Commonality

Many people from all walks of life, spanning all time periods, in every country have spent their lives looking for commonalities among all races, genders, and creeds. These people are peace-seekers, agents of change who want for a better here and now. And though I highly respect these people, I think they've been working way too hard. I discovered the answer to world unification thanks to my nosiness curiosity and a little bit of research.

The thing we all have in common in this modern age, despite any difference that one could possibly fling in this direction is not that we all have skin or hearts or spirits..I mean, we do.. BUT the thing we mostly have in common is a love of Don Henley! Seriously. It is. Don Henley brings us together. Let me explain:

Even though I understand that Big Brother is watching and I am probably on some watch list which really, really sucks, I am a nosey enough person to have a site meter on my blog. It's not really there as a result of any sort of stalker-y paranoia, though once I clicked to see an unknown site that had contacted me (you know, I wanted to extend a cyber hand in the spirit of friendship), and it ended up being one of the most disturbing porn sites I've ever seen - one that would traumatize the Heff, not to mention a semi-sweet and sheltered 30 something from Texas. Needles to say, my cyber hand was IMMEDIATELY retracted, and after a scalding hot shower, an extensive tongue shave, and lots and lots of meditation to put my spirit back together, I was brave enough to go back to the site meter where I can (now timidly) see how many hits I've had per day and from where. And that kind of rocks. I can see how many of you care to actually read Viaggio vs. those of you who type something into a google search bar, hastily click on the link to my blog, realize your mistake milliseconds later, and quickly (and sometimes audibly) click back to your search results as you curse your computer for doing something you didn't want it to do. (sigh) I've been there, man. But even with all of that, I have to admit that I get a flutter of excitement when I open my site meter and see little flags from places like China, Portugal, India, and Belgium.

I often wonder how you've wandered to my site, and what I see most often is that you are searching for Don Henley's "Boys of Summer". I posted the video last October. It's the most popular search on my blog, and people come from all over the globe to see this video, here, on this site! I like to believe that I have my own little version of the UN here, though no one can out-buy anyone else's moral view, and no one is really bullying policing anything. So really it isn't anything like the UN. But it's cool. And it makes me feel good to know that music does bring people together. Kudos to you, Don Henley!

Me and Don Henley- bringing the world together.

Thoughts of Bhutto

Yesterday when I sat down at the computer expecting to go about my normal business of glancing through the news headlines, checking email, and reading blog updates, I was crestfallen to see the news that Benazir Bhutto had been assassinated. I think crestfallen has to be the right word here because I wasn't just sad - for her family, for her supporters, and for the sate of of her country - I was heartbroken. I sighed out loud and felt a very large lump in my throat.

Honestly it bothered me that I had such a reaction to the news. I didn't know much about her except for what I had read in the news - that her father was executed for being a revolutionary, that she studied at Oxford, that she came back to Pakistan, the country that killed her father, to make a difference, that she succeeded in becoming the elected prime minister of Pakistan (the first in a Muslim state, a feat that our "progressive" country has yet to accomplish) twice, and that she was running against Musharraf for a third term. I know that she was working toward stabilizing the country and that she was fighting for that lucrative democracy - that which we think we know, but that we are all struggling to define. So, I know the book report version of her life, as opposed to her actual political voice. Why, then, was I so sad?

What unnerves me about this circumstance has relatively little to do with the government of Pakistan. I mean it does bother me in that I'm curious to see what will happen next, especially since the the ones who did the attacking got what they wanted - an unstable, chaotic, emotionally charged, (nuclear armed) state. But mostly I think what bothers me is that SHE - a woman - was assassinated.

Hemingway touched on the uncomfortable idea of a woman being unnaturally dead (killed in war) in "A Natural History of the Dead," a graphic satire told from the perspective of a naturalist who is observing the dead from an intellectual, scientific perspective. In it the narrator says, "Regarding the sex of the dead it is a fact that one becomes so accustomed to the sight of all the dead being men that the sight of a dead woman is quite shocking. I first saw the inversion of the usual sex of the dead after the explosion of a munitions factory...we were ordered to search the immediate vicinity and surrounding fields for bodies. We found and carried to an improvised mortuary a good number of these and, I must admit, frankly, the shock of it was to find that these dead were women rather than men. In those days women had not yet commenced to wear their hair cut short...and the most disturbing thing, perhaps because it was the most unaccustomed, was the presence and, even more disturbing, the occasional absence of this long hair."

Whether we like it or not, it is harder to see a dead woman. Somehow, either because women, in a patriarchy, are the "weaker, more vulnerable sex" who need "protecting", or because in a matriarchy they are the sacred,the wise, the life-worthy, it is more difficult to stomach the idea of an assassinated woman. I lean more toward the matriarchal way of thinking mixed with the primitive idea that women are extremely valuable when compared with the expendable man (the 'it only takes one or two men to populate an entire clan, but it takes several women to be the child bearers, the nurturers, the community creators' idea). Or maybe because we live in a patriarchal world where the men are the decision makers, the arguers, the creators of instability, etc. it doesn't seem too atrocious that men are also the ones who are assassinated. Assassinated women are simply out of place.

Let me be clear.

I'm not saying that I hate men and that it is acceptable for them to die or that women should not go to battle or serve and die for their countries.

All unnatural death is horrifying, regardless of sex.

But I would argue that it's right that women should lead because the feminine ideals - which include wisdom, fair judgement, and the inherent need for universal balance - are far superior to the masculine traits of war-mongering and dominance. We are all made up of varying degrees of both masculine and feminine qualities and it is possible for a man to tap in to his feminine qualities. It is also right for women to be leaders, though it seems most difficult for them in a patriarchal (and therefore lacking) society. Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth knows she has to relinquish her feminine qualities ("...unsex me here,/ and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full/ of direst cruelty...") in order to gain power by helping her husband murder the king. This is a perverse request. Grotesque. Unnatural. But it is what she has to do in order to rule in a patriarchy.

For whatever reason, we haven't figured out how to wholly manifest our feminine characteristics in the patriarchy. That in itself is very bothersome.

From what I understand of her, Benazir Bhutto did not relinquish her femininity to lead like some women (Hilary Clinton for example) most obviously do. Therefore it seems right for the people in Pakistan, a country very much rooted in patriarchy, to adore her and mourn her passing. And maybe that's why it is OK for me, a woman, to mourn too.

Her assassination is a sad atrocity. What a loss. What a loss.

Happy Holiday

We had a great Christmas this year filled with lots of family and fun! See for yourselves:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

