A new job. Sort of.

 

Kids have 5 more days of school. Teachers have two after that. On one of those days I have to go to a mock shooting so I'll know what gunshots in a school sound like. Don't even ask me how I feel about that. I'm investigating the possibility of Pre Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

I have had this flex thing for a week. Yesterday I reached all daily goals for the first time. They gave me a "badge" and asked me didn't I want to do 5000 more steps?

Not yet.

How to get 3000 steps in on knit night: Meet HusbandBob at the casino and walk around the entire casino three times, pretending to be an angry wife in search of her imaginary deadbeat husband.

Having calories burned higher than calories consumed is a good thing. Once the math is placed so simply in the readout, it's hard to order that giant white garlic feta pizza. Dinner becomes a 6" seafood sub with baked BBQ lays instead of the real ones. Somehow seeing the math makes it easier to accept.

We all know I've had various lame attempts at this healthy business. So here's why I think maybe it can be different this time.

1. I've purchased a flex fitbit for BFFAmber. I won't be alone and she loves ice cream as much as me.

2. I'm going to pretend it's my job to meet these daily goals for the whole summer. All of the things on the Pinterest "summer syllabus" board happen only after I've done my job.

Also I did it for a week before committing to it.

Here's to a summer of spectacular business as a self employed healthy person.

 

What I see.

As head teacher, I filled in as principal a few times last week.

I realize that it's the end of the year and everyone has had their fill of everything (both teachers and kids.)

My advice? Give yourself and them a break. Pick your battles, engage in conversation and use a positive relationship to solve your problems. A temper tantrum of sorts on their part doesn't mean you have to respond in kind.

When you bring your trying kids to me and tell me to scare them a little, I'm not going to do that. That's not who I am. I'm going to have a conversation with them, find out what's going on, let them know what the next step is in terms of consequences of their behaviors, and try to help them see why getting under your skin is a bad idea. Then I tell them to look scared like I've been scolding them.

If you take away all of their recess before 9:00 am, you're an idiot. Plain and simple. If recess is the only form of motivation and or punishment in your bag of tricks, you need to go shopping at the "how to motivate kids" store.

I have known approximately three "bad" kids in my 27 year teaching career. The rest either had parents who forgot to give them their meds or were kids who had a problem and didn't have the words to articulate it or the tools to solve it.

I am glad to be in a space where I can be an advocate for kids and help them find solutions. Because I am not really a principal, I am in no position to tell teachers how I really think they could handle problems. The irony is that if a principal told them that they would suggest that s/he doesn't "get it" because s/he's not in a classroom every day. And as a colleague, any advice from me looks like I just need to mind my own business and do the job I get $5 a day extra to do.

And still, the reward from these encounters and being able to help solve problems is greater than any frustration over the reason some of these problems exist. I kind of look like the magic classroom management superhero by doing something that they themselves cannot.

 

Who knew?

Since last I posted...

I've been to the Pittsburgh Ballet.

 

It strikes me that the last two hours of a two and a half hour ballet, is really for those who have actually danced. Knitnightalison loves ballet so I'll try to go easy, but I knew I was in trouble when the audience clapped after the orchestra tuned. The dancing was perfection. And then people clapped. After each dancing pass. To me it was like a gymnastic meet with really great costumes and about twenty minutes of story line. The day and the venue and the brunch prior were perfect. I just might not need any repeat performances.

I went on a WV adventure with BFFAmber.

It started in Martinsburg WV. BFFAmber had a business meeting that we skipped.

Instead we went to a bizarro flea market that looked a little like this:

 

Lots of country crafts with an occasional splash of Hello Kitty. As we had been pondering the lack of Hello Kitty emoji during the am drive, we took these sightings as a sign we were on the right track.

Plenty of ironic humor all around with this sign in one stall.

 

Snugglebug Blessings Primitive Handmade Wares

Note the primitive handmade boom box and the Primitive Pittsburgh Penguins wreath. This is but a small sampling. Truly it was a vortex of hilarity.

One reason we skipped the meeting was because we were looking forward to this:

 

The Martinsburg Chocolate Walk and Book Fair.

