I just really wanted to use that title.
So yeah, if I went to law school every weekend for the next three years . . . I'd be done. Except that I'm not sure that I want to be a lawyer, but it would fill time. Good to know though.
And had a discussion about art this evening . . . about my making it and how that process has changed. And I'm not sure I want to be an artist either, except of course, that's what I do. Mostly unintentionally. But interesting how years ago, my art always had to say something. And now, when I draw, I usually go for saying nothing.
"Well, back then the process was always about working something out . . . and now . . . I have less to work out."
Nice to be here.
But I need to break George out and take more pictures. Adding it to the list of things to do.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
But That's Work
"When I counted up my demons . . . saw that there was one for every day . . . with the good ones on my shoulder . . . I drove the other ones away." -- Everything's Not Lost, Coldplay
In the flurry of solitary activity, watched two movies, something that I rarely do. Really liked Martian Child, but am a sap like that. Now I really want to adopt a Martian. Am almost to the end of Middlesex making the fiction count for this year -- one. And am knitting a sweater, in winter, something that I rarely do. Sweaters are summer activities. Plus there is yearbook. Always with the yearbook.
Evidently, Cooley Law will let you take one class to see if you are cut out for law school. I've already attended a couple class sessions at Tulane Law, back in the day . . . in the glamorous life of S, when I was fascinated by such things. Seemed like a lot of reading (I do like that), some pretentiousness, and competition. But night school at Cooley? Probably just the reading. Wonder if I could get out of taking the LSAT.
Cause bop bop and I had a long conversation about how to meet men when you are not twenty one. He meets women at work . . . which doesn't work for me at all. So he suggested that I "join some hobby groups" except that my hobbies are making sock monkeys and knitting. And I already belong to those groups. So then he suggested that I do some art . . . get it in a gallery somewhere . . . and go to the opening. Which I suppose could happen. Not as fun as making sock monkeys though. Did do a wicked cool drawing as an example for class today.
And my mother recommends that I become a temp for the summer. Which would be great if I didn't have to get up, get dressed and, I don't know, WORK. Oh, and she suggested the Cooley thing . . . so looking for men . . . with homework. Because that is so much more fun than say . . . looking for men with drinking.
And there is the old adage about not looking . . . or when you are not looking . . . something . . .
So instead I'm going to sit here with my demons, for a while. Gogol Bordello is March 3, Matt Good is March 18 (YAY), Deals Gone Bad is back in town on March 22, and Streetlight Manifesto is back on April 23 (get your tickets early). Plenty to do.
In the flurry of solitary activity, watched two movies, something that I rarely do. Really liked Martian Child, but am a sap like that. Now I really want to adopt a Martian. Am almost to the end of Middlesex making the fiction count for this year -- one. And am knitting a sweater, in winter, something that I rarely do. Sweaters are summer activities. Plus there is yearbook. Always with the yearbook.
Evidently, Cooley Law will let you take one class to see if you are cut out for law school. I've already attended a couple class sessions at Tulane Law, back in the day . . . in the glamorous life of S, when I was fascinated by such things. Seemed like a lot of reading (I do like that), some pretentiousness, and competition. But night school at Cooley? Probably just the reading. Wonder if I could get out of taking the LSAT.
Cause bop bop and I had a long conversation about how to meet men when you are not twenty one. He meets women at work . . . which doesn't work for me at all. So he suggested that I "join some hobby groups" except that my hobbies are making sock monkeys and knitting. And I already belong to those groups. So then he suggested that I do some art . . . get it in a gallery somewhere . . . and go to the opening. Which I suppose could happen. Not as fun as making sock monkeys though. Did do a wicked cool drawing as an example for class today.
And my mother recommends that I become a temp for the summer. Which would be great if I didn't have to get up, get dressed and, I don't know, WORK. Oh, and she suggested the Cooley thing . . . so looking for men . . . with homework. Because that is so much more fun than say . . . looking for men with drinking.
And there is the old adage about not looking . . . or when you are not looking . . . something . . .
So instead I'm going to sit here with my demons, for a while. Gogol Bordello is March 3, Matt Good is March 18 (YAY), Deals Gone Bad is back in town on March 22, and Streetlight Manifesto is back on April 23 (get your tickets early). Plenty to do.
Monday, February 25, 2008
After a Good Walk and 48 Hours
"'Will you ever learn? You're just an empty cage girl, if you kill the bird'" -- Crucify, Tori Amos
Yes, some posts have disappeared. You aren't imagining it.
