flightless hag

waaay too early...

2012-01-27T07:36:00.000-05:00

Was yesterday a holiday, and I missed it? I mean, I'm generally pretty clueless, but...

The lady at the train stop reeked of old beer and cigs, evidence of heavy celebration last e'en
The boys at the next train were all effusing eau de Mary Jane, if you gather my meaning. But again, it was old...
And the dude on the last train was sippin from a 40 - hair of the tail of the dog that bit him, I suppose.

And here I am, recovering from my full evening of sleep. Crashed at 7:30 last night. And I'm not sick. Physically, that is. I remember my mom and kids listening to wheel of morons (see below), and that's it. 4:30 came, as it usually does, and with the rain, I stayed in until 5.

So, these partiers must have been celebrating the fact that I got sleep. After all, the world is hag-o-centric, if you didn't know.

My mom has been having a hard time with this Joe Paterno thing. She doesn't believe that the Jerry guy did anything, but if he did, it was certainly with teenage, almost adult, young men, who probably were in agreement to do whatever he wanted them to do.

Evil like what that dude did does not compute in her mind. She simply cannot believe it happened.

She believes with her whole mind and heart that JoePa did not do anything wrong - that he was utterly blameless in the whole debacle, and was hounded to his death. She is absolutely grieving for this man, this football coach, this "hero."

Don't get me wrong. I don't have a horse in this race. As a Temple alumnus, I have very little understanding of the whole JoePa phenomenon, though I acknowledge that he seems to have been a good man and a great coach. He almost certainly made a bad decision with the pedophile-in-his-ranks thing. He almost certainly was a victim of scapegoat syndrome.

I do find it rather hypocritical that the press villainized Paterno for weeks - practically calling for his head when the scandal came out, and gloating when he got fired. Now, they're suffering from a kind of buyers remorse. I don't think the people of Pennsylvania will forget that these reporters who are lionizing Paterno during the week of his funeral were the same ones to lambast the man for not turning over a third-hand report of possible (probable) evil-doings.

Meanwhile, my mother is going through grief for this man she never met, but who somehow seems to have meant the world to her. So if you know her, give her a call. She's feeling pretty down this week.

And now, I have to grade papers. Joy! Happy friday!

(*)>

We Are Legion

2012-01-18T08:38:00.001-05:00

So, the voices on the subway... not the ones in my head, but the ones that tell where the train is (supposedly), where it's going (eventually), and to step back from the doors... they're automated these days. When I first started taking Septic... err... SEPTA (south eastern pennsylvania transportation authority), they were driver initiated - what you could hear through the static. It was rather Charlie Brown Teacher like back then.

But the automated voices are clear, precise, and usually correct. Sometimes, they put the wrong soundtrack on. Sometimes, they get off by a stop or two. Today, they had on BOTH soundtracks (west and eastbound) at one time - just a pinch of a second off of one another. It was as though the demon voices from the Exorcist had taken residence. And the driver never bothered to fix it.

I always thought when that lady held up the placard in Girard station, the one that said "You're on the Express Train to Hell!", was being metaphorical. Mayhap no?

~~~~~

So, my Mom is staying with us this winter, though it is not nearly so cold or snowy as the ones in recent past. We've been doing well this year. I let her boss me around, mostly, but then I fight back. Nothing like being with your mom for a few weeks to make you feel like a petulant teenager. I don't want fricking butter on my fricking vegetables, woman. I know that's how you roll. I am fat. I prefer my tastiness in dessert. Vegetables are penance, and not meant to be fatty.

In the end, I have to remove my vegetables before she can touch them, and put my hands over them to stop her putting butter on them.

She is very easily offended - any time I do something differently than she would or ignore her passive aggressive suggestions (I would think that Timothy would be practicing his piano now, not reading...) she gets all huffy and closes herself off. I, however, am not so easily insulted, and give her 10 minutes before barging in and asking if she would _____ (some household chore I hate but she will groove on being able to do for me). And all is well again.

In the end, I feel bad. She wants to work; I do not. She cannot work; I can. It frustrates the crap out of her, this being old. In a strange turn, I think my laziness actually encourages her, because she doesn't feel guilty that I'm working so hard when I get home. But still, she harkens to the days of milking in the morning, cleaning all day, and collapsing in an exhausted heap in the evening.

She cannot accept time with any grace whatsoever. She wants it to be 1979 forever.

I wonder what year I will yearn for if I ever have to be that old.

I did take her to see the new Dolly Parton movie this week, and it was an experience. Let us just say that I am glad that people look with bemused tolerance.

She doesn't know how to whisper, and she has no filter.

(when a rather well-endowed young lady is messing around in the kitchen in a housecoat after some... happy times with a young man) "Wow, she's a biggie! I thought for a second that was Oprah!"

(when another gospel music song was being done, complete with dance moves) "Those black people sure can dance!"

et cetera, et cetera (as yul would say).

The first few times, I cringed. Then, I realized, she's *that* little old lady! Not mean, certainly not malicious, just... out of it!

That can't be my mom.

Alas, it is.

Mostly, we're having fun, though John's presence still scares her away. I told him to stop beating her, but there you have it.

And now, it's time to teach the kiddies. Have a good day, and pass it on.

(*)>

Friday Morning Rants

2012-01-13T07:56:00.000-05:00

So, this blog is a place for me to complain, more than I already do. Right?

The place I work is a very old building, and as it is a public property that does not get tourists, it is not very well maintained. Take the bathrooms. They remind me of the bathrooms in the old community building, except there is plumbing. People from Lemon will know whereof I speak. They're dark, cold, dank, the toilet paper holders are barely on the walls, and they're the wrong size for the tp that we get, so it doesn't spin, if you know what I mean.

If this were my place, for real, I'd make some simple changes. I'd put in a toilet paper stand - free standing if you know what I mean - and I'd put real TP in there. We could spring for rolls between us. TP is not that expensive, and to have good stuff would be nice. You know? There's just NOTHING as revolting as using tp and finding it didn't hold up. Or as embarrassing as using too much of the tp for fear of it not holding up, and finding it clogs the crapper.

I'd also put a little corner stand in there, with an extra roll and air freshener.

I already brought in decent hand soap, as I'm allergic to the stuff in the dispenser. Twice this year, actually. It gets used, but I didn't notice anyone rushing to replace it the last time it was gone. Which is why I've done none of the rest of the above.

I really don't like communal things, because people, in general, are creeps. The fridge upstairs is DISGUSTING as is the microwave. I've cleaned both out 2 times since I've been here. WHAT THE HECK, PEOPLE? If you have old food, throw it out! If you spill your milk, well, let me introduce you to a relatively new invention called the NAPKIN. If you have exploded in the microwave, clean it up! There is ABSOLUTELY NO REASON that the turntable in the microwave should CRUNCH as it turns.

I leave you, gentle reader, to consider that statement.

~~~~

Last night at the aviary, we had a tragedy.

The only present the Moth really wanted for christmas was this incredibly complicated LEGO set. A star wars ship. He spent an entire morning of vacation putting the thing together, and it was fantastic. He played with it EVERY DAY.

And last night, as he was flying it, he lost control. He ended up throwing it into the wall. He started to breathe very heavily - the pre cry - and it just about broke my heart. Especially since the directions for making it got thrown out.

So I sat for about 20 minutes, trying to figure out what went where, Mothy crying, Mom hovering (and pissing me off, till I asked her to stop watching me, to which she said she was going to go home, sigh, I am no diplomat, for sure), and Stinky actually feeling bad for his brother for once.

Then I remembered the internet. And spent the rest of the night fixing the Slave Ship 1.

And I felt like a hero. :)

(*)>

It's Gameshow Time!

2012-01-08T07:53:00.000-05:00

Well, it’s that time of year again! Birdmom has landed atthe aviary. With her come cookies,candy, and lots of television. The Moth, in particular, has developed the tasteof watching game shows with Grandma from 7-8, daily.

Now, most of us are fine with Jeopardy. Stinky will shoutout answers from whatever room he’s in (Bird Mom, like most seniors, has noproblem with her hearing. Really. She just likes to have the television a little… loud). Isimply put on headphones or Harvey hearing (the enviable ability to ignore alloutside aural stimuli is fantastic!)

But for some reason, wheel of fortune annoys me, and Stinky,to no end. I have taken to calling it Wheel of Morons. Not that the people onit are morons. I simply hate that show.

At the dinner table last night, the Moth was asking why heand grandma hadn’t been able to watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. It was, ofcourse, Saturday, and these bastions of television entertainment only showMonday through Friday. So Stinky came up with this skit – his very own episodeof Wheel of Morons. Believe it or not, all of these puns and silliness camefrom Stinky. I’ve just added the punctuation. The sarcasm gene runs strong inthe Hag family.

Wheel of morons!!

(We cut to the middle of the show, where the currentunfinished puzzle is: “TH_ COW SAYS _OO!” and our contestant, Nelson Numbskull, has just gotten thewheel)

Nelson: I’d like to buy a vowel!

Pat: Go ahead

Nelson: How about a T?

Pat: (sighs) T is not a vowel.

Nelson: OK then, how about an R?

Pat: (closes eyes, breathes deeply) R is not a vowel, either.

Nelson: Can I buy a consonant, then?

Pat: (Glares) We don’t sell consonants, only vowels!

Nelson: Oh, (pauses) too bad. I was going to buy Asia.

Pat: (rolling eyes) Asia is a CONTINENT not a CONSONANT

Nelson: Huh? Well, anyway, I think I can solve the puzzle!

Pat: (excited at the prospect of this torture ending) goahead then

Nelson: “THE COW SAYS BOO!”

Pat: (bonks head on announcers’s desk) Must Get JeopardyJob!

Pretty funny, huh? Does he have a future writing for mad?

(*)>

Overheard at the Dusty Aviary Dinner Table...

2012-01-05T18:23:00.000-05:00

(double post... also on Facebook... but this one is too good to forget)

Mothman: "Sean, do you like the 69ers?"
Mom: "The WHO WHAT NOW??"
Mothman: "The 69ers! They're a sports team!"
Stinky: "Do you mean the 76ers? Or the 49ers?"
Mothman: "Yeah! The 49ers! Mom? Why are you laughing?? Mom?"

So the cold has made its way to the dusty aviary. It is stupid cold. I have found out that leather doesn't quite cut the train-platform winter wind. So, I'm gonna be a good capitalist and buy a new coat. Got to get rid of some of my old ones, anyhow - size too huge for me to ever wear again. I'm fat again, but still 40 less than I was when I wore those coats. So, Out with them!!

New Scientist continues to entertain... in "yeah, that's logical. Hey, people get paid to study that?" news, it seems that going to a SNAKE CHARMER instead of a DOCTOR when you get bitten by a poisonous snake is likely to lead to death.

Go figure.

I wonder if there was an NSF grant to figure that one out. Sheesh.

Elsewhere, it seems someone has done some long term studies that show that athletes who take part in marathons, triathlons, and alpine cycling risk damaging the right ventricle of their heart, which pumps blood to the lungs. Five of 40 such athletes studied developed permanent scarring of the chamber. Sorry if either of those are subscriber only.

This of course is good news to me. I only need the smallest of excuses to cut running down!!

Well, I have to go finish up a powerpoint. Later, gators!

(*)>

Just when you thought it was safe to visit the aviary...

2011-12-29T15:38:00.000-05:00

You’veasked for it, suckas…

The RogersChronicles 2011

Our Almost AnnualNewsless Newsletter

Things didn’tchange much in 2011. But we’llmanage to drag this out for a page or five, anyhow.

Betsy got fired.Well, they told her that the school was “changing format”, but we know whatthat really means. Luckily for her (but unluckily for the poor children ofPhiladelphia) she’s a card-carrying union member, and as such, they couldn’tjust fire her. They had to push her off on another school. Her philosophy?“More victims! Woo Hoo!!”

John managed tokeep his employment this year, but is certain it will end. The apocalypse iscoming, we tell you, and you’d better not trust the banks. Surprisingly, thereare no militia groups in Southeastern Pennsylvania for John to join, but he’sbeen thinking hard about joining the NRA. Too bad they charge money.

The house continuedto be a big proponent of entropy – things breaking left and right, and usfixing them only when necessary. We have become the “tare weight” of theneighborhood: that house that parents point out and say, “kids, you never wantto live like that!”

They seem to haveno problem, however, sending their cherubs to play in the “back yard” whereStinky and the Moth keep their “fort.” John and Betsy are thinking they oughtto get waivers signed, however, as the “fort” is becoming a bit unkempt (cuedeep harmonica music…)

Boys Parasailing

Sean’s fort isbeginning to look Fred Sanford’s back yard. He and Tim collect other people’sgarbage and stow it back there, big things like broken grills and old officefurniture. When the neighbors complain, John has to figure out how to throwthis stuff away.

John keepsthreatening to destroy the fort with a chain saw and burn the remnants. But the fort is made from treated wood,and the EPA has rules about that sort of thing: it should be cut up and thrownin a landfill so it will pollute the groundwater.

Other than thestrange hoarding tendencies, the boys are absolutely angelic. Cherubim andSeraphim. Perfect in every way.


Sean really is an angel!

Right.

At the end of thelast school year, Betsy fielded a call from the school counselor. Thechicken-scratch hieroglyphics that Tim calls his “handwriting” nearly got himfitted for a cripple-brace that would force him to keep his fingers in theappropriate positions (and would naturally make him the most popular kid in thethird grade). Therapists were called in to evaluate him at taxpayer expense(this is a pattern) and noted that this special boy was jittery and couldn’tsit still.

How did theynotice?

Even when asked towait quietly for a few seconds, the therapist noted (from behind a two waymirror) that he could not help but swing wildly between two chairs like amonkey. District psychiatrists were alerted and straightjackets wereordered. To make matters worse, Tim stated he preferred running and playingoutside to schoolwork.

He likes to move it move it.

Very strange.

The therapistrecommended quiet video game playing several hours a day to soften him up. Andfor our part: only one soda for the boy at breakfast.

Sean is keeping theschool psychologists busy as well. His musical tastes leave something to bedesired (he had to inherit that from Betsy), but that is common at this age. Hetreated us to one earworm that had the memorable line “I hate my life and Iwant to die…I ain’t got no iPhone.” Our genius son thought it would be fun towrite this out on the cover of his school notebook. His friends thought thiswas cool.

“Well son,” repliedDad, “Your friends are wrong.”

“But Dad, they wereright about Santa Claus!”

Of course, Sean’s teachersaw what Sean had written. Now if you are thinking that this is the kind ofthing school psychologists live for, you’d be right. They train for this stuff.They swooped in to rescue him, and even called us at home. They pleaded: whydidn’t we just get him a cell phone before he does something rash?

Sean’s notsuicidal, not even with John and Betsy as parents. Adolescence is not here yet.

Thus the therapistsand psychologists have joined the long line interventional social workers thatlook down their noses at the Rogers’ parenting regimen.

Which is not such abad thing. If they were looking up their noses at us that would make usboogers. J

John and the boystoured western North Carolina, learning about Native American culture in atraditional casino in Cherokee country. Chief Vinny Testalone introduced theboys to "racket tearing," a traditional Indian method of basketweaving or cat skinning or something. Sean took notes but refuses divulge thedetails, Timmy’s notes are illegible. John was out, following “free drinks”signs around the casino.

John also fell for one of the biggest scams around: gem mining. These are aboutas common in western North Carolina as wedding chapels are in Vegas. What a scam. Theboy sifted through $10 bags of sand to find colored pieces of glass (the"emerald" stones still had traces of beer bottle paint on them). Dad almost escapedat that point, but the boys were ushered in to see the "expert gemstoneappraiser," who informed the boys that their finds were "extraordinary."

Remarkable.

Again, Dad almostescaped with his wallet and some dignity, but the boys were alerted to theastonishing fact that the gemstone shakedown business was right next to afly-by-night jewelry making "factory."

Result? John andhis money were soon parted, paying $60 for a pair of mommy earrings that hecould have gotten at Walgreens for $5. But they made a great Christmas gift!Oops… sorry Betsy.

Santa is Watching - Be Good!

Hope your Christmas wasfilled with booty (Betsy: “John, booty means something completely differentthese days.” John: “You and your new-fangled slang. Can’t even stop nagging mefor the Christmas letter, can you?”) and that you have a new year.

The Rogers

John, Betsy, Sean, Tim,Titus, Loki, the vole under the garage, and various camel crickets.

Snippets Heard On the Path More Taken

2011-11-24T13:13:00.001-05:00

I honestly thought I'd miss being home for Thanksgiving. But it's a beautiful day, and I just took a really long walk through autumn sunshine, listening to George Winston and the like. Gorgeous.

I wasn't alone on my walk. There were dozens of folks out, enjoying a pre or post turkey stroll.

Here are some of the snippets of conversation I eavesdropped in on. Can you guess which were from groups of women, and which were from groups of men?

"Oh, god, if they're not having any wine, I'll just DIE. I hope they have good magazines."

"That was a great game. Did you see the tackle?"

"You're not being mean. You're being honest. You can't move forward in life unless you have honesty."

"Son, if we walk more, we have room to eat more."

"You'll see the return when the market goes up."

Genders really are different! And who's not giving thanks for that?

Happy turkey day!

(*)>

Why bother?

2011-11-21T18:10:00.001-05:00

So, it's been a day of Why Bother? for me.

First, I remember that the Moth's diarrhea project... errr... diorama project is due tomorrow. Of course, these things are never for the kids. They're for the parents. Yes, he read the damn book. I made him. I quizzed him on it. He knows that the monkey did it, even if he was led down the garden path by the red herrings planted throughout the story.

So, as soon as I got home, I started putting together the stupid diorama. He helped. He did. I made sure he did enough of it that it really looks like he did a lot of it... if you know what I mean.

Stupid ass projects. You elementary teachers who assign this crap? I hate you. I hated you as a student when everyone else brought in these wonderful projects their parents helped them with, and I brought in the crap that I did alone because my mom and dad were too busy actually doing real work to make a diorama. I hate you as a parent because I can't let my kids go in with complete crap projects, like the ones I had, so I waste my precious time gluing stupid paper in a stupid shoe box. It's POINTLESS. Tim didn't learn ANYTHING from the shoebox he didn't already know. And if he had to do the whole thing himself? He'd have ended up in TEARS.

I have to ask myself, why bother? And on that note

I spent quite a bit of time today translating this cartoon I had made from overheads to powerpoint. It took forever, but the kids have always found it entertaining. It explains the formation of salts in a very cheesy way. In powerpoint, I even gave it a cheezy soundtrack.

I was showing it to Stinky, because it's kind of funny, when John pipes in, "sounds like you're venus fly trap!"

I replied back, "Screw you."

He's like, " I don't think you know what I'm talking about!"