Those of you who have lived life have already realized that the unplanned is always more entertaining than the planned. What we had imagined the walk to be is not what Martinsburg had planned.

Our first stop (after receiving our neon orange participant bracelet) was a Subway-like Mexican restaurant. The food was good. We collected our chocolate from a lady who was also selling Tupperware. It was a peanut cluster. Yum. While there, we

• Watched a huge film crew break for lunch, only to find out later that a good bit of p@rn is filmed in that fair city.

• Found a treasured and impossible to find bottle of hot sauce that we thought was given to us as a gift that we may have (in our naïveté) stolen.
• Listened to the author of this particular venue tell the story of how he was once the planned news feature at the New River Gorge Bridge festival only to be upstaged by someone's unopened parachute.

Yes. It was that kind of day. I quit having them for a while but they seem to be making a comeback.

We discussed our lack of preparation in not having brought small bags with which to carry our chocolate.

We trekked on.

I have picture documentation but this post is getting long. The rest of the shops on the Chocolate Walk distributed one form or another of Hershey's Halloween sized mini bars. This was superseded by cheap and tacky matchstick pretzels pre-dipped in chocolate. At then end of the street was a cupcake decorating contest where all but 6 of the 20+ entries had been removed and/or eaten.

Should your burg ever plan on hosting a Chocolate Walk on Main Street, please allow me to suggest that you purchase your chocolate from the local CHOCOLATE FACTORY and not the dollar store. Also, if you are the local chocolate factory, I'd like to suggest that watching a video tape of your inner workings does not really constitute a tour. Just sayin'.

Finally we headed 30 miles east to the healing waters of Berkley Springs, WV, where, after visiting the new age shops and purchasing a singing bowl from a Nepalese man, we soaked our dogs in the healing waters of the hot springs.

 

 

Walking the Dog

 

 

Give a girl a handy icamera some filters and some lenses and she will bust out blurry grainy picture all over the place.

 

One day at school

Today was microphone day in first grade. All that was required is to "say your name" in the mic. If you like talking, say your whole name. If you don't, just your first name.

Things progress, as they are wont to do. Children get braver, try some things out. Mostly before they do they stand at the mic and we endure a few seconds of obvious nervous silence. Noah, a quiet, unassuming six year old, is either the master of hiding the nervous in his silence, or he has better timing than most stand up comedians.

He walked to the mic on the stand, put his hand on it and paused. There were titters in room. He was unphased. He paused some more, scanned the room again and in a way that only Steven Wright can understand, said in a near monotone, "what am I doing here?" Kids are giggling. He pauses some more, deadpan, waits for the laughs, and at the exact right moment says "no, seriously...." The room explodes into laughter. I watched Noah learn the power of a captive audience. It was one of the intentionally funniest moments I've ever witnessed involving a first grader.

But wait there's more...

Earlier in the week I began a little unit on Caribbean music. The introduction of this lesson involves viewing some relevant pictures and listening to Harry Belafonte sing The Banana Boat Song. When we listen to new music, I try to guide their listening enough to focus their attention and help them get over the awkward nervousness of not knowing how to respond to something new. Mostly I say "listen and then see what you can say about it."

As the music ended and the discussion began, one student raised his hand and very genuinely, inquisitively and with the appropriate accent on the last word said, "what is a banana?" He wasn't used to hearing accents and just assumed it was a foreign language. I paused. I watched as every single 4th grade brain in the room thought did I miss something? Is this song in English or not? And then as clarity ensued I watched them realize Adrian just asked what a banana was!

It was hilarious. This is my job, people!

 

 

All about the macro

I fear you may never see a normal picture again.

A scrunchy sponge.

 

The pepper shaker.

 

A sea shell.

 

A sesame cashew.

 

Why bother going for the "water drop on a leaf" picture everyone takes. There can be so much more.

HusbandBob and I were discussing travel yesterday. Hawaii came up as one of the destinations in which I would endure a plane ride. My new criteria for travel is that wherever I go has to feel like a completely different planet for me. His new criteria for travel is not to do it. With that in mind, I believe I will be traveling to macroworld.

