks (shirts or sweaters) - Make my face look fat. I prefer V-necks. but not:

Deep V-necks - I've got a big chest. If I wear something that's low-cut, it's not sexy, it's skanky.

Rayon - This stuff doesn't wash well. Even if the label says it can be machine washed, it can't. Looks worn out after one or two cycles.

Ramie - this crap is a cheaper imitation of Rayon. And it itches.

Linen - The wrinkled look? Just looks unkempt to me. Also itches.

Animal prints - I always think of Peg Bundy from Married With Children.

Applique - There's nothing else to say about this one.

Fussy strings, ties, buttons - if it takes longer than 10 seconds to figure out how to put it on in the dressing room, it's not coming home with me.

Cap sleeves - also make me look fat.

Super-low cut jeans/pants - along with bare midriffs, only junior high school students look good in these. And of those, only those with flat stomachs.

So, there's a few of my reasons for being "picky." How many do you agree with? Any to add for yourself?

Raining hard right now

And I have two dogs that need to um... "go on a walk" if you get my meaning. Charlie won't go outside when it's cold unless I drag him, and I'm not too sure of Harriet's prowess at keeping it in after the early morning gift she left on my carpet the other night.

However, I must shower and go forth. Kids are coming early today to make up quizzes they've missed.

Wish me luck.

Dogsitting

Charlie and I are doggie sitting Harriet, my friend's Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix. She is as cute as a button, but after cleaning up poop and pee on the floor at 3:30 in the morning, I won't be too sad when she goes.

She's a barker, which Charlie isn't. It's weird how used to one's dog a person gets. Even walking them out on the street is different. Charlie meanders along, never tugging on his leash, smelling everything, checking it all out. Harriet is all business, looking back at me as if to say "Com'on, what's the delay? There's something right ahead, I just know it!"

They both jump all over me when I get home, and there's nothing to make me feel better than being appreciated.

The pictures below I just took. I think there might be heroin in that rawhide, the way Harriet is going at it. Although, Charlie doesn't seem the least bit interested in his. Maybe he's just being strong.

I don't have much to talk about. Same old same old.

Oh yeah, I've now gone over 35 pounds. 35.4 lost to be exact. None of my clothes fit. Clothes I bought two sizes smaller when I first started losing weight are now too big. I'll have some altered, but most aren't worth it. I'm a bit concerned about my Paris trip. Honestly, I have one pair of jeans, and two pairs of dress pants left that fit me. Dresses and skirts are better, but the temperature over there this time of year hovers between 40 and 50 degrees. Not terrible, but not bare leg weather either.

I don't want to buy new clothes either; I still have another 35 pounds to go. On the other hand, my mother told me I looked like a sharecropper (not that there's anything wrong with being a sharecropper) the other day when I was wearing my far-too-large overalls.

ah well, it's interesting having this be a problem.

What to do, what to do?

Charlie is not amused. 

The Vicious Harriet, our house guest for a couple of days 

Finally got out for a walk on the beach Saturday afternoon. It was windy. 

Back to school, sort of...

Well, it's over. At least the physical part. Friday night was the worst, but my sister came home (well, to my mom's home) Saturday. She's sad, but I think she's going to be strong and get through this.

Dad and his wife are driving to her house next weekend, and she asked me to be there too. ''I don't want to be alone with them for a whole weekend'' she said to me. I had to call him too, and tell him that she had lost the baby. And I hadn't actually spoken to him since all that shit two years ago. Yes, we emailed a few times, but hadn't actually spoken. On the good side of things, he was very concerned and very sweet with her. So yes, I'll go up there next weekend, and lose more of my time. I know, it's important, and I'm glad to do it, but I'm so far behind now I don't know how I'll catch up.

I got an email from a mother today who was polite, but very upset with me. See, her daughter is applying to five different private schools, and she had asked me to write letters of recommendation for her. I mailed off one, and then missed the other four deadlines. Shit. When I do something as lame as that, I just feel like a failure. I had time, but I put it off. What's really funny, is that this girl wrote an essay last year about how gay people should be allowed to marry. Her reasoning was that Christians were the ones getting upset about it, and since most gay people were Jewish, they should be allowed to marry. When her teacher asked her where she got such an idea, she answered ''The Internet!''

Everytime I look at her, I think of that story, and just giggle.

I have to get those letters written tomorrow. I have a meeting with the principal on Wednesday, and I don't know how I'm going to get my act together this week.

Better get started planning.

Doing the laundry

I'm home for a few hours, doing my sister's laundry. She's still in the hospital, and doing okay, but damn. This needs to be over. I'm not going to go into great detail, but when you lose a baby this far along in your pregnancy, it's complicated. There are things that must be done, and can't be rushed. We were told 24-48 hours was about how long this particular procedure would take. well, the 48-hour mark was 59 minutes ago, and this is her third day in the hospital.

She's napping now, and sent me off on my errands, so here I am, writing to you all.

Mom slept in the room with her the first night, but snored so badly, and was so fussy the next morning about sleeping on the cot, that my sister insisted it not be repeated again last night. So, Mom, who won't drive at night, got a room at the hotel across the street. She, my mother, was surprised when I said I was going to sleep at my own house. She thought I'd sleep at the hotel with her.
"If something happens during the night, what will I do?"

"Well Mom, you are just across the street."

"It's blocks away (actually, just one), and I'm not walking down this street in this neighborhood (you know, the one with the 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom homes selling for one million?) in the middle of the night."

"Mom, I'm only 5 miles away, I'll come get you."

And so it was settled. Mom is trying to keep it together, but I'm worried about her as well. She's running herself ragged, and going into work every day as well. I don't know how she's keeping it together.

I'm just tired. I want this to be over. This part anyway. My sister has a lot of recovering to do after this, and we don't know how much longer it's going to take.

Interesting observation though, only one of my friends has been calling and asking how things are going. Everyone else must feel awkward or something. One particular friend I've called twice, yet she hasn't returned my calls.

Must remember this next time a friend has a difficult time.

No posting for the next few days

My sister goes in to the hospital today. I'll be with her. This isn't a little thing; she will stay at least two days.

Happy thoughts are needed.

and yet again, I can't post

because of that ten minute warning.

More bad news

I believe in prayer. Not the, "I'll be good, so send me a million dollars" kind, but I do believe in it. Goes along with the Holy Spirit or the interconnectedness of us all, or whatever you call it. I believe our thoughts and feelings affect others.