I said, "yeah, I do know what you're talking about. You made fun of it for months." And he did, talking about how stupid it sounded, and how pointless. Why would anyone think those kind of analogies would teach chemistry.

"I do remember, and I repeat. Screw you." Because you just called me stupid and pointless, by association.

Jackass.

You know, I was in a good mood when I left school today. Grrrr.

(*)>

conundrums

2011-11-18T08:37:00.001-05:00

So, I'm sitting in my homeroom, freezing my patootie off. My room doesn't have much heat, which is normally fine, because lots of sardines in a can tend to make the temp go up.

But I've been sitting here, grading and planning, since 7am. And I am cold. My toes are numb. I'm wearing winter gear, but it's to no avail.

I have a big cup of DnD coffee, and I've been sipping on it. It's still warm (thank you wonderful Styrofoam) so it should do the job.

Problem... I have to pee. Bad.

what to do what to do???

And it's Friday. Finally. This week has been eternal. Not sure why... not bad, just endless. I think it's because last week was 3 days and next week is 3 days. Alas. Workin for a livin is a good song, but not such a fun concept. Up news, though, is that I've put my Christmas music on my ipod. I have over 1000 christmas pieces, and most of them are not "santa baby" etc. Though, some of them are. Guilty pleasure? You bet. Now, it's time for homeroom to end. Bathroom, here I come!!

Corruption? Nevah!

2011-11-17T10:08:00.001-05:00

Back in 2007, a bridge collapsed in Minnesota. 13 people were killed. This led to a lot of engineers going around the country and checking out bridges... targeting for replacement.

Shortly after that, PA decided to fix up the Schuylkill river bridges and 476 corridor surrounding them. This was dubbed "blue route improvement," and started well before I left the computer industry (December 2007).

On the way up to my mom's place, in NEPA, there's a bridge, also on 476, over the Lehigh river. It's crazy high, spans another creek with some crazy indian name, and used to give me the chills. They started replacing that one in 2009, I believe. They had to build completely new spans, blow away part of a mountain, and safely divert traffic off of the sagging spans.

The Lehigh project is just about done.

The Schuylkill project has no end in sight.

Do you think there might be some kind of something going on in the background? Job for life kind of stuff?

~~~~

Meanwhile, in birdland, we are getting ready for the holidays. Mothy is totally OBSESSED with "boba fett slave ship 1" from Lego. I warned him earlier this year that if I stepped on any more LEGOs, he would never get a new set. The floor remains lego free. He keeps coming and begging "Mom, if I give up four presents, can I get the slave ship?" My answer is always something to the effect of "it's so expensive" or "I think you have enough legos already, don't you?" or, the dreaded "we'll see." Of course, it's already under my bed. But he's given up, I think.

At least he can't put an eye out with it.

Stinky on the other hand has nothing he's asked for. Really! We are at a loss. He wants video games that are way too violent for him. He obsesses enough over war. Doesn't need new fodder for that! At least he's stopped drawing "Bob Chuck Jones:" a cartoon character Sean made up who has tattoos on his face, piercings through eyebrows, ears, lips, and nose, bucked teeth, crossed eyes, a bad haircut, and a prison jumpsuit (he's always behind barbed wire, too). Bob Chuck Jones (like all nefarious dudes, he has three names. What is Jerry Sandusky's middle name, anyhow?) has the distinction of being a complete moron whilst simultaneously being a terrorist mastermind.

OK, I just lost my vision. This is really weird. Everything is white. And I have to teach in something like tenminutes. But this shows I can type without looking, right? Or did I just type gibberish. Aah, here's some vision back. looks ok.

Time to talk about periodic trends! Joy!

(*)>

More mad science

2011-11-16T09:25:00.001-05:00

According to New Scientist, China has a "one up" on the good old USofA. "During a visit to the UK... (some chinese dude) promised that [his] country would never release as much CO2 per person as the US... on average, every Chinese person emits less than half as much as the average American."

OK, but let's do the wayback machine... a few months ago, they were touting how China was going to get running water to all of its citizens someday - something like 20% of them don't even have that now.

Add to that: china has 3x as many people as the US.

Per person who is ACTUALLY USING MODERN TECHNOLOGY, I'll bet the chinese are dumping 1.5x the amount of CO2 as the average american, simply because they use crap coal plants, almost exclusively, to produce electricity.

Whenever I read crazy people talking about "how the liberal media lies", I want to laugh. Then I read something like this.

~~~~~

The same issue of New Scientist had an entire article devoted to "wrongful life" lawsuits.

It seems that there are a growing number of people who SUE the baby doctors when their children are born "not perfect". An example: a California couple sued for (and won) 4.5 million because their child was born with no legs and 1 arm. They were never told this physical abnormality existed, and it should have been caught in the ultrasound.

Question for those folks: would you have aborted the baby if you knew it didn't have legs? How on earth do you think your child will feel, knowing you sued because he exists? Daggone. I guess I lose the bad mom of the week award, again.

Meanwhile, in Israel, a growing number of CHILDREN are suing doctors for wrongful life. Because of the small genetic pool in Israel, recessive genetic abnormalities are expressed more often. And so, these kids say, they shouldn't have been forced to live imperfectly...

I totally understand, monetarily, why people would do this. But emotionally? I don't get it.

(*)>

Let’s Talk Uniforms

2011-11-09T07:42:00.002-05:00

Almost every day, I see the usual suspects on the train.There’s “that poor kid” (who I believe, from my observations, is going tocollege, working, and taking care of a 1 year old boy), “sleeping dude” (selfexplanatory), getting-ready-to-retireIndian guy, and chef girl.

How do I know she’s a chef? She wears those silly black andwhite checked pants.

I don’t know why chefs wear those pants, though a quickinternet search would probably tell me. I’m gonna guess it’s a French thing. Though,why we would follow the French in terms of uniforms is anyone’s guess. I mean,these are the dudes that refused to change theuniform of their soldiers in WWI to camouflage simply because it wasunfashionable. “Les pantaloons rouge, c’est la France!” was the rally cry – itroughly translates to “red pants, that’s France!” Completely bonkers in an eraof modern weapons, and in addition, the white cross of their pack acted like anice bulls-eye for the German snipers.

Uniforms, in general, are kind of silly in civvie life.Think of the folks who wear uniforms in the non-combatant world. There’s theentire health industry. They have to wear those crazy scrubs, and even then,they do everything they can to change it up. Come on, you know you’ve seenevery kind of scrub from the plain colors to every cartoon character known toman.

There are subtle uniforms out there, too. I live near acollege, and every year, it amuses me to watch the kids wear the same clothes,with just a tiny bit of difference. Kids with their own sense of style aretruly few and far between. Thisdoesn’t change when they graduate. Watching the young and upcomers trudge towork, I see the uniform idea going strong. There’s a sense that these folks aretrying to hide themselves in sensory whitewash – we’ve got the pseudo-suit, theproper accessories, and the hair, oh the hair – uniform uniform uniform. Theyeven cover their own scent with something someone tells them to buy.

Even though they’ve all surrendered, becoming part of thecorporate uniform, they do try to throw some “uniqueness” into the situation,maybe with color, maybe with bling. It kind of reminds me of an old Far Sidecomic strip.

Perhaps I’m just jealous. I have no sense of style, andthere is no teacher uniform. I did ok in the computer world – fit right in withmy worn out, ill-fittting clothes in mismatched colors. Now? I look around thetrain and see that I don’t fit any of the uniforms. I’m not sure, but I thinkmaybe that’s a good thing.

(*)>

Not Looking Forward to Needing More Help Looking Forward…

2011-10-27T06:49:00.003-05:00

So, I’m in my 40’s now. I hear this is when you need to getreading glasses. Problem? I already have coke-bottles because I can’t see crapfar away.

I am NOT looking forward to bifocals.

But now there’s this new app coming for my pretty iPhone.It’s called GlassesOff,and according to New Scientist, it actually works. Psyched!

Then again, that same edition of NS told me that globalwarming really can lead to more earthquakes, volcanoes, and tsunamis. Their reasoning is sound- if the icecaps melt, mountains under them will have less weight on them, and seas willhave more weight. This change in mass distribution will put more stress on thefaults, causing more stress = more quakes etc. Though I’ve no concept of thescale. It’s like trying to imagine the number of atoms in a pound of chocolate.

Mmm. Chocolate.

Anyway, because NS makes endless fun of anthropomorphicclimate change skeptics, I tend to discount their GW articles. If your onlydefense against your opponent is to call him a moron, your arguments are notsound.

~~~~~

Halloween is just around the corner. Stinky and the moth arepushing for gorier costumes every year, and longer routes for candying.

Stinky has chosen to be a gladiator. I’ve been trying to gethim to do the whole Russel Crowe thing, but he’s more into the 300 version ofthings (no, he’s not seen either flick. Butwho on earth has missed the This Is Sparta thing?) Of course, I’ve pointed outhis costume is Roman, but he’s in the Percy Jackson phase – only Greek will do.

The Moth, on the other wing, has picked a Grim Reaper costume . But instead of resembling Mr. Grim (here about the reaping), it more likens to Orco, from He Man.

When I pointed this out, Mr. Mothy was not amused.

I should be grading papers right now, but my septa drivermade me totally sick today. I’ve got the windows in my room open (it’s 58degrees out), I’m sipping diet pepsi, (at 7:30am), and every time I try toread, my eyes cross.

Or maybe it’s the papers. Jeezum Crowe. How hard is it tocalculate ionic charge? Simple Math Folks. Sheesh. They overthink everythinghere. Such a nice change!!!

Well, back to trying to grade. Sheesh.

(*)>

Family Fun!

2011-10-15T07:21:00.000-05:00

It’s been a while since I updated on tales of Stinky and theMoth… so here goes!

Stinky has decided that girls are different… and possiblyinteresting. Fifth grade is, apparently, the year this happens. So, when wewere picking up stuff at the local Target (pronounced tar-jhay’), he asked ifhe could have body spray and hair gel.

Stinky is, quite literally, stinky these days, as he playswith his Axe (now, come on, that is not a euphemism). Of course, his interestin females has not changed his base personality, and if he had to choosebetween hanging with his crush and going to a horror-fest, well, the gore wouldwin.

(Blood-gore -Not alGore - Gore… I’m waiting probably 2 or 3years for his faux-environmental attitude to kick back in. It’s taken a backburner these last few years, ever since I told him that being environmentalmeant not using electricity, so instead of TV or music, we could WALK to thelibrary and check out some books to READ (not listen to). )

Mothy, on the other hand, has always thought girls wereinteresting. He’s now in the third grade, and every day he has encounters witha rare beast: the male elementary school teacher. Mr. Sullivan is Mothman’s newhero. Every night it’s tales of what Mr. Sullivan said or did – often embarrassingto the kids in class. But the boys love it. It’s a different kind of nurtureand Moth is thriving. The boys in the class seem to give this guy props becausehe speaks their language – lots of boy humor seems to abound – and he makesthem laugh.

Unfortunately, all this joviality is giving the Tim monstera reason to practice a new laugh, kind of like those monkeys in the wild whohave their own unique shriek as a “calling card”. His laugh of the week isloud, forced, fake, and determined to garner as much attention as possible.(What, gentle, quiet Tim wants to be the center of attention? Not mywallflower! Oh My! Snert.) I first heard this laugh in the middle of Bertucci’sthe other night. As did every other customer in the place.

Just keep telling yourself, it’s only a phase, and all theother boys in Mr. Sullivan’s class are doing the same. Really. It’s not just your kid.

Sigh.

The other resident of the house, one Chief Dirty Bird, hastaken to cooking a new kind of cuisine. In his efforts to be a good ambassadorfor Captain Planet (who else remembers that bad cartoon?), he’s been feeding usa more LOCOVORE diet. What is this you ask? It’s the diet I grew up with,basically. Eat what you grow, or what grows locally and doesn’t need to beshipped. We do the latter. Theboys now grumble “but we don’t WANNA be locovores” as they choke down zucchinisurprise. But this is not zucchini that I grew. No, siree. This is pucchinithat we PAID for. I pause to let you wonder at this travesty: people paying forzucchini. Yes, living in the suburbs makes you crazy enough to pay for crappyfood.

Why aren’t I growing this nasty stuff, instead of buying it?(after all, we have a huge plot of land for subarbanites). It seems that, inaddition to my being lazy, I have a completely black thumb. We’ve grown herbsfor years, successfully. This year, we tried a few other things. My tomatoplants flourished! They had lots of flowers! They never had a tomato.

Heck, we can’t even grow freaking pumpkins! Everyone knowsgourds are a weed in PA, but our huge vines, which produce dozens of flowers,only produced one, tiny pumpkin. John actually BOUGHT a pumpkin from a localand put it in our pumpkin vine to make it LOOK like we grew a big one. Yes, hereally did. (John, don’t bother trying to deny it. I can take pictures asproof.)

I blame the lazy-ass bees not pollinating the plants. That’smy story, and I’m sticking to it.

And if you’re still reading, and want to read more (Yes,Please!), I’ve a non-family update below. Saturday mornings are so nice!

(*)>

October Subway Tales

2011-10-15T07:20:00.002-05:00

Well, who would have believed that riding the subway wouldgive me so much fodder for thought and blathering?

Of course, I have always done much blathering, so that isnot the issue. I just don’t remember the sub being such an interesting place. Iremember it being a dirty, smelly place. But not an interesting place.

It is not nearly as dirty or smelly as it was in the late80s. Believe it or not, the concourse betwixt the Blue line and the Orange line(you Phillyites will know whereof I speak) actually smells… CLEAN. Like theyclean it… a lot! It’s still dingy LOOKING, but it doesn’t smell like cleanerover filth. It just smells clean.

It still confounds me.

Yesterday, as I went to take the sub home, I ran into one ofmy students. This is not a rarity – I ride home with my students every day.However, this was a seventh period student… who had not been in my seventhperiod class.

Well, now. How evil can I be?

The conversation ended with him trying to bargain with me.(This, after trying to convince me he had been in class and my old head justdidn’t remember. I have had 2 children skip my class this year, son. Iremember.) If I could just callhis parents. They would punish him. Please don’t put a mark on his record.

I told him, “Kid, you know, I don’t mind that you skipped myclass. People make choices to follow or ignore rules every day. And we needboth kinds of choices in the world. The deal is, you have to be able to handlethe consequences WHEN you get caught. You’re losing my respect not because youcut my class, but because you’re afraid to handle the results of your decision.Man up.”

(And I really did use almost those exact words. Having totalk in front of people 5 hours a day has done wonders for my eloquence.)

He looked at me with a mixture of resolve and chagrin. Iwasn’t budging, but he could deal. And I think he got the message… I hope hedid.

~~~~~

I also ran into, or rather, sat next to a caricature on thesub. Really! The young gentleman seemed to be in his twenties. He was wearingall black, including Doc Martens and a black beret. He was hairy, and justslightly unwashed. He carried a black messenger bag, with a button on it in redthat read “No downsizing! No Layoffs! No Conformity!” His beret bore a buttonthat said: “The People are the Power” or some such nonsense. His bookmark wassome advertisement for a rally about universal healthcare, and he was reading abook called “The best of Lenin.” Not Lennon, which I could dig, but Lenin, theauthor of modern genocide.

Power to the people, indeed.

He was also quite hefty, meaning he has most likely nevermissed a meal in Mommy and Daddy’s house.

I found him quite humorous, going home to the suburbs afterprotesting in Philly all day. We’re a day late and a dollar short, but we nowhave our own “occupy “ protests, like all the real, big cities. There are,quite literally, dozens of people around city hall, daily.

Those people seem to protest nothing so much as the baddecisions of college students everywhere: going to overpriced institutions andmajoring in studies that are unsustainable in a working culture.

Dollars to donuts, ProtestBoy majored in philosophy and ispissed that he’s not a professor at Harvard right now. Not that I thinkphilosophy is bad, or unnecessary, but if you choose to study that, be preparedto be unemployed or serving coffee.

I like my barista to have a Masters of Art. Makes me feelall sorts of culcha-ed, when I sip my latte.

Birdbrain, out.

(*)>

It must be fate...

2011-10-07T06:46:00.002-05:00

I've come more and more to believe in fate, or Deus ex Machina, or whatever you want to call it, as I grow older. Things, good and bad, happen for a reason.

Now, you might think I've gone all philosophical here, but hear me out. Take this morning, for example. I came back from my run cold, so I made the coffee, drank a cup, and jumped into a hot shower. I was still cold, so I took a cup with me, thinking to drink on the train. But, being the moron that I am, I left it in the car. And being the uber moron that I am, I didn't even realize it.

As soon as I got to the train platform, I decided to get out my quizzes and grade, since I crashed last night and didn't grade. These quizzes were very short, only 1/4 of a piece of paper (and, yes, there is a difference between magnesium and manganese), so I could hold them in my hand and grade. So convenient! Especially as I had two hands free... still wasn't missing the java.

So I graded, and graded, and graded... 100+ papers later, I'm done. Why haven't I reached my stop yet? Oh, there's a broken down train in front of me. Hey, where's my coffee? Crap I forgot it. But that's ok. I don't really need it.

I go up the steps of the train to my school and realize I've arrived in that no-man's land time. If you get here before 7, the side door is open for teachers. If you get here after 7:15, the front door is open for students. I got here at 7:05.

There's a Dunkin Donuts 4 blocks away.

I'm telling you, this all screams of a master plan to me! My papers are graded, I have superior caffeine, and my headphones are rocking Disturbed this morning (I really like their latest album). If my own plan had been followed, I would have drunk my coffee on the train, been late to school, and not gotten the quizzes graded.

Somehow, I doubt it can be carried to macro-scale. I'm not sure what the master plan is for my wonderful student who is dying of brain cancer. Or for the people in my hometown who lost their homes and/or livelihoods to flood a few weeks ago. But you know, I've always been a tree person. I don't see the forest. And if there's some kind of master plan to make me feel better today, I'll bet there's something good that comes out of those other things. I'm just not bright enough to see it.

Speaking of this new-found philosophical depth, any ladies who are older than I am who happen to read this... is there some sort of return to puberty that comes in your 40s? I'm finding myself sad or happy for no apparent reason... thinking philosophically... I am not used to this emotion stuff. And I'm getting pimples again. This is not cool. It does end again, right?

(*)>

Oh, Really??

2011-10-05T06:47:00.000-05:00

So, last night at supper, Stinky dropped a term that totallyhad Dad and I in stitches.

After swallowing his bite of roast beast, he turns to me andsays (with no preamble): “I know what we’ll do! We’ll tea-bag it!”

At which point I spurt diet coke out my nose. Daddy looked at me in accusation: what was I teaching the heir??

