We interrupt this insanity for a cheezy update..

I have Sweet Loraine stuck in my head. For those of you who wonder, Patty Griffin sings that. Really, really well, in fact.

I only can dream of having a voice like hers. When I'm not dreaming, I pretend I actually do and belt it out in the car. Then my throat hurts again, and I'm reminded that I am me and singing isn't in the cards.

The Short just said to me, "Mom? I'm writing a story called Bad Christmas and it's coming out next fall. It'll have some horror."

Sounds great. Bring it on. I'm in a picture posting mood.

Here's the short in his boy scout uniform. He's getting big. And creative. And clever. And he's

still crazy on Saturday mornings before his meds kick in. But he's loving boy scouts, seems to be getting along well at his new school, is getting along with his sissy well (that's what he calls Mimi, and while I appreciate that he calls her sister, the word SISSY in reference to any sister makes me cringe.. don't ask why).

Oh yes, we have a new addition to our family. NO, I'm not pregnant.

She's had a lot of names. Her racing name was Bohemian Source. Except she didn't really care

about racing. Which is why she's living with us now. Her other names she had were Mitch, Midge, Milly, and now Willow. Or Shmii. No, not after Anakin Skywalker's mother. Because Shmii rhymes with "she" and sounds kinda like Schmoo, which is the other dog's nickname. She is a huge baby. She thinks she's a lapdog, but other than that, she's like a big kid... with lots of brains. She annoys the short beyond all reason, who in turn likes to annoy me by constantly reminding me that he is, indeed, a cat person. I guess she has too much energy for him. Which if you've ever been around the short sans meds, you'd be laughing your @ss off about that one...

Oh, Why not. Here's the Schmoo.

His real name is Pete, and he even though he's

12, he is so much more lithe and bouncy now that Shmii's come to stay. He likes to lick her face and in turn, she'll rest her head on his back. Ah, true love. Except that he's so much older... Kinda creepy. But anyway...

He is an awesome dog. Very well mannered, very thoughtful, and very intelligent.

Oh yes, and we also call the cat Schmitty... for kitty. His real name is Pumpkin. Mimi got him

a couple halloweens ago and picked that name for him. He also is very funny. Laying in the sink

and stuff. He also likes to bat at the shower hose and see if he can get any water to drip out of the faucet, he likes to chase people around after dark on his hind legs, he climbs into boxes and backpacks and just lays there, and he can climb the short's loft's ladder and sleeps with the short.

I like this cat. I think it's hilarious when willow tries to pick him up like a chew toy. She doesn't, though, because she's too nice. But she does make him a little soggy. And that's totally worth it.

Westley got a new computer. I'm sorry to say I haven't converted him to Mac yet.

Here's you're awwwwww moment.

I had a stressful day.

I came home, unloaded groceries, and started doing dishes. He came into the kitchen, gave me a hug, and dragged me out to the couch and made me sit down. He covered me with a blanket. Then he brought my computer to me. Then he brought me tea. Hence another overdue blog post.

You can thank him. I did.

I'm going to go look at lolcats now. Lots of em.

Blog Neglect: We Have Arrived

YES. It has been two months and nerry a peep from me.

That ends now. With this nonsense:

I saw Zombieland.

I spent most of it cringing, jumping, and stifling screams. I believe early on in the movie I actually let a scream escape aloud in the theater. But aside from that, I laughed my ass off. It was brilliant. And disgusting. I don't think I can say enough good things about it. The rules placed at random intervals... so clever!

Tonight I watched Seven Pounds. I won't give any spoilers, but I will say this: I have never seen Will Smith look so miserable in all my years of watching Will Smith movies. It's a redemption movie. And his character was utterly broken... but at least he was bent of making something of his life, to make things right again. There's something about being broken for the sake of brokenness. And I think, for a while, it's okay just to hang with that kind of defeat. But there's something so much more respectable about being broken and letting that be the motivation, no, the FIRE that forces you to DO something to get right again, you know? I dunno if that makes any sense.

It's just a movie that's fresh in my mind.

I have a new doggie. Her name is Willow and she's a retired racing greyhound. She is learning. She's not 2 yet. And she was on the track/in a cage 3 weeks ago. She likes to lay around, sleep, eat jake's legos, and lately has taken to mistaking the floor for the great outdoors. We're trying to be patient. She's also got a great case of gas. Worse than Westley, who has Crohn's Disease.

Pray for us. ;)

Where have I been? Freaking out about school. I loaded my plate a little full early on, and I'm trying to figure out how to balance it all. It's getting easier. So I guess in a sense it's kind of like having a new baby. Every day gets a little easier. Same with teaching new classes that have no official state standards and no curriculum except for what I can throw together. Joy to the world. But other people have done it, so why the hell can't I? Bring it on, I say. As I slowly lose my mind.

I did something kind of rebellious-- I showed my students part of a music video (not the controversial end part). And a parent called to ask me what the hell I was thinking. I handled it well, I thought. I didn't cry. I didn't get angry. She got off the phone knowing what they saw, why they saw it, and she sure wasn't ticked anymore.

But can someone please explain to me how I'm supposed to listen to this song now? Instead of loving it and remembering my silly high school days, I feel nothing but shame and embarrassment. Mental training, perhaps? Force myself to listen to it and remember the good times, not the bad? Grrr. I hate it when crap like this happens. Many a good song have been ruined because of something sucky that happens. Pear Jam's Black, for instance.

There are your random thoughts for tonight. I need to get some sleep. Life is kinda busy these days. Especially with state standardized tests coming up. Glory!

