Paco admitted to me tonight that he took Mugsy into JoAnn's last week! Oh Really? Yes, I told them he was a therapy dog. They seemed impressed by that until he confessed that Mugsy NEEDED therapy-- wasn't going to GIVE it!
I'm looking at the mound of our 2010 Christmas cards/letters here on the desk. Ho hum...What's the hurry?
My two good friends are rising up out of this frozen wasteland headed for Disneyland tomorrow. I KNOW!!!
So I'm thinking of imbedding treasure hunt clues into my blog. Nobody seems to be reading it, and if they are they're mum. The visitor counter must be wacked out to the max!! If I imbed clues or commands "Call me and let the phone ring three times if you're reading this," then perhaps I can crack this mystery.
Four years ago Friday I landed in Minneapolis to love on my first grandson, Charlie. It was minus 32 in the balmy Twin Cities. Happy Birthday Charles Chew!!!
This morning I trooped one of my reading classes over to a parking lot across the street and had them run around reciting the poem we're memorizing at the top of their lungs. Sometimes we march around the room to memorize stuff, or clap, or stand on our desks, or walk backwards. My favorite method is to hold a squirt bottle of water in front of their faces as I recite the poem and pause for them to say the next word or else...good fun. But today was the first time I've ever done a mid winter forced march outside.
I received a grant (go Me!) from the great state of Idaho to add a fancy pantsy piece of technology to my whiteboard thus morphing it (with the aid of an lcd projector and a laptop) into an interactive SmartBoard!!! Can't wait for it to come!!!!
I'm coming dangerously close to chucking my couch at one of my students. That would mean Good-bye Job, so I grind my teeth behind his back and vividly imagine his death by zombie.
I've given up supper and feel so much better!!
Hyrum is the son of a former student of mine back in the day and my daughter's good good friend from high school. He hangs with me every day from 2:11-3:19. His writing is illegible. He hands in a book report in 4 or 5 puzzle pieces which I have to tape together. Many times he zones out. Simple instructions totally elude him. Before Christmas he brought in a reindeer made out of a large box with a fully rotating head and antlers powered by some sort of solar cell. Today when I walked back to his desk I saw that he had taken 3 pencils, a paper clip, some string, and the insides of a pen and created something truly amazing capable of standing on his slanted desk. I ran across the hall to get my friend Lynne who teaches earth science, and together we marveled. I'm going to visit Hyrum's lab/shed which I hear he supplies through the Deseret Industries drop dumpster. Hyrum's friend, Michael, is his techie. Michael dumpster dives too and pirates computer parts which Hyrum is turning into a remote control vehicle of some sort. Who needs legible handwriting and A's on book reports anyway..?
I was referred on Goodreads.com today to a short story by Neil Gaiman in which the heroine is an old lady who discovers the Holy Grail in a bin at her local thrift store!! What a smashing storyline!!!!
I'm totally put out that I must cancel my spinning lesson with Lou in Pocatello next week.
Not one but TWO of my students have parents who met in Evanston, Wyoming's WalMart as employees!!!!! Is that just tooooo freaky? If I didn't assign autobiographies there would be no end to my stupidity. I pretty much learn EVERYTHING from them.
And if you read to the end of this post, send me an email with your favorite popsicle flavor in the subject line. email@example.com
Monday, January 24, 2011
The 1972 Time Capsule containing this picture of my parents--not my parents! This was a delightful find today on the local library's website. A truly wonderful stroll down Memory Lane. I had been gone from home for a year in 1972, but not to worry. Things looked much the same in 1972. Come to think of it, they STILL do!!! Ha ha ha!! This picture was taken at the ward's fair stand where I spent many many comradic hours flipping burgers, slinging sodas, filling mustard containers, and having the time of my life with some of the best people I've ever known. Back in the day we had to earn money to pay an annual assessment to run our church. The fair stand was a quick (but exhausting) way to make money. I believe my dad was still the bishop. Good good times.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Toying with the idea of sending out our Christmas cards today. But not too seriously. What I really want to do is obliterate the fly bomblasting this screen. I found our Texas fly swatter which was hibernating in a corner, but unfortunately my first swat at the evil winged harbinger of death landed on the overhead light and apparently has rendered it useless if the sparks and resultant darkness are any indicator. I'll have to break that gently to Paco. On the lighter side, I don't know about what the moon did to YOUR neighborhood yesterday, but here at Camelid (look it up) Quarters amour is in the air! I bring you an email I received from Paco yesterday afternoon:
As predicted by the lady in Blackfoot, we're having a humpfest in the corral. It started with Obama followed by Thoreau and Aristotle. Being the littlest of the three, Emerson seems to have no interest - he's off munching hay somewhere else. I heard some strange noises from the back and when I went to investigate Obama was going at it on Rose Hip, Thoreau was going at it on Obama - to no avail I'm sure, and Aristotle was making valiant attempts to get lined up behind Thoreau. The lady in Blackfoot says that all the males know is "she's open" and they'll try to fix that as soon as they can. The net result is predicted to be that Rosie will get bred again and again, and in the process get torn and develop a roaring infection, which I don't think we can afford to try to have treated. So we have to think of a way to get them separated - I'm working on it but I could use any help you can think of or solicit from anybody else. BTW - Nobody's trying to go after Dalaigh or Mary Jane, which further suggests that our suspicions may be true regarding their status. I was hoping that we might be able to delay having to get them separated but I fear that even if we start now we may have a huge problem if Rosie gets sick. If Obama goes after her again I'm also afraid that he might crush her. Given what we know now it was probably a mistake for us to take Rosie in the first place.