(Albanian) - Gezur Krislinjden
(Argentine) - Feliz Navidad Y Un Prospero Ano Nuevo
(Armenian) - Shenoraavor Nor Dari yev Pari Gaghand
(Bohemian) - Vesele Vanoce
(Brazilian) - Feliz Natal e Prospero Ano Novo
(China - Cantonese) - Gun Tso Sun Tan'Gung Haw SunSing Dan Fai Lok
(China - Mandarin) - Kung His Hsin Nien bing Chu Shen TanSheng Dan Kuai Le
(Croatian) - Sretan BozicÈestit Boiæ i sretna Nova godina
(Czech) - Prejeme Vam Vesele Vanoce a stastny Novy Rok
(Danish) - Gledlig jul og godt Nytt Aar
(Dutch) - Vrolijk Kerstfeest en een Gelukkig Nieuwjaar Dutch
(Netherlands) - Prettig Kerstfeest
(Filipinos) - Maligayang Pasko
(Finnish) - Hauskaa Joulua Hyvää joulua ja Onnellista uutta vuotta
(French) - Joyeux Noël et heureuse année
(Gaelic-Irish) - Nolag mhaith Dhuit Agus Bliain Nua Fe Mhaise
(Gaelic-Scot) - Nollaig Chridheil agus Bliadhna Mhath Ur
(German) - Frohe Weihnachten und ein glückliches neues Jahr
(Greek) - Kala Khristougena kai Eftikhes to Neon Ethos
(Hawaiian) - Mele Kalikimake me ka Hauloi Makahiki hou
(Hebrew) - Mo'adim Lesimkha
(Hindi) - Shubh Christmas
(Hungarian) - Kellemes Karacsonyi unnepeketBoldog Karacsonyl es Ujevl Unnepeket Kellemes Karacsonyt Es Boldog Uj Evet
(Icelandic) - Gledileg jol og farsaelt komandi arGledlig jol og Nyar
(Indonesia) - Selamat Hari NatalSelamah Tahun Baru
(Iraqi) - Idah Saidan Wa Sanah Jadidah
(Irish) - Nollaig Shona Duit
(Irish) - Nodlaig mhaith chugnat
(Italian) - Buon Natale e Felice Anno Nuovo Buone Feste NatalizieBuon Natale e felice Capodanno
(Japanese) - Shinnen omedeto. Kurisumasu Omedeto
(Korean) - Chuk Sung TanSung Tan Chuk Ha.
(Lithuanian) - Linksmu Kaledulinksmu sventu Kaledu ir Laimingu Nauju Metu
(Norwegian) - God Jul Og Godt Nytt Aar
(Peru) - Feliz Navidad y un Venturoso Año Nuevo
(Philippines) - Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon
(Polish) - Wesolych Swiat Bozego Narodzenia i szczesliwego Nowego Roku
(Portuguese) - Boas Festas e Feliz Ano NovoFeliz Natal e propero Ano Novo
(Romanian) - Sarbatori Fericite. La Multi Ani
(Russian) - S prazdnikom Rozdestva Hristova i s Novim Godom
(Serbian) - Hristos se rodi
(Serb-Croatian) - Sretam Bozic. Vesela Nova Godina
(Spanish) - Feliz Navidad y prospero Año Nuevo
(Swedish) - God Jul Och Gott Nytt År
(Turkish) - Noeliniz Ve Yeni Yiliniz Kutlu Olsun Yeni Yilnizi Kutar, saadetler dilerim
(Ukrainian) - Srozhdestvom Kristovym
(Vietnamese) - Mung Le Giang Sinh. Cung Chuc Tan Nien
(Welsh) - Nadolig Llawen a Blwyddyn Newydd Dda
(Yugoslavian) - Cestitamo Bozic

[Subtle] Husband Hints

This sticker:This t-shirt: And this:
See Righteous Babe Records

All I Want For Christmas..

..is my right back molar to be magically fixed without having to go to the dentist..



When I was a kid I had no enamel on my back molars which meant that my teeth crumbled in my mouth and, as a result, I was eating my own teeth. GROSS. I had oral surgery to extract what was left of the fragments and to fill the rest. I went home from the hospital on New Year's Eve, the proof being that I vaguely remember the midnight cheering, honking, and fireworks in my dream-like, morphine induced trance. I also remember something about Mom getting pulled over by a cop as she was speeding me home so that I wouldn't vomit blood all over her plush Cadillac seats, and Mom saying, "You don't believe me? Look at her! Show him Ginger." But that may have been some sort of mother/daughter telepathy moment while the cop was writing out the ticket - remember, I was stoned - or maybe she later said that that was what she was thinking. Either way, it was sort of a bonding moment in a disturbing yet tender way.

Yesterday when my filling fell out in the middle of C-hall as I was eating a candy cane, (filling in one hand, candy cane in the other), I realized that I would have to go to the dreaded dentist, and memories of that surgery came flooding back. I was so stunned by the occurrence and by the memories that I held up the filling like a kid showing his folks his newly lost tooth, only instead of parental pride beaming back at me, I was startled to recognize the confused (yet amused) gaze of the Fougs -who luckily thinks that sort of thing is cool and not disgusting- and another colleague who was, justifiably, horrified. (Such. A. Spaz.)

The good news is I am not in any pain, other than I am (or rather my tongue is) constantly being reminded that jagged teeth are sharp. The less than good news is that I have to find a dentist, endure whatever "procedure" he recommends, and then hope that I can take some sort of pain medication that is Poyo* safe. Plus, our fabulous HMO insurance provider makes us pay extra for dental coverage which means that we, who were rightly more concerned with using the money for life insurance when we signed the policy form, will have to pay the full price for the extra pain. Yay. Screwed by The Man again! You'd think I'd like it by now or at least be used to it.

Fortunately for me, I wont have time to deal with any of this until after the Christmas break. So as with all things that are inconvenient, I'll ignore the problem until I am forced to deal with it. :) But I'll think about that later..

* Poyo is what we call our unborn child which may or may not be better than what Pa-Paw (his grandmother) calls him- Cooter Jack. Poor kid. Then again, it could be fodder for the tell all that will make him a billionaire..

A Break? (therapy smile)

School's out for the..winter? So it's only out for two weeks, and winter doesn't really hit until January here. But still - the point is that SCHOOL IS OUT for a little while and I seriously need the break. I'm sitting between piles of laundry - that which needs to be folded and that which needs to be washed. Rich is tutoring tonight so that leaves me solo. I made dinner (for once) and am finishing wrapping the gifts since we're gonna "go home with the armadillo" tomorrow to see Rich's family. I always forget how hard it is to get ready for the road trip, and I feel completely exhausted from last week's assessments, mag release, and Medieval projects (for the seniors). I've spread myself pretty thin - not to mention the pregnancy and the fact that one of my tooth fillings fell out today. Ha. Like I have time for the dentist!

OK, so I sound extremely gripey. I am, other than being completely stoked about taking a break. Therefore, I've decided to take nothing but fun reading material to my in-laws' house (i.e. no papers to mark, even though I'll have a stack waiting for me when I get back!) and am really looking forward to snuggling in with David Sedaris's sarcastically hilarious Holidays on Ice and Mark Haddon's neurotic episode, A Spot of Bother. (Haddon is the same guy who wrote The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.) Plus I have three The New Yorkers to peruse. (And all the geeky girls go "Do. do do. do do..")

I think the kids will appreciate a refreshed teacher. I think Rich will appreciate a less gripey wife. And I thank my lucky stars that I have a chance to sit and be still.

But damn, I miss wine.

Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch!

Dorothy's candy-ass whirlwind had nothing on the vertiginous tornado that whipped my life last week. And yes. I DID say vertiginous. What of it? I'm still weak-kneed from all of the whirling. Plus vertiginous is a fun word to say AND it makes me sound smarter than I am. Say it with me now: "ver-tig-i-nous." See? Fun!

Lately, as you can see, my brain would fit right in with those who search for a holy grail but get side-tracked by shrubberies and herrings and whatnots. If you'll stay with me, I'll explain (briefly - or as briefly as I can - which means this may be very lengthy).

Monday - I was stupid brave enough to invite 21 IB students to my house for a review session. 16 of them, plus my partner in crime, the Fougs, showed up. If you've never been in my living room, you should know that having that many folks in my house - who are not mingling, playing poker, and/or drinking too many He is Risen Margaritas before they realize that maybe they only should've had one - is sort of stifling. And for the record, there was some mingling, but there was NO poker and NO margarita drinking at this event. It turned out to be a nice evening. The kids were ultra kind and thanked me profusely for allowing them to study here. We covered a lot of material, had lots of hot tea (which several of them picked over the soda and kool-aid (which is what I was having) I think because tea makes you feel smarter (and allows you to speak in an English accent if you want - which also makes you feel smarter), and had some giggle sessions to boot. In short, it was a pleasant evening.

Tuesday - I was late to school (stress! - 30 kids standing outside of your locked classroom, making you very aware of your tardiness), and had a baby doctor appointment on my conference period. Those always terrify me, especially since I am afraid to get my hopes up. I have to steel myself for whatever news the doctor will give me, and have to quiet my enthusiasm at the thought of hearing a little heartbeat. I try to keep my emotions in check, but also, I have to face the fact that there might not be a heartbeat. I have to brace myself for that circumstance and have to think about how to best handle it: How will I drive back to school? How will I teach the rest of the day? How will I tell Rich? I can't handle another disappointment like that without being prepared mentally. So, though I try to be optimistic, I generally have tears of relief after doctor visits and not tears of joy. Luckily, there was a strong heartbeat this time, and the news was all positive.