So in my reflective state, I would like to point out that I do listen to you. QO and his philosophies on attraction and availability . . . that you won't look if you get hung up, won't see opportunity while you are busy treading water. Bop bop with his new agey stuff (see? I didn't say bullshit.) although I'm not going with the mantra he suggested. But comforting, his belief that there is someone for everyone. My mother, who did an excellent job of talking me down . . . with stories (all men are the same whether they are 14 or 45) and suggestions (all of her suggestions involved homework or working) E2 and M2, who haven't even said "We told you so . . . " Not once. Thank you.
I need some space and he now feels bad so is not giving any.
And perhaps I need to move. Get a new job. Or take a vacation.
I need to do something different.
Yes, some posts have disappeared. You aren't imagining it.
So in my reflective state, I would like to point out that I do listen to you. QO and his philosophies on attraction and availability . . . that you won't look if you get hung up, won't see opportunity while you are busy treading water. Bop bop with his new agey stuff (see? I didn't say bullshit.) although I'm not going with the mantra he suggested. But comforting, his belief that there is someone for everyone. My mother, who did an excellent job of talking me down . . . with stories (all men are the same whether they are 14 or 45) and suggestions (all of her suggestions involved homework or working) E2 and M2, who haven't even said "We told you so . . . " Not once. Thank you.
I need some space and he now feels bad so is not giving any.
And perhaps I need to move. Get a new job. Or take a vacation.
I need to do something different.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
No Really, You Shouldn't Try it Unless You're SURE I Like You
I talked to a brand-new, shiny teacher today . . .
And after a couple of "well, no . . . that's never going to happen" and "well, they certainly aren't going to give you that!" I realized that I was being a buzzkill. And yes, I often am. But the likelihood of her doing what she wants, it was past "never". So I decided to turn it around.
"Well, no only means no if you let it . . . " and tried to muster up one of those "shiny happy people" smiles.
"But you know, Em . . . "
And that was it. I stopped listening. My father is allowed to call me Em. Certain people that I am very close to can call me Em. I allow certain others with special permission (in my head, silly, I don't tell you . . . ) because they are charming or funny or I like them, call me Em. But otherwise, I'm not really an "Em". There IS one person in the world, so far, that can get away with calling me "Emmy" but again, he is charming and it is his term of endearment . . . and he lives in Colorado so I don't have to hear it.
However, with this bright shiny new teacher . . . this is the first extended conversation that we have ever had. And I think she would have been appalled if I came up with a nickname for her or, and this is probably what actually happened, was just too lazy to say the rest of the syllables of her name.
Perhaps I made her feel so comfortable that she felt we could be on a nickname basis in ten minutes? Nah. At least I don't think so, considering what the students call me sometimes.
I did not correct her. Just started pointing out that changing culture and traditions was a bit like turning the titanic. And gave her a few suggestions to ask for things that would ultimately benefit me and my program.
But in a world where we mostly address each other by last name . . . Em. It was jarring.
She's lucky I didn't stab her in the eye.
And after a couple of "well, no . . . that's never going to happen" and "well, they certainly aren't going to give you that!" I realized that I was being a buzzkill. And yes, I often am. But the likelihood of her doing what she wants, it was past "never". So I decided to turn it around.
"Well, no only means no if you let it . . . " and tried to muster up one of those "shiny happy people" smiles.
"But you know, Em . . . "
And that was it. I stopped listening. My father is allowed to call me Em. Certain people that I am very close to can call me Em. I allow certain others with special permission (in my head, silly, I don't tell you . . . ) because they are charming or funny or I like them, call me Em. But otherwise, I'm not really an "Em". There IS one person in the world, so far, that can get away with calling me "Emmy" but again, he is charming and it is his term of endearment . . . and he lives in Colorado so I don't have to hear it.
However, with this bright shiny new teacher . . . this is the first extended conversation that we have ever had. And I think she would have been appalled if I came up with a nickname for her or, and this is probably what actually happened, was just too lazy to say the rest of the syllables of her name.
Perhaps I made her feel so comfortable that she felt we could be on a nickname basis in ten minutes? Nah. At least I don't think so, considering what the students call me sometimes.
I did not correct her. Just started pointing out that changing culture and traditions was a bit like turning the titanic. And gave her a few suggestions to ask for things that would ultimately benefit me and my program.
But in a world where we mostly address each other by last name . . . Em. It was jarring.