See, a number of years ago, I had a co-worker who introducedme to all the latest slang. Much of it was not fit for polite company. One day,he came in complaining about his kid’s chemistry teacher… or maybe it wasEnglish. Anyhow, this b-word would not accept Junior’s assignment because ofsome completely ludicrous reasoning. My co-worker said, and I quote, “I told Vhe should just tea-bag the bitch.”

I, of course, had to ask what this term meant, and it’s lefta rather graphic yet somehow humorous image in my mind.

It seems that Sean’s making a “colonial journal”. He has tomake it look authentic.

Even though Monday and Tuesday are dad homework nights (Itake wed and thu), Sean approached me about this project he has for school. Apparently,although I haven’t a creative bone in my body and John’s an artist, I help morewith these projects. So, I’m the go to parent.

He wanted to print up his journal entry (which I had himtype before dinner, but had tuned out what he needed the typing for), crumpleit a bit, STAIN THE PAPER WITH A TEA BAG, and burn the edges, which issomething we had done for a project for him a few years ago.

I really don’t need the image of my baby Sean knowing whatteabagging is. Really.

So I guess I’m not the worst mom in the world. Today’scandidate for that award is the woman who, in 1995, named her kid John Holmes.That is just cruelty beyond belief. Talk about unreasonable expectations!

Queen of the Nerds

2011-09-30T08:46:00.002-05:00

So, I'm living and breathing science these days. I have a promethean board... that's a smart chalkboard that talks to my computer. So all of my lessons are going into powerpoint, with embedded problems, hyperlinks, etc. And I'm trying like crazy to make them interesting. Who likes boring powerpoint?

My school is FanTastic for the technology. But for the older stuff? We have 7 balances for the whole school. We only have 8 meter sticks. No working stop watches, one tiny weight set. No molecular model kits. A few bar magnets... it's so sad.

So, I've been buffering up my supplies. Some of the stuff I had from when John's old company was closed. They threw stuff out, I had him bring it home, I've taken most of it to school. I've been an Amazon Rewards maven - haven't used my rewards in years, but now they're all gone. Bought school supplies with them. Things like magnifying glasses and stop watches.

But where do I get things like cenrifuges? Or super magnets? Huh?

Went to throw away my Sonicare toothbrush head this morning, and looked at the bottom. Hey, what do you know? Those magnets look pretty strong. Sure enough, they are.

If you have an old centrifuge you're dumping, any balances of any sort? let me know?

Environmental Grouch

2011-09-25T07:40:00.002-05:00

I’m not environmentally friendly. I like beef, electricity,and plastic. While I understand the need to conserve resources, I get rathervexed when some young punk comes round my way, knocks on my door, interrupts myviewing of Jerry Springer, and attempts to lecture me on the “right” way to live.

Piss. Off.

But what nettles me more is when there is inherent hypocrisyin the proselyte. Take AlGore for example. He makes this big movie about carbonemissions, the entire time FLYING AROUND the STINKING EARTH in FIRST CLASSseats in AIRPLANES. Last time I checked, they burned fuel, and none too efficiently.Ever heard of WEBCASTS, Al? I mean, for real for real, didn’t you invent theinternets?

Today, I was out for my morning jog (back up to 3 miles at ashot! Yipee!) when I noticed, in the rare sunlight, the new addition to ourstreets. At every street drain, someone has spray-painted a message: “Nodumping! This is our drinking water! Be Green!”

Let me repeat. At the, well, let me pull out my recentlydusted-off OOM skills – about 100 inlets in my bedroom community, some moronhas used aerosol paint, which will eventually leach into the water, in order tocommand me not to pollute the water by dumping toxins on my residential street.DUH.

Just call me Oscar. I think I’ll go for a joy ride today,just to even things out.

(*)>

Insurance and Writing Feuds

2011-09-17T07:20:00.000-05:00

Two totally different rants for this beautiful autumn morning. Got to get this agita out, as I couldn't run this am (John left for work... no one to watch the kiddies!)

~~~~~

Yesterday, I arrived at school to see donuts on the counter. They were there, courtesy of the school workers - you know, the ones who scan the kids into the building, take care of attendance, lunchroom duty, etc, help maintain the atmosphere... your heroes if you're a teacher. They really make the place run so much better.

It seems that Thursday, they all got letters in the mail. Their insurance is gone.

The school district says the union was supposed to inform them. The union says the SDP was supposed to inform them. Meanwhile, the feline escaped from the satchel when some of the aides visited doctors and were presented with bills, since the insurance claims were denied.

Nice.

As awful as this is, how do we fix it?

A very dear friend of mine, a bit older than I am, has had a very recent scare with a very scary disease. It was an awful time for everyone around her. She is getting better, but now, she and her husband are having a hard time keeping jobs, because employers don't want to deal with someone with a "pre-existing condition."

And the list goes on. Unfair to the individual. Completely, utterly unfair.

But at the same time, I can see the point of the companies. SDP is in the hole by hundreds of millions of dollars. Enrollment is DOWN. They've slashed every position known (for example, we have a nurse. We share her with 2 other schools. No school has its own nurse anymore) except for teachers. Wait. They slashed teachers, too. They still can't make budget.

Companies left and right are going under. We all know that a big part of the fall of GM was its crazy benefits and pension programs. Mostly pension, which is gone now, but bennies are another drain on the black.

Is the answer OBAMACARE? Gosh, I fell like I just cursed. I despise the idea of government sponsored anything, let alone health insurance. I guess, if the politicians weren't exempt from it, if they were required the same coverage as the man on the street, maybe I'd trust it. In its current form, however, all obamacare will do is cause companies, like SDP, to drop insurance, so that it can be picked up on the government tab. Which will make everything worse. At the same time, doctors and pharmaceutical companies DESERVE TO MAKE A PROFIT. They aren't in it for charity.

What is the answer? I don't know. I'm starting to understand that line from the Princess Bride: Life's not fair.

~~~~~

The next rant is for my JAFF friends out there. I don't know if any of you ever get here, but you won't find me in JAFF land anymore. It's been long in coming, with some groups requiring I sign a contract to put up my stuff, and others disappearing into infighting.

Last night, one of the other authors on the last site I belong to put a comment on FB that anyone who thinks other Austen heroes should be more Darcy-like are, basically, morons in heat, only concerned with Darcy's hotness, and should cease and desist writing.

There's a reason P&P is the most loved book by JAFF. Darcy is, for many, the most acceptable candidate for modern romantic hero. The rest are old men (George Knightley is a pedophile, but I still love him, and Brandon is also a crusty old bachelor lusting after a teenager. Ick.); impetuous, incestuous, wishy-washy, flim-flam (Really? Edmund and Fannie after all that?), and the unwashed sailor man, who is my only other contender for acceptable modern hero, Captain Wentworth. Sure, she wrote other stuff, but these are the biggies, right?

I was only trying to say that the original rant was pretty harsh, considering, and that her criteria would exclude me as a writer. I don't believe I came across as bashing her, as she was certainly bashing 90% of JAFF authors. I was, inelegantly, trying to remind her of that.

Her comment back, agreeing that it was a good thing that I've, for all intents and purposes, stopped writing, was a slap. I will be the first to admit that I'm not the most talented writer out there. That's why I write FANFICTION and not books on the shelves at B&N. I do have enough of a spine to say, however, that there are people who still request the stuff I've written. It's mind candy, sure, but some people like it. I do not believe that people like me should stop writing just because we aren't highfalutin, metaphor embracing, literary geniuses.

She has since apologized for telling me I'm a talentless lackwit. I'm not so sure it's genuine, more she's sorry that I called her on it. (I sent her a nasty gram. Probably shouldn't have. But I never claimed to be the better person).

My point remains. FANFIC IS FANFIC. It is not literature. It is done for fun by people who like to write and like to read about other possibilities for characters that they love. I am SO SICK of GIRLS ruining my fun! Dammit! That was supposed to stop after high school!

Whoo. I feel better now.

Signs of Health!

2011-09-14T07:08:00.001-05:00

Since I’m riding the train on a daily basis, I’ve takensubscriptions to New Scientist and National Geographic. I was reading NewScientist today… and I am so proud of Europeans. Really!

With a title of “Europe’s Health Gap”, the article lamented the fact thatpsychiatric illnesses are now the biggest source of ill health in Europe.

They say this like it’s a bad thing.

But I say that when depression, anxiety, insomnia (!) andseasonal affective disorder are your worst problems (instead of things like malaria,starvation, TB, etc…), you’re pretty darn healthy. Do you think that someonewho is affected by something like heart disease or yellow fever doesn’t have abit of depression to deal with? But it doesn’t count, because the physicalailment trumps the mental one.

I don’t often like the political bent of New Scientist, butthey sure have some interesting articles.

~~~~~

So, I’m thinking of my brother Johnny this morning. No, notbecause he’s psycho, though he may well be (ha ha), but because I had to breakout my calculator to teach physics. I still have my calculator from senior yearhigh school that he got me. It graphs, and I used it in my first calculusclass. In 1987. It still is a fantastic calculator. It’s no Bomar Brain, but itrocks J.

Thanks, Johnny!

Off to grade labs!

(*)>

The Joys of Public Transport

2011-09-07T17:02:00.000-05:00

And you think I’m saying that sarcastically, don’t you? ButI’m not. I love not having to drive.

My new job, for those not in the know, is right smack dabdowntown. I hop on the train in my backyard, transfer to the sub, et le voila,as the French would say.

45 minutes later, usually, I’m at work, and it’s beenstress-free for me. I can grade, or read, or what not. Usually, I what not.I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, to decide what exactly what not is.

Today, though, was crazytown. It was raining, but it wasn’tjust rain. It was inundation from the heavens. I had said on FB that I skippedmy run this morning, because I thought Thor was just waiting for me to step outfor him to go medieval on my buttocks. These “bands” of storms are practicallybi-polar. It’s dry; it’s a monsoon. So, I fooled Thor. Until I had to go frommy car to the train.

Apparently, he was displeased. So he smote a tree across thetrain lines for the major train. All those folks overflowed onto my train…standing room only. Then, the drunk guy got on.

I ask you, how can you be drunk at 6:45am?

He was talking about money (how much he had, while countingit) and asking if he dropped anything. Repeatedly. While greeting everyone andperforming some unpracticed piece of rap. By the time we got off the train, Ihad been subject to discourse on how that one pretty lady should be a nurse,because pretty nurses are the best… and how the one kid was really tall becausedrunk dude was six one, and looksee, he has to look up at the kid… and howthere is no socioeconomic equality and how 2012 is really gonna happen, justlook at the earthquake we had last week!

The only good part was that, due to the crowd on the train,I couldn’t get close enough to get the waft of Mad Dog.

Enough Already

2011-09-03T21:29:00.002-05:00

It started almost innocently - as every invasive specie does. First there were the GBR stickers and the rest of those euro-lot-stickers... they appeared mostly on pretentious BMW, Volvo, and Jaguar type cars.

But then, they became the scourge of yuppieville.

You can't see an SUV in the burbs without one of those stupid initial stickers pasted on the stern. Usually, it's for some favored vacation place (the 2000's answer to the old "this car climbed mount washington"?). Like I care that your second house that I insure because it keeps getting hit by hurricanes is on LBI or AVI or MB or whatever initials you come up with.

You know the concept has truly jumped the shark, though, because now middle schools are getting in on the game. It used to be that we were lambasted about all the honors students and their alma maters. Now, it's the elusive initial sticker. How the heck am I supposed to know what AMS is and when I get close enough to see I want to slap myself for caring about Apathy Middle School.

I propose a new set of initial stickers... just to demonstrate how stupid the things are...

TMI - no, not too much information, Three Mile Island! Hey, who wouldn't want to vacation there? An island implies a beach, the local environment would give you a GLOWING tan, and hey, don't the XMen have a secret base there or something?

LC - Love Canal. Sounds so... errr... lovely, no?

CNT - a HOT Pennsylvania site, everybody should go there!

CRL - Chernobyl. See TMI.

What stickers would you like to see?

End of Times

2011-08-27T05:57:00.003-05:00

Well, the end of times is here.

Last week, we had a tornado.
Earlier this week, we had an earthquake.
Today is the beginning of a hurricane.
I'm waiting for the announcement of the asteroid/meteorite within a week or so to complete the hat-trick. The SyFy executives are waiting on a Baldwin to sign to start making the multi-mega-disaster movie...

But none of these is as troubling to me as the travesty John made known unto me this morning.

Chilis, our local restaurant, a.k.a. Chuck's (to my kids, as that's where we always met with Uncle Chuck)... the restaurant we always went to for each and every birthday since the kids were little... has burned to the ground. Never mind that we went there solely because it's the only family restaurant around here. (Try taking your two year old out for sushi or indian for his birthday. Right.) We will certainly miss the terrible rendition of the birthday song we always put those poor wait staff through (we do tip well, though).

I've never been big on tradition (except for that song from fiddler on the roof - it's quite catchy, like the plague). But I really loved going to Chuck's, embarrassing the crap out of whoever happened to officially age, and fight for the last bite of that molten chocolate cake.

The end of times, indeed.

(*)>

Nocturnal Emissions?

2011-08-18T14:49:00.002-05:00

No, no, my boys aren't that old, yet.

Today we have a story that is rooted in genetics. In nature vs nurture. In the very make-up of my boy, the Moth.

You see, Mothman is quite an interesting mix of John and me. He's a pistol, for sure. But this is nothing to do with his personality.

Tim can sleep through anything, including walking and talking. He also has a tiny bladder which leads to many journeys in the midnight hours.

The two traits do not mix well.

One time I was woken by John screaming, "Timmy! What are you doing? Why are you peeing on the steps??!?"

I, of course, "slept" through the whole thing, including the cleanup. Being a heavy sleeper is a good alibi, sometimes. But sometimes, it comes back to bite me in the butt.

Today, I was cleaning up and straightening up Grandma Harvey's room. This is a room used when my mom stays with us, and we let the kids watch movies in there when she's not with us. Well, I was straightening up when I smelled something... no it can't be...

Under the table is a set of laundry baskets. In the top basket is a cold yellow puddle.

Got to give the sleepermoth credit: every drop, that I can tell, made it into the basket. The rug does not smell.

But man, the cleanup was gross.

Stinky, of course, laughed at me the whole time. Creep.

Motherhood brings such joys, no?

(*)>

School Daze

2011-08-10T08:22:00.002-05:00

Because I am evil, I make my children do school work in the summer time. Every day, it's math, reading, some LA, and geography. They whine; I cackle. All is well.

Today, the topic of the day for the Moth is compound words. They gave 2 pictures, and he's supposed to come up with the words. Like there's a picture of a pinna and a congo drum - eardrum! So there's a picture of a woman and a grasshopper. Ladybug, right? Nope. According to Tim, it's personhopper. Personhopper. I was like, "Tim, is personhopper a word?" and he replied "I don't know! It could be!"

He's such a charmer.

In other news, Stinky is developing Style. When we were at the beach this summer, he got a shark-tooth necklace. It is worn all the time. But it is incomplete. He has one more key part coming in the mail. What is it? Part of his prize for learning all the states and capitals was a set of dog tags. Dog tags. Why you ask?

He needs them for his army assignment.

Apparently, he's been promoted to captain in his squad of the Kids Creek Army. Which the kids refer to as the KKA.

Maybe I should be harping on spelling this summer?

Anyhow, apparently this army is a big thing for the Lee Circle Gang. I mean, the Moth was getting court marshaled because he didn't do enough of his sentry duty at the central headquarters (that are secret from all people over 18). There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth when this demerit was announced. But Tim stiffened his upper lip and did extra entry duty so that he wouldn't get court marshaled after all.

Where on earth do they get these ideas?

Meanwhile, I am waiting to find out where I am working this year. It's a strange time. I keep looking to the horizon for a big storm. Feels like one's coming. Or maybe my husband's paranoia is rubbing off on me. (no snickers from the juvenile audience.)

Take care, and see you in the funny papers!

(*)>

The Fat Lady, She Has Sung

2011-06-22T13:43:00.003-05:00

Mixed emotions today - my last day at my current school. Things went so crazy, I feel kind of shell-shocked. But I will miss my team, even though I know every single one of them will do well. They all rock!

OK, so I was shopping, and as I was in the checkout line, I was shocked... SHOCKED at the absolute laid-back attitude of the dude next to my check out lady. He said to MothMan - "hey, little Buddy!" Then he looks at me and says to me, "How ya doin, sister?"

Now, this gentleman was, I would say, late fifties? Italian-ish looking. But to call me SISTER? For goodness sakes. We aren't in Nifty Fifties here. You are not doo-wop man. But I smiled and put my card through, thereby purchasing my Diet Dr. Pepper.

As I moved to take my things, I noticed the woman behind me was a nun.

:)

Sister, indeed.

And speaking of weird coincidence, last week, when I was getting some brownies for the church picnic (oops, forgot to make them!), I went to the wrong car.

Now, for most, this is excusable. But not for me. Those of you who know me know I drive the ghetto-mobile. An older subaru outback with a DOOR PANEL missing.

This was ANOTHER outback- same color - ALSO with a door panel missing! Whoda thunk? Wonder if theirs smells like old sock?

And now, off to hunt for jobs. Again. Sigh.

(*)>

Going Green

2011-05-31T06:27:00.003-05:00

We in the dusty aviary have been undergoing the green revolution. Whether it's Stinky with his incessant lectures on saving the environment (as he whines to be driven up to the library, which is an easy walk), or the Moth who is so concerned with water conservation that he refuses to bathe - right until we push his smelly butt in the shower, or John, who has decided that tissues are made of paper, and boogers are green, so his recycle bin is now the grateful recipient of his used tissues (think about that next time you use a Starbucks recycled cup!).

We've got the "talk it, don't walk it" green attitude down, pat.

I've found my useful contribution. After much consideration, I've decided to stop mowing the grass so often.

Now, you might think this is because I'm lazy. This is, after all a truism. I am lazy. But that is not my impetus for this stance.

You could believe that I refuse to mow because I'm cheap. Gas is, after all, 4 smackers a gallon right now, and our mower uses an infernal combustion engine. But, alas, I'm not trading in the Scooby-Roo for a Prius, or even a SEPTA pass.

No, it's all about the carbon emissions. You see, grass is a producer. It's an autotroph. As such, it's an eater of the carbon dioxide. Shearing it minimizes its photosynthetic prowess! Therefore, it is wrong to cut it so often.

By NOT running the mower, I lower my CO2 emissions, and by letting the grass grow, I'm further reducing the CO2 load in my local atmosphere. Win Win.

I think this could be a new rallying cry: Save the polar bears: kill the Lawn Boy!

I never said I was good at slogans, but you get the drift. Now, come to come up with a catchy way
to say this so my neighbors don't lynch me!

(*)>

Change the name, please

2011-03-12T12:22:00.003-05:00

UPDATE - I passed. By a wide margin. Go figure.

This morning, I got up bright and early to take a certification test for Environmental Education. Between teaching the course and studying (albeit not very much) independently, I was hoping to get the real credentials to teach the class.

I have no idea if I passed.

With a good 10% of the questions things like: what is the proper way to change the beliefs of your students? what is the most effective way to change your local environmental policies from the classroom? what age are children most able to be molded to the right environmental beliefs? etc., I was just ticked by the time I left the test. I ended up writing all sorts of notes in the booklet, just because I couldn't be silent.

I believe the course name should be changed. It's not Environmental Science, it's Environmental Indoctrination. (They even had a question about how to deal with materials that have bias in them, because most environmental materials do.)

When did the role of education change from teaching a child facts and helping them to form their own, INFORMED opinions to telling a child what to believe? The "science" here is founded in equations like this one:

I=PAT/S

Where I = environmental impact, P = population, A = AFFLUENCE, T= TECHNOLOGICAL LEVEL, and S = some stupid thing like how much your rich, advanced culture is listening to and implementing the advice of your environmental scientists (I think it's sustainability, but I've already purged the bilge from my mind).

Where do the numbers come from? Most likely, out of the "scientist's" posterior.

They have all these "graphs" without real data behind them. And these are supposed to give us the ammunition to change the core beliefs of our students.

I love the actual science here - the earth science and macrobiology. I love understanding as much as possible about the impact of human interaction on our environment. But I don't think we'll ever understand enough to dictate policy from the classroom. And it makes me uncomfortable that they want me to.

Alas, perhaps I should go for a math cert after all. sigh.

(*)>

Environmental Disasters!

2011-03-10T09:27:00.002-05:00

Have I mentioned just how much I enjoy my classes this year? Chemistry has been beautiful – I have so many hard working kids! And environmental? Well, I never thought I’d like teaching this… LOVE IT! So interesting! Even the kids are interested!

While doing a unit on freshwater ecosystems with my seniors, I decided to have a detour into the land of invasive species. See, we’re supposed to have them read science articles and do all sorts of writing and analyzing. But find a science article that’s fun for the average kid to read. Your challenge for the week! (mine EVERY week).

OK, so last week, I decided to do a lesson on the northern snakehead. Before I had them read the two short articles, I did a video intro. I started with this stellar clip from the Snakehead Terror SyFy movie. We got a little chuckle before I pointed out that there is some truth in fiction.

We discussed a little, and they read the two short articles about 1) the start of the snakehead problem and 2) what scientists are trying to do about it. While they read, they asked lots of questions (I still can’t find exactly why it’s called a snakehead). The kids really, really liked this lesson. I have never had such high participation in writing the essay at the end.

Here is their thought question, and my absolutely favorite answer (not scanned because I’m lazy):

Question, in short: do you believe the scientists’ actions (in trying to control
the snakehead) are really necessary?

Answer: “Yes, I do think that what the scientists are doing is necessary because they don’t want these snakeheads, or “frankenfish” as they call them to get so huge that they can’t stop it and before it gets to any humans to try to wipe out the US population.”

Not tongue in cheek. I guess I should have been more clear that the first was a bad SyFy channel movie trailer.