Wednesday - It was a fairly normal day, except that Rich and I went Christmas shopping in the freezing rain.. because we're stupid. But the options were: shop in the freezing rain OR shop on (gasp) the week-end. Shopping on the week-end during the Christmas holiday HAS to have made one of the Dante's circles in The Inferno. Seriously. It's hell. And since it's December, it's frozen hell just like Dante imagined, only instead of Satan's three mouths chewing on Judas, Brutus, and Cassius, they are chewing on those folks who want to "clean your ring" for 15 thousand dollars and the cost of your life span, cranky mall elves, and that guy who cut me off to get the parking space I was signaling for. (sigh)

Thursday - Saturday - The Fougs and I gave IB IOC's. The IOC (Individual Oral Commentary) is an assessment that the uber-smart kids have to take. The kids randomly pick an envelope from a stack. In it there is a 40 line extract from one of the 4 literary pieces we have studied this semester (for us, it could be one of 40 poems from Mary Oliver's collection of poems in American Primitive, 40 lines from one of 8 short stories by Ernest Hemingway, 40 lines from one of 8 speeches by Martin Luther King Jr., or one of 40 lines from Macbeth). The kids had 20 minutes to analyze their extracts - put it in context of the whole, explain the significance, identify the figurative language and style of the author, determine the author's intent, etc. - and then they had to give a 15 minute oral commentary over their extract. In other words, they had to give an organized, cohesive, eloquent oral essay. Other than organizing the IOCs (which was painstakingly difficult - Thanks Fougs!), our job was to listen to the commentaries one on one, to identify as the student was speaking, any gaps or holes in the commentary, and then to pose questions to the student at the end of the 15 minutes to make sure that he/she gets the highest score possible - all while taking notes, recording the commentary, and timing it. Then we score each one, only to have our scores moderated by the IB gods who can "adjust" our scores however they see fit. (BIG SIGH) It was a tough three days, and my brain is TIRED. Did I mention that my other classes had to have a substitute for two days so that I could do these assessments? Those of you who are teachers understand what that means..

OH! And Friday was the release party (Temporary Utopia) for the fall edition of our literary magazine - which ROCKS!!! Temp U was fun, except for that whole sewage line break, move of location, and lost litmags.. More on this later.

Sunday - So now it's today - the day of rest. And I'm reeling. And I'm exhausted. And I have tons to do today.
But I think the storm clouds are clearing, and I remain unscathed for the most part. Honestly, I probably operate better under this type of stress. It just sucks because the aftermath leaves me so incapacitated that I can't even remember how to count to three.

"One... two... five!"
"No! Three, sir!"
"Three!"
(throws grenade)

What you don't know..

..is that he was caught making out with Santa.

The "interruption" explains the annoyed expression. (Notice the tousled beard?)

He also eats the Christmas tree.

It's a fake.

We're so proud..

Christmas and Clydesdales (Or Field Mice?)

Hallmark makes it seem perfectly easy. All you have to do is throw on your flannel pj's and snuggle into the cozy scene - snow falls gently outside; inside, the house glitters with glowing tree and garland wrapped banister, matching Christmas dishes and accessories adorn the table; all gifts are hand-made and are lovingly wrapped and personalized; the kids are smiling, hot cocoa in hands, while Grand-pa reads the Christmas story, as is tradition; a prodigal brother comes home from fighting the good cause, a bag of presents in his ruck sack; and if you listen closely, you might hear the jingle of sleigh bells or see a parade of Clydesdales leaving fresh footprints in the newly fallen snow..

You get the idea.

And even though I KNOW the truth - that I live in Metroplex, Texas which means no snow EVER, and flannel pj's, therefore, are right out because it's still 80 degrees outside; the tree may be glowing, but only after three strands of mostly working lights and a short power outage (oops); the Christmas dishes are still packed away in the top of some cabinet somewhere and washing them is too much of a chore, anyway; the gifts are still..uh.. at the store and the wrapping paper is a product of the high school band fundraiser and is still sitting in the high school band hall because the seller doesn't remember that he is in band and the paper hasn't been delivered; the kids cat has brought in a field mouse and let it loose under the Christmas tree; the brother may come home from fighting holiday traffic, but he works for UPS and they may need him to work up until Christmas day; and if you listen closely, you can hear the traffic on I20, especially those punk teenagers who like to race down the frontage road. - Even though I know this is the reality, I still somehow cling to the Hallmark version, like I need to believe that the fantasy really does exist somewhere and that someday I may be able to aspire to that level of picturesque bliss.

As I've gotten older, my role in the imaginary scene has changed - I'm no longer the kid with the cocoa. I am the mom who effortlessly put together the moment and am in the kitchen sipping wassail while checking completed tasks off the 'to-do' list. Silly, right?! (sigh)

Please don't misunderstand. I've had plenty of Hallmark moments in my life, filled with lots of instances that seem to fit into that greeting card envelope - my mom worked tirelessly to make it so. But the hard part is understanding that when the planets actually do align perfectly and the fairy Godmother waves her magic wand in this direction, creating something that feels similar to the imagined bliss, that those moments rare - lovely, but rare.

So we should make the most of them for when reality sneaks its Grinchy truth back into our lives. We should participate in the fantasy in as much as it makes us hopeful for something, that it motivates us to work a little harder for something. We should be careful to imagine it in a way that doesn't leave us disappointed by the truly lovely things - like when your brother, even though he works for UPS and can only stay for a little while, gets to come and visit for a few days. And maybe there will even be wassail!

You Should Know

I've spent a lot of time wondering how I should go about doing this. Seeing as it is all I think about, it is hard to avoid writing about something that is so much a part of my life. But I'm afraid. I know that most of you love me and will be supportive no matter what happens which is what gives me the confidence to go ahead and tell you that I am expecting again.

I am almost 14 weeks along, due in early June. So far everything looks good for this little one. It's me who's having the trouble with not wanting to feel too excited and with not telling too many people just in case.. I can't plan or think about what I need because I'm worried. And how stupid of me to feel so cautious that I won't allow for very much joy surrounding this good news. According to the doctor and every web site I have read the risk for miscarriage is now very low, yet I'm still cautious.

And now you know. And I needed to tell you because, at the very least, it's the healthy thing to do. But I'm in tears.

Last Salon of the Year

Discussion topics for December 7, 2007:

1. To cause or increase suffering is always unethical.

2. To what extent should history influence the present?

3. Holidays in a secular society: is commercialization inevitable?

Thoughts?

Giving is Good

'Tis the season and such for gift giving, a tradition that proves our country's capitalistic obsession and that devours some of the season's sense of spirituality and gentle peacefulness (for example, long lines at the mega-store, screaming children, and the "I saw it first" mentality). The holiday can easily become something ugly. But what folks, especially the antagonists to the "biggest shopping time of the year," don't realize is that there is some sort of redemption in all of the hullabaloo.

I have to admit that I like it.

Of course I'm not talking about the ugliness that can be the product of our evolutionary (and Westernized) instinct - survival of the fattest. I am talking about the fact that there are many more of us who say, "Please go ahead of me. You were first," or who shop the sales because they actually WANT to give the people they love the BEST presents they can afford. For most people, going to the mall is an outing that they get to enjoy with their families, and not a cranky burden. It is a chance to actually have human contact with people in the outside world -communitas (the spirit of community)- something that our society is getting really bad at due to our lack of practice. I guess I might even say that we NEED this time to remind us that it is OK to NEED each other.

Have you ever sent someone a present just because, given him a card for no reason other than you were thinking about him, or told him that you love him, sincerely and truly because you appreciate who he is? This type of communication has become awkward in our society and even inappropriate since we are conditioned to not need anyone. I even fight the urge to react ungracefully when someone new tells me that they like who I am or even if they hug me because they are glad to see me. Christmas gives us an excuse for these types of behaviors to be acceptable.