Is it any wonder that a childhood favorite was Horton hears a Who?

 

More things to do.

The pattern that I've noticed is that I like to do new things when there is time and no pressure.

It's hard to top roller derby but here's what's happening.

On Monday I spent the day at the niece's birthday bowling party. Twenty-six girls. I will now and forever be glad that I teach classes with girls AND boys.

 

It was cosmic bowling. Thus the need for all of the glow in the dark paint.

I had also never bowled with the nephews or with a bum knee so chalk those up to the list. Those are some great kids. Nephew the older got his license last month and chauffeured me to the bowling alley. It was the firs time that's ever happened.

 

I went apartment/house hunting for AuntofSophanne. She's very nearly convinced that living closer would be better than living far away. That's a whole lot of new with some new on top.

 

I knit some socks with Stitchjones' Bollywood. I've knit socks before. I've knit with her yarn many a times. I've never knit socks with her yarn and was able to play with the olloclip macro lens on the iPod. Very cool with infinite possibilities. Also a new thing to do.

 

New is the word. What's new?

 

My new favorite thing

Today was one of those adventure kind of hey let's go to see some

flat track roller derby kind of days.

I loved it. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just the right amount

of aggression and clever maneuvering.

I'm still analyzing my enjoyment.

 

 

Some kids are born blockers.

 

Others are meant to be jammers, squeezing in where they can.

With BFFAmber and her girls, it was an absolutely perfect

ice cream for dinner, nachos for dessert kind of day.

 

 

Zen Teacher must Stay

 

And by stay I mean at home. Another way to discuss this is to ask the powers that be which is better; zen-like teacher remaining calm kind and compassionate for four days and needing the fifth one at home to recover, or a mindless quasi-drama-princess unpredictably and occasionally overreacting five days a week?

All week long I have been surprised and impressed with my own capacity for calm. As a rule, I believe that no matter the situation, calm should prevail. No actions, behaviors, situations, or consequences can be authentically analyzed and attended to without it.

Usually in the course of a given week, the practice of calm is undermined as early as lunchtime on Monday. This week, through what has to at least be due partly to cosmic intervention, (and maybe some Trader Joe's gummi vitamins) it remained.

Disrespectful, angry, button pushing, irresponsible children and adults were all welcomed into my hula hoop of calm. And whether or not it worked for them, it was certainly pleasant for me.

This morning I woke up at 3:00 am and knew the toll it had taken on my mind and body (the time change didn't help that situation.) and I logged on to request a sub for a sick day.

There is a natural guilt that comes with a mental health day. Usually it's more easily justified by an "I can't take this anymore" declaration of desperation. But I'm pretty sure this is the same thing and instead of using the day to stabilize, I've used it to recharge.

And maybe next week I can make it for five days.

 

Soon we will be Ten.

On March 19 HusbandBob and I will be married for ten years.

This next story is convoluted. It will all come together.

I didn't know what we were doing for Valentines. In years past it was cards and flowers. Last year it was homemade cards. This year it slipped our minds until too late. Not being certain and not wanting to be caught unawares, I picked this up for him. (That's us on our first pre-marriage fancy date)

It's a cheapass fake lantern made (I'm guessing for the sake of the story) of tin. The box called it a "Brooklyn Lantern." HusbandBob hails from Brooklyn. I didn't give it to him because we ignored Valentines day.

Last week as we were warned of Winter Storm Titan, I gave it to him. Enough time had passed to prevent any Valentines guilt. He hates it when the power goes out. It was foolish to keep it hidden any longer.

This whole scenario prompted a "what do we do for our anniversary" conversation. (Come to find cards would have been a happy medium for Valentines Day. Ignoring didn't feel right.) So we decided cards for anniversary. Cards with messages make both of us happy.

Later he asked what the traditional gifts for the 10th anniversary are. Turns out it's traditionally tin and modernly diamonds. Tin? Check.

Here's where the story happens. Inside the box with the lantern was this special offer. Diamonds! Sort of.