She's lucky I didn't stab her in the eye.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
And It Only Took a Half an Hour
Just went to the dentist. No cavities. Yay me.
Comment made: "Your brushing is good." (yeah, I only floss occasionally)
Because back in the day, I would have to sit for four hours in a dental chair at U of M . . . and there was the torturous (well, all of it was torture) "eat the pink candies and let's see where you missed". An exercise that was repeated until you "got it right" or your gums were bleeding so they couldn't see anymore. AND then you got to sit in the chair while they poked at you for four hours . . . and then there was the retrieving of the instructor to see what they missed. And that's if you didn't have a problem . . . like a cavity.
So I learned very quickly NOT to have cavities. Because student dentists never use enough novocaine and there is no gas in the U of M pediatric dental section. And they slip a lot . . . which means the drill? It goes into your gum. Or your cheek. Or another tooth. "Oops" they would say sheepishly. And they always assumed that you could not understand English. Even though I was eight, I could tell when someone was messing up, and I could certainly understand the instructor. And what they said to the instructor.
And now, as an adult, I just went to a dental office with a television that they move so you can watch. There are paraffin dips for your hands and ultrasonic tools so they don't have to scrape forever. Sure, it's still hurt like a b**ch. But it only took a half an hour. I didn't even figure out what was going on with the show I was watching. (something called Project Runway . . . and I know, I'm the only person in the world who hasn't bothered to watch it) I bet ya they'll even let me listen to my ipod if I ask them next time. Woo hoo! Will the wonders of modern dentistry ever cease?
Comment made: "Your brushing is good." (yeah, I only floss occasionally)
Because back in the day, I would have to sit for four hours in a dental chair at U of M . . . and there was the torturous (well, all of it was torture) "eat the pink candies and let's see where you missed". An exercise that was repeated until you "got it right" or your gums were bleeding so they couldn't see anymore. AND then you got to sit in the chair while they poked at you for four hours . . . and then there was the retrieving of the instructor to see what they missed. And that's if you didn't have a problem . . . like a cavity.
So I learned very quickly NOT to have cavities. Because student dentists never use enough novocaine and there is no gas in the U of M pediatric dental section. And they slip a lot . . . which means the drill? It goes into your gum. Or your cheek. Or another tooth. "Oops" they would say sheepishly. And they always assumed that you could not understand English. Even though I was eight, I could tell when someone was messing up, and I could certainly understand the instructor. And what they said to the instructor.
And now, as an adult, I just went to a dental office with a television that they move so you can watch. There are paraffin dips for your hands and ultrasonic tools so they don't have to scrape forever. Sure, it's still hurt like a b**ch. But it only took a half an hour. I didn't even figure out what was going on with the show I was watching. (something called Project Runway . . . and I know, I'm the only person in the world who hasn't bothered to watch it) I bet ya they'll even let me listen to my ipod if I ask them next time. Woo hoo! Will the wonders of modern dentistry ever cease?
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Tomorrow is Another Day
Ah, another day . . . and now I am not crabbypants.
The date was lovely. Home turf. Overly concerned waitstaff. Master's degreed engineer. Cute. And we all know how I like smart. He walked me to my car -- which is the most points you can get on a first date. And I was home, in bed by 11.
And now, all I have to do is straighten up my house by 3 p.m. when my brother is coming with a cast-off television and possibly a stereo. And figure out how to candy some lime rind. And find a suitable container to transport the yummy mini pies. I think a lime zester and a container can be found at Target . . . plus evidently I need honey and a candy thermometer.
Yes, they are yummy, in my opinion. Have tried them. And yes, they come out of their little foil cups beautifully.
Now I just have to find time to do my nails . . . which may not happen. And that would be okay.
So good day. Yummy pies. New bigger television. Stereophonic sound. Whoo.
The date was lovely. Home turf. Overly concerned waitstaff. Master's degreed engineer. Cute. And we all know how I like smart. He walked me to my car -- which is the most points you can get on a first date. And I was home, in bed by 11.
And now, all I have to do is straighten up my house by 3 p.m. when my brother is coming with a cast-off television and possibly a stereo. And figure out how to candy some lime rind. And find a suitable container to transport the yummy mini pies. I think a lime zester and a container can be found at Target . . . plus evidently I need honey and a candy thermometer.
Yes, they are yummy, in my opinion. Have tried them. And yes, they come out of their little foil cups beautifully.
Now I just have to find time to do my nails . . . which may not happen. And that would be okay.
So good day. Yummy pies. New bigger television. Stereophonic sound. Whoo.