My sister lost her baby.

If you read this, send a prayer, or healing thoughts or positive energy, or whatever you can her way.

I know shit happens, but no one deserves this shit.

Well, would you look at that?

So I guess I just had to write another post to get yesterday's on line.

Argh.

"Please repost your blog in 10 minutes"

Okay, so I finally wrote a post yesterday, and I got the above message. I got the above message for two hours while I was online. I logged on today, tried to finally get the post on the blog, and... you guessed it, "Please repost your blog in 10 minutes."

So sorry for the absence. I've been gone the past two weekends, got a gnarly cold that had me in bed by 8:30 the last few days, and I've just not had the energy to log on.

I have three netflix movies sitting on top of the DVD player, one since December. The thought of two full hours of free time has been impossible.

Our plans for Paris in the Spring are going well, and the apartment (finally) has been secured. We'll be staying in the 6th arroindismont, near the Latin Quarter, and the Luxembourg gardens. I'm taking a French class Thursday nights, which is adding to my time problems, but I think it will be good to at least be able to say "I'm sorry, I don't speak French" in the language of that country. Katrina speaks it pretty well, so I'm not too worried.

I'm having quite a difficult time at school right now, not with students but the parents of a particular student who are making my life hell. Can't write about it though, sorry. Just let me say that stuffing your words down your throat almost every day isn't good for your physical or mental health.

My sister is doing okay, but it's still hard. She and my mom went to Las Vegas this weekend (gosh, I wish I could have gone!) on the trip they planned months ago. I hope she enjoys herself; once the baby's here, I don't think she'll be going to that city for a while.

There's so much to write about right now... my mother's surgery that I never finished describing, my new forays into crocheting (inspired by torn and em), and all the other silly little bits of my life.

Oh, I'm down 33.2 pounds now. Yesterday it became official; not one of my old pairs of pants fit. I have a pair of jeans and two pairs of dress pants that I've bought in the last month, and that's it. It's a great feeling, but I need more clothes!

End of the month

And it's Monday again already.

I drove down to see my sister on Friday afternoon after school. I stayed over and came back on Saturday night.

Thursday morning, while she was getting dressed, her dog had fallen into the pool. She went out side and saw him floating. She got him out, did CPR and mouth-to-mouth, and actually brought him back. Her neighbor drove them to the vet, where Indy seemed to be making quite a recovery. Looking around, trying to sit up. Did so well in fact that they said my sister could pick him up around three that afternoon. They wanted to keep him to warm him up, since his core temperature had fallen to 91 degrees, almost 10 below where a dog's is supposed to be.

She went back in at three, and they told her that he had died only 10 minutes before she got there. His heart just couldn't make it, fighter that he was.

God.

It's awful enough when a pet, a buddy dies, but this. It's horrible. She is being good to herself, most of the time, trying not to blame herself, but of course she does. No matter that he'd never fallen in before, no matter that she only had left him for a few minutes outside.

I tried to distract her (my need to constantly be talking is good for something, at least), and was just there for her. She's four months along now in her pregnancy, and this can't be helping any. I hate that she's so far away from my mom and everyone. I mean, it's not that far, not really, but it's not like I can just pop over there tonight with a pizza either.

Charlie has been getting very annoyed with me these past few days. I can't stop hugging him.

Indy's smile. He will be missed. 

Taking a time out

My sister's wonderful little dog, Indy, died today. It was an accident and a rotten thing to have happen. I don't feel like writing about it or anything else tonight.

I almost forgot to tell you

As of tonight, I have lost 31.6 pounds. Yahoo!

Okay, okay, here I am

So, you know how you keep putting off getting back to that old friend, and the next thing you know, there's just too much to catch up on, so then you just say "forget it" and the friendship dissolves into hurriedly signed Christmas cards?

That's how I feel about catching up with this blog. Not that too many folks read it, but still. I have tried to comment a few times on other's blogs, but haven't written much of anything this last week. Sorry.

Mom is back to her old self. She was, shall we say, a hoot last Wednesday.

I picked her up at 6:30 am, and she had already taken the drug that put her in a "twilight" state. She was just like a movie drunk, giggly and unable to stand up straight. Getting her down the stairs outside her apartment was quite a feat, I tell you.

We got on the road, and I realized I didn't know where the dental surgeon's office was.

"Dat's okah huneh... I know where ih is." She told me to get off the freeway at Mission, and then turn left at Cottage. Problem is, Cottage isn't a street, it's the name of a hospital.

"No... you know... left at Cottage."
"Mom, there's no street called that. What's the name of the doctor?"
"I can't remembah that ri' now. I'll get us there...don worry. You jus' turn dow' a liddle alley way, after Cottage street."

Her surgery was at 7:00, and I was getting worried. However, Mom pulled it through. She actually got us there, and we did turn left at Cottage. Just after passing the hospital, we turned left, and then, yep, there was the alley. Got her into the doctor's office, and went to go get a mocha and entertain myself (grade papers) until she was finished.

It was supposed to take three to four hours, this surgery/root canal she was having done, but ended up taking five and a half. I should have eaten lunch.

She was ornery when I picked her up. Her lower lip was sticking way out, like a little girl who's pouting, and she was still slurring her words. She was very upset that the doctor had made her keep her mouth open for so long.

"It's so sore now. I tol' him I had the tee em jay problem, bu' he still kept my mouth open all dat time."
"Well, I don't know how else he could have done the root canal Mom..."

She was then quite angry that they had wanted to keep her partial denture. Since they had put in three new crowns, it didn't fit properly, and they wanted to keep it, to adjust it.

"Bu' I woudn' leddam. No way. I can't chew withou' that. I need ih to eat. Bu' it shur is botherin' me ri' now. It's really rubbin' agains' my cheek."

"It will do that until you get it fixed Mom."

(I know, what the hell was I thinking, trying to reason with a doped up woman? Sometimes I just don't think.)

We got home, and getting her up the stairs was even more difficult. I got her inside, and she refused to get into her nightgown and go to bed. She said she wanted to watch tv in the living room.

Okay, so I got her set up in her chair, got her some watered down cranberry juice (which she promptly spilled down her shirt because half of her mouth was still numb), and made sure she wasn't going to go anywhere.

See, I had to go get her prescriptions filled at the pharmacy. I didn't want to leave her alone, but I did need to get her medicine. Boy, was that a mistake.

to be continued...