 

I realize they're not real diamonds. But since when do you find diamond advertisements inside lantern boxes? What are the odds? And only $20. And I think cubic zirconia looks real. And it was fate so I ordered them. I have a hard time resisting the shiny sparkly and I don't need it to be real.

And now in a most circular way, we have exchanged anniversary gifts with our quirkiness.

Spooky, no?

 

I Am Eight.

Coloring books and markers for the grown up. I am in art heaven. I love where it puts my brain.

 

 

 

 

How is the weather?

It's snowing here. Four inches last night. Four the day before. It's an old fashioned snow piling up and not melting sort of winter. People complain. I nod my head and smile. I don't mind it.

HusbandBob and I shoveled our driveway this morning. The sun and temperature had not yet finished the job when HusbandBob had to walk down the driveway to where he parked his vehicle the night before.

He immediately began sliding. As he regained his balance, the bent knee pose looked to the dog like an invitation to play. I managed to discourage that but really did not know what to do next.

HusbandBob said "Hand Me The Shovel!" I must confess I was confused. I mostly wanted him to sit down and slide down. What the hell was he going to do with the shovel? Use it as a cane? That seemed silly.

I reached over, handed him the shovel, and stepped back. Then he said "grab the other end of the shovel." Again I was still confused but ok, you want me to hold the shovel too. Then in a Gene Wilder Young Frankenstein kind of way he said, "pull the shovel." I gave it a tug, still not grasping what he meant. "Pull me up with the shovel." Finally he was safe.

Later he said it was like he was a drowning man yelling "Throw me a rope!" And I did. It cracks me up so much because I can't believe how not getting it I was through the whole episode. All I need to make myself laugh today is the picture of him crouched like a slalom skier holding the shovel and looking at me wih incredulity.

Just in case you're here for the knitting, I whipped up these for the kids of BFFAmber. Knubbelchen on Ravelry.

 

 

I am a Baker.

And in the big world of culinary delights, that is enough. I didn't even post about the entire crockpot full of white chicken chilli that had to be thrown out because I cooked it with the absorbent stuff.

There is a retired cook at my school whose cinnamon rolls were perfection. She occasionally brings in a giant pan for teachers to share and if I see it first, I eat five, grab three for later and then only tell my closest friends that they are in the lounge. I would tell small lies to get more. Oh, I didn't know these were here... Nom nom.

Facebook friend Annie posted some that looked comparable. I pinned the recipe, bought some yeast and most importantly and most unusually, followed directions.

 

The results:

 

 

 

 

 

I am proudest of this last picture. I used yeast and it made a proper looking bread like food item.

As is often the case with posts about my cooking attempts, strangers to this site might be thinking "big deal," but everyone else knows what a small victory it is.

 

I'm tired of knitting hard things so I grabbed some Noro sock yarn and I'm doing this with it until I get bored or run out of yarn.

 

 

Sleeves in Progress.

 

This is how much one can accomplish after starting over one last time and then having four snow days. It is slow going. Every now and then I arrange the yarn so that I don't have to immediately untangle it after the first row. I will be so happy that they are both done. Feel free to remind me of that.

 

These are pictures of my knee. An MRI machine took them. Unlike many (brother of HusbandBob had to be knocked out), I thought getting an MRI was pretty cool. I felt like I was in some Star Trek emergency room. (The one from the 1960's- anything more recent wouldn't sound like what I believe an iron lung must sound like.)

If they're too blurry, I'll just tell you, I have a torn MCL. Not as serious as an ACL as it heals itself a little better. I got it by slipping and then sliding on black ice a few weeks ago. At the urging of concerned colleagues, I got it looked at. I'm happy to know no cartilage was damaged and now I have what I like to pretend is a bionic knee brace with hinges.

The bonus of snow/wind chill advisory days off of school is that I didn't have to miss any school to have this taken care of. The planets aligned.

It's not looking good for school tomorrow and there's said to be more snow on the way for the beginning of next week. I believe I am physiologically conditioned to love the thought of snow days. Because really, I love my job this year and don't feel that pressing urge not to go. It's very peculiar.