~~~~~

This week’s article is about how climate change could make river levels rise – and since Philly is surrounded by rivers, I’m hoping to make them see it could affect them before they read the article. So I was looking for clips about how water levels are changing due to climate change… and don’t you know, the ad that paid for every single one I could watch (youtube and vimeo are blocked here) was a car ad. Not a green car, or electric car, but a regular old infernal combustion engine. Sponsoring a video about climate change. Is that irony? (Damn you, alanis morrissette, for making me question my understanding of that term!)

(*)>

What's New, Pussycat?

2011-02-20T19:49:00.002-05:00

So, the Mom Effect has taken place once again.

Every year, my mom comes and stays with us. Every year something breaks. We like to blame her; makes her feel important! :)

This year, both my cell phone (my link to the world, since I drive into the ghetto daily, is very important), and my recently acquired (from John) iPod suffered. My phone wouldn't hold a charge anymore, and the back fell off at random intervals. My (John's) iPod randomly reboots itself and has to be plugged in to play.

Unfortunately, if I wanted to get a new iPod, I either needed to get a 16 gig or a 120gig. What the dump? My whole iComputer is only 100G... but about 45G of that is music. So I wanted a replacement for my old 30 gig ipod... and I couldn't get one.

So, the new iPhone has about 30 G of space, and is a phone.

Guess what I got?

Now, as I am soon to be unemployed, you would think this wasn't a wise thing. But hey, I'll find a job. "Would you like fries with that?" See?! I can work!! And, I couldn't play Alchemy or Cat Physics without my new iPhone...

~~~~~

Speaking of the Mom Effect, Mom is horrified by what we feed our kids for breakfast. Usually, it's leftovers. For example, this morning, they had half an orange, half an apple, and a bowl of pasta.

Spaghetti: the official cereal of the dusty aviary!

So, it's food pantry Sunday at church. The priest asks all the kids, "What did you have for breakfast today?"

Great. Like this congregation needs more reasons to think we're a strange family.

Luckily, when he called on the moth, the only thing Tim could remember to say was "fruit!" God bless not-so-tiny Tim! While all the other kids said things like waffles in syrup and bacon and eggs, our kids are healthy with fruit! Heh.

Stinky was busy playing with his acolyte cross. That's right. Sean has started serving mother church. He likes it because he gets to play with fire. I like it because he's far from his brother. Win-win.

~~~~~

There's not much new, otherwise. Hunkered down, waiting for spring. Actually got out to run 2 times this week! And could only manage 3 miles at a shot. But, it will all get better, probably in a longer time period, now that I'm the other "f" word (not fifty...).

Planning summer. Who wants the kids to come for a visit? Parents are optional...

(*)>

We Do What We're Told

2011-01-31T09:37:00.004-05:00

Old Peter Gabriel song, stuck in my head today...

Those of you who know me know that I teach in a failing school. Our students are those you hear about on the news: the ones whose needs are not being fulfilled by the schools.

My school was outsourced several years ago because it was failing. It was taken away from the district and given to an EMO (like an HMO, but it's E for Educational). The staff wasn't fired, but 90% of them left. Since then, vacancies have been filled to a large extent by folks like me: alternatively trained, non-union-huggers. We have a boat load of Teach For America folks here, and Teaching Fellows, too. Have had, for at least 6 years (since the EMO took over). The amount of work the majority of these folks put into their jobs astounds me. They're, for a large part, dynamos. They don't stay long - 2 years, as a rule - but while they're here, they're putting in 100%.

We're still failing.

We have all sorts of new strictures this year: each teacher must have specific "words" in his or her lesson plan which shows the level of questioning (higher levels for more thought). We have to have so many calls to parents - regardless of the fact that most of the time we can't get a number that connects. We have to have certain posters on our walls. We have to have certain structures in each lesson. Our lesson plans have to be in before the week starts and are rigorously vetted by administration. We have formal and informal walkthroughs of our classrooms as many times as once a week. And the list goes on.

So, they announced last week that they're firing us all. Something like 2000 teachers are to be "replaced" because we aren't meeting goals. We can reapply for our jobs, but only up to 50% of us are allowed to come back. Next year, our school will be outsourced. Again. And this time, we're adding an hour to the school day, we're adding a day to every other school week, and we're extending the school year through July. And teachers will be even more closely watched than they are now.

I do what I'm told. I do all the required and recommended stuff - sometimes it adds to my lessons; sometimes it takes away. I generally work an extra hour at school, daily, and on weekends, I'll spend most of Sunday doing schoolwork. I would not go so far as to say I am a good teacher. But I am not a lazy teacher. I am not a stupid teacher. I am not an uninterested or uncaring teacher.

At the end of the day, I have 30% truancy, minimum, from all of my classes. And it's not the same kids daily. I would estimate that I see 20% of my students on a regular basis (missing 0 or 1 class every 2 weeks). I have a bell curve of reading levels from 2 to 11th grade (I teach juniors and seniors) in EVERY CLASS. Ditto for math. My kids can't, as a rule, point out NORTH FRICKING AMERICA on a map, let alone the city where they live.

And it's my fault.

Until last week, I really laughed this stuff off. But between the Obama "it's all the union - fire the teachers and it'll fix the school!" example that my husband told me about, and the kerfuffle at my own district, I Give Up. I give up.

It takes two to tango, and my dance partner's sittin on the floor, laughing at me and kicking me. Until the kids are held accountable for their own educations, the schools will fail. Charters succeed because they can kick out kids who don't perform or who don't behave. Schools who don't have that option will fail. And any kids who want to succeed who are in those schools? God bless 'em. They don't stand a chance.

Anybody want a sub next year? Or maybe a washed up DBA? I'm so over this crapola.

(*)>

Discoveries…

2011-01-09T10:21:00.002-05:00

As three of my students argue about whether a mushroom is a f’ing (no apostrophe) consumer or a f’ing producer, another pulls me aside.

“Miss, a vegetarian eats vegetables, right?” I'm proud, because he's using his prefix/suffix/root word examinations and connecting to outside knowledge! All those teacher buzzwords!

“It’s the term for a human herbivore, mostly, yes,” I answer.

“So what’s a humanitarian?” he asks, with a look of disgust.

“Someone who’s nice to humans…” I answer, understanding his confusion.

Weird…

~~~~~

Also, as I was listening to some chant, to try to soothe the inner beast, some of my students came in for help… one of them looks up and says “this sh’t is just like rap, only not as cool.”

And he was right.

New insights abound!

(*)>

Happy Holidays!

2010-12-19T17:23:00.002-05:00

The post following this is the new-online-because-we're-too-cheap-and-lazy-to-send-it-in-the-mail - christmas letter.

This newsletter is a long, grand tradition, sparked many years ago (jeez, 10 years!) by all the letters we got that were positive messages of hope, love, and faith.

As you can see, not so much of that from this venemous harridan and her spouse.

Please pardon the appearance. Blogspot is not so good about formatting... and I'm too lazy to put in tables and crap.

So with no further ado, have a merry hannu-kwanza-rama-mas and a fantastic chinese new year!!

(*)>

Rogers Chronicles 2010 - unedited Web version!

2010-12-18T19:04:00.012-05:00

The Rogers Chronicles - 2010.
Oh, not this thing again.

Welcome to the Paperless version of the Rogers Chronicles! Notice, we’re GREEN!! ha ha ha ha ha....

OK, enough jocularity.

2010 certainly ended better than it started. So, we figured we’d share some positive messages of hope with all our loved ones!

The yoke of unemployment came with a beard. Who knew?

Right.

The year began with the news that John was out of a job. The ink wasn’t even dry on his severance notice before Betsy saw her chance, using John’s depressing period of idleness to her advantage. She rummaged through his stuff, taking her pick of his possessions one by one: his computer, his Sound Dock, his IPod. Sure, she gave him “replacements:” like the cute purple little nano with the “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” logo (it really helps John fit in the guys at the gym). John couldn’t do anything about it: a single peep of protest and she’d cut his allowance for beer.

It wasn’t that John did nothing, but it sure looked like it. He did have a good money-making thing going until McDonald’s started printing “Not For Resale” on its ketchup packets. John spent the summer doing laundry and chores. Betsy gave him $200 so he could take the boys and “get out the house for a while.” He managed to stretch it into a “vacation,” with stopovers for free food at relatives’ houses, and “scenic” camping spots. (Up-side, they boys didn’t need rabies shots after all. Down=side, we should probably invest in the company that makes anti-itch medicine.)

John was endlessly amused by places like “Wilson’s Baby Road” and the fact that “Bryson’s City” didn’t even have a gas station. He felt right at home in some parts of Georgia, but for some reason, they all knew he was a Yankee. (Suck it up, Rogers, you may have spent formative years in North Carolina, but you’re still a Yankee.)

Excited to dine with Mom! Birthdays in NYC.

He had endless hours of fun getting a numb butt from driving Betsy’s car, buying fireworks that are illegal everywhere, and communing with mother nature. But eventually John came back again: the chains of marriage were just too strong.

And besides, he missed the internet.

Betsy, meanwhile, had managed to do absolutely nothing in the time of the boys’ absence. She claimed she was “recovering” from the school year. In reality, she’s just chronically lazy.

In October, John finally got a job that didn’t involve Tilt-A-Whirls and carnivals. Working in New Jersey again: John was again astounded to find that are still people living in New Jersey who do not realize that they are free to leave. But he was able to wear the (wrinkled and moth-eaten) pants again.

He is still waiting for the return of his stuff.

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, Betsy has had to take over The Making Of Supper. This idea is abhorrent to John, who has kept “firestarter” out of the kitchen successfully for 12 years. But his new employment keeps him away until well after suppertime. So. John now cooks supper for all the nights he’s gone, and leaves betsy-proof instructions. Things like “take out the meat that has the aluminum foil on it. Take off the aluminum foil. Put it in the microwave. The meat. Not the aluminum foil. That sparks in the microwave. Heat for 3.5 minutes.” Or, even better, “for spaghetti, use the big pot, put in 1 quart of water, 1tbsp of salt, bring to boil, put in pasta.” Of course, you might think this is funny. He did, too, until Betsy asked if she was supposed to use hand soap or dish soap to “wash” the vegetables.

This was the year Sean figured out how to spend money…at Wawa. He has a Slurpee fix. Unfortunately, his income is limited by the amount of landmines the dogs leave for him in the backyard, and he always forgets to feed the dogs. But he has his diabolical ingenuity: He slipped a small branch into the dog poop bag for weighing; when caught, he claimed it was a “petrified” dog turd. He lost Dad’s trust.

Sean should have an attorney present whenever he speaks in anger: he spent a long afternoon copying the preamble of the Constitution in order to find the “kid’s rights” that he was sure were spelled out there. No luck.

Still, Sean is pretty clever when it comes to tugging at John’s heart strings: one night, after returning home thirty minutes late, he explained that his tardiness was due to his need to care for a diabetic cat. Nothing makes John weep more than the scourge of feline insulin dependency.

He continues to excel at wearing camouflage and playing video games. He has inherited the sarcasm gene from his mother and has perfected the Rogers eye-roll. He uses these to discourage cow-eyes from the girls. He’s still at an age where he thinks girls are “icky”. Thank God.

Timothy. If it has wheels, this boy will figure out a way to go fast on it. And then he will figure out a way to get himself hurt with it. Dad has nightmares of turning on ESPN and hearing “Timothy Hewitt Rogers will now perform a death-defying bike tricks…”

Once he had his bike, he was never seen again. Lord knows what he is up to out on the highway.

He does, however, keep finding things. First it was a pair of roller blades, then a set of golf clubs, then some skis. Each time, he insisted that the items were left by the side of the road for the garbage. But once he did admit that the people were just cleaning out their garage. Some neighbors were angry, but if they had a case, they would have gone to the police.

Timmy has very specific ideas about what is cool and what isn’t. He has a thing for hats, and will wear his bike helmet all day, if we let him. Which is probably good, as we never know when he’s going to start in on the pop-a-wheelies.

Sometimes, his coolness meter runs straight in the way of what Mom wants, though. Mom went on a picture strike with the kids this year. We got the first 10 years on “film”. This year? Not so much. But we were going to get good school pictures. She got their quarterly haircut, made sure the comb was used (“what’s a comb?” Timmy asked that morning as Sean rolled his eyes.) She put them both in t-shirts AND collared shirts. Sean, dutiful heir that he is, smiled for the camera.

Tim? “I don’t like collared shirts, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it, Mom,” you can practically hear him smirking in this photo. Hard to believe that all his teachers think this kid is an “angel”, right?

School continues to be a wonderland of delight for the collective Rogers family. John has completed yet another round of boringology, Betsy continues to harangue teenagers with the detritus in her brain. Sean and Tim approach education with the same “whatever” attitude of all their peers.

Bullying has become the new vanguard of the boys’ school. Bullying is bad. Bullying is wrong. The boys’ guidance counselor introduced “I messages,” a new age techniques for entertaining outwitting bullies. The gist of it: the harassed confronts his bully with the phrase “I feel bad when you…(insert infraction here).”

Timmy tried it with Sean: “I feel bad when you hit me in the nuts, Sean.” Curiously, it didn’t work. Sean is still laughing about it.

Timmy is learning to play piano. Well, not piano exactly. A baby grand piano would not look too nice with our TV perched on top of it. So he plays keyboard. Hey, it has over 20 keys! Good enough! And he is already good enough to play for the Flock of Seagulls.

Right now he knows two songs: one is “Jingle Bells;” the other isn’t.

So as we listen to Jingle Bells, AGAIN, we hope you all have a wonderful holiday season and a stress-free new year!

The Rogers Clan of 226
John, Betsy, Sean, Tim, Titus, and Loki

Titus and Loki want to know how they keep getting dragged into this fiasco.

It is finished...

2010-12-01T17:39:00.003-05:00

My profile is changed... a few days early, but you know how it goes. I remembered today when my sister sent me a pertinent card. I won't be around on the "big day" as I'll be in the "big apple" with some compadres. A Hippie Birdie to me!

Birds under the influence shouldn't fly, so I guess this dude(tte) is a flightless hag, too.

(*)>

Rich People and Politicians

2010-11-20T07:40:00.004-05:00

With a title like that, you'll probably want to skip this if you're not political...

OK, so a few years ago, I started a tiny Coverdell account for each of the boys. At the time, Coverdell accounts were a maximum contribution of $2000 a year per child, but there were no financial penalties with them, and the entire fund could be used for ANY kind of education. Even K-12.

So, say you live in an area where you have good elementary schools. But around middle school, it gets a little hairy. You want to put your kids in, say, Catholic school, but you wouldn't be able to afford the tuition monthly. This would be a way for you to save every month toward that.

In other words, I could see this as a great tool for upwardly mobile lower to middle class families in urban environments.

The amount of money you can save wouldn't go anywhere near the Haverford Schools of the world (the schools I'm surrounded by, here in Boboland).

So, why would the big politicians want to repeal this, and take it back to its useless state... (max $500 per year, only to be used for college. What? They want the kid to buy books, I guess.)

I asked a much smarter person (my husband) why they would do this, and he said that politicians hate anything that takes kids out of public schools. It's how they indoctrinate new voters. And rich people aren't affected by this, so they won't do anything to help extend it.

That infuriates me. Seriously.

Is that really why this is not being extended? To keep poor peoples' kids in the public schools?

(*)>

Bobos in Hades

2010-11-13T18:07:00.003-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a book about the particularly heinous version of yuppie/dink/suburbanite that lives in my area (the Main Line, said with a nose in the air). Bobos in paradise, or something like that. When I used to work in the bookstore, I dealt with them All the Time. But, it's been a while.

Thursday, I treated myself to a Starbucks run. First time in a long time. So, I'm standing waiting to order my mocha choca latta ya ya, and the woman in front of me starts to place her order.

Or so I thought.

"I would like to know if there's a way I can text in my order and leave a credit card number here. I couldn't wait all that time this morning. I need this to be more convenient."

"I apologize, ma'am. We aren't equipped for that. You could call in your order, but you'd still have to wait in line to pay."

"I cannot wait that long. You should just take my credit card."

"Ma'am, we can't be responsible for your credit card. We're sorry!"

"Well, your lot is so full in the mornings, and I have to wait in the lot entrance for minutes just to get a spot."

"Yes, it does get busy. But at least this is better than the such and such store up the street which has no parking, and the one in the other direction which only has three spots."

"I still have to wait too long"

"Ma'am, we're sorry for the inconvenience. We do reimburse if you park in the lot across the street."

"It's getting cold out! My coffee will get cold!" said as though the manager is a moron. "You don't let employees park in this lot, do you?" with suspicion. Vile employees.

"No, ma'am, we don't."

"So, what can we do to fix things for me?"

"As I said, you can phone in your order, but you'll still have to wait in line. I'm sorry that we have no other options at this point."

"Really, you should be more in tune with what your customers need!" (she then ordered, then complained when her order wasn't right.)

I give kudos to that manager. Completely polite the entire time, and concerned and regretful. I was embarrassed for the customer. I never can understand when people are so damn pushy. Just get up 10 minutes earlier, woman. You'll have no problem getting what you need.