Still not enough time to tell the tale

I will, don't worry. There's lots.

Let's just give you this teaser: I ended my night Wednesday by chasing off imaginary coyotes I believed were eating my dog, screaming because I (briefly) lost the ability to speak, and realizing I had completely wet my pants.

Taking care of mom

I'm still at her house, but suffice it to say, it's been great story material. Now, if I can just get the burn mark out of her rug.


I'm crazed this week, you'll all have to wait until the weekend for the scoop.

Cramps suck

I suppose that says it all.

How did my eyes get smaller?

So I got the new passport in the mail yesterday. Remember how I said it wasn't the best picture? I was wrong. It's the most horrid picture of myself yet. I mean, I spent fifteen minutes staring in the mirror last night, trying to see the resemblance between the face looking back at me, and the old hag in the passport photo. I also kept comparing it against the pretty girl in my old passport, from twenty years ago.

I thought about posting the two photos side by side here, but that's too much grist for certain elements that read this blog. I know it's a putrid photo, I don't need to advertise it.

See, the girl in the old passport, the 21-year-old, had these huge blue eyes and long, thick, black lashes. She's not wearing any makeup, and yet her skin looks perfect... or almost perfect... a small red blemish on her chin does nothing to take away from her beauty. She's wearing a sweater her mom knitted for her, a lovely teal green, and a shirt her mother made for her sister, which the girl in the passport photo swiped. The funny thing about that shirt is that it had upside down palm trees on it, because the girl's mother didn't check the pattern before she cut it out. The girl always loved that shirt. She's even wearing abalone earrings her mother made. I forgot how creative this girl's mother used to be. I still have those earrings, and wear them once in a while.

The old biddy in the new passport photo doesn't have a single blemish, or at least one that can be seen. She's wearing makeup that could've been put on with a trowel, it's so thick. She was sick when the photo was taken, and had several spots on her face. Although she rarely wears foundation makeup, she piled it on for this, knowing the photo would be around a while. What the old woman in the photo didn't realize was that the makeup would make her looked washed out and tired. Kind of like an old sheet you can see through when it's hanging on the line.

Her eyes are small and red. She's not wearing the glasses she normally wears, out of vanity. She put in her contacts that morning, which always irritate her. Where her eyelashes are, are as good your guess as mine. Her dyed brown hair is too short, and curls under lamely on her forehead. There's one wayward lock of hair doing its Alfalfa imitation in the back. She's not looking into the camera, and it's caught her just before she really smiled. Her teeth are white, but her lips are small. The shadow behind her makes her looks as if she's got some kind of Carol Brady shag going on at her neck. The bottom part of the photo is out of focus.

Eww.

Why oh why didn't I go and get the photos taken first? Then, even if I had to pay more, I'd at least have a chance of a reasonably decent looking photo. Now, I'm stuck with this shit for 10 years. Yeah, 10 years from now, I might say I looked younger, but I certainly hope I don't say I looked better.

Organizationally Impaired

So the latest news from my principal is that he is looking for a "state of impeccability" in each and every one of our classrooms (and I'm not even sure it's a word).

This is not good news for me. I'm messy. A slob to some people, but I prefer the title of this post. I just don't know how some people stay so organized. OCD? That's the only explanation I have.

But, if you look inside any cupboard, drawer or my closets, everything has a place. I'm not a shover or hider. I don't stuff things under the bed or behind the dresser. If I'm going to the trouble of putting something away, it's got to have a place. And that's my problem. Not everything has a place.

Right now I have some money to order classroom supplies. Not a lot, but some. I'm trying to find some magnetic file holders I can put on the whiteboards in my room, but I haven't seen them yet. Maybe they don't exist. What can I get that will help with the paper deluge? There's just so much, and so little space.

Home is the same story. My kitchen is set up for the Keebler elves, and that includes the one cupboard on the wall. Last year I got a pot rack, so at least I have a bit more room, but I still store all my bakeware in my oven. Which means I have to take it out every time I want to cook a weightwatcher's pizza. And where do I put it? Not the dining room table, which is covered with god knows what. Books, papers, scarves, bills, doggie treats, boxes from Christmas presents "I might use someday."

I'm trying to get a microwave cart, something like this, because right now, I have the microwave on top of an old typing table that my grandfather swiped from Massachusetts Electric company over 50 years ago. However, if I get the cart, that means I have to find a new home for the table. Which of course I don't want to get rid of.

Oi.

I have to go to the eyeglass place to get new lenses for my glasses, but I left the prescription for them at school. More disorganization. How to get organized? I don't know what will work for me.

If I didn't have to sleep (or enjoy it so damn much) I'd get a lot more done

First things first, as of last night, I have officially lost 29 pounds. Yahoolamunga! Of course, it's only the first part. I've got a good 40 more to go. But, it sure feels good.

Okay, so I don't have enough time to write much this morning; today the English Department is meeting at 7:45 am. It's the end of the semester, and I've got papers to grade (shocker). We still haven't found an apartment for our stay in Paris, and I'm getting nervous about it. We've found two that were what we wanted, but both were rented out. One of the girls only wants to stay in the 3rd arridons-whateverit'scalled, and the other is just looking at our choices and saying "yea" or "nay."

I start my 10-week French class tonight (for "low beginners"), and I have a conference tomorrow, so today I also have to get ready for my substitute in my class. Next week Mom is having surgery(the whole story of which will be a separate post), and I'm taking another day off from work to take her to and from and stay with her afterwards.

Trying to juggle things in my single, not responsible for anyone else but my dog life, is still getting to me today.

Wine Tasting in the Valley

"It's a mis-cheeee-vious little wine... it needs to be spanked."

(You will either get the above reference or not. Don't think too hard about it.)


Yesterday was a fun day. Katrina and I went wine tasting in the afternoon after an hour long walk with the doggies. Weather was perfect, it wasn't too crowded, and the wine was, well, wine.

I worked at Beckmen Winery and Tasting room for four years. Actually, I'm still "on-call" but no one has called me for over a year and a half. I have no idea what happened, or why, after all that time, I was bumped, but I have my suspicions.

It still bothers me a bit, this not knowing why I was shut out. I was a loyal and good employee, always was on time, never asked for a raise from the $8 an hour at which I started. I got a 50% discount on great wine, and that was enough for me.