And yes, some people are shitty. Some people are in it for the receiving instead of for the giving. And maybe the rest of us are over compensating for something that we should be doing year round, but at least we have this right now, and thank God for it.

When one says that we are losing focus of "the reason for the season," I think it's fair to remind them that goodwill toward men and glad tidings are of paramount significance to the rest of the story, even if the only way we know how to show it is through shopping.

The End

NaBlo ends today!! FREEEDOM! I hope the muse will return now, and I can get back to writing when I feel like I have something to say. That means I actually have to do things that inspire me - like read books that have value and that add to my life, and work on creative projects and ideas. It's my fault for not allowing myself the time for those things lately. Hopefully now that the litmag is at the printer and my IB class is winding down for the semester, I'll have some time for intentional inspiration. We'll see! :)

It's Garbage

Today was a high anxiety, stress filled day - one where you are searching for a cavern to scream into and can't seem to find one. It's never the right time. Plus, it's not very professional or ladylike. I feel the anxiety in every inch of my being, in the corners of my lungs, weighing heavily in my gut. This is one of those 'episodes' that I can't shake easily and no amount of mindful breathing or half smiles can help. There is no justifiable reason for it, other than my genetic code has a few damaged numbers. My stress may be a culmination of several little things, I suppose, but the point is that I need to find refuge sometime soon or I'll explode. Playing this on LOUD while screaming the lyrics usually helps:
Caution: It's not very nice. But then Garbage never is. And I love 'em for it.

Random Girl

Is NaBloPoMo over yet? I felt a little more inspired the first time I attempted this, but I am discovering that writing is the last thing on my mind lately. And forced writing is torture for me and probably for you too. So here's some randomness:

1. I saw Beowulf today - the 3D version. It was OK. The movie version was similar to the real, epic version, and I appreciated that they incorporated some of the Old English into the script. Angelina was naked, and we'll just say that Rich isn't the only one in our family who is OK with seeing her. Some people are just beautiful.. and I want to beat the crap out of them in an envious rage...even if they are CGI versions of themselves.

2. During the preview for Beowulf, I saw that there will be a 3D version of a U2 concert, 'cleverly' called U23D. Despite the title, I WILL see this! I don't care what you say, Mark. Just seeing the preview took me back to a time when I had all the faith in the world - when I was enthusiastic about creating change and making things better. I think those feelings are still in there, but they are walled in by cynicism these days. I guess that's the price of allowing yourself to become something of a grown-up.

3. I'm mad at myself for admitting this, but I sometimes go to Starbucks. Mostly I go there because I can walk to one from my school...and from my house.. and from anywhere where there is a corner nearby. For a while I was insistent on NOT going there, especially with my local coffee house within driving distance. But then evil Starbucks created a peppermint mocha that I CRAVE almost daily. They have their hooks in me AND they have a drive through window. I'm screwed. Maybe when the holiday is over - when the peppermint mocha gives way to something Spring-ish and cold- I can break myself of the habit and go back to the good and noble America's Best.

Hey, this was something of a post. And what's more, I still haven't missed a day. Only two more to go and then it may be time for a long blog break. Or maybe without the NaBloPoMo monkey on my back, looming over every key stroke, I'll actually be inspired!

N Word Update

This is a follow up to this post that I wrote a few weeks ago about a teacher who was trying to illustrate the power of words as an introduction to Huckleberry Finn (a required text for all students in Texas) by giving a district mandated lesson which required that she write the N word on the chalkboard. This offended a student who filed a formal grievance, requested that the teacher be disciplined and do community service, and for the book to be banned from the classroom. At the time, though a topic of interest because I do teach literature, I felt a little bit distanced from it, especially since I don't teach that particular text anymore (it's a junior level text and I teach seniors). Unfortunately, this incident sent all of the surrounding districts into a flurry of reactionary decisions, including my own, resulting in the banishment of the N word from our school.

What that means is that the teacher still HAS to teach the texts (To Kill a Mockingbird, Huck Finn, and Of Mice and Men), but they are not allowed to say the N word, the students are not allowed to say the N word, and no mention of the N word is allowed in any form (videos or tapes) in the classroom.

While I agree that the word is inappropriate to throw around, I feel strongly that decisions like these will allow the N word to remain powerful.

For the students it is almost impossible to read Huck Finn unless they read it aloud because it is mostly written in dialect. It is better for them to hear the words which is why the tapes are helpful when the teacher or the students need a break. But if they do read aloud, they now have to substitute the N word with another word. Suggestions are "slave" or "black man." How is that less controversial? (especially the latter?) And what happens if someone slips? Is there a consequence?

Also, the teachers cannot show Gregory Peck's brilliant performance in the classic To Kill a Mockingbird, nor can they watch Gary Sinise in Of Mice and Men. The visuals make the texts real, and the visual element is part of the literature course.

What are we doing in the name of political correctness? What are we doing as a result of one student's unfounded accusation? Winston's sole job in 1984 was to "delete" words, and his and his society's outcomes were ones of sheepish obedience. This is how society declines, and no amount of discussion over peppermint lattes (which is what I had with my boss, pre-decision) will fix it!

Thanksgiving Snow Down

Here are some pics from our Thanksgiving excursion. My favorites among them are the ones of Rich playing football because... um.. what? Rich playing football? Let's just say that the sports gene didn't really make it into the Haag genetic code. The game ended well, though. The boys only knocked out the cable once with a misguided toss and fortunately this happened during Kelly Clarkson's half time extravaganza in the Cowboy game. Otherwise there would've been an ass-whuppin'. Also, it snowed! (after being 80 two days before. Isn't that cliche of Texas weather?!)

I've Got the Road Trip KOD*

I'm weird about road trips. I like them sometimes. When it's a trip to visit family, whether in Flatland, TX or in Droughtland, GA, I tend to be cranky. This has nothing to do with what will happen when I get to either place because I certainly enjoy my time while I'm there. It's more about the lack of adventure on the road trip - it seems redundant and repetitive and redundant and repetitive. Same DQ. Same Truck Stop. Same disgusting bathroom that makes you wish you had peed on the side of the road.

But I CRAVE new road trip adventures - a spontaneous excursion to the Hill Country for example. I used to be better at the spontaneous road trip - like the time we went to the 50th anniversary of the alien landing at Roswell, or those times we went to Luchenbach for some much needed beer and boot scootin'. And those were times when money was really tight, and it was silly to consider even going on those trips.

Now I'm all boring and responsible. And old - as in "my back hurts from being in the car that long.". And I only make road trips that have a specific purpose, because God forbid I a.) spend money on something that is frivolous and fun or b.) waste time that could otherwise be spent marking papers and lesson planning..

Ew. Have I really become "that" girl? The short answer is yes. Fortunately, I'm also the girl who is intolerant of herself upon that sort of realization. This circumstance will be rectified, immediately. So, who's up for a road trip to Anytown, USA? Seriously. Let's go.


* k.o.d. - kiss of death - what happens to a person when they can't stomach the circumstance they are in and react negatively to said circumstance. Not to be confused with "Line Disease" where you have a 'standing in line at Wal-Mart next to a screaming child' moment.

20 More Things According To My Mom

I decided to let my mom have a crack at sharing 20 things about me since I'm not even halfway done with my list of 100 things and I'm already bored with me. So this is an experiment that could be awesome, as in look at all the sweet things my mom wants to share about my life; or it could be a disaster, as in, "how embarrassing, MOM! How could you?". Either way, here goes -
20 Things about me in my mom's own words:
See #s 1-20 here and #'s 21-40 here

41. Ginger is the most polite vomiter.
42. She's a one condiment girl.
43. She is beautiful on the inside and out.
44. People used to stop me when Ginger was a baby and tell me she had the prettiest mouth and ears they'd ever seen.
45. She's a wordsmith and I love that.
46. Ginger is a tree hugger.
47. She does many things that make me happy and proud.
48. She tolerates my obsession with my dog.
49. She is open minded.
50. Ginger has been her brother's teacher since he was born.
51. She has been sleeping through the night since she was 9 years old... once.
52.Ginger survived her freshman year at Tech in spite of the grown-ups in her life.
53. She brought softness, gladness, and happiness to her Mimi, more than anyone else ever did.
54. She was attentive to her Mimi her entire life.
55. She takes teasing well and has received a lot of it.
56. Ginger and her friends filled the house with music and laughter.
57. Ginger has the littlest fingers I've ever seen.
58. She makes perfect ribbon bows.
59. Ginger is tolerant of others.
60. She's a blessing.