~~~~~

Anybody for a triple shot decaf no fat sugar free vanilla mocachino? soy?

(*)>

How's this for Random?

2010-11-02T15:52:00.002-05:00

I just went and did my civic duty. Yes. Good birdwoman.

As I was jockeying to avoid the hucksters outside the polling station, I noticed a man who looked... familiar.

On the way out, as I said good bye and good luck, he stuck his arm in the air, like he was making a fist, flexed his hand back and forth, and went (in very familiar tones) "ba ba duh ba bah..."

Yes... it was Bowser from Sha Na Na.
At my polling station.
He even said, "yes, folks, I'm bowser from sha na na." (to which I replied, I know, I'm old enough to remember... jeez I'm old...)

Question. What was bowser doing at my polling station?

(it is a day of weirdness. We had professional development that was interesting AND useful. Go figure!! I think the apocalypse must be coming!)

(*)>

Too Much Wine?

2010-10-23T18:04:00.003-05:00

It's Saturday night. I'm drinking a really good chianti. Pardon me if I wax poetic, or alcoholic, here.

I've been sorting the house all day. My beautiful friend Missy gave me boxes of clothes for my boyos... and I've been sorting and washing and packing up to pass on the gravy to my niece and her two boys. I love hand me downs!

Autumn has been wonderful so far.

John got a job. It's in Joisey, which is unfortunate, but otherwise is a prayer answered in a positive way.

I've had all sorts of crazy moments at school, but overall have had quite a good start to the year. I'm teaching two different courses, one of which I've never studied in my life. Every weekend I have to come up with 1/2 of a lesson plan (the other teacher hasn't taught it b4 either). From scratch. I'm also doing all the notes in PPT, which is not useful for the kids, but is a skill for me. It's also a lot of extra work. Which is why I never am in here. I'm not in FB anymore, either. I've been slammed, but in a good way.

We celebrated our 15th anniversary this year. 15th. Seems more like 30. Ah, well. I'm turning 40 this year. Gonna have to figure out how to change my blogger profile! 30-something not much longer!

I've started an experiment of not watching TV. I've watched about 2 hours of tv since school started. I don't miss it.

I'm not sure where the time is going. It's practically November. I don't remember September or October. Is this what happens when you get old? Or just when you drink a glass of chianti?

If I start singing, I'll know I've channeled my mother.

Speaking of channeling, the Moth has, I believe, channeled my father. For the longest time, I had no idea who he was like. He's social. That's not John or me. He's musical - that's both of us. He's mathematical, which is me. But then, there's the fact that he's athletic. He's big time into sports, and has picked up rollerblading without any influence from anyone - just a found pair of blades.

And he likes to cuss.

We caught stinky trespassing on the local railroad tracks - yes, I have more white hair now. But he anted up and I don't think he'll do it again.

Right.

and now the dinner bell is ringing. See you again at christmas!

(*)>

ironic?

2010-09-21T17:35:00.002-05:00

I was driving home tonight when I noticed some acerbic bumper stickers on a car.

The one that caught my eye was "work harder! millions of people on welfare are depending on you!"

I chuckled. Then I saw the driver. In her post office uniform.

Do you find that ironic? I do!

(*)>

where it at?

2010-09-09T08:15:00.003-05:00

I'm sure all 2 of you out there have wondered where I've been.

Fact is, I've been avoiding reality! No?! Gosh! It's amazing how well I can kill time... my imagination is endless in its scope of avoidance... but, alas, September is here, and so is school.

School is actually pretty good - my schedule is awesome with less than 1/2 the student roster I had last year. None of my classes is overbooked. Some of the material is stuff I've taught, but I have a really hip new course to teach, and that makes the nerd in me just hum with excitement.

We ended the summer with a bang... or a series of drips. Labor day, our water heater decided to pee all over the basement floor. New water heater is SOOOO hot... wonder if our gas bill will go down? The old one was from 93... is that a good amount of time for a water heater? Bonus? Our basement floor is clean, again.

And it didn't happen when my mother was staying with us. So she can't claim credit.

The boys are excited for a new school year. Not. But I think they're happy to see friends. Tim is actually excited for the year. He's my little nerd. Sean is such a good artist, it's kind of scary to me. He sees things in pictures, color and stuff, that I never can see. I just see that it looks good when he's done. I don't think he'll ever be an academic, but he's got some really interesting talents in there. I can't wait to see how he turns out, when the thermometer pops out of his gut... or however you know when kids are done.

John is still searching. There's one good potential on the horizon, though it will mean 12 hour days for him and single motherhood for me.

If that's the worst thing that happens, I'll be thanking my lucky stars!

And now, off to more avoidance! (lesson plans? what are they?)

(*)>

What is it with Pennsylvania and spelling...

2010-07-31T16:49:00.003-05:00

We went up to Harvey County again this weekend. We have a guest from New York with us, and we wanted to show him what the country looks like. We pointed out some of the interesting things about pennsyltucky. Like that there's a town called Jersey Shore - completely landlocked. That a lot of the towns borrowed names, like Bethlehem, York, Indiana, California, and even Mars. We didn't go into the whole Lancaster sitch, where you have Intercourse, somewhere between Blue Ball and Paradise. He's only 8. I hope he wouldn't understand.

As we were driving, we passed Keyser avenue. Keyser like geyser. Why didn't they spell it Kaiser? I don't know.

When we arrived at the ancestral seat, my mom showed me a book. The book was by a guy who used to write for the local paper - interest stories and silly stories - and lo and behold, he pointed out a sign to go to "Kaiserville". Except, he and all the people up in Harvey County know that it's spelled Keiserville. (but not Keyserville, of course not!!) Why on earth wouldn't the sign makers know that us NEPA folk would never have a town named after our old enemy, Kaiser Wilhelm!

So, I was completely confused. We spell kaiser every way, except the proper one. John noted my frustration and shook his head. Then he turned to me and said, "Let's talk."

I looked at him, even more confused. We never talk.

"about taxidermy!"

We gotta stop going up there so often. I tell ya, it's not good!

(*)>

Girl Power? Not so much

2010-07-17T13:58:00.002-05:00

So, I think I put up a pretty good "beyotch" image. I don't look like I would be a push over, I don't think.

But when it comes to dealing with psycho, mad, strange men, I'm a wuss.

Today, I was walking home from the library. I passed a parking lot where this guy was standing at a pickup truck. He said, in a very loud voice, "Get the fuck out of the truck NOW." So I looked over. He was yelling at some woman in his passenger seat.

He yells at me, "Mind your own fucking business!"

Now, imaginary, she-girl me would stop, turn around, look over my sunglasses at the jerk, and say, "you talkin' to me?" Maybe shame him into less asshattery.

But the real me? I just keep walking, thinking about what I wish I had the cohones to do. Of course, He's big, I'm not. He's in steel-toed boots (in my mind), I'm in flip flops. I am, in fact, powerless.

And it's none of my business, I self-justify.

But darn it, I feel stupid and weak. I should have more spine.

We have this crazy dude in our neighborhood. Literally. He's the walking dude - spends his day walking around, muttering under his breath. One day, I was walking down the sidewalk, and I had to pass him. I said, "excuse me," as I went around.

He completely flipped. Started screaming at me, how he was going to kill me... and that was the nicest thing he said.

I got all shaky and adrenalin-ized... as I scooted away. This guy isn't big - he's maybe 5'8, maybe 200 pounds. I probably could take him in a fight. But I just kept walking.

Fight vs flight? Wish I was fight, but sadly, I'm not.

The flightless hag is, unfortunately, also a spineless one.

(*)>

Let's Talk about Taxidermy

2010-07-06T19:08:00.002-05:00

So, John and I spent a good few days up in Harvey County. We stayed at the local inn, despite some warnings that it had been flooded and wasn't in the best of shape. It was perfect. Cool at night, hot in the daytime.

Their pool is still cold because it's so cool at night up there. We haven't gone below 70 at night, with the exception of a few days last week, since mid-May.

So, anyhow, we're driving around Harvey County and looking at the signs. They have signs and ads you'd never think of down here. "Let's talk about taxidermy" was a pretty good one. But my favorite was the one with the pretty girl touting "colon hydrotherapy."

Now, I'll bet we have that down here.

Isn't that just a fancy set of words for enema, though? And what kind of economy do we have when poor, innocent young girls are forced to give enemas to make ends meet. No pun intended.

My boys are all gone on a camping trip. It's just me and the dogs for a week. Should be interesting. I spent all day cleaning. Probably will do the same tomorrow. The day flew, but I just realized about 20 minutes ago that I haven't said a thing aloud all day... well since they left at 6.
And I probably won't talk to anyone tomorrow at all. That's just plain weird.

Wish me luck!

(*)>

Vacation Is Here!

2010-07-03T19:13:00.002-05:00

So I haven't updated my blog since I got a death threat. Someone reminded me of that today, so I figured I ought to post, just to show I'm alive and kicking.

School went out with a bang/whimper. I'm not teaching chemistry next year - no one is. Long story. So I get to teach earth science, and I am ecstatic!! Well, I get to teach physical science, which I'm not so hot on, but I'm rushing through physics and chem to get to earth science!! Whoot!

The boys both passed - and have been doing homework every day since school ended. Both Mom and Dad are home, poor kids... I try to make it fun, though. Math exercises are rewarded with an hour of video games or TV. They got to pick the books they're reading. We go to the zoo or something and pick out the science we'll study there. They're learning state capitals this summer, with contests. The winner, daily, gets a sweet treat. They're quite competitive.

So, we're driving up to Harvey County today for the family reunionish party. Tom Tom took us on a back back road road that I haven't hit in probably 20 years years. It goes past this one kids' camp. Stinky says, "Mom, can we go to that camp?" I answer, "Sorry, kid, that's a Catholic camp." To which Moth replies, "I know all my capitals. Can I go to the capital camp?"

He's had a series of humorous mis-hearings this year. Athlete's foot has become trumpet foot in our house. Trumpet foot. You can't make that crap up. Probably should get his ears checked, but when the outcome is so funny... well... cheap entertainment wins.

I'm writing this update while they swim at the hotel pool. We stayed in the hotel in town, though we had been warned that it wasn't so good these days - got flooded out last winter. Our room is aces, free internet access... I'll stay here again, if it still exists. Totally worth it.

And now, I'm gonna go read a book. See ya. Wouldn't wanna be ya.

(*)>

Whack!

2010-06-11T15:58:00.002-05:00

So, I got a crazy spam / phishing scam this week. It started out... I've been paid to terminate you.

And they didn't mean to fire me.

It went on to detail how the writer had been following me between work and home and had been paid to kill me. The entire email was full of threats against my person that would occur unless I paid $15000.

Well, I knew it was a phishing scam. But it was freaky! So I forwarded it to my husband, asking if he thought I should report it to police. I mean, just because I knew it was fake, well, someone else might take it seriously.

Well, My Dear Loving Husband didn't even think it was worth a mention. Someone threatens to kill me and john's like, Whatever... or maybe he was like "Free at last! Free at last!!"

Or so I thought. I sent it to the wrong email address. (birdbrain!)

So I asked him about it ("Hey, what did you think of that email where the dude said he was going to whack me?"), and he got a little worried. Much better reaction! He read through the email and didn't like it at all. But after thinking, he wasn't too worried. His point was, what could you possibly have done to warrant execution? Written a bad fanfic? Snert. I'm such a square.

He eventually got it to the cops, who filed a report that will go nowhere. But they said they'd seen scams like this before which is (?) comforting.

But if you hear about my untimely demise, well, look no further than specter99159@hotmail.com...

the world, she is a crazy, crazy place.

(*)>

Random Thoughts

2010-05-26T11:51:00.002-05:00

When I was in sixth grade, I threw up on Miss Poder. Right on her. Didn't feel bad about it, either.

Today, one of my students threw up all over... my doorway. Can't get in or out of the room without squelches, though they did throw cat litter on it. I guess that's a saving grace, since there's supposed to be some major water balloon fights up here today. Maybe they'll leave my wing alone.

Right.

Sixteen more days.

~~~~~

My clothes are mostly pre-Moth, who just turned 7 Saturday. I decided I needed some new shirts. I've avoided buying shirts for a few years because I have a huge gut. Muffin Top Is Me. Shirts in the last five years have been belly shirts or high waist shirts. Lo and behold, the new shirt length is mid-hip. Yipee! I bought four! (ugly colors, but at least they're long!)

And WHY didn't the sixties/seventies crap stay back there? Polyester and puke colors are gross, no matter what the presentation. Sheesh.

~~~~~

Stinky has become quite the mumbler. Whenever he disagrees with mom or dad, he starts muttering under his breath. Yesterday, he bought a combination lock, and he couldn't figure out how to get it to work. I was trying to help him and he took this "I just can't do it!" position. I said "Well, you're going to."

After a little bit, I gave an instruction and he talked back.

I smacked him.

His eyes teared up. His jaw firmed. But no talking back.

Three minutes later, he's mumbling something, and I said, "Just shut up and do it!" He muttered, "you shut up!"

I flipped him over and paddled him.

I have all assurances that he hates me and will hate me the rest of his life. I don't give a rat's patootie. If he shuts up, it's worth it.

~~~~~

Moth man did not get a lot of presents for his birthday. A big part was a new bike that he keeps leaving out in the rain. He was warned if he didn't take care of his toys, he wouldn't be getting any more.

Granny and Poppy got him two lego sets. I built him the first one with him, showing him how to keep the pieces in the right piles and how to follow the directions. It was, of course, a pain in the ass. I told him to take care of it, because I wasn't fixing it. Less than one day later, he smashed it. Tears. Recriminations. Yet I was not moved. I built it once, and you broke it in less than 12 hours.

I told him I would not build the second one. He asked if he could. I said, why, sure! So he took it up to his bed, promptly lost half the pieces, and came crying to me. I shrugged. Sorry, kid, not helping you.

He got a speedometer for his bike and messed with it til it broke the first afternoon he had it.

He got a whoopee cushion from his Aunt and Uncle (thanks for that) that he blew up til it popped, even though he'd been warned a lot to be careful.

Please note that every present, except for the bike, was destroyed within 24 hours of Moth ownership.

Moths are destructive.

I guess the name is appropriate.

~~~~~

Well, that's the news. The boys are all getting anxious for their camping trip away from Mom. It should be interesting. I get the dogs by myself for 10 days. Poor Titus and Loki. You know, the last time John took the boys overnight, it was for some Cub Scout thing. He called me from some big battleship and asked for some other parents number. "Why are you asking me?" I pondered aloud. "JUST FIND IT" he replied, paniced.

John does not panic.

"What's wrong?" I asked

"I can't find Sean. I think he's with this other parent."

"What Happened??!!??"

"Well, I lost Tim this morning, and Sean went off to find him. Now I can't find Sean."

