Monday, January 16, 2017
Friday, January 13, 2017
Maybe the blog is a coping mechanism. Maybe it's a catalyst for coping mechanisms. As in "I'm going to do this for myself now so I can blog about it later."
Yesterday and today I woke up early and did some cardio. Not a ton. Not 10,000 steps. Just five minutes worth of belly dancing so I could feel my hips again and eight minutes of cardio to be sure my heart could still beat.
I went to the teacher friends who are intense worker outers and post about it on the book of face and said "hey thanks. Also I'll be reporting to you each Friday"
Then I went to the pre-k aide Zumba teacher and asked her to make me a sticker chart. She looked at me, tilted her head sideways and then said yes. Later she brought this and I was allowed to choose the kind of stickers I wanted (frogs, stars, smiley faces)-
She's the best. Lunchtime nurseShelly asked what my reward was going to be if I earned all my stickers. I paused, puzzled, then said the stickers ARE the reward.
In the category of care taking, greathusbandbob has pneumonia. Lizajane is gimpy again-same leg. Aunt is a getting in and out of bed and in and out of her room step away from leaving rehab and going back to her apartment and the cousins bedbugs have been declared exterminated by Terminex.
Here's a little secret that I don't want going too far. I haven't hated my job lately. It's been a year of adoration and appreciation from kids. Some make it a point to give me a hug in the morning as they enter the building. Others beg for fist bumps and high fives as they are standing in lines in the hallways, and still others wave goodbye in the evenings. They see me and I see them. Being seen is important.
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
15-20 years ago I taught a couple of kids. Their mom put together the yearbook. She would oft forget my name and I'm fairly certain it was some time before I knew hers. She called me MusicLady. I called her YearbookLady.
She is an amazing seamstress and one year made me one of those fabric stuffed bears with MusicLady embroidered on it. It's the best teacher gift I'd ever gotten up to and since then.
Kids grow. People do stuff. Facebook happens. I attach myself to the generations of the family, adoring the grandbabies, scolding the grown daughter when she makes fun of her mother, loving each other's pets from a distance and exchanging laughs on bad drivers license pictures and menopause.
Last week she messaged and said "I have some of those giant knitting safety pins from my mother, would you like them?"
She has stitch holders. Not really a hot commodity when they are easily replaced by some extra yarn but still. It was a reaching to be friends gesture. Even more so when instead of dropping them off she invited me to her home to get them.
Today I did that and stayed to chat a while with her and her husband. When you aren't originally from the rural community where you teach, it's easy to feel like an outsider. It takes nearly a full generation of being there and knowing the families before you can really become an actual part of the community.
Zumba at the town hall helps. You also realize that when they say "where do you go to church?" They aren't condemning you when you say you're a heathen. It's just a question that's asked not unlike how many siblings do you have. After about 20 years they see that you're not using their lovely community as a stepping stone for a "better school in town" and you, along with them, believe that you are already at the best job in the county.
I'm not idealizing these little communities. I realize that in some instances these are the WV DJT voters. What I did appreciate today was, as someone who's never really felt like a "fitter inner", every now and then you get a little surprise to find out that there are people who would like to invite you over for dinner some time and you are a part of a whole you hadn't considered. And you find yourself smiling the whole drive home.
Friday, January 06, 2017
Sunday, January 01, 2017
Your brain finally loosens up enough to crack you up and you find time to-
Take goofy pictures of the dog and post cleverly on Facebook.
Make absolutely ridiculous memes using a former students facebook post.
And after "the kids" send pics from their NYE celebration,
Take pictures of the tv where you are currently binge watching The Tudors and are back in time about 500 years... and yet it seems unsettlingly familiar.
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Th previously posted bird in hand mitts were frogged. Bam Pow in madtosh. It would be a victory if they weren't too small.
Made some easypeasy potato soup. Pepper is key. Second batch was better than the first.
When it's time to return to the world it's going to be difficult. We've been napping-sleeping-bingeing-repeat for a complete week; taking a break only to go to the grocery store.
Saturday, December 24, 2016
The thing is, everyone has gone through this with someone in their lives. Benign? Malignant? No signs? Metastasized?
Buddhist meditation and non-attachment becomes laughable. Which is, I suppose the Buddha's joke regarding the human condition. Attachment causes suffering. You can't help but attach. There will always be suffering. (Suffering in the Buddhist definition- greathusbandbob isn't suffering suffering.)
And so one day it is clear that the doctor will announce he has many years ahead and the next day all he says is he will have to fight for his life. And the appointment isn't until January 4th. And every now and then I take a Xanax when I start to get to ahead of myself.
In the meantime, the Gnomes have a friend. (Why does autocorrect always capitalize Gnomes?)
Her boobs are uneven but it is my understanding that most are. More realistic. Soon she will be monogamous as this evening I find her a life partner. Until now I thought the Gnomes looked monk-like I'll have to see if there is chemistry.