(Aw, thanks Mom! I'm not too embarrassed.)

Thanksgiving

For each new morning with its light,

For rest and shelter of the night,

For health and food,

For love and friends,

For everything

Thy goodness sends.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

Scavenger Dinner

We arrived in Lubbock safe and sound, a cold front at our heels and snow in the forecast. Mom had already made a pot of her famous pinto beans in case it got cold and we were looking forward to that for the base of our dinner. As it turns out, here in Texas at holiday time, instead of folks having "traditional meals" like Martha Stewart dreams up for the Yankees, we stick to a more Southern cuisine. That is, we enjoy all the Mexican food we can eat.

This year Mom, Rich, Sugar and I loaded up in the car to "scavenge" for our dinner. It was more of a hunt, really. The Pedro's Tamales was the first stop where we ordered 4 dozen tamales. And these are INCREDIBLY good. So good, in fact, that Mom often brings them to us when she drives from Lubbock to visit us in the Metroplex. The next stop was for 3 dozen tortillas at Rosa's, and the final stop was Sheridan's for some dessert custard. When we got home, mom even made cornbread! Lucky us!

The meal was awesome and perfect for the cold weather. Even Sugar was happy with her complimentary dog treat from Rosa's and her puppy cone from Sheridan's. :)

Winner Winner Winner

I turned on the TV last night to settle in to another magical hour of House because, let's face it, I have a MAJOR crush on Hugh Laurie. The first thing I heard as the TV was 'warming up' was this:

"For now, Sebastian Bach is the strongest link and Coolio is the weakest with the lowest score. Stay tuned to see who will survive on (...dramatic pause...) THE WEAKEST LINK!"

First reaction: Wha? Isn't The Weakest Link a quiz show?

Second reaction: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

Third reaction: Duh, like Sebastian Bach will totally beat Coolio, at least in the hair department. And I'm a little biased because Sebastian Bach had a permanent role on two seasons of The Gilmore Girls. He RULES!

Hmm.

On second thought, I think Ann Robbins can kick both their asses (and mine if I don't vote for her... Mam.)

Monkey Monkey Hockey Puck

My mind is reeling today - which would happen all at once after a week or two of forced blogging. This morning I woke up and thought, "I have something to say!" Really I didn't, but I was determined to find something by blog time. And I did. I found twenty million things to say.. Then I panicked and thought, "Which one of the twenty-two million things (because two million more things popped into my brain) should I write about? Can I save any for later? Is it cheating to start posts and use them later? Do I really have that kind of time?"

So here's the conclusion: I am going to briefly list a few things in order of occurrence, to show you that I really do have ideas occasionally. And lucky for you, I don't have time for twenty-three million things, so I'll narrow it to, let's say 5.

1. I woke up this morning to my favorite (smart ass) news caster trying to seriously report the story that today the president officially pardoned the Thanksgiving turkey, as in "President George W. Bush offers an official pardon to May, the 2007 Thanksgiving Turkey, during festivities Tuesday, Nov. 20, 2007, in the Rose Garden of the White House. In pardoning May, and the alternate, Flower, the President said, "May they live the rest of their lives in blissful gobbling. And may all Americans enjoy a holiday full of love and peace. God bless you all." (Story from Thanksgiving at the White House; White House photo by Chris Greenberg) I know that this is a silly tradition that dates all the way back to when God was a boy/girl. And I'm really glad that May was pardoned, but then again so was Scooter Libby.(!) Plus, I found a website that actually sells presidential pardons. So guess what, turkey! You're not so special. Get in my belly!

2. I went to the Stars v. LA Kings last night (which sort of sounds like I attended a gang fight. I'm talking about the NHL). And though we did win 3 to 0, that's not the blog entry I wanted to post. A soon as we entered the arena, Rich saw a line and decided to stand in it. We had no idea why were standing in line except that people were leaving the line with "Thank you! Come Again!" sacks. Rich thought the line might end at free stuff, and if getting free stuff is an option, then one should always stand in the free stuff line.. because it's free! We felt glad when the folks behind us whispered, "What are we in line for?" but did not turn around to acknowledge that we were just as clueless. In fact, we stood taller as if to say, "We know what we're in line for. How silly that you don't." When we got to the front of the line, we realized that no, there was no free stuff. And we were too worried about saving face to step out of the line. So we spent a whole $4 on this:

Yes. It is a bobble head Modano and a bobble head Morrow on a collectible bobble holding ice rink. Because what we need is more shit to stack around the house..

3. Sesame Street apparently traumatized me as a kid, and I didn't even know it. Thank God I found out about it today! Geez! I mean I could have eaten a pipe, wandered off with strange men, and hallucinated about big scary harry sort-of-elephants. How did I survive 32 years after having watched such smut?!! If you want to know what the heck I'm talking about, read this. I know! It WAS a close call!

4. I had coffee with The Fougs's folks today! It was so GREAT to see them, and we discussed everything from oil spritzers (for cooking - I've heard of that) to de-feathering doves (that was my contribution) to what happens to piers when the water surrounding them freezes. Needless to say, I learned a lot today, and I can't wait to go and visit them at The Cape!!

5. Tomorrow I get to go see my Mom!! (and Sugar) I am so looking forward to that! Plus, it's Thanksgiving holiday!! We'll also get to see Rich's family in Amarillo. The weather is actually supposed to dip below 80 (freezing for us) which makes it feel more like turkey time. Bring on the food, the football, and the frivolity!

So there's tons more floating around in me noggin, but I guess I'll save my detailed world peace plan complete with schematic diagrams and flow charts for another blog. :)

Religious Intolerance IS Racism

After reading a few web pages and blogs (that I will not mention here because I don't want to promote them) my dear English friend, Mark, sent this question to a group list:

"I guess anti-Muslim sentiment is pretty big in the US now? Would be interested to know what my American friends think about this dangerous mix of racism, dressed up as sound intellectual attack on backward practices having nothing to do with the heart of the Islamic religion (as with witch hunts/anti-feminism and the soul of Christianity, kids throwing bricks through windows and anarchism, etc etc) and instead everything to do with flawed power structures, bad consciousness, human beings controlling one another using false religion as an excuse etc etc.

We do have something of the same problem over here in the EU, in terms of racist attitudes, although I suspect it's not quite so prevalent..?"

I was wondering if any of you had any opinion about this or if you could shed some light on any of Mark's points. I'll post my (poorly composed) response in the comment section here just to get the ball rolling. I only posted the thoughts that have been voiced to me on the many occasions that I have tried to defuse this sort of racism. But please understand I work really hard against reactionary feelings for and against both sides. I am, after all, human.

Up-Sellers or Sell Outs?

Have you noticed that in the last few years or so music has become extremely commercialized? I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, isn't rock and roll supposed to be at least a little bit anti-establishment? Isn't it supposed to be music for the people, not music for the consumer? OR is the new marketing idea a brilliant ploy on behalf of the music industry just in time -when music is rampantly being pirated and as the CD becomes marginalized? Do the ads promote the musicians, especially the up-and-comers? Do they hurt the musicians - as in "If I hear that damned I-Pod song one more time.."? I can't decide. I do imagine that all of the marketers for these products are twenty somethings, have spiky, blond tipped hair and are constantly updating their Facebooks at work. "Music is my boyfriend.." But then again, not all of the "commercialized" musicians are new ones.