Anyway, no time to go into great details about how I was wronged. They hired a jerk, and the next thing you know, friends and relatives are working and I'm out in the cold. I like both Mr. Beckmen's, don't misunderstand me, but I don't think they had a clue what kind of nonsense was going on in the tasting room.

Eh. Got another walk to get to right now. Then it's work, work, work. Only two weeks until the end of the semester!

Antibiotics and a sore toe

So, I've never had an ingrown toenail before (always thought that was an old person thing), and my doctor tells me she's "not sure" if what I have is an ingrown toenail. It might just be an infected cuticle.

Whatever. It feels like a large stick pin is being shoved into it most of the time, and if I bump it at all, it feels closer to a carving knife.

"Oh, but I've seen much worse."

Great, but I'm not worried about all the ingrown toenails of the world, just mine.

This is my second go round. I went once to the walk-in clinic in November, the harried nurse practitioner gave me some antibiotics and I went home.

Two weeks later, it was slightly better. Then got worse. I kept hoping it would clear up, but no.

Went to my own doctor last week, and she prescribed more anti-biotics, and told me to soak my toe every night. Okay.

Now, these are the antibiotics from hell. They are huge for one thing. The kind that go down only halfway, and then the gel covering starts dissolving in the middle of your throat. I can live with that. Next, I have to take them 4 times a day. Sounds easy enough, but I teach pretty much straight through; I'm always forgetting the one at lunchtime.

I shouldn't say lunch time, because that's when I eat. The worst thing about trying to take these pills is that they are to be taken on an empty stomach. "One hour before or three hours after eating."

Does anyone know how hard that is? I put a pill and a glass of water next to my bedside each night so that the moment I wake up, I can take it. Then, I can actually eat breakfast before I go to work. The past two days I have forgotten to take my 11 am pill, because I'm, uh... teaching. Then it's lunchtime, and I remember, but if I eat my lunch, I still can't take the pill until 3 pm. If I take the pill, I can't eat until 1 pm, but I'm... oh yeah... teaching then. Then we have the dinnertime pill. This one isn't so hard. I usually eat late, so I just have to remember to take the darn pill when I get home from work. But... that last pill? I usually end up eating around 8 pm. Problem is that I have to wait until 11 pm to take it. If you know me, that's really late in my book for going to bed.


A little thing to complain about, I know... but you'd think they'd figure out an easier way to take these little suckers. Why even use this when there's so many other ones out there? I mean, we've got great scientists coming up with new medicine all the time...

And my foot? Well it's been 6 days and my big toe is still red and angry and sore.

I really don't want to go back to the doctor again.

The last day of freedom

So, I had a great time Saturday night. Took me forever to find something to wear. Met up with everyone around 10:30. Couples, couples everywhere, as far as the eye could see. It was okay though, because we were all just into having fun. The band was too darn loud, and I thought the lead singer was a woman until he said something about trying to find a date (I couldn't see him for the crowds, but when I did, he looked like a guy... just sang like Shakira).

After midnight, my other single girlfriend started chatting up some guy; his friend decided to talk to me. Nick was his name. How pleasant to have male attention, even it it was lubricated quite a bit by too many beers. He was somewhat of a dork, but I guess I am too. His not-so-smart comment came when he was talking about not going out too much anymore.

"I'm 32 now so I don't need to go out and get wasted every night. Although, it's not like I'm 42 or an old man or anything."

Huh. I didn't mention that I'm 41. Guess guys are self-conscious about their ages too. This guy was balding, so I suppose he wanted to make sure that I didn't think he was older than he was. He just didn't realize that I was older than I look.

And you guys? Most women don't care too much about the balding/receding hairline thing. That seems to be more of your worry. I'm not saying all women are deep and don't care about looks at all, but from what I know, hair isn't too much of an issue. Not as much as some other things.

What other things, do you ask? Well, scent. Scent is a biggie with me and most females. Clean is best. Axxe is the worst. Or any cologne that's so strong it takes the curl out of my hair, or brings on an asthma attack. I actually like cologne, but only when I can smell it when I'm hugging you. Any stronger and it's not right. If you smoke, and you shouldn't, be very careful. Your clothes tend to reek. The only thing worse than cigarette smoke is stale cigarette smoke. I have friends who are careful about this, and then I know some folks who aren't. Big fat turn- off.

As long as I'm being petty and shallow right now, I'll go into clothes choices. Wear clothes that fit please. Wear clean, unstained, and unripped clothes. Make sure all your buttons are there. You might have been a size 32 in high school, but that doesn't mean you still are. If your jacket rides up over your belly, it's time to go shopping.

My favorite outfit on a guy? A white untucked button-down shirt with well fitting jeans. Simple, unfussy, and reasonably comfortable, right? I'm not a fashionista, so I don't expect high style from anyone else.

Anyway, back to this Nick dude. He was trying so hard to hook up with someone, but not having any luck. Meanwhile, Donald, the friend of Michelle from last summer, showed up. He sortof, kindof asked me on a date a while ago, and then nothing. Well, he all of a sudden seemed quite interested in talking to me now that I was sitting with Nick. Of course, it was New Year's Eve, and after midnight, so he probably was tanked as well.

Hey guys, here's a question for you. How come you aren't interested in me, couldn't give me the time of day, unless someone else, anyone else is interested? So weird.

So, Nick gives me his number (I still haven't decided if I will call), and Donald gives me a big Happy New Year's kiss goodnight.

Not a bad way to start the year.

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.)

New Radio Station

You know how sometimes the smallest thing can make you happy? Well, my DirectTv now has XM radio stations, and they're great. They have silly names like "the blend" or "the loft" but they are absolutely suited to my taste. When one grows up in the late 70's and early 80's, James Taylor and Linda Rondstat have a lasting effect.

"The Blend is geared toward 40-somethings, "The Loft" more toward 50-somethings. This is my guess, but it's not stated anywhere. Both play music from the last 4 decades, but "The Loft" has more earlier stuff.

Anyway, it makes me smile. I don't know what all the other stations have; I'll have to spin through them to figure it out. It's nice to have music playing that's new, that's not annoying.

What an old person thing to say.

Oh, the picture below? It's the Wonder Dog, deciding, just as I sit down to write this, that it's time to play. He has an obsession with the empty toilet paper roll. He will go into the trash and pick it out if I'm not watching. He did a pretty good number on the roll in the picture before I got it away from him. When I was downloading the picture, he actually went into the bathroom and dug another one out. The guy's got a big basket of toys, and all he wants is that round of cardboard.