Friday, February 15, 2008
I Didn't Even Use Extra Booze
I just made 24 individual boozey pies . . . which are interestingly arranged in my very small freezer. My kitchen is a mess . . . the rest of my house is untidy . . . and my family is coming over tomorrow. Oh, and I have to get ready for this blind date, in less than an hour.
I need some uncrabby pills. Right now. Or booze. Or something. A Hallmark greeting card? I don't know. An attitude adjustment.
And I would like to take some pictures, maybe get something up on ravelry and there just isn't time. I promised myself this would be a one drink affair, but it's not going to work out that way. It never does. Plus, that would be wasting a big bunch of pretty and the putting on of high heels in snow.
Maybe makeup will make me feel better. Doesn't seem fair to the rest of the work when I am this Crabbypants. Oh, wait, I haven't eaten anything today (well, except boozey pie remnants) so maybe that will help.
Now let's just hope that those suckers come out of those foil cups.
Update: It's 6:20 and Gwen Stefani is right . . . the magic is in the makeup. I feel slightly better and more confident about facing the world. I probably should eat something, but they have nachos el magnifico where I'm going (you didn't know they served Nachos in Hades?) (I know, I know, bad attitude . . . stop it) and my brother is close so I can go visit him after and shoot Z with Nerf darts. Nerf darts will fix most things. Well, and sometimes they break stuff . . . and that's cool too.
I need some uncrabby pills. Right now. Or booze. Or something. A Hallmark greeting card? I don't know. An attitude adjustment.
And I would like to take some pictures, maybe get something up on ravelry and there just isn't time. I promised myself this would be a one drink affair, but it's not going to work out that way. It never does. Plus, that would be wasting a big bunch of pretty and the putting on of high heels in snow.
Maybe makeup will make me feel better. Doesn't seem fair to the rest of the work when I am this Crabbypants. Oh, wait, I haven't eaten anything today (well, except boozey pie remnants) so maybe that will help.
Now let's just hope that those suckers come out of those foil cups.
Update: It's 6:20 and Gwen Stefani is right . . . the magic is in the makeup. I feel slightly better and more confident about facing the world. I probably should eat something, but they have nachos el magnifico where I'm going (you didn't know they served Nachos in Hades?) (I know, I know, bad attitude . . . stop it) and my brother is close so I can go visit him after and shoot Z with Nerf darts. Nerf darts will fix most things. Well, and sometimes they break stuff . . . and that's cool too.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I'll Call Him "Kisses"
I'm going to ignore it's Valentine's Day . . .
I got a haircut without really getting any hairs cut. Trying to it grow out until I have can pigtails again. My hairstylist liked the hat I made her.
And I went to Walmart and bought an oil change . . . I love Milford, where Carthart is high fashion. The 'rent's backyard is very pretty and they are very wired. Can type here, while watching the flat screen (tastefully white to match the wall) AND look out into the yard with the snow, the squirrels and the birds. And deer. Lots of deer.
Waiting for Mom to get home from work so we can go out to dinner. Am grocery shopping tomorrow and perhaps going out on a date. In my hometown, no less. How I love a man with a good garage. Have decided to go with little tiny boozy pies . . . individual size. With some candied lime, maybe, if I can figure out how to candy lime.
And now, I will research how Splenda is destroying my life. I don't drink diet soda all that often, but I do drink ice tea, with two packets of "yellow stuff". And really, I don't think that I can do iced tea plain.
Oh, and I'm working on holiday themed sock monkeys. They sell socks for every holiday at Target. The Valentine's Day one has stitched "x"s . . . an example that I made during class while teaching the kids how to make them. Pic when I get to a camera.
Happy Valentine's Day to all.
Monday, February 11, 2008
What About Boozy Cupcakes, Though?
Anyone can live through a three day work week.
And I'm going to a "potluck" on Saturday . . . something that I have avoided since, say, junior year of high school, when the Amnesty International people (the only "club" I ever belonged to . . . and only because Jeff would show up every so often) had a potluck and both E1 and I went. A week later S called and asked me out and later he admitted that he had just read down the phone list until he found the first Emily. So if my last name hadn't been first alphbetically, we would have never have gone out . . . or ever become friends. And that, my friends, is what I associate with potlucks. Weird (albeit sometimes delightful) boys making random phone calls.