A part of me knows that I'm just jaded because I'm not twenty-something anymore (she said as she updated her oh-so-grown-up blog) and therefore may not be open to the idea that the future of music will forever be tied to the newest product. I'm a thirty something who is fighting against the notion that I can't be a kid forever. My music is no longer the "it" music. Just yesterday, the Fougses asked, "I wonder what it will look like when Snoop Dogg becomes elevator music." For shizzle, yo! But then Snoop is what the thirty somethings listen to these days which makes it old. And thank God we haven't crossed that bridge..yet. It's hard enough listening to the orchestral version of "With Or Without You" or "White Riot" at the grocery store.

I do know that Michael Jackson- who bought the rights to the Beatles songs and then sold them to Sony music - is a bastard for allowing "All You Need Is Love" to be the jingle for some sort of baby wash or wipes or whatever the hell product is being pimped at the moment. (Shaking fist in air - "Damn you Michael Jackson!")

(sigh.) Here are some more examples of the sell outs.. (ahem), I mean up-sellers. I'll let you decided what's what:

Reece's Candy

New Order - Bizarre Love Triangle

Sony
Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out


Verizon
Fall Out Boy - This Ain't A Scene It's an Arms Race


Imogen Heap - Headlock


Cingular
Peter Gabriel - Solsbury Hill


Apple
The Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc.


Cadillac?
The Dandy Warhols - Bohemian Like You

Turbulence

(When it’s time to change your seat.)
by David Sedaris June 13, 2005

On the flight to Raleigh, I sneezed, and the cough drop I’d been sucking on shot from my mouth, ricocheted off my folded tray table, and landed, as I remember it, in the lap of the woman beside me, who was asleep and had her arms folded across her chest. I’m surprised that the force didn’t wake her—that’s how hard it hit—but all she did was flutter her eyelids and let out a tiny sigh, the kind you might hear from a baby.


Under normal circumstances, I’d have had three choices, the first being to do nothing. The woman would wake up in her own time, and notice what looked like a shiny new button sewn to the crotch of her jeans. This was a small plane, with one seat per row on Aisle A, and two seats per row on Aisle B. We were on B, so should she go searching for answers I would be the first person on her list. “Is this yours?” she’d ask, and I’d look dumbly into her lap.
“Is what mine?”


Option No. 2 was to reach over and pluck it from her pants, and No. 3 was to wake her up and turn the tables, saying, “I’m sorry, but I think you have something that belongs to me.” Then she’d hand the lozenge back and maybe even apologize, confused into thinking that she’d somehow stolen it.

Read the full, hilarious story here.

P.S. David Sedaris is one of my all time favorite writers! That's why using one of his stories for a post is NOT cheating. (grin)

Story borrowed from The New Yorker - Reflections Section

Lucky Girl

This is going to be a short post since I've got things to do and people to see. (Finally) And in short I'd like to say that this is a great week-end for friends and fellowship! P-ta arrived on Thurday and Lisa arrived last night! I get to hang with the Fougses tonight at the opera (sounds hoity-toity, right? I mean.. Sounds Hegelian, right?) And it's Friday!! I'm a lucky girl!!!

And Lisa: No, all your buns belong to OX!

20 MORE things

So This is harder than it looks. First of all, I can't imagine that anyone (except for you , Mom) is interested in learning 20 more things about me, much less 100(!),which makes me feel a little sheepish in the undertaking. But also, as I sift through my memories - the things that make me me - I am realizing that I'm not so sure I want folks to know a 100 things about me. This could be dangerous - in a Wile E. Coyote falls of a cliff, poofing in the dust, as the Roadrunner taps the precariously perched ACME anvil that follows the poor coyote's fall and lands on top of him, making him an accordion - way. It's silly is all. What insecurities should I avoid and which should I own up to? What would be generic and what would show my personality? See? This is hard.
But I'll stop whining.
Here are #'s 21-40 to follow the first entry. Enjoy:

21. My first boyfriend was amazing! He brought me flowers on Valentine's Day and gave me lots of gifts. He came to my house nearly everyday and my parents approved of our relationship.

22. This boy gave me my first kiss (which was planned - as in "Let's kiss twice and hug twice") behind the bushes in front of his house. It was all romantic until a.) he started taking off his clothes and b.) some neighborhood hooligans caught us and mercilessly made fun of us.

23. This happened when I was 6 years old and we were in kindergarten. I guess my boyfriend thought that that's what you do when you love someone: hug, kiss, and take off your clothes. I wonder where he got that idea.. (CAUTION PARENTS.) I wonder what happened to good ole Chuck Chesky.

24. When I was a little older, our neighbor, Dustin, used to run away from me because I had cooties. My dad made me chase him down the street to try and kiss him. How did I end up normal?

25. To further embarrass me, when I was 12, my dad used to follow my friends and me to the mall, magically appear in the crowded food court, and yell "Step right up boys! We have some lovely girls here who are single! One at a time! Step right up!" I thought I was going to die on several occasions as in, "Like OH MY GOD, like my dad is like SO LAME. I'm like so gonna DIE. Seriously, like, I'm SO sorry. This is like so NOT rad."

26. Around this time, a kid named Cory moved in next door to me. That might have been my first real - what do I do now - crush. I remember that he was from Iowa (my El Pasoan classmates called him 'white bread') and that we spent a lot of time hanging out on long summer nights. He was probably the first boy that I actually really talked to, as opposed to the boys whom I "loved" and rambled on about at school and then avoided at all costs. He took me to my first REAL school dance with a corsage and everything.

27. In 4th grade I won the school's 'Just Say No to Drugs' essay writing contest (remember Nancy Reagan?) and realized for the first time that I could write well.

28. I realized I was pretty good because I made up a bogus story about one of my cousins using drugs and how he overcame that addiction and went on to love Jesus - or something like that. It was total bunk (except for the Jesus part), and they bought it. (I'm sorry, Cousin.)

29. This is also how I learned that I have a HUGE imagination. I remember as I was writing that particular essay that I needed to NOT go off the deep end with the sentimentality. Keep it real, Ginger. Keep it real.

30. My imagination often got me in trouble. For example, for a while I was convinced that my parents were robots - like the one in Superman III with Richard Pryor. I was more afraid that I would have to deal with their malfunctions than I was of the idea that they were robots. I mean, what if one of their eyes fell out or something? Gross.

31. My mother cultured me throughout my childhood. She took me to the ballet, even when I was itty-bitty. She took me to art museums and plays, folklorico extravaganzas and creative problem solving competitions. That is why I think I have a deep LOVE for all things artsy. I love color! Thanks for that Mom! (and for not being a robot)

32. My Dad fed me science - I was a member of the Ranger Rick Nature Club, I had a microscope and a telescope in my room, he took me to the space observatory and to White Sands Missile Range in Alamogordo, and basically instilled in me a curiosity for the universe. We used to sit outside and count the stars on warm summer nights.

33. I love to swim, a popular pastime in El Paso since it's freaking HOT there. We had a neighborhood swimming pool at which Lisa, Jen and I spent lots of our time. When we bought our house, a neighborhood swimming pool was a must have.

34. I've never been very girlie. I'm more of a tree climber. I never have had fake nails, I've never really "styled my hair," and I didn't wear make-up until my first year of teaching when it was part of the dress code for female teachers (only). But then, so is wearing a bra - which I didn't need until 4 years ago.

35. Because of this, I was always considered "one of the guys" which meant that I got to hang out with the boys at their secret clubhouses (the fire), but it also meant that not many boys wanted to kiss me. Or really, not many of the boys I wanted to have kiss me wanted to kiss me.

36. I had to go away to summer camp to have my first "romance." And summer camps are the best places for those sorts of things. I wonder what happened to good ole Mike..

37. My first real job, other than working at my dad's office, was as a gift wrapper. I wrapped presents with Lisa, Jen, and Amy at Anthony's department store during Christmas time. I got the job because Jen and Amy's Mawmaw worked there which meant instant connection!

38. I also worked at the mall at a "Healthy Food Store" complete with fruit smoothies and sprouts. This store later turned into a barbecue stand. I guess the world wasn't ready to be healthy yet.

39. I was horrified at the thought of graduating from high school and REALLY wanted to live with my punk friends in a trailer instead of going to college.