Weirdo dog.

So, I've not gotten done anything for school, so today will be a work day. I did get the darn soup finished; which was quite a production given my microscopic kitchen. More of an impression of a kitchen than a real one. I didn't take a picture of it because I was too embarrassed for you to see the messy state my stove and counters were in. Now it's all put into the freezer and fridge in tupperware, and that's a boring picture too.

I learned a lesson this weekend too. I'm not going out with Henrietta, my friend Cynthia's sister, again.

Let's see. I've known Cynthia's family since I was five years old. My first formal dance in high school was with Robert, Cynthia's older brother. He was a year older, Cynthia a year younger, and Henrietta, the same age as my sister, two years younger. Their mom and my dad worked at the same company for several years (until my dad got "laid off" after one particular company picnic where he got roaring drunk).

During high school, Robert and I were in the choir together, so he was more my friend than his sisters were. Cynthia was big into sports and Henrietta, well... she was big into everything. She hung out with the loadies by the oak tree in front of the school, but she was also one of the only 8 songleaders at our school (better than drill team or cheerleader for sure).

I know, I'm prefacing my story too much, but deal with it. It's my way.

Okay. So add Robert to the list of men I've dated who is now gay. That's not any surprise. Either I'm attracted to gay men who have already come out, and I'm just oblivious, or I'm attracted to a man who's conflicted. Dating me, or horror, the idea of sleeping with me, usually is enough to get them to accept their sexual identity.

Glad I have a purpose in life.

So, back to the sisters. Cynthia and I started hanging out after college with Katrina. Katrina had lived a few houses down from the sisters while we were growing up, so they had always been close. Cynthia is smart, quiet and very funny. She's one of those ladylike women who can say something scathingly sarcastic just under her breath, and unless you know her very well, you can't tell if she's kidding or not. I love her. Her sister? Not so much.

Suffice it to say that Henrietta is a fucking princess. She's always driven me nuts, but every few months I forget that and do something with her. She's funny, but she's LOUD. She doesn't want to be the center of attention at the table, no, she needs to be the center of attention at the restaurant. She's given to flinging her arms around dramatically, and pouting in what I believe she thinks is an attractive way. She's also a 39-year-old "actor" who has never had more than bit parts in commercials that air late at night.

No matter. She subscribes to the "you want to be important, you have to act important" school of thought. She thinks nothing of keeping everyone waiting, or inviting herself along when she hasn't been invited, or of sending back a half-full martini with "could you shake this with some ice please? It's not cold enough for me."

She borrows money from Cynthia and never pays it back, yet always has the most expensive and trendy clothes and make-up. She doesn't just drive an SUV, she drives a BMW SUV. I've seen her drop $900 on clothing at one store.

Yet, she is the cheapest woman I know when it comes to anyone else.

Most years, on Friday after Thanksgiving, I resolve to stay as far away from the stores as possible. And every year, Cynthia and Henrietta talk me into hanging out with them. Well, this years appeared to be going the same way.

I've gone on long enough. Stay tuned for Henrietta the Cheapskate.

Charlie the Destroyer 

"Begging? I'm not begging. Just admiring your lovely white teeth as they bite down on that slice of cheddar cheese." 

The Morning After

Okay, so Wednesday night I had officially lost 10% of my body weight. I got a little key chain and they took my picture and everyone clapped for me. It feels good, even though I have so much further to go (farther to go? I know I'm an English teacher, but that one always goofs me up).

And on to Thanksgiving. My friend Katrina and I took our dogs on an early morning walk to get in a little exercise before the feasting began, and Charlie got very very dirty. I had to wash him and wash myself, and be ready to leave by ten in the morning. Almost was too, except for the dead mouse I found in the kitchen right before my mother knocked on the door. Gross.

It's beautiful where I live, but then again, there are more critters here sometimes than I would like.

Got to Sister's house in good time, and it was really nice out; almost but not quite hot. My favorite weather. She had decided to roast the turkey in her outdoor grill; made stuffing in a crockpot (who knew?) and kept the house pretty cool.

Points? weight watcher points? What the hell are those?

Nah. I logged everything I ate, and while it wasn't a low calorie day, I didn't use up every single point for the week. I still have 11.5 points of "overdraft" points left. You'll see.

Sister gave me the turkey carcass and I'm making Mulligatawny soup with it. I make it every year and it is so tasty. This is the Winter of Soup. I'll take a picture of it when I'm done.

Early morning Thanksgiving walk with Charlie at the off-leash dog park. Could I live any closer to heaven 

The finished three pies! 

This was the sunrise this morning. I got caught in my jammies taking this picture by one of the early walkers on my street 

A Wednesday without school

Whoo woo!

It's like a Saturday in the middle of the week. We used to get just Thursday and Friday off for Thanksgiving, but a few years ago, that changed. See, parents were taking kids out of school a day early to get on the road to where ever they are going for Thanksgiving. If we have less kids in school, we get less money. Really. Every time a parent takes a student out for a week, two week, even three week trip to Hawaii or snowboarding or to visit the Grand Canyon, the public school which he or she attends loses money. It's not as if the teachers get paid less for that day, or we use less electricity to turn on the lights and run the school, but that's the way it works.

So, the school board decided to give the students Wednesday off as well. A travel day, if you will.

Well, you can guess what's happened. Now instead of taking one extra day, lots of families decide to just take off for the week, and their students end up missing two days. That, in turn, makes it pretty darn hard to teach those two days, because so many seats are empty. We had a spelling test yesterday, because we have one every Tuesday, but... now I'm going to have to run after all those kids that missed it, and stay in at lunch or after school or something so they can make the test up.

Oh, and it was Pajama Day yesterday. It's fun, but hard to be taken seriously when one is wearing blue paisley, flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers.

I'm about to head off to the store to buy the ingredients for the three pies I'm making. I was only going to make two, but my sister insisted on another one. You know, there's only going to be 7 people there; practically half a pie each sounds right, don't you think?

Here are the three pies:
Rosemary cheddar-crusted Pear Pie (9)
Crumbleberry Pie (14)
Ginger spiced Pumpkin Pie (4)

The numbers after each one are how many weight watcher points each one is worth. I only get 26 points a day. Guess which one is my favorite, and which one I don't really care for?