So I chose dessert, figuring that if I really "eff" things up, I can always stop by Holiday Markup and save myself with a cheesecake. It's for 20 and right now I'm thinking cupcakes . . . even though my sister has made no bones about my cupcakes skills. (something like, they taste like . . . well a not nice body part) But again, there is the stopping by Holiday Markup backup plan. And there is boozy pie. I just don't know how I'm going to make that individual servings.
Because I was told "well, it's for 20 and I don't really have the table space . . . so baked Alaska would be bad . . . and . . . french toast sticks would be good . . . except M just pointed out that french toast sticks aren't really dessert."
So I shouldn't go with french toast sticks? Cause I can just get a big bag of those frozen at Meijer.
And I forgot to ask how many recovering alcoholics and children there are going to be at this party. Boozy pie is actually boozy. Damn. Cupcakes it is.
And I'm going to a "potluck" on Saturday . . . something that I have avoided since, say, junior year of high school, when the Amnesty International people (the only "club" I ever belonged to . . . and only because Jeff would show up every so often) had a potluck and both E1 and I went. A week later S called and asked me out and later he admitted that he had just read down the phone list until he found the first Emily. So if my last name hadn't been first alphbetically, we would have never have gone out . . . or ever become friends. And that, my friends, is what I associate with potlucks. Weird (albeit sometimes delightful) boys making random phone calls.
So I chose dessert, figuring that if I really "eff" things up, I can always stop by Holiday Markup and save myself with a cheesecake. It's for 20 and right now I'm thinking cupcakes . . . even though my sister has made no bones about my cupcakes skills. (something like, they taste like . . . well a not nice body part) But again, there is the stopping by Holiday Markup backup plan. And there is boozy pie. I just don't know how I'm going to make that individual servings.
Because I was told "well, it's for 20 and I don't really have the table space . . . so baked Alaska would be bad . . . and . . . french toast sticks would be good . . . except M just pointed out that french toast sticks aren't really dessert."
So I shouldn't go with french toast sticks? Cause I can just get a big bag of those frozen at Meijer.
And I forgot to ask how many recovering alcoholics and children there are going to be at this party. Boozy pie is actually boozy. Damn. Cupcakes it is.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Maybe I'll have my Drinks in Here
As my friends roll their eyes.
Sometimes I like to find new places. My current obsession is to find a "book club" that is just far enough away from work that none of my students is my bus boy, none of my former students are my wait person, or worse, none of my former students are drinking . . . ur, um, "reading books" . . . at the table next to me, but close enough that my friends will come out. Most of my female friends live on the East Side, so it's just easier for them rather than hauling everything for book club out here. And yeah, I do live in the land of cool book clubs. But whatever, expanding my horizons.
So last night, I went to a place with the BEST bathrooms I have ever seen . . . in a book club. The paint was the same color I have in my office . . . there were real pocket doors to make up the stalls . . . there was very nice beadboard . . . and very excellent fixtures, considering the small space . . . very nice lighting, bright enough to see, yet not jarring . . . and very clean. Oh, and nice tile.
Very different from the usual bathroom experience, with the not so nice graffiti and the goo . . . or like, at the Front, which has both goo and graffiti and the extra added bonus of no sink, except for the one that is IN A STALL basically, so you have to wait for the person to get done to wash your hands. One should never wait until they really have to pee at the Front. Always go before . . . like a long car trip.
The Hardluck Lounge, in Grosse Pointe Park. I found parking. They have great bathrooms. There was a place to sit. The drinks were good . . .
I could bring Princess. And she could sit without putting down a napkin. And go to the bathroom. If they had wine, we could possibly live there.
So a good discovery, in my adventuring.
Sometimes I like to find new places. My current obsession is to find a "book club" that is just far enough away from work that none of my students is my bus boy, none of my former students are my wait person, or worse, none of my former students are drinking . . . ur, um, "reading books" . . . at the table next to me, but close enough that my friends will come out. Most of my female friends live on the East Side, so it's just easier for them rather than hauling everything for book club out here. And yeah, I do live in the land of cool book clubs. But whatever, expanding my horizons.
So last night, I went to a place with the BEST bathrooms I have ever seen . . . in a book club. The paint was the same color I have in my office . . . there were real pocket doors to make up the stalls . . . there was very nice beadboard . . . and very excellent fixtures, considering the small space . . . very nice lighting, bright enough to see, yet not jarring . . . and very clean. Oh, and nice tile.
Very different from the usual bathroom experience, with the not so nice graffiti and the goo . . . or like, at the Front, which has both goo and graffiti and the extra added bonus of no sink, except for the one that is IN A STALL basically, so you have to wait for the person to get done to wash your hands. One should never wait until they really have to pee at the Front. Always go before . . . like a long car trip.