If he calls me from the OkeeFenokee swamp - or whatever that is - asking for the number for the Ranger station, I'm gonna slip exlax powder in his fiber shakes.

~~~~~

One final surreal note... the Metro - a free paper available in most major cities - had a really strange letters to the editor section today/ (That's on the same page as sudoku and crosswords.)
Every single letter was pro-conservative. I can't figure out if they're trying to get their readers angry or if they're just trying to highlight what they consider "freaks" (they're MSM, no way are there conservatives on that staff). It was downright weird.

Later, gators!
(*)>

So, what do I do...

2010-05-17T13:08:00.001-05:00

When we last saw our heroes, Mothman was in Big Deep Trouble. He was doing bad things in school and out. He was smokin in the boys room and sportin tats. Well, maybe not that bad, but the first grade equivalent.

In the last 3 weeks, he has had a sea-change. He gets stickers every day in school. His teacher has written a note saying that he is, once again, the best in class, doing all his work and helping others' do theirs.

Thing is, back when he got punished for being bad, he had 2 things taken away. The first was a birthday party. When he missed that, he wrote himself a poster "How to be good in school". He looks at it every morning, just to remind himself.

Now, he's excellent again, and he asked if he could earn back the second thing he got taken away - namely, the boyscouts white water rafting trip.

What should I do?

(*)>

The Toothbrush Incident

2010-05-03T14:44:00.002-05:00

Our boys. They fight. And fight. And Fight.

If they are in the same room, they fight.

If they are in different rooms, they fight.

We were visiting John's relatives on the weekend. We sent the boys to brush their teeth for bed. At the same time.

Mistake.

Apparently, Stinky took this opportunity to drop off a load, Stinkying up the bathroom for Moth while he was brushing his teeth.

This got Moth all a-flutter.

Words were spoken. Insults exchanged. Fisticuffs couldn't be managed, as Stinky was taking a dump. But Moth hurled a weapon at Stinky - Moth's toothbrush.

It landed in the polluted toilet.

I made him remove it with his hand. I told him, after I got him to do it (man, can that boy scream!) that it would all wash off his hands. We washed his hands three times, while I told him of when I worked in the bookstore and had to scrub feces off the wall - some crazy dude had written in his own poop.

Somehow, my misery made Tim feel all better.

Do they ever stop fighting?

(*)>

Speed, anyone?

2010-04-27T06:37:00.004-05:00

No, I haven't gone Breaking Bad. I've yet to see a high-school lab that has the resourses that guy has. I'm talking about cars.

Everybody knows the speed limit. Most people speed. They use, as their justification, that "everybody else does it." But speed limits are there for a reason. We all know it.

We know if we get caught, there's a huge penalty. Yet... most of us do it anyway.

WHY?

(no, I didn't get caught speeding. I actually don't speed much. I'm such a bad driver that I try to keep my speed down. So, if it's 25, I'm going 30 -35, getting passed like crazy.)

(Oh, and I won't be getting comments too well. My email is down, so I apologize if you comment and I don't reply. I really do want to hear any thoughts.)

(*)>

Banner Night For Timothy

2010-04-13T04:38:00.003-05:00

Timothy is in trouble.

The night before last, he scratched a car with a stick he was porting while riding his bike. After apologies (no bills, the neighbor is cool), the verdict was issued. No wheels for a week.

By the time he got to go out to play last night (after wrangling with homework and a super-dug-in tick), Moth-man had been reminded by me, alone, at least twice. "No bike. No scooter."

Then, Stinky comes in about 20 minutes after they go out. "Tim was riding Dylan's bike and he scratched another car." (yeah, yeah, he's a snitch).

Well, that was it. Tim was in for the night - no supper. Luckily, this was a rubber on paint thing. But boy, was tim crying. ("But I didn't ride my bike! I rode Dylan's bike!" believe me, he understands wheels is wheels now!)

As I was coming back from apologizing to the neighbor I'd never met before (nice intro, eh?), I see all these kids carrying these cushions and an old shelf. "These are Timmy's" they loudly proclaimed.

"Um, no, they're not." I denied.

"From his fort!" they demanded.

"He doesn't have a fort" OK now I'm worried. Did he steal these cushions? No, he rescued them from the garbage, they maintained.

"Well, he can't have them." Cool - one of the other kids will take them!! (Dylan, of bike fame!)

Later - back at the hall of justice - the phone rings. Another neighbor I've never met. "Is this Timothy's mother? My name is Ellen Sheffler. Your kid made a fort on my yard. I called the police."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry..."

"I can't be having this garbage on my yard. It needs to be cleaned up now!"

"Ma'am, I saw the kids bringing the cushions..."

"You will clean up this garbage now."

Crotchety old bat.

So, I drag Tim down, yelling at him the whole way about private property and never stepping foot on other people's property. We get there and... no cushions. No junk. I walked back her huge driveway (she's on the rich side of the hood). She came out and confirmed. "Well, they must have just taken them."

"Ma'am, my son has been on his bed for the last 2 hours for punishment. If you had listened to me, they took these cushions away when you asked."

"Well, I thought..."

"Ma'am, I'm going home. Have a nice day." Bitch.

Call the fuzz on my little boy? You old cow. I hope you end up in a nursing home with some person who got treated like you just treated my Timmy responsible for making sure your butt gets wiped. Cause it won't. Then you'll know what a pain in the butt really is.

(By the by, Ellen Sheffler is not her real name. I just picked a name that... seemed to fit.)

Kids. People talk about the worry... but they never talk about the embarrassment.

(*)>

Petty Theft

2010-04-09T06:49:00.002-05:00

You know, I expected a certain amount of theft from my students. There are people who are, after all, asshats. It's one of our commonalities, across nationality, creed, color. A certain percentage of poeople make you want to beat them about the head.

Over the last 2 years, it's gotten worse... or maybe I've gotten more lax about having stuff out that can be stolen.

They stole my magic 8 ball last year. (I used to refer to magic 8 as the number of electrons in the s/p orbital combination. sigh.) This year, they stole my crystal ball (used to divine grades) and my school bell that my big sis gave me.

Now, they've taken to stealing supplies. I got a bunch of hand soap and lotion from my husband when his company was throwing stuff out. It has all disappeared. Even the soap that I had stored under the sink.

I'm thinking that this wasn't the work of students. I think it was the work of the cleaning staff.

And I cannot express how pissed off that makes me.

Petty, indeed.

(*)>

A Tale Of Two Bikes

2010-04-06T08:32:00.004-05:00

Our kids are big galoots. Stinky is just about my height, and Mothman isna far behind.

Of course, Tim would say that he's just as big as Sean. And Sean would say that Tim wasn't even close. But that's the way - has been ever since Cain and Able, right?

A few years ago, Sean learned to ride a big boy bike. It took almost 2 months, the second summer of trying, before it took. But once he got it... well, we haven't seen him since, if the weather is nice.

At the time, Tim had his little boy bike. He insisted that Dad take off the training wheels (he was 5, I think), and he rode in the back yard until he didn't fall anymore. Took him less than a week.

Fast forward. Tim's still on his "little boy" bike - and he resembles the bear at the circus (sorry, stealing image, as I can't do pictures at work...). He also crashes a lot because the bike is just too small.

Time for a new bike.

We got it from Amazon - and it came on Saturday, while Dad was working on a mongo paper for his grade three class in boringology. Dad tried to put it together on Sunday. There was a constant stream of neighborhood boys - "Look at my new bike!!" and a constant stream of creative foul language from Dad - there was a problem. The brake was faulty. And that kid needs all the safety equimpent he can get. So we had to send it back.

Heartbreak city.

The kids had yesterday off - so Dad trouped them off to Richard's sporting goods. They were OUT OF BIKES. Heartbreak part 2! But then, lo and behold, Tarjay had one. It's the Magma - Impersonater. What a dumb name for a bike. What, does it melt on command? Anyhow. There'll be pictures when I get home and can upload them.

After an hour of searching for the lost helmet (heartbreak 3! The revenge of entropy!), Mothy was off, not to be seen unless there was a new trick he had mastered (can ride without hands, can wheelie...)

Spring is here!

(*)>

Very Nice

2010-04-05T12:24:00.002-05:00

We were in a meeting discussing the lack of progress of our students today. I wondered aloud why we didn't track students from the get go. I was challenged and I said something to the effect of "I could never be a first string athlete."

I was then called a racist.

All because I think some kids are more academically gifted than others.

Very nice.

(*)>

The Devil, You Say!

2010-04-03T07:53:00.005-05:00

I was watchin the boob tube last night - Nat Geo - and they had a program about "The Curse of the Devil"

The Tasmanian Devil.

First off (Johnny), did you know they REALLY sound like the TD from Bugs Bunny! And even kind of look like him! Check it out:

When they put the microphone on them, you could have knocked me down with a feather.

Now, it seems that there is some kind of TRANSMITTABLE (by ingestion!), FATAL CANCER (that is scary and really cool science) that is killing the devil.

The devil population has decreased by 90% (I think that's the number - though they say it's been decimated, which means down by 10%?). They kept saying they needed to find a way to "save the devil"

(I muttered that he had to be born again. There are my protestant roots for ya.)

In all, quite a cool program. The devil you know, or the devil you don't?
(*)>

Bing Sucks

2010-04-02T08:24:00.002-05:00

So, IE comes with this bing crap in its address bar. That used to be where google search was, so once in a while, my birdbrain skips a groove and searches with Bing.

Today, I was looking for where the concert is - I know it's in Wayne somewhere, and I know they're doing the Requiem. Other than that, I'm clueless (as usual). I type into Bing:
wayne pa mozart requiem april 2

My first hit is Lil Wayne, the second is some youtube performance of some Pa guy in the requiem.

I cut and paste into Google - or Topeka, as they were briefly called - and my first hit?

Mozart Requiem Good Friday for Haiti ReliefMozart Requiem Good Friday for Haiti Relief. Apr 2, 2010; 3pm; St. Mary's, Wayne. In response to the suffering and loss of the people of Haiti, ...

Google Rules. Bing Drools.

In other tech news, does anyone use live journal? I post my original fiction there, and it seems that LJ is now incompatible with Firefox. Is there a fix? Anybody know?

(*)>

New Addiction

2010-03-28T05:56:00.002-05:00

One of the other nerds... err... science teachers turned me on to these puzzles on Friday. Bridges. Otherwise known as Hashiwokakero. And my mom can't pronounce Sudoku!

Mary, if you try these, you will be addicted. I promise.

(*)>

It's Spring!

2010-03-26T16:55:00.002-05:00

It's spring and all of the dirty birds are fluttering about the dusty aviary. The new news in town - our neighbor has moved out and her house is being sold.

Stinky and the Moth are quite into who will be moving in, and if they meet the Lee Circle requirements - at least one male progeny under the age of 12.

Last Saturday, Stinky walked into the house, steam pouring out of his ears.

"Mom. These girls. They were in OUR fort! They said they were buying the house and they were going to take our fort and CLEAN IT AND MAKE IT PRETTY!"

The horrors!

I tried to calm him down, but then the Moth joined in the fray. It would be the end of Kids' Creek as we know it (sob!)

~~~~~

It doesn't help that the girl across the street has decided to openly pick on Sean at school. It's not hard. He is like me - easily roused.

She accused him of spying on her. She brought this up every day, just to get his goat. Then, when he stopped defending himself, she added a new twist. He, apparently, likes to look at her NAKED!

This got Moral Majority Stinky in action mode. He went to the GUIDANCE counselor! He complained to Mom and Dad! This Evil Girl Must Be Stopped! I merely looked at him and said "say something like "I wouldn't spy on you, I don't like to throw up!"" He looked at me, then smiled.

We haven't heard about the spying stuff since then. AND we haven't gotten a call from the guidance counselors. Wins all around.

~~

To finish off the week, the girls' parents did not put a bid on the house. But another set of parents supposedly did. They have 2 boys. One is 9 and one is 6. Pray for the adults on this block. We need all the help we can get.

(*)>

The Other Woman...

2010-03-23T06:48:00.002-05:00

The bird man has worked with women over the years. Many of them - most of them - sound totally cool. But two of them, from his first mention of them, made me grit my teeth. They were the kind of girls - and girls, you'll probably know what I'm talking about - who gravitate toward married men. And men never seem to see through them.

Each of these women is 1/2 responsible for breaking up at least one marriage - documented. It wasn't until this happened that my dear husband would acknowledge that these girls were, indeed, harlots.

Of course, the married men were creepheads, also. Goes without saying. But it takes two, and when the woman is the pursuer - as both of these chickies were - they should have to pay a price! They have purposefully helped to destroy a contract - like corporate sabotage.

It seems that there are these archaic laws in 7 states that allow the cheated spouse to go after the other woman/man. North Carolina is one of them.

Although I hate lawsuits in general, and I think this lawsuit in specific is exhorbitant, I am very glad to see the other woman pay a price.

(*)>

What can I do?

2010-03-22T10:29:00.002-05:00

I feel absolutely furious and helpless at the same time. It's all out of my control. I don't know what to do. I know others are in the same boat, and we all have the same feeling. Down with the bastages, I say. Get them out.

But I've yet to find a cold sore medicine which actually works. So I have a huge open sore on my face. Furious and helpless in the wake of these virus chumpies. And I don't know how to get rid of them.

What, did you think I was talking about something else? Healthcare, per chance? I could liken the herpes virus to our government officials, and my coldsore to the stupid ass healthcare bill that does nothing about skyrocketing costs yet obliges all americans to buy health insurance. But that would be mean to the viruses and might hurt the self-esteem of cold sores everywhere.

(*)>

unfortunate nickname

2010-03-19T13:02:00.002-05:00

I have a student, a beautiful, intelligent, hardworking girl. She has a typical urban name - lots of sh's and q's in it. She has taken the nickname of QUINNIE. She writes it all over her papers nowadays.

Now, isn't that a nickname for a female part, in certain anglo areas?

Should I discourage her from using this? If so, how on earth would I tactfully do so?

sigh.

(*)>

Is it the age, or is it the time?

2010-03-16T04:56:00.002-05:00

I recently assigned my third project to my kids. They had to keep a science journal for the marking period. Each week, they were to cut out or print out an article from a newspaper. They had to write three paragraphs: summarize the article, link it to science (and explain the science), and give an opinion about the article or the science.

Of course, it was "too much, miss!" If I had a dollar for every time... anyway.

One of my better students handed hers in. It was hand written, which makes the fact that it was grammatically correct and almost completely spelled correctly much more awesome. She had articles on a new FBI database (science: technology), unsolved shootings in the city (ballistics and forensics), the new soda and sweets tax (health), and many others. The thing that struck me was, every opinion of hers came down to this: there aren't enough laws or enough law enforcement. Every problem - including obesity - can and should be litigated.

I remembered back to an essay contest I was required to enter my sophomore year of high school. We had to write a letter to a world leader, letting them know how we could make the world more peaceful. I was angry - I hated writing essays. So I wrote my letter to "Joe", the average man in the streets. I asked him how he could expect his leader to make a difference when Joe did all sorts of mean things. Blah blah blah. Filled it with sentimental sap. My teacher was peeved, but whatever. He couldn't prove I had done it tongue in cheek.

I won second place. He laughed his butt off with me.

The first place essay, I think, was to Ronald Reagan - telling him to cool his jets. But it stuck to me, even then, that we all expected someone else to solve our problems for us.

So, my question: is it the age (teenager) who thinks that government can actually do something worthwhile, or is it the time (now, 21st century) where we put more faith in law than in humanity?

(*)>

The Eagle Has Lifted Off!

2010-03-13T10:53:00.003-05:00

My brother has come and taken my mother back to her home. We will miss the drinking songs - especially the ones where the drunkards try to lure young women into ruin - that she sings with glorious ignorance. We will REALLY miss having drawers and closets mysteriously cleaned and straightened, floors getting cleaned, and loads and loads of laundry which are nasty when we leave the house and clean and folded when we get home. Always funny - she apologizes that it mightn't be folded just right.

If you're family and you're reading this - give her a welcome home call. She'll appreciate it!

(*)>

Oh No! No More Numb3rs!

2010-03-06T17:05:00.001-05:00

My favorite show, Numb3rs, is done. I have enjoyed this year so much, with the only television I watch, Ghost Whisperer, Medium, and Numb3rs, all in a row. I think they're all just about done.

What will I do?

(*)>

As easy as pie

2010-03-06T13:41:00.002-05:00

But not Pi. As Pi is a really long number and a rather obscure concept, I'd say it was a lot easier than pi.

What, you ask?

Fixing my blog. Just said "new template"

All my old comments are gone, but that's ok, I guess. The posts are all there.

And now, I can continue my random randomness!

(*)>

They followed through...

2010-02-17T17:42:00.004-05:00

Haloscan took away the free candy. Unfortunately, I can't figure out how to get blogger comments back and haloscan turned off earlier today. So. No comments on this blog. I guess this is 9 toes on the grave and one on a bananapeel for flightless hag!

In the mean time, I have recently seen a few feminist posts - well, not really feminist, but you'll understand if you take the time to read them. I hope that all 3 of you do...

First, a look at women's rights in the lands of Islam. It's a bit sad to me... and then, a look at how women's rights have fared here in the land of the free. I especially hope you follow Ms. Althouse's second link. It's yet another reason I HATE that movie...

Later, gators...

(*)>

He Loved the Ladies...

2010-02-14T14:40:00.003-05:00

So Mom has been telling tales about her in-laws lately. Did you know that my grandparents wouldn't drive? My grandfather had been a trolley driver in Pittsburgh in the early part of the century - wow, 100 years ago or so - and he killed a little boy who jumped in front of his trolley. Or so goes the tale. So, though cars came and most got them, he didn't.

My grandmother eventually learned to drive - though never well - and she would drive all over. She was grandma "go-go" while my other grandma, who got struck by lightning twice, was grandma "rock-rock."

Back to Grandpa. He died when I was young - 7 I think. I don't remember him well, for he was old as the hills when I was a kid. He was born in 1889 and he died in the 70's. I remember him sitting on the couch, and Grandma imploring him to "eat his banana." But he was an interesting guy. He loved to tease my Grandma, who wouldn't say shit if her mouth was full of it, according to my mom. When my grandpa went to the doctor's office for a checkup, late in life, he came back and was telling my parents and Grandma about it. Apparently, when the doctor was complimenting his health, Grandpa asked if he could still be with his wife. The doctor said, if you do, do once for me! Of course, Grandpa said this in front of the whole family. Poor Grandma.

He used to sing a song, "I love the ladies," and, in his youth, he probably did. He didn't get married until he was in his 30's, and he was 13 years older than my grandma. But he loved my grandma, and what's more, he respected her. That much, I do remember. He was a good guy.

And he loved the ladies.

Now, anyone know that song? I think it's the one by Irving Kaufman, but I can't do real audio on this mac, so I can't play it for mom to confirm...

(*)>

Gourmet Canines?

2010-02-10T07:34:00.001-05:00

So, I was up early watching teevee - the shows I like tend to be kid unfriendly, and I can't watch when they're awake. So, watching Medium, there's a commercial for dog food.

This guy is like, "Here, Ramses, come pick which food you want! Choices! Choices!"

The camera pans to choices and choices of gourmet dogfoods.

My dogs will eat turds if you let them. My dogs will eat dirty socks if you let them. Somehow, I don't think gourmet is something they need.

I don't think my dogs are that much different than the rest of the worlds dogs.

What the dump makes people think their dogs need gourmet food? I just don't get it.

(*)>

Can you remember this rhyme...

2010-02-07T20:21:00.002-05:00

"The Rhine and the Rhone rise in the Alps. The Rhine flows north and the Rhone flows south." Is there any more to it? The Mother wants to know.

(*)>

give me that old timey music

2010-01-29T20:37:00.002-05:00

OK, so why is it that I'm sitting here, listing to Air Supply, and am completely happy to do so? I know, intellectually, that they're not a great band. But I LOVE THEIR MUSIC. It just makes me calm and happy.

Or is that the wine and brandy I've drunk tonight?

(*)>

my dog, the spooky bibliophobe

2010-01-21T17:46:00.002-05:00

Loki the dog continues to live up to his name. He is a mischief maker. But he has one really weird personality quirk. He is afraid of books. Yes, books. They spook him out, especially if you fan the pages. He steps back, tilts his head, then barks at it and runs in circles.

Speaking of weird phobias, I was on a blog today - little green footballs. I remember that site being too uber conservative for me back in the day. Then I was reading somewhere, don't recall, how LGF was ignoring the fact that the IPCC changed its mind on global warmening.

Last I knew, LGF guys were doubters, not believers.

Lo and behold, there has been a sea change over at LGF! They are moderate these days, with some leaners from both sides giving a lot of thoughtful argument and creative insult. It's kind of fun to lurk in their comments! If you are a moderate, like me, head on over. It's a great place to kill a few minutes when you're waiting for your next class of victims... errrr students.

(*)>

Poor IT Team

2010-01-09T12:06:00.002-05:00

So, unless you've been living in a cave (and since Osama's living in a cave, that's probably not an excuse), you know about the attempted bombing of that plane around Christmas. And you've heard all the hullaballoo about lack of responsibility, where does the buck stop, etc, etc.

The media has been justifiably hard on The Powers That Be. How could this happen, post 9/11? But then, I read the details. I see the complaints about "how hard is it to follow and connect data" and "misspelling of suspect's name not caught" in a completely different light. And I think I know why no one was fired.