The new shawl collared vest has been put to great use. Again, thank you aligning planets, as I was certain the polar vortex phenomena would end as soon as it was complete. Also, what is the plural of vortex? Vortices?

 

Spots in front of your eyes?

Remember last month when I got all fancied up? I kind of liked the whole shellacked nails. BFFAmber and I went back for more today, and as there was no fancy dinner to attend, my fingers look like this:

 

I like to call it the measled finger look. Aunt of Sophanne pooh poohed the idea of true iridescent blue so when I tell her they are now pink, I think she'll be pleased. Until I tell her about the leopard spots.

Further updates on the cow.

• Firstly, the owner was touched by your interest and concern. She (the owner) is none other than SecretarySandy at school.
• There was no hiding twin calf JohhnyMoore (her husband) went in shoulder deep just to be certain. (yes, it's what you are picturing.)
• If a cow is enjoying her favorite grain, she won't notice the 47 crushed aspirins.
• Happily, this cow is no longer dropping to her side and did not need the aspirins.
• Come to find that not all cows even do that while calving. This was her first one and I'm guessing it may have caught her a little by surprise.

In knitting news, the cuffs on the Streymore are finished. After misreading the pattern for four hours, emailing the designer, then figuring out what the problem was (after emailing, before he had a chance to answer) I am ready to start the colorwork. This frustration was not without tinking so as I continue I will be taking them off the double points and putting them back on the circulars. It always takes me an extra few minutes to think of that word, circulars, sometimes I just call them "needles with wires connecting them."

 

Not in a Million Years.

I can play Candy Crush while talking on the phone.

I can play the ukulele, remember the words to a song, know who is singing well, giggle with the aides at the ones who aren't, and send the "it'll be ok" look to the kid standing next to the not so pitch perfect singer, all at the same time.

I can comment intelligently on HusbandBob's video game prowess while memorizing a Kathy Zimmerman cable sweater pattern.

I am a multi-tasker. I was an even more prolific multi-tasker before I hit the second half of my forties.

But, try as I may, with the most competent instructional materials, I have never ever been able to knit two tubes at the same time using two needles. The fiddly tangly of getting started combined with a less than great aptitude for envisioning three dimensional models had left me a one tube wonder on double pointed needles.

That is, until now.

 

Last night Knitnightgina taught me how to do two tubes on two needles. The cascade ecological wool for the Streymoy cardigan arrived on Tuesday. (I was so pleased to discover that it was softer than the marled Eco-wool I once worked with.) I know myself well enough to know that with the enormity and complexity of the sleeves, once I finished one, it would not be until next winter that I would approach the other. Knitting two sleeves at a time is critical to the completion of the sweater.

And for crying in a bucket, I can steek with ease. Two on two should not be harder than cutting your damn knitting!

Step one in the learning process was to cast on with two different colored needles and yarns and figure out the process. Step two was to take it apart and cast on seventeen more times. Step three was to be certain to do it again within a 12 hour window.

I cannot lie. I am so pleased with myself. I am also grateful that Knitnightgina was patient enough to let me learn the way I needed to. She is awesome.

In response to several who have asked. The Alaskan Serial Killer Sweater was so named because much of it was knit during a six season Dexter marathon. Shortly after that, awesome aunt suggested the cruise to Alaska and that is what pushed me to finish it. (Foolishly believing that it would actually be cold there.) The final episode of Dexter added after the fact irony.

For the "oh, you live in Western Pennsylvania" crack me up factor, it's calving season. When mama cows are getting ready to deliver, they lay down on their sides with their feet stiff and straight. When they get in this position and fail to deliver immediately, someone has to help them up. Such was the case with a certain mama cow. Fortunately the calf was delivered the next day. Unfortunately the mama cow's body is still in delivery mode and she periodically drops to her side, stiffens her legs and cannot get up. The vet suggested that she might still be in pain and that maybe she needed an aspirin. The equivalent of one cow aspirin is 47 people aspirins. Now you know. You know these cows don't belong to me, right?