Full house.. at least today.

Oh, and this is not a reference to the tv show.

The only thing I liked about it had nothing to do with the actual show. I vaguely remembering hearing something about some character in an SNL-like show shouting BOB SAGAT! at random moments. Hilarious.

No. The house seems more full today because my niece, Snail, came to spend the night. So now there are two short kids here and one tall one. I've liked it.

I got to make a big breakfast this morning (pancakes and bacon) and I actually planned lunch so the green beans, mini corn dogs, and tuna sandwich would be done all at the same time. And I even made a dessert so big that none of them finished. And the kitchen is, for the most part, clean. So cook is one role. You're welcome to be amazed. I know I am.

The other role today has been that of Bike Mechanic. I have fixed chains, installed training wheels, repaired training wheels, repaired a kickstand...

I was *supposed* to be working in the yard. You know, shoveling the dark fudge that is our dirt (also known as clay) into a wheel barrow, then shoveling it again into the back of a tall pick up. Then I have to find a place to dump it, go get new dirt, and then fill the flower bed, put down the weed shield, and put down the mulch...

I'll wait for Westley. Forget it. I will not strain my muscles alone.

I'm getting paranoid about the sun, anyway. My arms are turning into one big freckle, along with my face. This is not good.

It's almost 3:15 and I still have not showered. If anyone tells me that stay at home moms don't do anything, I'll be there to rip them a new one along with all the stay at home moms... after I get out of work if it's during the school year.

Oh, the depth of my post for today. I'm sure I've blown your mind.

social networking/blog goggles

I was playing around with gmail and I went to the "lab."

In there was a little program called "email goggles." It's for when you've had a long night involving adult beverages. See, some people, some times, after a long night involving adult beverages, go home and fire off a bunch of emails. These emails often times lead to regret the next morning after they've sobered up. So what this little program does is give the emailer a few math problems to solve. If he or she can solve them, it sends it. If he or she can't, they don't get sent.

Brilliant.

I'm not a big drinker (I don't like being drunk; I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to my dignity... at least in most situations), so goggles have never really been something I've needed. But I have learned a few things about blogging and even facebooking. (I'd also mention twittering, but since only complete strangers are following me and all the people I'm following are either news agencies or are famous actors, it doesn't really matter.)

But here's what I know.

1. Never blog when pissed off at someone you have to deal with on a daily basis. I don't care how bad you have to vent. Unless you want to piss off friends and colleagues and alienate them, the blog is not the right place to lose it entirely. Ranting about other stuff is fine. Having strong words about politics, that's fine. But airing out your dirty laundry and gossip HERE is never a good idea. Go write it in a journal. Complain to your best friend or call up Aunt Birdie (she's always such a good listener). But if you blog it, prepare for a good ass chewing when you least expect it. Because people read blogs. I mean, they read other people's blogs, but not mine.

I'm just throwing this out there in case someone else happens upon this stunning mess.

2. Along that same vein, don't allude to work crap in your blog. If you're clever enough, you can mention the situation in very vague terms, but if you get too detailed, then shit can get out of hand and go directly to hell, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars.

I just noticed I'm looking at worst case scenarios.

Actually, I'm kinda irritated right now. I should go drink some coffee and get on the happy wagon. I'll be back.

the tempermental truth

I think I've blogged about this before.

YMMV.

I'm kind of sitting in a situation where I'm not sure someone likes me. And I'd love to be all awesome and say I don't give a crap... Okay, I'll be awesome and say that. It's fine, really, because I'm not sure I like that person.

But I'm watching myself. Just as an external observer. And I see myself as this:
1. Late to class.
2. Know it all in the back of the classroom.
3. Blessedly quiet know it all. Does her own thing.
4. Forgetful. The last one to turn something in, the last one to pick something up.

I don't see a reason why this person would like me. I'm irresponsible and a waste of space in the most negative of terms, and an irresponsible non-issue in the kindest. No wonder.

Do I see myself in those terms? Do others? Me- sometimes. Others, I don't know. Punctuality is not something I'm always good at.

...okay, must run.
but I want to talk about subtleties of truth and points of view.

Of all the things.

Westley's friend Popo called us up and asked us if we wanted to join them in a triathlon.

My first response:
NO.

Because every race I've been in, biking or running, I have come in either DEAD last or damn close to it (but at least I finished, and from what I understand, that's something). Never tried swimming competitively, but I know I'm not that fast. My mom can out swim me and she's at least 70 pounds overweight AND out of shape.

Then he said, "It's not about winning, it's about getting motivated to get exercise."

To which I looked at myself, all chubby and feeling bloppy, and replied, "Point taken. Sign me up."

I'm signing up for something I can't win. It's an exercise in humility, as if I don't have enough of those every damn day.

This might kill me, I think. Not the losing, but doing hard exercise for this long.. can I handle that?

I ran yesterday, and walked, sit ups, push ups, and a few lunges. Today I rode my bike and did sit ups and push ups. I'm not that sore.. but sore usually takes a couple days to show up. Depending on where I end up today, I'm either going to swim or run..

Which reminds me...

IT'S SUMMER!
Thank you GOD!

Some crazy things are going on at work and I wasn't sure I could keep my chin up much longer. And crying in front of students or colleagues isn't an activity I like to engage in. I love how breaks always show up just in time. Time to rest and reset, forget about all this nonsense, and go back next year with bright ideas and a better outlook.

I'm going to go out and get goggles and nose plugs.
MWAH!

playing with things... animoto

hm.. Not sure I like the music choice, but I was limited.