Grr...

I was going to write more just now

But Nip and Tuck is on in two minutes.

Appearances

I have a reputation for making funny faces. My friends all have plenty of blackmail pictures of me... I guess you couldn't really call them blackmail photos, because anyone who knows me, knows I can manipulate my face; who's going to blackmail me with something everyone already knows?

Anyway, I'm a basically attractive person. I'm no amazing beauty, and men do not fall at my feet (for that matter, nor do women). On the other hand, I've never thought I was ugly, and most days, except for wanting to lose weight, I'm fairly happy with my looks.

I feel lucky that my looks have not been much of an issue one way or another. Again, my weight is another story, but that's always been something I could change. My looks aren't so fabulous that I could be a bitch and get away with it (not that I've ever wanted to) but again, they aren't so bad that people avoid me.

There's this friend of mine who has twice now, in the last couple of months, said I looked like I had Down's Syndrome. This wouldn't be so bad if he was commenting on pictures of me making a face, but both times he did it when I showed him what I thought was a pretty good photo. I'm sure he was kidding, but was he? I look at the two photos again, searching for what he was talking about. Why would he say such a specific thing? And why would he say it about what I thought was a good picture of me? I don't have the answer. Maybe it's just his way.

When I was first on line, about 10 years ago now, I filled out several personals. At that time on-line dating was new, and there were about 10 men to every woman. I was popular. For the first time in my life, I felt I was being judged on what was important to me; my intelligence, my wit, my personality. This was before everyone had a digital camera and scanner, so often the person I was speaking to had no idea what I looked like.

Those were the days. I met several men, and one in particular really fell for me. None of the men I met were jerks, although none really worked out either. It was a great big boost to my confidence. I really think men that might not have looked at me twice noticed me when my image wasn't the first thing they saw. Again, it's not that my image is so bad, but I don't turn heads.

Now though, it's not the same. I signed up with Okaycupid, and the only response I got was from a 69 year old man in Michigan who called himself "Papa Smokes."

Ew.

Have you looked at personal on line lately? The woman are all wonderful looking and fit, and the guys are wearing sunglasses and baseball hats. The 45-year-old men are looking for women "21-40" and are fully uninterested in the likes of me. Sometimes the guy is even too lazy to write any answers to the questions on the site:

"Hey, just email me and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Who goes to an online personal ad site and then doesn't write anything? I guess, it beats going and writing a detailed, heartfelt profile, and then getting nothing.

Or an email from Papa Smokes.

Well, would you look at that?

So I guess it worked after all...

Boy howdy... I'm a dork.

I've been trying to cut and paste

But to no avail.

Blogthings is a site with all these goofy quizzes. Here's one:

http://www.blogthings.com/quickanddirtyiqtest/

I scored 120. Not a total genius, but not bad.

How do People see you?

***Slow and Steady***
Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy.
They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder.
It'd really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment.
They expect you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it.
How Do People See You?http://www.blogthings.com/howdopeopleseeyouquiz/

Okay, this one is lame. Couldn't be further from the truth except that I walk slowly. I'll try to paste some other ones in.

This one's better: Who were you in High School?

***Arty Kid***
Whether you were a drama freak or an emo poet, you definitely were expressive and unique.
You're probably a little less weird these days - but even more talented!
Who Were You In High School?http://www.blogthings.com/whowereyouinhighschoolquiz/

This one's funny for me...

***Your Kissing Purity Score: 20% Pure***
For you, it's all kiss and no talk.
You're in a permanent lip lock.
Kissing Purity Testhttp://www.blogthings.com/kissingpuritytest/

how old are you really?

You Are 32 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Friday morning runny nose

It's been warmer than normal the last few days, and the Santa Ana winds have been blowing at night. That means my nose is red and flaky, and I need those tissues with lotion nearby at all times.

Pretty girl.

I've now lost 22.6 pounds. Almost like losing Charlie, the wonder dog. I have to start really exercising now, because I can already see some flabbiness that used to be filled out with chubbiness.

Problem is, I'm already gone from the house for hours and hours. I got home from work at 7pm last night. I had gone to pick up Charlie at four, went to the bank and straight back to school. I feel like I'm neglecting him already. When I exercise, I want it to be walking with the pooch, not leaving him so I can go work out on a machine. So, what happens is that it gets dark, I don't walk him very far, and I don't exercise very much.

Maybe a video?

So much to do just to avoid being a couch potato.

The "1000 steps" on the beach where Charlie and I walk. It was a bee-yoo-tee-full day last Sunday. 

will this one work?

So, I wrote a post, and saved it, but decided not to publish it. Some things are better off not being made public.

I wrote a different post, and didn't save it, so of course, the internet ate it up. Figures.

Maybe it was Fate. You know, making me write again, so I write what I need to write, or some Kum-by-ya thing like that.

The other day, Tornwordo wrote about woman having thrown themselves at him all his life. Being one of the women in his life, I immediately made it personal. I shouldn't do that.

After deep thought and introspection, I can honestly say I wasn't one of those women. I don't throw myself at anyone. Could be the reason I'm still single.

Okay, maybe that's not 100% true. I have a faint and embarrassing memory of my early 20's, several Gin and Tonics, and the buddy of my friend's fiance. He was cute, and polite to me, and I developed a little crush as the night went on. As my blood alcohol level went up, my crush increased. This man was going to be the father of my future children.

The last thing I remember about that night (my friends who witnessed it will never let me forget), are my hands on either side of him, on the wall against which I had backed him, and his face flipping from side-to-side as I tried to kiss him..."no...uh... I have a ... uh ... girlfriend.."

Good God. Can you believe I just told you that story? Neither can I.

So, anyway, I will amend what I said above: I rarely throw myself at anyone.

What must it be like to have people throw themselves at you? I don't know the answer to that. I'm not someone against whom people fling themselves.

I'm more of an acquired taste. People tend to have an instant reaction to me; they either like me immediately and think I'm hilarious or think I'm an obnoxious boor. After that, if they stick around, they realize I'm both and neither.

Men do not grovel at my feet. They don't come courting and send me flowers. I've never been whisked away in a limo or an airplane or even a taxi to an exotic local or a fancy restaurant. It's not that I sit at home and pine away for Prince Charming, I just don't run in the circles where that kind of thing happens.

At 41, it happens even less.