The Hardluck Lounge, in Grosse Pointe Park. I found parking. They have great bathrooms. There was a place to sit. The drinks were good . . .
I could bring Princess. And she could sit without putting down a napkin. And go to the bathroom. If they had wine, we could possibly live there.
So a good discovery, in my adventuring.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Snow Day
I did my nails.
"Tamed" my eyebrows.
Ate some peanut butter toast.
The whole grain white bread from Trader Joe's doesn't toast very well.
Watched "The Cell", mainly for the costumes.
Knit most of a ninja hood.
Need to get size 8 double points, which I missed in the materials list.
Watched Martha Stewart . . . you can get your dog's DNA profiled. Who knew.
Watched CNN.
Ate some yogurt.
Took a shower.
Changed all my linens.
Will stop and get needles on the way to Pilates.
Maybe more yarn.
School tomorrow . . . but it's Friday.
And anyone can survive Friday.
Might make a snowman after Pilates.
"Tamed" my eyebrows.
Ate some peanut butter toast.
The whole grain white bread from Trader Joe's doesn't toast very well.
Watched "The Cell", mainly for the costumes.
Knit most of a ninja hood.
Need to get size 8 double points, which I missed in the materials list.
Watched Martha Stewart . . . you can get your dog's DNA profiled. Who knew.
Watched CNN.
Ate some yogurt.
Took a shower.
Changed all my linens.
Will stop and get needles on the way to Pilates.
Maybe more yarn.
School tomorrow . . . but it's Friday.
And anyone can survive Friday.
Might make a snowman after Pilates.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
He Tripped on His Cape . . . Honest
We have another "Winter Storm Warning" this evening.
The last time (last Friday) I was all stress because they called off school very late (I was already dressed) and the weatherman was speaking like Super Grover on Crack . . .
"aaaaaaahhhhh . . . ten inches of snow . . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhh . . . zero visibility . . . . aaaaaahhhhhh . . . don't go out. DON'T GO OUT." and then much like Super Grover he would run into the screen.
But last Friday there was only three inches of snow. Hardly snow day material. And now, since we have all been burned by the hype of the local news (even MORE secret text messages . . . film at eleven) well, I'm afraid that the people who make the school decisions may not believe the weather people anymore. The boys who cried snow. So it may be really nasty tomorrow and we will go to school regardless.
Crap.
The last time (last Friday) I was all stress because they called off school very late (I was already dressed) and the weatherman was speaking like Super Grover on Crack . . .
"aaaaaaahhhhh . . . ten inches of snow . . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhh . . . zero visibility . . . . aaaaaahhhhhh . . . don't go out. DON'T GO OUT." and then much like Super Grover he would run into the screen.
But last Friday there was only three inches of snow. Hardly snow day material. And now, since we have all been burned by the hype of the local news (even MORE secret text messages . . . film at eleven) well, I'm afraid that the people who make the school decisions may not believe the weather people anymore. The boys who cried snow. So it may be really nasty tomorrow and we will go to school regardless.
Crap.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Knit Michigan
I want to get this statement out of the way . . . as it is somehow burning in my brain.
I got very little knitting done at Knit Michigan.
There. I said it. There were classes and vendors (real vendors, vending, unlike Friday) and there was a lot of walking this year. It was much more spread out.
I met some very cool people and there was lots to see . . . and I bought some things. Oh, and I found the "cool" knitting groups to go to, one on Tuesday and one on Wednesday. They promise that they don't talk about barley or babies.
And the classes? Well, let's just say that I didn't volunteer to teach any . . . so I can't really say anything. Kumihimo braiding . . . I made a lanyard without lanyard lace. Cool enough, but I already knew how to make lanyards. But now I can make them with a fun foam disk. So let's just call that "a taste of Kumihimo" with the idea that I would actually research it later. Made a very nice pink necklace, which immediately went to my mother. And I will buy more of the foam disks.
Toddler toe up sock? Well, I'm not going to compete with my mother anytime soon in the sock making. Yuck. But my attitude towards socks has nothing to do with the instructor. Just seems like a lot of work for something that I can buy at Target for $3.99. (the sock people cringe when I say this . . . and want to stab me in the eye . . . and then look at me pitifully, as I have not reached the enlightment of understanding the wonders of sock knitting)
As for knitting, I knit five inches on some gloves that I am making. Doesn't seem like all that much to me, as I was there for 15 hours. But now I'm at the complicated thumb part, so those will have to be knit in quiet.