I imagine there's a 25 man (person, sorry) dba team somewhere whose job it is to make 172 archaic database systems talk to each other. They're probably given a nightly batch window to synch these db's that's 40 minutes long. None of the db's is probably newer than 2005, and most are probably older than 2000. Things like spelling correction and fancy google like searches just aren't possible.

My guess is that the intelligence problem in this case was completely database driven. And when only 2 people know how any given database system works, any manager is hard pressed to fire either of them.

Have I mentioned how glad I am to be a teacher these days?

(*)>

Repeal Suffrage?

2010-01-03T12:38:00.002-05:00

OK, here's my new thesis.

It seems that, ever since the early middle of the 20th century, our government has followed more social supporting trends. Government has gotten more empathetic, and, by necessity, less logical.

This coincides with allowing women to vote.

Are politicians leaning more toward social programs and less toward pugilism and balanced budgets because they think this will (does) appeal to the female vote?

Whether or not you agree with all of the spending on social programs, new and old, do you think this idea has any merit? Discuss.

(This is my shot at being a social studies teacher. See why I'm a chemistry teacher?)

(*)>

Cat Update

2009-12-31T10:38:00.002-05:00

We have no cat.

The SPCA has termed us "bad pet owners" - one of our neighbors must volunteer there.

Seriously, though. Titus needs a shot, but our vet is kinda far away. We're waiting until Loki goes in for the big scoop and it'll be a two-fer.

Apparently, if you don't treat your pets as well as you'd treat your kids, or better, you're a bad pet owner. Which may be the case.

So I called an exterminator to get rid of the vole. We'll see.

In other "conform, comply, sumbit" news, the dirty bird and I have noticed a strange new trend. Everywhere you go - from the gas station to the grocery store - you will find a television screen blaring at you.

Do people have such a lack of electronic stimulus in their lives that they have cried out "we must have television as we shop!"? Methinks no. Instead I have a theory of convergences. Flat-screen monitors are cheap as dirt these days, as is internet for broadcasting whatever it is you want to broadcast.

On top of this, we are in the DVR/TiVO generation. No one watches ads at home, except maybe a few oldsters who aren't going to get out to shop. So advertisers have had to become more clever. They have to put in fancy product placements in shows (ever notice what kind of appliances the Food Network guys use? Or the kinds of bowls or pots? It's not grannny's old cast iron, that's 4 sure.) And now, for more advertising when you're at your most vulnerable, advertising while you're shopping.

Don't know about you, but I find it annoying. I like the silence and the smell of fumes as I pump gas, thank you. And I don't care what the latest uses for kale are.

But if it brings prices down, because it's more revenue for the markets?

Bring. It. On.

(*)>

Teaching the Right Stuff

2009-12-29T11:45:00.002-05:00

One thing I really like about the after school program at my kids' school is that they hire both males and females of college age to play with the kids. The boys have guys to look up to - and they totally groove on that. All those boy activities, like Dodge Ball and Capture The Flag are played by boys and girls with enthusiasm.

One of the gents they hired this year is a long-haired hippie freak. He brings his guitar and plays songs for the kids - he's really neat.

One day, he put down his guitar and the other guy, we'll say he's a typical philly guy picked it up. He started playing the intro riff to Metallica's Enter Sandman. I was like "hey, teach 'em good music young!" We both started laughing.

Then one of the kids - not one of mine - started singing "hush little baby don't say a word, and never mind that noise you heard..."

That's a little scary. A second grade Metallica fan. I thought I was bad letting my kids listen to Crazy Train and School's Out.

If any of the kids show up with tats, I'm going to start looking into private schools.

(*)>

Don't Tell Grandma Harvey!!

2009-12-29T10:47:00.002-05:00

The Dusty Aviary has had an extra, uninvited guest this winter. It crawled under our "new room" (converted garage) and tunneled into the basement. We've put out traps; it doesn't nibble. I think it's a mole or something.

John has given up trying to trap it and doesn't want to use poison. He believes it's not a rat or mouse, and that's why our traps haven't even got a nibble. Poison wouldn't either. So, we have to call in a professional.

John and Sean are out picking out Cat today. I say Cat because we don't normally name cats, we just call them Cat. It works for us.

But don't tell Grandma. She's due down here in a few days, and she's already upset that we have 2 dogs. A cat would put her over the edge.

This winter looks like it's gonna be fun.

(*)>

Remembering

2009-12-10T09:45:00.003-05:00

I am thinking about Mrs. King today. I put on the Rose of Sharon necklace she gave me - I only wear it around Christmas. It's very pretty.

Mrs. King was such a gracious, wonderful person. She was the wife of a minister who had retired - and his reward was to serve at our little church in Lemon for a number of years. Dr. King was also a great guy. He had been in so many places - served in times of war and strife, peace and prosperity. And by his side the whole time was Dallas King.

Mrs. King was refined. She always sat, ramrod straight, in her pew in the front of the church. She had to have a special cushion because her back was bad. But she didn't complain. She always had a smile for everyone. She used to invite the choir to her home for tea at Christmastime. That was an experience for us - high tea for our little choir. We had a great time.

The beautiful necklace I wear should be adorning their daughter's neck. Or her daughter's. But, sadly, their daughter was taken from them by a drunk driver. They had much sadness in their lives, but they were such a positive force, both individually and as a couple.

I remember them with respect and fondness, and hope that I can honor their memory.

(*)>

Precosious Mothy

2009-12-09T08:06:00.002-05:00

For his birthday, Stinky got Gilligan's Island - second season. John is of the belief that it is perfect third grade humor. The boys ADORE it. WHAtever.

So, at the table last night, I asked Sean, "who's your favorite character?".

"Gilligan." No hesitation. Tim agreed, "he's the funniest."

I then asked, "Who do you like better, Marianne or Ginger?" Again, without hesitation, Sean says "Marianne."

Tim agreed, "Yeah, I'd do her."

I did not mis-type. Now, I think he meant, he'd choose her in a contest. But... maybe not???

Sigh, they grow up so fast!

(*)>

Anger Management

2009-12-03T18:01:00.002-05:00

So, I started out the day angry at everything that came in my direction. I started in to work, listening to the radio...

Radio station A talks about how Watson and Crick "discovered" the structure of DNA. No mention of how they took the work of Rosalind Franklin... grrrr... change the station...

On to Rick Santorum talking about how big Pharma is shooting themselves in the foot for no reason... Then he waxes poetic about how good Pfizer is... Pfizer that just took over Wyeth and is laying off people left and right. Change the channel.

What's todays news? They're talking about Tiger's philandering. Who The Hell Cares If He Boinked Every Woman From Florida To Canada And Back?!?!? Jeezus. News? Please?

So I turn back to the first channel which is talking about identity theft and how it happens and that gives me agita, so I go to another channel...

where they're talking about how 20,000 new people are signing up for food stamps What the dump?! They said some chick in Ohio has a paid in full 300k house and Mercedes. But she has low income, so she qualifies for aide. So I, who am still paying off my 150K house in PA, am giving HER food?? Do people have no shame??

So, I get to school and start to try to teach. My kids were working on a lab when two girls asked me to settle an argument. Ms R? How long do you have to wait to have sex after you have a baby? 6 weeks or 9 months?

I wanted to say: until you are 21 or can pay for a child yourself, but I did not. Instead, said, "I teach chemistry, not biology." And I went on my way.

is it saturday yet?

(*)>

Brilliant Friday!

2009-11-27T18:29:00.002-05:00

OK, so aside from finally losing the panel on the rear drivers' side door of my car (long story) this has been one fun day.

Today, I slept til I woke up. I haven't done that in I don't know how long. No alarm, no expectation of anything. Got up, cleaned, put up the christmas crap (which Moth LOVES. Must be the lights.) Cleaned some more.

Then watched this movie - Love Actually.

It's the new Christmas phenom. All the chicks dig it. Except me, I think. It's full of unrequited, broken, and baseless love. There's some good stuff in there, too, but too much of it is too "reality" for me. I don't want reality in my movies, thank you very much. At the same time, I really can't suspend disbelief enough to think someone would cheat on Colin Firth. I mean. Really.

The boys had One Big Dustup today. It all stems from the "secret stash". Stinky likes to keep a box of crap under his bed. Pens, stupid little toys, necklaces, makeup... wait, no, that was my secret stash when I was a kid. His doesn't have the makeup. I digress. Moth doesn't particularly want the crap, but he doesn't want Stinky to have it, either. So, whenever Sean is off playing with his friends, Tim will find a way to get up into the stash. We have tried yelling, we have tried hand folding, we have tried sentences, we have tried Slave For A Day (that's my newest punishment, and I must say, it works quite well, usually). None of these deterred young MothMan from terrorizing his brother. Today, he lost Sean's favorite light-up pen.

So daddy... uh... I can't write the word because I'm sure we'll go to jail or, at the very least, my web page will get a whole bunch of hits from bad people, but it starts with an s, ends with a ked, and has a pan in the middle... anyhow, he did that to the Moth. Will it be a deterrent? Don't know. But Stinky feels justified and John feels guilty. And I, well, I was watching a movie. Harvey trait: the whole scene escaped my attention. It's a skill. What can I say?

Speaking of younger sibling rebellion... Loki snuck out of the house today. Now, what is it about dogs, that when they have the penchant for roaming, they have to combine that with the odeur de merde? Don't know what that little pup rolled in, but it sure did make Dad mad. Had to give the dog a bath. Pup has been in the cage ever since. But I can see rebellion fomenting in his eyes. He is, as I have said b4, aptly named. God of mischief, you got nuttin on this pup.

Hope you all had a wonderful thanksgiving.

(*)>

What is left, what is right?

2009-11-05T20:02:00.004-05:00

I got to thinking on the way to work this morning on the differences between the dems and the GOP. The impetus for this crazy thought process was the lost congressional seat in upstate New York. Apparently, the "party?" appointed a moderate-to-liberal woman as the candidate for the republican side. The right wing of the party didn't like that, so they put up some "carpet-bagger" from a neighboring district who had more of the "right values" (I'm using a lot of quotes here because I am only loosely aware of this situation, and the specifics aren't particularly essential to my thought process.) In a primarily Republican district, after the stooge dropped out, the republican got trounced. And the big talkers are, supposedly shocked.

So, I'm thinking - why are they so surprised? I don't know a non-contrary republican. I think, in fact, that being opposed to being told what to do is the ONLY thing that republicans have in common. We are, in essence, true rebels. How strange that we have this image of lockstep automatons.

On the other hand, the Democratic party has the image of a bunch of bad-boy fight-the-system cool cats - protesting every cause. But their actions belie this. Whatever the party says, that seems to be what goes. If it means stomping on the bill of rights, eh, so what. They'll look out for us. Whoever they are. Whoever we are.

Is it just my skewed vision of the world, or do you see some kind of kernel of truth to this? Please discuss this theme in a 5 paragraph essay... oops, wait, this isn't school... never mind. Comments?

(*)>

Recycling?

2009-10-28T16:48:00.003-05:00

So, I was limping (more on that later) to my classroom from my lame-o meeting when I noticed a bright orange square in the alcove outside my room.

If I didn't get that little prophylactic out of there, it was going to be wrapped around my door handle. But I wasn't about to pick it up. I mean, gross! So I kicked it down to this other alcove for an unused lab.

Fast forward 1.5 hours to the end of day. I had go bathroom (much like Corky in the one episode of Life Goes On I watched), so I walked past that alcove. The Cheetos wrapper was still there. But the condom was gone.

All I could think was... someone decided to use it.

Just the thought makes me skeeved.

The school district, in response to Pres. Obama's OH MY GOD ITS A FLU EMERGENCY NO ONE PANIC!! has upped their dedication to increasing the strength and determination of all bacteria. They've installed hand sanitation stations in all classrooms. I have one installed next to my sink, so the lazy ass kids will forgo washing their hands, and instead will haphazardly and incorrectly apply Listeria-infested hand sanitizer to their nasty hands. Ah, well, we're due for a good plague, anyhow. Bring. It. On.

Speaking of plagues, I took the kids to the Renaissance Faire. Sean wanted to go in costume - as a monk! I could work with that! I made myself a plague victim and I made Tim lame.

I was asked what plague I had, and I said "Swine flu!" That sure scared some folks!

We are doing well, in general. Ups and downs of life are fine. My foot is STILL hurt, after a year, so I guess it's permanent. I've noticed when I wear my orthopedic shoes (ugly but comfy), I can walk a lot better. So, I guess it's off to the shoe store! Darn!

Hope anyone that reads this is well!

(*)>

Boy 0, Crabs 2

2009-09-27T07:02:00.003-05:00

This summer, John started up "cheap vacations with the bird family!"

He's taken up camping with the boys. As I camped enough as a nestling, I pass on the privilege.

This weekend, they went down to Maryland and went crabbing with Poppy. This is their second foray crabbing.

On the first adventure, our Fresh Air Fund kid came along, and they caught 4 female underweight crabs. The moth proudly decreed each catch, then reversed his pride with the news of the throw-back. Poppy said that Tim should apply for Town Crier when he gets older, as he has the inherent skill and ability.

This time, apparently, they caught 0 crabs. If you read this earlier, well, it was apparently a boy conspiracy to hide the truth. But the town crier spilled the beans. Another failed crabbing mission. Alas, they bought crabs and et them anyhow.

~~~~~

Stinky should not be left out of any update. In keeping with his "grass is always greener" attitude, Sean has now declared that he hates school and wishes it was summer again. Two weeks into summer with me, he had decreed the opposite. He's such a whiner - just like his mom!

One thing he doesn't whine or complain about - ever - is listening to epic stories on CD or tape. The kid has an unending appetite for them. He's picked up Harry Potter at the library - and we're talking like 10CD's for some of the middle books - he hasn't gotten to 5 yet - and he follows them the whole way!

It has been our savior for driving on these camping trips and other trips. Last weekend, we went up to my mom's and listened to the beginning of a new series - the Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians). He was captivated within 30 seconds, and we didn't hear a peep from him the rest of the trip - even when Mothy pestered him!

~~~~~

In our last update from the aviary, our local water department is cleaning out the mains. So we are all hooked up through hoses.

Our water smells FOUL - old army boot foul. I Brita it b4 use, but it is still awful. It must be used in coffee or such. As a result, I am drinking bottled water. Why is it that when your water is not potable, you're way thirstier than usual?

In addition to smelling foul, we have extreme fluctuations in pressure, and sometimes it just starts to effervesce and smell even weirder - I think it's a chlorine push. Whack!

Yesterday, one of the temporary hydrants blew. It was a great big fountain in the middle of the street. Some saw water - I saw my water bill going up.

In the end, though, I wonder: how do people without good water in their houses do it? Shudder. At least I know My situation is temporary!!

(*)>

Even After Doing Research...

2009-09-27T06:49:00.002-05:00

One of the big stories in the Philly region this week was the closing of Colosimo's Gun Shop in Philly.

I read the Inquirer - it's mostly skewed WAAAAAYYYY left, but it's still the news. From the ink's coverage, it seemed as though this shop sold 99% of the guns used in gun crime in Philly. At first, I was thinking - "GREAT! a dirty little haven for bad guys is gone!!"

Then I remembered, this is the Inquirer, where no story can be written without spin and agenda. And to see a column by Monica Yant Kinney cheering the closing and targeting another gun shop immediately? Well, my crusade detector has gone off.

So I did a little background reading to see if this place was really a den of iniquity. I'm not as familiar with Philadelphia Weekly, but this story seems more fair. So, the Brady Bill targeted Colosimo's as a source of straw purchases. But it does so much business, and is the only gun outlet in the area, so that's not surprising... It did seem that he followed the rules with purchases, checking the ages and validity of the purchasers. What a purchaser does with a gun after buying it cannot be blamed on the shop owner!

What it comes down to, it seems to me, is that they tired the owner out. So he left. My guess is that gun crime will not go down, but honest citizens who want to have a gun (I am not one of them, but I will defend those who are) will now have to go outside the city to buy a gun. For people who are in the worst neighborhoods of the city, this is not an easy proposition.

It seems to me that John's experience in Africa sums it up. The bad guys get the guns. The good guys end up dead, because the bad guys like it that way. The gun is the great equalizer. In the hands of a 4'10" old lady, she has the same power as a 6'7" young buck. But now, not only does she not have that option in North Philly - I doubt that he will lose that option. If they can't buy them in Philly, they'll go elsewhere. Criminals aren't bothered by inconvenience.

So, good on you, crusaders. I dearly hope this doesn't come back to... shoot you (or me) in the foot.

(*)>

Welcome Back, Kotter!

2009-09-20T16:07:00.004-05:00

Well, it's back to school time at the Aviary. Hence the less than no posting schedule. But things ah-re the way things ah-re, to paraphrase a favorite movie.

School is much the same - room, classes, even some of the same kids. This year, there is a new development - a few of us are at war with the cleaning crew. They are stealing our doorstops.

I ask you, what is the world coming to, when someone would steal your doorstop? So, on the surprise trip up to my mom's this weekend (where I found out about my SISTER - my PURRFECT big SISTER - getting REPRIMANDED by a campground supervisor for making too much noise late at night! Ha ha ha ha!! Never knew mom was such a tattletale, did ya?), my brother came to the rescue and made me like 8 new doorstops. I have already decorated my first in hopes that this time, they won't scribble out my name and pretend theirs was there first:

(the other edge says "don't steal this")
What're the odds I'll still have this at the end of the week?

~~~~~

In other news, my family's descent into irredeemable redneckdom has continued. It started with us encouraging our kids to play outside, unsupervised, and they came up with a war game. Americans versus Indians. They lured other boys in... boys whose mothers don't "believe in war or its violence." WHATever.

Our shame spiral continued when Timmy kicked the hornets' nest, and John showed up to save him clad only in shorts (he had just spilled spaghetti sauce on his shirt, but hell, it looked like he likes to walk around shirtless. I told him to look on the bright side, at least he wasn't wearing a wife beater!)

But the last straw for our neighbors has come. My husband has indulged his secret childhood wish and bought himself a beebee gun. Yes, John has been firing the gun in the backyard, which is, of course, a magnet for every daggone boy in the 'hood. They all come - and after checking with dads and making them don safety glasses, he lets them shoot off the gun - under complete supervision.

This is a bb gun. Not a real gun. Just to make sure you're not confused.

So, anyhow, he's out in the backyard, shooting off guns, drinking Pabst which is surrounded by his new beer-cozy (thanks a lot, uncle tom), and spouting off a random "yee haw" or "get-r-dunn".

I would hang my head in shame, except I think that I am the more red-necky of the two of us. And I actually enjoy horrifying our "guns are EEEVil" neighbors. What? I never claimed to be a nice hag. Just a flightless one.

(*)>

I Must Be Bipolar...

2009-09-10T18:35:00.002-05:00

So, two days into the school year, and I was dejected.

My class sizes are from 33 to 40.

My room seats 30 comfortably.

The class periods have been shortened to 45 minutes.

I was challenged covering the material in 57.

I couldn't get through ANYTHING yesterday. Build safety rules, do catalyst and math minute. That's it! two problems and safety rules. No demo. Nothing!! I was supposed to do a lab today, but no dice. Not in this century.

And I don't even know, when I had the time, if I even impacted anyone at all. Our general testing scores ranged from awful to pathetically disturbing. Frustration and chaos were having their effects on me.

To top it off, my new pants - which I bought a size bigger than normal - were TIGHT. And I could have sworn I lost 5 pounds in the last few weeks!

Just before my first class, I got an email from another teacher. This teacher coaches a sport, and wanted to let me know that a bunch of the students were talking about me. They were really positive, not just about me as a person/teacher, but about how being in my class was actually a positive experience.

And when I got to the bathroom later, I found the pants had been mistagged - two sizes too big! I was actually comfortably wearing a size SMALLER than usual.

Like that, out of the doldrums and onto cloud nine.

I think it must be exhaustion!!