 

Shall I write about the weather? Maybe not.

Instead I'll write about inspiration. Before I do, I must report that while the boiling worked better than the high efficiency washer, it did not work as well as the low efficiency washer. He has removed the initial pair of slippers and combined the last two pairs and seems to be satisfied. Next year I will have to try something else.

This week's polar vortex and accompanying snow days has been a grand opportunity for the wearing of knitted items. Right now I am under the covers wearing the Alaskan Serial Killer Sweater.

 

Over that is an EZ shawl collared vest in cascade marled ecowool. (My first steeked project)

 

On my feet are two mismatched socks that don't have holes worn in them. Why let them go to waste?

And I finally got to wear this doublemassa without my head exploding from the heat. And now it has a pomPOM. Yippee!

 

On the needles is another EZ shawl collared vest. This is the best picture I could get and still stay under the covers. It's in Lamb's Pride and I'm hoping I have enough wool though I've got a good plan for the shawl collar if I don't.

 

The following events have transpired to create the next bit of knitting adventure.

• The cold weather
• Three snow days in row
• Amazon Prime streaming video
• Discovering the tv series Grimm.
• Falling in love with Monroe's sweaters on said series.
• Loving the simplicity of steeking.
• Cruising Ravelry
• Jimmy Bean's wool website accepting Paypal as payment.

Some time next week delivery will be made (3 skeins each) of chocolate and beige Cascade EcoWool and I will be casting on Todd Gocken's Streymoy. (This picture belongs to him.)

 

After the initial excitement, I'll have the sleeves and about four inches of the body finished and it will be thrown into the UFO pile for some months. I'm guessing you can expect it to be finished around January of 2016. But you never know. I did that cable sweater in record time.

 

Happy Unbirthday.

Actually this will be a belated birthday surprise for my cousin.

 

 

The Next Day

We did it. I had curled hair and makeup. He had a tux. In addition to walking me through the whole salon experience, BFFAmber brought accessories, hairspray and an appropriate coat. What a friend!

 

The shellacked nails

 

Curls from the back

The instagrammed makeup

The dashing escort.

I have to say that this summer's cruise did me a great service by improving my art of chitchat. One somewhat unfriendly face relaxed and smiled as soon as I said "what's your dog's name." And we ate hors d'oevres that were carried around on trays by waitstaff. Now that's classy.

 

The Results Show.

Regarding the last post, the fake apple dumpling recipe was a win. HusbandBob requested it for a gathering the next day and it was eaten with gusto.

The icecream cake was so so. It would have been easier and tastier to just eat a box of Klondike ice cream sandwiches.

Not pictured was a "meatball hoagie casserole." First layer was Italian bread, second layer was a mayo/cream cheese texture adding thing. This was followed by mozzarella, meatballs, sauce and more mozzarella. Again, plain old meatball hoagies would have been tastier and easier.

Also finished today was a pair of men's size 13 felted clogs. The high efficiency washing machine does not felt well. I ended up boiling them in a big pot. This is his third pair. The first pair was done in an older washing machine. They were perfect. The second pair never really reduced in size so he put them over the first pair. I am hoping these are winners because how often does one get to knit something the husband really likes?

 

In other exciting news, tomorrow we are going to a black tie optional birthday party for his cousin. It's at the Frick museum in Pittsburgh. He's rented the tux, I have a black gown and the squeeze your belly in garment. BFFAmber is taking me for the hair and nails trip in the morning because I wasn't going to go that route unless she came with me. It never ceases to amaze me, the things that I've never done that most people have that make me anxious.

I went to buy the accessories last Monday at a mall near Pittsburgh but still on my familiar roads. The power was out at said mall and there was nothing else left to do but DRIVE INTO PITTSBURGH BY MYSELF. I'm only telling you this now in case you missed it on the news last Monday. It was truly an historic occasion and now one less thing I am afraid of.

Pictures of the grand event to follow. (In case you're wondering, "why the hoopla" you should know that we got married at city hall in matching Carhart jeans so this is likely the first and last time for such costuming.)