Oh, and at the vendor mart, I found a knit store that sells buffalo fiber and yak yarn in East Lansing and a new LYS in Beaumont . . . which is dangerous, as I go to Beaumont every Saturday. Bought a kit from perl grey, a shrug with thumb holes. YAYNESS. Also bought the yarn to make this. Kinda like a ninja helmet. And I have been carrying the pattern around forever. So forever that it seems not to be on the net anymore.
So about 1000 chemo caps were made and turned in . . . and I think they made 26,000 dollars. So a very cool charity event. Next year's is Feb. 7, I think. Something about the first Saturday in February every year. But this means I can knit the chemo cap NOW and make it all cool and funky.
Okay, have to go buy Sharpies (for my students) and knitting needles (need to make a list). And start on the thumbs.
I got very little knitting done at Knit Michigan.
There. I said it. There were classes and vendors (real vendors, vending, unlike Friday) and there was a lot of walking this year. It was much more spread out.
I met some very cool people and there was lots to see . . . and I bought some things. Oh, and I found the "cool" knitting groups to go to, one on Tuesday and one on Wednesday. They promise that they don't talk about barley or babies.
And the classes? Well, let's just say that I didn't volunteer to teach any . . . so I can't really say anything. Kumihimo braiding . . . I made a lanyard without lanyard lace. Cool enough, but I already knew how to make lanyards. But now I can make them with a fun foam disk. So let's just call that "a taste of Kumihimo" with the idea that I would actually research it later. Made a very nice pink necklace, which immediately went to my mother. And I will buy more of the foam disks.
Toddler toe up sock? Well, I'm not going to compete with my mother anytime soon in the sock making. Yuck. But my attitude towards socks has nothing to do with the instructor. Just seems like a lot of work for something that I can buy at Target for $3.99. (the sock people cringe when I say this . . . and want to stab me in the eye . . . and then look at me pitifully, as I have not reached the enlightment of understanding the wonders of sock knitting)
As for knitting, I knit five inches on some gloves that I am making. Doesn't seem like all that much to me, as I was there for 15 hours. But now I'm at the complicated thumb part, so those will have to be knit in quiet.
Oh, and at the vendor mart, I found a knit store that sells buffalo fiber and yak yarn in East Lansing and a new LYS in Beaumont . . . which is dangerous, as I go to Beaumont every Saturday. Bought a kit from perl grey, a shrug with thumb holes. YAYNESS. Also bought the yarn to make this. Kinda like a ninja helmet. And I have been carrying the pattern around forever. So forever that it seems not to be on the net anymore.
So about 1000 chemo caps were made and turned in . . . and I think they made 26,000 dollars. So a very cool charity event. Next year's is Feb. 7, I think. Something about the first Saturday in February every year. But this means I can knit the chemo cap NOW and make it all cool and funky.
Okay, have to go buy Sharpies (for my students) and knitting needles (need to make a list). And start on the thumbs.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Dildo Factory
So let's start with the "and in the second episode there's this dildo factory" story.
M2 has a student teacher.
One would think that as a regular employed teacher, you would be overjoyed with a student teacher. Hey! Someone is going to come in and do all my work for me? And I still get paid? Sign me up! But M2 . . . I love her . . . well, there's really two factors at play. First, M2 has the WORST luck in student teachers. It's like the fates want her to weed them out or something. And this time, she even tried to compensate by asking to interview the person first . . . and the person just showed up anyway. And she is this meek, mousey thing who does not talk and looks terrified most of the time. Like that mouse that the kids always trap in the yearbook room (We have sort of a vermin problem. I prefer to think of him as a pet) who just wakes and then expels everything from his bowels and then dies of heart failure to avoid whatever this circle of teenagers is going to do to him.
So the second factor is that M2 is a really good teacher . . . with a strong personality . . . and . . . again, with the "I really, really love her" . . . she is a bit of a control freak. We all are. Well, anyone that lasts in this profession. So it's really hard for her to give up her classroom to someone who may lose all the control that she has gain. To let things dissolve into anarchy to prove to this person that she probably shouldn't be a high school teacher. Or should be . . . I don't know.
So M2 and the ST share a table at parent teacher conferences . . . and M2 and I plan to go out to dinner . . .