~~~~~

John is off to his next class tonight. Still pushing for the advanced degree in boringology. But the thing is, as much as he didn't want to do it, I think he loves it.

Tomorrow night, he's going to take classes to learn to cook like a Viking. How many ways can you make gruel? Mulled wine in four easy steps? Sour milk and its infinite uses? I guess he's mastered so many other cooking niches that Viking cooking classes were his last challenge.

What's that you say? Viking is a kind of cooking product? He's not going to go a-viking?

Darn. I was looking forward to the elderberry mead.

~~~~~

The boys are back in school, as opposed to town. Totally ready to be back, excited about their teachers, and ecstatic to see their friends. Glad I teach high school, for sure!

And now, I've finished my homework, finished the dishes, got the kids ready... CRAP load of laundry in the dryer. A hag's work is never done.

(*)>

Words A Mother Never Wants To Hear

2009-09-08T19:13:00.001-05:00

Heard from the bathroom by Mom (in the kitchen washing dishes)

(dad to mothy or stinky, not sure which)

"DO NOT TRY TO PEE AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH AT THE SAME TIME!"

Ahh, kids.

(*)>

Dragon's Hollow Wine

2009-08-26T09:37:00.003-05:00

I have been re-connecting with many old friends and acquaintances via Facebook this summer. A few weeks ago, I met up with some old work friends at a restaurant out in Devon.

The food was quite good - French-Thai - and the owner was kind enough to let us chat the entire night away at one of his tables. The owner looks an awful lot like Jackie Chan, so I suppose I was bound to like him, anyhow.

So, when we're picking the restaurant, Chris suggested this one because he goes there a lot. He told me the cuisine and told me it was BYOB.

What kind of wine do you take to an Asian French fusion restaurant? I came across the perfect bottle at my local state store:

We didn't end up drinking this treasure at dinner, so I brought it home. Stinky, who was born in the year of the dragon (hence, his fort is called the Dragon's Lair) immediately claimed this coin as his booty:

As for whether the Chinese have made a good Chardonnay? I couldn't tell you. Haven't uncorked it yet. But I imagine it's probably full of all sorts of carcinogens and other nasty chemicals, which I am certain will make it all the yummier!

Cheers!

(*)>

Boys Will Be Boys

2009-08-25T12:46:00.002-05:00

Summer is drawing to a close, once again. The cicadas are louder than bombs here in PA and you can smell the bus fumes and new shoes just around the corner.

We spent this morning hiking around Ridley Creek State Park. The temp and humidity have dropped, so it was quite fun. I'm not a bug fan, but I deal because the boys tend to have a pretty good time.

Then the boys got really hot, though, as our walk was ending. So they went tribal, and I told them that soldiers sometimes wrap their shirts around their heads. So they did.

Unprovoked, Stinky takes a pretend gun (he always has one handy) and starts shooting at planes. "I'm dressed like a terrorist so I should shoot down planes" he says, with a bad accent. Where do they get this stuff? I'm fairly certain John and I haven't planted this one in his brain, though he's always listening and regurgitating things we never expected him to hear...

Fun in the sun is almost done, but we still have a few days left. I'm going to enjoy it as much as possible!

(*)>

EAGLES = EVIL

2009-08-14T07:18:00.002-05:00

I am a rarity: a Philadelphian who hates the Eagles. It all started when I lived in south philly and was a cowboys fan. That year was also the year that an Eagles fan peed on a cowboys fan IN THE STANDS and beat up a little kid who was sporting the colors of another opposing team.

Eagles fans, I have found, are a rude, awful bunch. They boo santa and cheer when a player breaks his neck. Anything that makes them sad makes me happy. I am still not a football fan, but I cheer for any team that plays the eagles.

Up until yesterday, every male homo sapiens in my house was a big time eagles fan. Then this headline interrupted the Phillies game last night.

A few months ago, not sure if I posted about this or not, Stinky (big animal kid) and I watched a National Geographic special about the dogs that were rescued from Michael Vick's property after the dog-fighting scandal. There were dogs that had their teeth all pulled out so they could be forcibly bred. There were dogs that were trained to be bait to build up other dogs' confidence. It was horrific. It stuck with Sean big time.

Now, the iggles have hired michael vick to be their new qb. When they announced it, Sean looks at me and says, "Isn't that the guy who hurt all those dogs?" I answered that it was. He said, "I'm with mom now. I hate the Eagles. I'm routing for the Ravens." (that's Poppy's team, and their players have their own issues, I know, but none involve animals, right?)

Then he stopped and thought and said, "And I'm gonna route for the cowboys. Because the Eagles hate the Cowboys."

I love that kid.

(*)>

The Art of the Mix Tape

2009-08-12T09:57:00.003-05:00

You know, there are so many movies and tv shows that make fun of us nerds who make mix cd's - nick and nora's infinite playlist is the most recent. But I know it's a casual throwaway to point out that a boy/girl is a stalker-dweeb. It's so wrong.

Mix tapes are awesome and show a real attention to detail that most people just don't get.

I make mix tapes for my favorite beaus - my boys. I make one every summer, which is a blend of summer songs and kids songs they like at the time.

This year, I made an additional one for each of them. There's the camping cd for sean, which has camping songs, mosquito songs, fishing songs, and country/cowboy songs.
Campﬁre Song Song - Spongebob Squarepants (last year's kid hit!)
Mosquito - Artichoke (if you haven't heard this, it's really cool)
I'm Going Fishing - Bert Susanka
Camping Trip - Tracey Singer (modern hello muddah, I think.)
Mosquito - Brian Kinder
Going Bass Fishing - Anna Moo
Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah - Allan Sherman
It's My Lazy Day - Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys (mom? I can hear you sing this)
Black Water - The Doobie Brothers (this reminds me of friends from college)
Mother Nature's Son - The Beatles (every mix I make has the beatles on it. It's a rule.)
The Battle of New Orleans - Johnny Horton (and here we start with sean's cammo fixation)
The Ballad of Davy Crockett - Fess Parker
Daniel Boone - Alleyoop
(Ghost) Riders In The Sky - Johnny Cash (why? well, I ran out of ideas!)
Don't Fence Me In - Gene Autry
Mountain Music - Alabama
Summer Breeze - Seals & Crofts (again, I ran out of ideas! but you do camp in summer?)

Mothy's cd is a cruising cd - all songs about cars/trucks.
Drive My Car - The Beatles
Drivin' My Life Away - Eddie Rabbitt
18 Wheels On a Big Rig - Trout Fishing in America
On the Road Again - Willie Nelson (for Donna)
Hot Rod Lincoln - Commander Cody & His Lost Planet … (for Johnny)
Convoy - C.W. McCall (for my Dad)
Get In The Car - Moxy Früvous (totally for me!)
Fun, Fun, Fun 2:16 Endless Summer The Beach Boys
Ramblin' Man - The Allman Brothers Band
Let It Ride - Bachman-Turner Overdrive
Blinded By the Light - Manfred Mann's Earth Band
The Distance - Cake
Cruisin' - Smokey Robinson
Midnight Rider - The Allman Brothers Band
Truckin' - The Greatful Dead (for daddy)
Route 66 - Manhattan Transfer (I really don't know why I kept this one. Tim likes vocal songs)
Crash - The Primitives
Take It Easy - The Eagles

This was def. the easier to make, though I had to kick a lot of songs out. Stinky's was much harder. I simply couldn't come up with a complete playlist. What did I miss?

(*)>

Summer of Cammo

2009-08-06T06:49:00.003-05:00

Thanks Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenny

They got the boys cammo t-shirts, vests, and ecoutrements. The little cherubs already had cammo shorts. As a result, most days they are fully be-decked with cammo, but sometimes they are minimalist army dudes, as in this pic.

Stinky, when he goes anywhere, pretends he is the scout, and "carries" his "weapon" at the ready... he's kinda scary obsessed with it right now.

The moth just tries to keep up. Yesterday, I heard this conversation:
M: "Do you know how we kiss in the army?"
S: "Army guys don't KISS."
M: "Right! We punch each other on the arm or on the back. Not too hard."

sigh. They are such... boys.

John has ventured that I should change what they wear. Why? As long as it's clean, I really don't care what they wear. When school starts again, well, that's another matter.

John has gotten into camping with the boys this summer. They have gone away once and will go away again. Very cheap vacation, this is. The boys camp, which is cheap, and I get a day to myself, which I usually spend watching movies or going for walks. I love summer.

Hope yours is going well, too.

(*)>

Books On Tape

2009-08-01T16:55:00.002-05:00

So, as I did last summer, I've continued my little affair with books in electronic form. I do like the playaways, which have the book in a portable MP3 player. But now that I have a new computer, I can fit a few books on cd burned to my drive while I am listening.

My problem, peeve with these things: they almost NEVER have the titles of the tracks match from CD to CD. Do you know how much of a pain it is to put together the playlist for a book that is 200 tracks long, with no real common way of naming the tracks? I almost always end up renaming all the tracks before I burn them. Pain in the butt.

It is August already. I cannot believe how the time is flying. The boys and I are all berry-brown. The pediatrician would have a fit - I haven't used sunscreen on them at all. We just play outside a lot and go to the pool a lot and well, that's life.

Now, I'm going to go listen to the end of Johnstown Flood, the latest in my list of books on playaway. Cheers!

(*)>

What is it with these depressing books?!

2009-07-24T10:13:00.002-05:00

First, our principal gives us the "Last Lecture", then my mother in law gives me "A Thousand Splendid Suns". I had them on my shelf for the summer reading marathon. I finished them both in the last 24 hours.

I now feel like kicking somebody to make them feel good, too.

Sheesh.

I guess I should go get "Sarah's Key" that my mom gave me. So I can go into a depressive funk that will last for weeks.

Why do people so love books that make them feel like crap? I mean, I like to read, quite a bit actually, but I usually choose material that makes me laugh or love or be angry. Not sad. I really dislike feeling sad.

I can appreciate these books as being well written and well told stories. But I simply do not like the wrung-out feeling I have after I've finished. It's not even angst. It's downright depressing. And when it's fiction, I don't even feel enlightened. I just feel...

manipulated! That's it! I feel like the author has got me to read this by making me feel like there has to be SOME damn light at the end of the tunnel, even if it is the oncoming train. At least the train would end the trauma.

So, I guess I'll keep reading the classics because it's what you have to do to be able to have conversations with people. But at least I understand now why I completely hate them, and I'll go read my fanfic and pulp fic and other happy sappy crap completely guilt free.

(*)>

Spendin Money We Don't Have

2009-07-17T16:10:00.002-05:00

You might think this is a post on the hyper-consumerism that has driven the American economy to the brink of collapse. But it is much closer to home.

This has been the year of breakages.

First the for-home computer broke.
Then the for-school computer broke.
Then the car broke.
Then the dishwasher broke.
Then the washer broke.
Now we are broke.
Well, not really, but I'm really hoping and praying that nothing else goes wrong!

~~~~~

This week we have an extra kid. We're participating in the Fresh Air Fund - though how our town, so close to Philly, could have cleaner air than another, I'm not certain. Anyhow, we have another Sean in the house - spelled differently, but sounds the same. Ho ho! Confusion~ thy house is rogers.

We were told that a lot of these children, especially the boys, gravitate toward the dad in the household. That is certainly the case here. As soon as John's "in tha house" - seanII's like a barnacle on him. But in a good way.

He's a really nice kid, and my boys already like him a lot. There's some jockeying for best friend position, but he seems to balance them pretty well. So far, so good!

(*)>

OK, Ick

2009-07-08T15:51:00.003-05:00

We switched from my beloved DirecTV today to Comcast. The bundle just saves us so much money that I couldn't justify not doing it. Anyhow, the comcast guy is here, and he had the tv turned to a local affiliate while he tinkered.

Some show called The Doctors (?) was on. It has a GROSS factor of 11 out of 10. They were talking about some stomach cancer, inherited, that killed like 7 out of 10 people in one generation. So the next generation all had THEIR STOMACHS REMOVED!

I almost removed my stomach after the next story, though. They talked about weird eating habits. One guy was a proponent of the raw meat diet. Have fun with your parasites, dude.

But the weirdest HAD to be the guy who cooked a three-course meal out of... wait for it... his first child's PLACENTA.

I thought soap operas were bad. Sheesh.

(*)>

Killer Strikes Again

2009-07-06T16:24:00.002-05:00

Ahhh, the joys of having a new dog.

We thought our kitchen was dog-proof, but a few weeks of rainy days showed that even the best-nailed-down molding could be pried up with puppy teeth. All of my rugs got chewed to bits, but hey! That's an excuse to buy pretty new rugs from TJ Maxx! (and I got this cool rug with a rooster. I'm so proud!)

So, now that sunny summer has come, the dogs are outside most days - all day! We got a new fence as our old one was certainly not Houdini proof. The new one is aces until the boys forget to close a gate. Then, out goes Loki. He's not a runner, just a curious dog. He comes right back when called. But nowadays, it's usually bearing gifts.

Two days ago, it was a mole.

Today, ~sniff~, it was a bird.

~~~~~

We've been doing a lot of swimming; stinky, moth, and I. I felt the sun was a little strong today, so I checked my back when we got home. Last year, I got the crap burned out of my back when we were at Virginia Beach. When I checked my back today? I still have the marks from last year's burn. I know because I haven't worn that swimsuit since that fateful trip. But I can still see the lace marks.

A friend of mine just turned up with a huge amount of skin cancer on her arm. I was never a sun bather, but she was a sun-avoider. Terrified of skin cancer, she was, cos her mom had it. And now, despite her precautions, she has it. Good thing she's paranoid, because this little tiny mark, that the doctors thought was a flu-shot scar, ended up causing a 3x1 inch hole in her arm. The docs still don't know if they got it all. Suck city.

~~~~~

I'm still getting used to this Mac OS. The touch pad still makes me swear sometimes, and setting up the new scanner/printer (it was free, and now I'll have a printer at school! Yee haw!) was like pulling teeth! HP doesn't like MAC all that well. But I now have 5 wires coming out of my desk. 4 of them are power cords. 1 is internet to the modem. C'est tout! For a semi-ocd girl, it's a thing of beauty. Or a beautiful thing, as Vic might say.

Well, I'm off to type more addresses back into address book. Just wanted to see if I could get my photos cleaned up after the big switch, and then see if I could upload. Yes, still getting used to the Mac, but liking it as I learn. I guess I'm not so old as that, if I'm willing to learn new tricks.

later, gators.

(*)>

I Like War

2009-07-04T16:31:00.003-05:00

Summer has started. Yipee! I've already had the kids out on 4 Batan marches. They're becoming inured. Must think of new torture, soon.

The way it works this year, when the boys get real antsy, we go for a "walk". Which is at least 40 minutes long. If they get talky-backy, well, they write sentences. This way I've got both gross and fine motor skills being exercised. I've also got "trivia contests" which cover the crap they have to learn before they go back to school this fall, and we read every day.

Sheesh, I think summer is busier than the school year.

But before summer actually started, I had 2 weeks where I was still at school and Stinky and the Moth were not. I got all of it covered except the last 4 days. I took one of those days off. For the other three, we hired a nice kid from down the street to babysit.

The first morning that she showed up, John said to Sean, "why don't you tell her what you like to do, Sean."

Sean looks at her seriously and says, "I like war."

Nice.

The other parents in the neighborhood alternately send their kids to our house to play - yes really - Americans vs. Indians (the boys made that up) or some other such boy game, or they avoid us like swine flu. We have nerf guns, and missile lauchers, and bow/arrow sets, thanks to all the Harvey uncles. The families who send their kids deep down think guns are ok, but are embarrassed to admit it. Other families eschew us completely. They do NOT like guns.

So I have this set of cap guns that I was going to use for forensics in the science bashing session at the end of the year - caps give off enough crap to do a gun powder residue test - but the school police nixed it. The cap guns are too realistic looking, I guess.

So we have them at home.

Dudley's birthday party (see a few posts down) is in 2 weeks or so. When we go, we're thinking of presenting the cap guns as a gift. What do you think? A little evil goes a lonnnnnng way.

(*)>

Liar!!

2009-06-21T14:26:00.002-05:00

Little mothy has become quite the tall tale teller.

Last night at supper, for some reason, we were talking about girlfriends. Sean has a girlfriend... tim has a girlfriend. And of course, Daddy had more than his part in the teasing.

Tim turns to dad and says "you have a girlfriend, too!"

Dad says, "Mom doesn't count!"

Tim says, "Nuh uh, the lady up the street. That one time you made me go home by myself so you could watch tv with her..." and the story goes and goes. John's jaw is dropping farther and farther.

It's all completely untrue. And tim told it quite convincingly.

I guess he should be getting ready for law school sometime soon.

~~~~~~

Stinky is doing well; this constant muck of a spring has been quite to his taste. He comes in every day swathed in mud and then proceeds to destroy my bathroom. Boy heaven. He also loves his new doggy and "hates" his brother.

Just today, they were out playing at the fort. Sean's best friend in the 'hood is a bit of a Dudley Dursley. He proclaimed himself grand high emperor of emperors today and declared that Tim couldn't be in the army. For some reason, Dudley likes to pick on Tim. Tim can take care of himself, though, for sure. I have a feeling that soon, the grand high emperor of emperors will be sporting a big black and blue mark.

~~~~~

School is still winding down. Unbelievably. It seems like the friggin energizer bunny. But we're almost there. Almost there. Maybe this summer I'll figure out this new operating system and be able to post new pics and print stuff out. Until then, as the babes and dudes of the Lawrence Welk show used to sing, "Adios, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersein" (goodnight)

(*)>