The compliment I've heard most from men I've dated is that I have a "warm heart." This is usually said right before they say they "just want to be friends." or "I'm not ready for a relationship right now." or "You know I'm gay, don't you?"

The compliment I've heard most from men I've not dated is, "You're easy to talk to." I tend to fall in love with men that are great friends. If I spend a lot of time with a person because I like that person, and he happens to be a man, there's a good chance I'm going to fall for him.

At the same time, if a man is spending time with me as a friend, he's not thinking of me as a potential romance, so by the time I'm head over heels, he's decided to confide in me about his adoration of his brother-in-law's sister. I'm firmly ensconced in the "buddy" seat.

It's been like this since high school.

a lazy post

1) My mother once: Told me I never take care of things. I had just accidentally broken a tiny, hand blown vase she had since childhood. She had given it to me as a gift earlier in the week (for my 10th birthday).

2) Never in my life: Have I tried Crystal Meth, Ecstasy, Mushrooms, or Absinthe

3) When I was five: I was in Ms. Rosenberg’s Kindergarten class until she went on Maternity leave and Miss Christiansen took over.

4) High School was/is: Wonderful and horrific. I figured out I would never be homecoming queen or a cheerleader, but also that it wasn’t going to be the highlight of my life. I did meet all but one of my closest friends in high school.

5) I will never forget: Mrs. Green, who was the first teacher who treated me with respect, and honored my opinion. Even when I acted like a brat.

6) I once met: Maureen McCormick (Marsha from The Brady Bunch) at the Girl Scout Fashion Show when I was 11 years old. I had her autograph, but I lost it.

7) There's this person I know who: Judges everyone by his own list, but will blow up if you question or disagree with him.

8) Once, at a bar: I got thrown out for calling someone a “ Mother fucker.” Okay, I actually was screaming it like that girl at the beginning of "Pulp Fiction."

9) By noon I'm usually: in need of a bathroom break. I teach the first four classes of the day in a row.

10) Last night I: ate a brownie for dinner.

11) If I only had: a strong good relationship with a man I loved, I might have a chance at a family.
12) Next time I go to church/temple: Won’t be Christmas Eve this year. I’m going to Sherman Oaks to celebrate it with my friend and her partner.
13) Terri Schiavo: Should not have been the issue it was. Bush can cut his vacation short for a woman with fluid where her brain used to be, but not for 1000’s of people being flooded out of their homes.
14) I like: laughing with my friends, potatoes, wine, and summer break

15) When I turn my head left, I see: photos of my friends, family and dog on the wall.

16) When I turn my head right, I see: boxes of crap that have been sitting in the “computer room” for the last two years, since I moved in.

17) You know I'm lying when: I won’t look you in the eye. I don’t usually lie.

18) In grade school: I sucked my thumb until I was in sixth grade

19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare: I ‘d probably be the nurse in Romeo and Juliet. I’m a romantic at heart, but I don’t really want to die for it.

20) By this time next year I: hope to have lost 40 more pounds

21) A better name for me would be: Rebekah Copabianco. It sounds good.

22) I have a hard time understanding: White Supremacy. Why?

23) If I ever go back to school I'll: Get a Ph.D. in English Literature and teach at the university level.

24) You know I like you if: I tell you.

25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: My mother. She’s always believed in me.

26) I hope that: This god damn NCLB act fails miserably and people other than educators see how detrimental it’s been to our children’s education.

27) Take my advice: picking up dog doo is easier once a day instead of once a week.

28) My ideal breakfast is: Biscuits and sausage gravy with home fries and my friends.

29) A song I love, but do not have is: Lose Yourself by Eminem. Some of the other songs on that album bother me.

30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: saying hello to me! I still live here. Go wine tasting, walk on the beach and eat at The Palace Café.

31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: I have no response to this.

32) Why won't anyone: tell me I’m his one-and-only?

33) If you spend the night at my house: try not to trip over all my stuff that I don’t pick up.
34) I'd stop my wedding: if I didn’t love him, he didn’t love me, he had slept with someone the night before, if there was a gunman in the church… this is a stupid one.

35) The world could do without: Okra and hate

36) I'd rather lick the belly of a roach than: give up my wonder dog Charlie.

37) My favorite is: A sunny day, a full tank of gas, no responsibilities and all my friends.

38) Paper clips are more useful than: cigarettes. And they cost less too.

40) And by the way: I still have no clue how to actually “tag” someone (or “meme” or whatever you call it, so do this if you want to).

41) The last time I was drunk: At my friend’s “forty-tenth” birthday party. I didn’t really get too drunk though. Went straight from sober to asleep. Skipped the whole inebriated part.

42) My grandmother always: made the best grilled cheese sandwiches. She couldn’t cook anything else to save her life, but ooo… those grilled cheese sandwiches… I dream about them.

See, Autumn happens here too...

The sad little persimmon tree in our backyard is doing all the fall foliage work around her. I took this picture last night. It wasn't as dark as it seems, but my camera is not the best one in the world.

I have a headache this morning; probably from the second glass of red wine I had last night. I watched the George Carlin special on HBO. I like him. He's smart and grouchy. But, he even got me a bit uncomfortable with what he was talking about (suicide, murder, nechrophelia and more). I'm not the kind of person that gets uncomfortable, but some stuff just isn't funny to me.

He did point out that we are the only species that does this crazy stuff. "Nit wits and Assholes" is how he described humans at one point. Sums it up well. He also talked about how everytime someone says we should love each other and try to get along, we kill him. Jesus, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Junior... the list went on.

Jonathan Swift said a long time ago, "We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love each other."

It's still true.

For me, it goes back to a conversation I had with my crazy aunt once when I was 15. We were outside, picking Boysenberries, and she had just explained how she was going to become a "breathatarian" (that's someone who doesn't need to eat, who gets all their nutrients from the air), and I was again thinking what a weirdo my aunt was. This was during the Reagan years, and we were once again pissing off most other nations.
"You know Becky, all you have to do is get right with yourself. All anyone has to do is get right with themselves. There would be no war, no fighting, no real trouble if we were all able to do that."

Even with its oversimplification, it rang true. I've been trying to "get right with myself" ever since.

ps: She never quite made her goal of Breathatarianism.

It gets dark so early now

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day, so we have the day off from school. Thank goodness. Next week I have another barrage of meetings, plus I have to spend Monday out of class, "observing" with my BTSA participating teacher. Which means I have to prepare for a substitute. grr.