Not to worry. Rosie has been sequestered. Furthermore, I ran into fellow llama owners at the library last night who reported similar shenanigans at THEIR farm!!! Hmmmm...I don't want to get personal (well, yes, actually I do), but did the moon mess around with anyone else out there???? So wrap your head around THIS image--long ears, coarse hair, large of size And I'm not referencing a roommate you once had! That's what results from llama/alpaca unions. Rose Hip, as you may or may not recall, is sterile, poor thing. And there I will stop with that. But I'm just saying...
One of my students told me yesterday that her mother puts leather in soup for flavoring. Really?? And to conclude,from my "You Just Never Know" category comes the account of a shy, sit-in-the-corner-and-very-quietly-do-your-work cute little 7th grade boy who upon my mention of scars (and their attendant stories) being interesting material to add to an autobiography, LEAPS out of his seat, charges to the front of the room throwing off a hoodie as he comes, hoists up his shirt to his chin, pulls his jeans down just above the YIKES point, and proudly displays a scar of yore. I stood slack jawed.
You may argue that Capitol Hill, the U.N., Time Square, Picadilly Circus, Red Square,Cape Canaveral, or Tiannanamen Square are where "it's happening", but I beg to differ. Where it's REALLY happening is in America's 7th grade classrooms... Oh, and I also learned yesterday at the library that perhaps if we fed Rosie some wheat sprouts she might just conceive. What do ya think?
Last thing-- having access to Wallace and Gromit merchandise would be reason alone for me to take up residence in the U.K. If I can't find the Christmas stamps in the above picture, well, then, I'm just not sure I want to go on living. (note to astute readers: This post is obviously not about JFK Jr. I know that, and you know that. Later.)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I was in second grade at Malad Elementary (Malad, ID) at the time. I remember our entire class walked over to a house kitty corner from our school, crowded into the living room, and was probably shushed by our stern teacher, Mrs. Hartley. This was obviously in the glory days of "AV" when the schools' only form of projecting visual images was to use a giant 16 mm projector--no TV's yet. We also got a good bit of radio (old programs sponsored by Mobil Oil and hosted by Arthur Godfrey which featured world travel which I dearly dearly loved) which makes me sound older than dust! The room was dominated by what seemed to be an enormous cabinet TV. I must have seen color TV by this time in my life (some friends of ours frequently invited us over to watch "Wonderful World of Disney" on theirs some Sunday afternoons), but it was still novel enough to hold great fascination. We were most likely seated a "safe" distance from the TV as Radiation Scare was huge back then. I remember seeing President Kennedy with his hand raised to take the oath at the podium, but my real interest lay in his two children--Carolilne looking a heck of a lot like my Kit American Girl doll now that I think of it, and John John in his Buster Brown shoes, shorts, and navy coat that hit him square above the knees. The Kennedys figure prominently in my youthful memories--their days in the White House, Cuban Missile Crisis (the practice bus evacuation during that period from my school scared me so badly I wet my pants!!) the assasination (I read The Warren Report cover to cover!), the funeral, Jackie's post JFK life, the death of JFK Jr. (see tomorrow's post), and the sole survivor bravery of Caroline.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Paco and I made a provision run to Logan the other day. After a very mediocre (but not wholly inexpensive) meal at Chick Filet I said, "You know, I'd rather bring sandwiches or boiled eggs to eat for three times and then go get some really good sushi on the fourth trip over here. Even Steven." I've just about had it with mediocre fast food. We eat it because it fills a hole. You're in you're out and the hole is gone. But with sushi--ahhhhhhh--sushi. Now that's something worth looking forward to and sacrificing a bit. Three or four blah burgers would equal in cost what a brief visit into the afterlife (sushi) would. So that's my plan. I'll keep a little notebook in the jockey box to tally up my savings each time. Then I'll sashay right into the sushi bar and not feel a moment of guilt. The only trouble is that I may do it alone--Paco loves him some Burger King...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Apprehended from two boys yesterday (they swear they found the note on the floor):
Who do you like?
____________________ a little.
Who do YOU like?
A couple of people.
Sort of no, and ___________________________ is my cousin!!!
Is it me??
I can't tell you..._____________________________ might get mad...
I don't care if she gets mat at me. She's a freak!
LOL. Be nice.
No. She's creepy. LOL.
Ummmmm...well, do you like me? If you tell me, I'll tell you.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN???????
I am ever so sorry that school happens and these blazing love notes get cut short! It's criminal.