40. My mom dragged my happy butt to Texas Tech and told me I would go to school. Tech was the only school I applied to, and after I got over the initial shock of being taken out of my comfort zone, I was so appreciative of the move. It turns out that sometimes our parents know what's good for us. Thanks also for that, Mom.

Hegelian... Your Mom's Hegelian.

My smarty pants British friend, P-ta, is here visiting from Houston. Somehow, in the midst of our conversation which was about movies, P-ta throws out the words "Hegelian Dialectic." Of course I reacted by laughing like I am sophisticated and well educated enough to know exactly what Hegelian means and that while on my yacht last summer, vacationing at Martha's Vineyard, I actually had Hegelian Dialectic with my Swedish masseuse, Sven, before my husband, Reginald, arrived with the pâté. Tut tut and Pish posh.

Then I scrunched up my face and said, "Wait. Wha..?" And P-ta said, "I don't know."

So we looked it up.

And we still don't get it. Nor do we want to.

I guess we'll have to go back to making fart noises with our armpits and singing the theme to The Dukes of Hazard. "Just two good ole boys, Never meanin' no harm.."

Oh well.

Across The Universe

Rich and I saw this movie last week end. I really enjoyed it because: a.) It's music from The Beatles (duh), and b.) It was creative and artsy and thought provoking.

Or as the guy sitting behind me more eloquently put it, "I fuckin' loved that fuckin' movie. Was that Bono? Awesome. I fuckin' knew it. This is like my new favorite fuckin' movie of all time! Fuck yeah."

I would not say this movie is my FAVORITE, but I would like to see it again.

Also, it is very politically biased, but if you lean more toward the "Get us the hell out of Vietnam" side of things, then you'll probably enjoy it more.

Feeling Exposed on DLAID

Why is it that when construction is involved in any facet of our lives, it always feels like it takes FOR. EVER. and that the construction workers are intentionally making YOUR SPECIFIC life harder? I imagine the workers, bespeckled in plaster (even if they aren't working with plaster), at the local bar, toasting the fact that one more day has come and gone, and the job is not done -which to them means mission accomplished! "(lifting pint) Here's to making Ginger's life miserable!" "I'll drink to that!" (laughing maniacally)

I'm not talking about the ridiculous type of construction (like what I wrote about in the second to last paragraph of this post). I'm talking about the necessary construction that should be beneficial to my life... when complete.

The road to get to my school is under construction. Actually until recently, three routes to my school were under construction which made it very frustrating to get to work and then home again. What compounds the matter is that people here always believe that today, whatever day it might be, is Drive Like An Idiot Day. And folks love to celebrate DLAID (often), especially in and around construction. Accidents are inevitable when, say, the right turning lane no longer exists which means (clearly) that you should speed up and turn right out of the far left lane, in front of other lanes of traffic - because that is the rule on DLAID, right? (sigh)

But fine. Whatever. Roads need construction.

But also, the fence behind my house has been under construction for two weeks. This wouldn't be a big deal except that behind my house is a major highway. I can't stop to think about how easy it would be to slow down, make a quick smash and grab, and be on your way. So I don't think about it. But I do think about how exposed I am. We have rather large windows on the back of our house. I love light and glass which means that some of the windows are not covered... which means that I have to remember at night that everyone on the highway can see what I'm doing at all times. That isn't so bad - I mean I'm not doing anything illegal or too scandalous, usually, but it does make me self conscious. For example, I ask myself, "Do I live like everyone else on the planet? As the zoo animal, are my habits congruent with my species? Do all families pretend to make dinner while secretly ordering in every night? Do people talk to their pets and constantly hug them as much as I do my cat?"

I also have to think twice about things such as wedgie picking, bra wearing (or really, bra not wearing), and, most importantly, putting on clothes between the shower and the laundry room since the path between the two rooms parades me by all of the exposed windows. I mean, I would never (again) want to be the butt of some one's joke. "Hey, guess what I saw on my way home last night! There was this girl who was... Yeah! I know!

Right there in her kitchen!" (sigh again)

I had hoped the fence would be done today, but I forgot that it is Veterans' Day* which means that most people have the day off. (not me) I am hoping for the construction to be done tomorrow. Unless, of course, the workers are hungover from being at the bar, making toasts to inconvenience. ;)

* Wow! What a coincidence! Two holidays in one day! Happy Veterans' Day, everyone! And also Happy DLAID!

100 things - 20 at a time

Here are some things about me that will have you perched on the edge of your seat, wanting to know more. Perhaps it's just that this meme is a good way to fill the daily NaBloPoMo quota, though there is validity in an occasional stroll down memory lane - this being my stroll, down my lane, if you are interested. (I like my strolls to be slow-paced with lots of rose smelling and if I'm lucky, umbrellas.) Or you've already clicked away. Whatevs. Here we go:

1-20
1. I grew up in colorful El Paso and was pretty much the minority in my town.
2. Being the minority changes one's life perspective a little. (for me in a wonderful way!)
3. I understand Spanish a lot more than I'm able to speak it,
4. Or really, I understand TexMex.
5. I met my best friend, Jennifer when I was four and she was three. She was my back-fence-neighbor for 18 years.
6. In 3rd grade I had my first religious epiphany after talking with Bethany Ferguson. She was a Mormon. I was a Baptist. We disagreed on who God is but we still liked each other anyway.
7. This changed my life at a time when I still thought babies were made by kissing.
8. I was a ballet dancer for most of my childhood and was pretty good at it.
10. I danced en pointe during some of my teenage years, but quit when I discovered the mall.
11. I tried out for the basketball team in 7th grade, but again, the damn mall won out over responsibility. Instead of practicing my layups with Coach Rood, I went to hang out with my friends. I was cut from the team.
12. I have a little brother. I call him Putz. He is 4 years younger than me. When we brought him home (he and I are both adopted), I thought he was mine. Like any close siblings, we fought a lot. But when it counted, he was my biggest ally and I his.
13. When our parents told us they were divorcing, he and I went for a walk, during which he said, "Well, I guess my grades will drop."
14. I laughed at the time but then was horrified to fail my first class (ever and since) with a 68 that six weeks.
15. It was math. I hate math.
16. I love literature.
17. I have been an avid reader my entire life, beginning when I could recite the entire Little Golden Book version of Lady and the Tramp while strapped in my car seat.
18. I tried to read Hemingway and Faulkner when I was 12. ('tried' being the operative word - and these two authors can be most trying!)
19. The first poet who ever moved me was E.E. Cummings.
20. I was a musician throughout my childhood. I played piano and flute at home, clarinet in marching band, bass clarinet in full orchestra and in concert band, alto sax and tenor sax in jazz band, and I sang in the choir (alto) in both church and school choirs. In short, I've got the music in me... or something like that.

(I know! You're dying to know more! But you'll have to wait for the next 20.)

How Fortunate am I?

which is why some big changes are coming..

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, WRATCH!

Thank you for daily choosing me to be your partner.

I love you, Baby!

(p.s. Casey loves you too. He is currently purring against the keyboard, making it difficult to type. I'll take that as affection for you on your birthday. Down cat!)

Cupcakes!

I can't blog right now. I'm making cupcakes. Why? Because Rich's birthday is tomorrow!!! I do have a HUGE decision to make, though. I have two cake mixes: white and chocolate. And I have two icings: chocolate and butter cream. (Gotta love a sale on cake mixes!)Which combo do I choose?!! And duh. Of course there are sprinkles involved!

Thinking of You

I got two 'thinking of you' messages today for no other reason than it is today and I was on two someones' minds. 'Thinking of yous' can be sort of generic in a Hallmark-y way sometimes, and they are usually given in response to sad news. BUT receiving a genuine, personal 'thinking of you' like the ones I received today is AMAZING and is of great value and significance. Allow me to explain:

It is important to validate each other, to acknowledge that friendships are extremely essential and wonderful. Odds are we are who we are because of each other, and our personalities may very well be comprised of, not only genetics and chromosomes, but also of a little part of each of our friends. I mean, that's why we're friends - because I admire and love many qualities in you and I hope that some of you rubs off on me, in a non-dirty, non-stalker-y way. And of course there are other reasons as well, but perhaps they are less important. (?) Does that make sense?