I took this photo tonight from my driveway at 5:05pm. I dislike this time of year. I can't seem to get as much done. All I want to do is stay inside, curl up and eat when it's dark and wet. And it's poured for a couple of days here. Charlie has to be dragged out to pee. I swear, he's held it over 24 hours once. I know I'd burst.

I hit the 20 pound mark of lost weight yesterday; Yea me! My clothes are getting loose, but I wouldn't call most of them baggy just yet. Made Taco Soup last night; here's the recipe:

Saute one chopped onion in Olive Oil cooking spray, and start opening cans. You need:
2 cans chopped tomatoes (mexican seasoned ones are best)
1 can refried beans
1 can black beans
1 can white beans
1 can (0r two cups frozen) corn. Drain.
1 can fat free chicken broth
1 package taco seasoning mix (I used HOT)

mix it all together in large pot, bring just to boil, then turn down heat, cover, and simmer for 1 hour. Couldn't be easier. Smelled great when it was cooking.

1 point per cup. And it tastes good too!

(if you don't want me to put the recipes here, just say so. Actually, only one person reads this anymore, and I know he doesn't mind...)

That's about it for now. Looks like Paris in the Spring is going to happen. Buying our $581 tickets tomorrow, and probably making our reservations for an apartment rental next week.

Oh boy!

Just a couple of things

Don't get an ExxonMobil gas card.

Crest Lemon Ice flavor toothpaste? Not good.

23/5

This was a weird tag, but seeing that it's my first one, I was happy to do it.


Here are the instructions:
1) Go into your archives.
2) Find your 23rd post.
3) Find your 5th sentence (or closest to it).
4) Post the text of your sentence in your blog along with these rules.
5) Tag five other people. (I don't think even five people read this, but if you do, Tag!")


My sentence?
"Another man, a few days later"

Okay, so it's a sentence fragment, I know. But... it's the 5th line of a poem I wrote about going to doctors last year. I'm happy with it, yet it's still not quite, you know, there yet.

I'm feeling my asthma today and have no idea where my inhaler is. It's bugging me because I usually keep it in my purse and another one in my medicine drawer. I don't get the breathing-through-a-straw horror like the commercials for curing childhood asthma show, but it's a bother nonetheless.

I'm into my second load of laundry, there is a pile of dishes in the sink, and there are papers staring at me to be graded.

And I need to go back into school today to plan the next two weeks. Argh.

Being Busy

This last week, the last three weeks have been busy. Not busy like I got anything done, but busy with all the meetings I had to attend and paperwork I needed to fill out. It's not going to stop anytime soon, so I should deal with it, and not bore you with the details.

19.8 pounds. That's what I've lost so far. I need to lose 60 total, so I'm feeling very proud. For those of you who struggle with your weight, you know how frustrating it is to be judged so harshly just because of the girth of your body. This goes for folks trying to gain weight too. I once said, after...ah-hem... the deed, to a boyfriend, "You're too skinny." I didn't mean anything by it, but he was crushed. In retrospect, it was an awful thing to say, but I was ignorant. Just because society accepts thinness more than thickness, doesn't make trying to gain weight "easier."

Another time, at a much younger and much more slender time in my life, another boyfriend patted my thigh and said, "aren't there exercises you can do to make these smaller?" Bad enough, but again, it was said right after... um...you know...

Should have made me more sensitive, but it didn't.

People say stupid things. I do, you do. Sometimes we regret them, sometimes not. I wrote about this before; no matter what your or my intention, someone can and most likely will misinterpret what is said. We can't go around being politically correct all the time, and we can't edit our words so much that we are silent, but we do need to think.

Weight is such a weird issue for so many people. I don't have any eating disorders or food addictions, I just like to eat. That's it. Oh yeah, and I'm naturally lazy. If there's a choice between sweating and not sweating, you all know which option I'd take.

So, I've become quite fat. If I lost 45 pounds from what I weigh now, I'd still weigh what a doctor once called "centripetally obese" (go ahead, look it up, I had to). I thought I looked okay , but once I saw that write-up, I freaked.

I've always been a bigger person, and it didn't bother me. What I said before? About being lazy? It's only partly true. I used to be on the swim team in high school and was a lifeguard and a swim instructor in college. Once upon a time, I used to ride my bike 100 miles a week. I used to paddle with the SB Outrigger team... then life popped in, with its responsibilities. I didn't have the two hours a day to devote to exercise, nor did I want to anymore.

I have a friend who is, in my opinion, an exercise junkie. Maybe not, but she works out probably 3 hours a day, plus works full time. No, she doesn't have a family, but she does have a killer bod. Anyway, I can't just go for a walk on the beach with her. No, we have to go on a 5 mile uphill (preferably all the way) hike, at super-speed. It's like she's trying to prove something to me, but I never get what it is. She's in better shape than I am? I get that, but we don't have to have a race to figure that one out.

She's always trying to get me to lose weight, which basically pisses me off. Which I have told her it does. She compares it to smoking, "you know, I just care about your health. If you smoked, I would try to get you to quit."

Okay, I see her point, but there's quite a bit more going on than that. For one, I can't just quit eating, and for two, my being overweight doesn't affect anyone but me. As selfish as it sounds, the times I say the most about smoking, is when someone is doing it in front of me, and I don't like the smell.

I don't have a point today people. Just living up to my blog's title I guess.

I didn't want to be an ugly witch this year. I cropped out the other teacher to protect her identity. And besides, she looked better than me. 

The Day After

Dear me.

It's been a busy couple of weeks, and this one is looking to be the same. I have a meeting this morning before school, blah blah blah.

Yesterday everyone dressed up at school. Even though it's junior high, we all still get into it. Except for the few girls that had to change into their PE clothes because their hooker outfits were against dress code, the kids were all pretty cute.

Teaching was another thing. Put people in costumes, and they don't act the way they normally do. And these kids are normally junior high school students. By lunch time I was frazzled, and by three, going out for a drink with my friends later didn't sound as appealing as going to bed early after watching Law and Order on the TV. (I don't get trick or treaters where I live).

Now though, this is the real test. The candy overload. The kids come in hopped up on sugar, without enough sleep, and it's all I can do to get them not to drop the wrappers on the floor. I'm not evil, I only assigned five questions last night, but I bet most didn't even do that. Excuses will abound.

Oh, and I'm getting a cold.

Rah.