That being said, I don't give as many 'thinking of yous' as I ought to. If I actually did send 'thinking of yous' to all of the people I think about on a daily basis, my full time job would be sending 'thinking of yous'. If I could live on 'thinking of yous' then, I would certainly consider a career change.

I'm thankful for today's 'thinking of yous'. And seriously, I AM thinking of you, too.

The Controversial N Word

Last Friday the head of the English department at my school handed out a controversial article that was published in our local newspaper. The article is called 'Huckleberry Finn lesson plan prompts an uproar' and can be read here. The gist of it is that in an English class, as an introduction to Huckleberry Finn (a novel that already stirs the hornet's nest because of the n-word), the teacher, who was following a prescribed lesson plan that was put together by a district committee and 'consultant', wrote the n word on the board among other words in an effort to discuss the changing connotations of words. I will assume that good intentions were at play here, though I do not know the teacher personally. A student took offense to the n word (on the board) and though he asked the teacher to remove the word, she refused. The outcome is that the teacher is now in the midst of a storm of controversy. Though she has apologized to the boy and his family (as has the school district) the offended and his family have asked that she submit a written apology letter, do community service in an African American/Muslim neighborhood, and that the district ban the book from its curriculum.

OK. First of all, I taught Huck Finn when I taught junior literature because it is part of the required curriculum in our district so I know what it's like to feel completely torn about how to address the sensitive subject that is the n-word. I remember really fretting about it because I have also been the accused teacher (for a different and bogus reason) and I understand the power that one student who hates you can wield over your career. I chose to say the word while reading the book. I spoke with my students beforehand and told them that if they were uncomfortable saying it out loud that they didn't have to. I wanted to say it because: #1 I think censorship in literature is bullshit and #2 I knew that after the initial shock of hearing the word, it would eventually loose its power which is a really good thing. I made it though two years of teaching Huck Finn without any complication.

Secondly, if the district is going to put a teacher in a situation where they HAVE to teach something controversial, then they need to back that teacher 100%, no questions asked. We deserve this as professionals and as human beings. Because districts continue to hang us out to dry in an effort to appease parents, we have NO respect and NO authority in our classrooms or in our communities. If you don't think we have kids' best interests at heart, then either fire us and hire someone you do trust, or don't hire us in the first place. I'm sick of the equivocating.

Lastly, Huck Finn, though sensitive in print, is a classic, wonderful novel. It is a glimpse into history and yes, it contains racism, as did our society at that time. Just because it doesn't sit well with folks, doesn't mean it should be banned. In fact it is an uncomfortable read which, in my opinion, means that we ought to read it. It gives clarity to our own personal distaste of racism, and for some may hold up a huge mirror to their souls, perhaps allowing them to see an ugly blemish that needs to be addressed. Literature often holds up this sort of mirror - on purpose- and we are asked to experience a world that is challenging to our comfort zones.

Maybe Huck Finn is not a good match for reactionary high school students. And if this is true, then what can they read? Not Shakespeare - he's far too bawdy. Not Chaucer for the same reason. Not Orwell - he goes against the government and sometimes talks about sex. Not Milton or Dante - they actually address heaven, hell, and (gasp) God! In Steinbeck you might have to talk about a mentally challenged person who gets shot in the head, and in Dickens, the supernatural. Where do we draw the line?

If the student had actually read the book, he would know that in the end there is redemption for the slave, Jim, in that he is freed. In fact there are lots of instances in the book where Jim is more cunning than Huck and acts as the voice of reason. This is only one of the MANY aspects of the novel that should be addressed in the classroom.

Was the teacher wrong for introducing the lesson in this way? I don't know. I wasn't there, but I do know she was doing what the district wanted her to do. Is the community wrong for asking for the book to be banned? YES. Absolutely! In fact, I challenge that community to go and do something that is productive, not destructive. Maybe they should go read a book.

I'm bad at lunch

I am. Really. I mean I'm not so great at eating in general. I'm not talking about making healthy choices because I actually like healthy food; I'm talking about the fact that lunch is difficult. For example, today as I was running out of the house, late (as usual), I thought "Oh shit. What am I going to eat today?!" I ran to the pantry, found an old package of Cheez-its, some jello with peaches in it, and an apple. Bonus! Sometimes I only find saltines. Every day it's this sort of scavenging.

In my head, I hear my mom saying, "Ginger, if you would just pack a lunch the night before, right after you lay out your clothes for the next day, you wouldn't run late AND you'd have a lunch prepared!" OR "Ginger, if you plan better before you go to the grocery store, you might have some snacky type things to throw in your lunch sack." And I get it. I do. But here's the thing - I know all of this and have known for quite a while, yet my living habits have not changed. There is always something more important to do. Um. Like grade or study... or blog. I can't seem to make her advice a habit. I might, on occasion, remember her words and actually follow them for a week or two, but the habit doesn't stick no matter how good my intentions are.

Add the bad habits to the fact that I hate almost all leftovers, save pizza and spaghetti, and I HATE lunch meat which means that most sandwiches are out. I don't have a way to keep food cold at work and heating something is difficult since the microwave is down the hall and its cleanly-condition is usually pretty sketchy at best. I forget to bring dishes home. I'll let you imagine what that means. The school cafeteria is a mile away, and the lines are long and are filled with loud students during the only time I have my classroom to myself.

If I even allow myself the time to eat, the situation is sort of hopeless. Sometimes I'll walk over to the farmer's market across the street and grab an apple and some pretzels. If I'm extra lucky, I'll find trail mix!

But mostly, I dread lunch since I know I need to eat and I'm lucky that I get to.

Any suggestions?

Feist - 1 2 3 4

This video makes me smile. I want my world to be as simple and colorful as this one is. Plus, I'm better at this dance than at the Solja Boy one. :)

How to tell that God is a wild and crazy guy

I lifted this from P-ta's blog because I was laughing so hard I was crying. It's not ok, but enjoy anyway.

A Paradox

While studying Hemingway short stories, one of my brilliant International Baccalaureate students said this:

" War. Is it worth it? Can we ever say that it it necessary?
To some, the greater good is enough reason for sacrifice. But to others, the loss of even one human life makes [war] worthless. To be believers in the greater good, you must dehumanize the victims. To be the humanist, you must forget that any good could ever come out of war."

I thought this very interesting, and to an extent I think she is absolutely right. But I also think that, as usual, the gray areas of the adult world completely blur the black and white of the adolescent one - and the adolescent world tends to be very black and white (remember?). That being said, I think that I lean more toward the humanist side of things, especially when we are involved in an illegal, pointless war like the one we're stuck in now..

Creative Carving

My family enthusiastically celebrates holidays. We always have. Growing up I remember how fun holidays were, whether it be Christmas morning or the 4th of July, a family birthday or Columbus day. Mostly holidays involved some sort of holiday treat, streamers, some marching and twirling, and OF COURSE sparklers. When I grew up (growing up being a relative idea), I realized how hard my family worked at making the holidays special - as in all the magic was Mom-made. As soon as I figured that out, I decided that I wanted to continue making a big deal of these sorts of celebrations since these are what add color to the world and create that wonder that makes people smile and want to be together.

Halloween is no exception. Usually we go all out. I decorate the house, we costume shop, I make greeting cards, and buy candy corn. We go to pick our pumpkins at pumpkin patches and loose ourselves in corn mazes, caramel apples in hand. But this year my being sick really put a damper on the festivities. I did buy pumpkins for carving at our local farmer's market(because that is a must) and some funny carving patterns, so I tried my best to at least keep some of the tradition alive. I stayed on the couch for most of Halloween evening, watching all of the Halloween specials I could find on the tele while Rich answered the doorbell for trick-or-treat-ers, but we did manage to carve our pumpkins and set them out before it got dark. Here are the results of our endeavor:

Make your own slide shows and scrapbooks