(Side story: The teachers like to go out in big groups for dinner. Which makes me anxious. For the restaurant who suddenly will have a table of 25, all of whom want separate checks. For myself, because I like to be on time and we don't have a lot of time and the waitress is taking 45 minutes to print up all of the checks. And frankly, for the general public, because teachers are really obnoxious when they get in groups. So I don't go with the "kids" for dinner. And it's a big problem. But M2 is kind enough to join me and go to a restaurant far away from the large groups. So yes, I socially isolate myself. So I won't be anxious. And for the record, I check and no, you weren't on time for the second session. No one cared. But I do.)
and there is the ST at the table, so we have to take her along.
She says maybe three words during dinner and doesn't have enough cash, which is cool because I don't have any cash either and I make way more money than she does, as she makes nothing. And on the way back, I kinda forget that she is in the backseat . . . because she is silent . . . and M2 is telling the story about how she had to take this compatiblity test to get married in the Catholic Church and some of the more tricky "yes" "no" questions . . . like "pregnancy is a big part of our relationship" (well, it isn't NOW but is it supposed to be later? According to the Catholics?) and so then I start talking about my new favorite show, Lucy, Daughter of the Devil and I had just watched the second episode, where Satan buys a dildo factory and Lucy wants to become a dildo designer but that grosses her father out.
"Did you have to bring up dildo factories in front of my student teacher? Are you trying to convince her that teachers are crazy?" Mary says after we get out of the car and the ST is out of earshot. Oops. I was just taking about television. It was on cable. So now the mouse is probably going to have to go to therapy. Or at least bring it up in those student teacher sessions when they talk about how all the old teachers are too old and their brains have been turned to mush by close contact with teenagers. I remember that discussion. It always ends with a group feeling that "we are going to be different".
Oh and the "holding dirty hands" is from this episode. Hilarious. About 1 minute, 52 seconds in . . .
"Look at all the people holding hands . . . holding hands around the world . . .
it's making me want to go wash my hands . . . dirty hands around the world . . . yeah . . ."
M2 has a student teacher.
One would think that as a regular employed teacher, you would be overjoyed with a student teacher. Hey! Someone is going to come in and do all my work for me? And I still get paid? Sign me up! But M2 . . . I love her . . . well, there's really two factors at play. First, M2 has the WORST luck in student teachers. It's like the fates want her to weed them out or something. And this time, she even tried to compensate by asking to interview the person first . . . and the person just showed up anyway. And she is this meek, mousey thing who does not talk and looks terrified most of the time. Like that mouse that the kids always trap in the yearbook room (We have sort of a vermin problem. I prefer to think of him as a pet) who just wakes and then expels everything from his bowels and then dies of heart failure to avoid whatever this circle of teenagers is going to do to him.
So the second factor is that M2 is a really good teacher . . . with a strong personality . . . and . . . again, with the "I really, really love her" . . . she is a bit of a control freak. We all are. Well, anyone that lasts in this profession. So it's really hard for her to give up her classroom to someone who may lose all the control that she has gain. To let things dissolve into anarchy to prove to this person that she probably shouldn't be a high school teacher. Or should be . . . I don't know.
So M2 and the ST share a table at parent teacher conferences . . . and M2 and I plan to go out to dinner . . .
(Side story: The teachers like to go out in big groups for dinner. Which makes me anxious. For the restaurant who suddenly will have a table of 25, all of whom want separate checks. For myself, because I like to be on time and we don't have a lot of time and the waitress is taking 45 minutes to print up all of the checks. And frankly, for the general public, because teachers are really obnoxious when they get in groups. So I don't go with the "kids" for dinner. And it's a big problem. But M2 is kind enough to join me and go to a restaurant far away from the large groups. So yes, I socially isolate myself. So I won't be anxious. And for the record, I check and no, you weren't on time for the second session. No one cared. But I do.)
and there is the ST at the table, so we have to take her along.
She says maybe three words during dinner and doesn't have enough cash, which is cool because I don't have any cash either and I make way more money than she does, as she makes nothing. And on the way back, I kinda forget that she is in the backseat . . . because she is silent . . . and M2 is telling the story about how she had to take this compatiblity test to get married in the Catholic Church and some of the more tricky "yes" "no" questions . . . like "pregnancy is a big part of our relationship" (well, it isn't NOW but is it supposed to be later? According to the Catholics?) and so then I start talking about my new favorite show, Lucy, Daughter of the Devil and I had just watched the second episode, where Satan buys a dildo factory and Lucy wants to become a dildo designer but that grosses her father out.
"Did you have to bring up dildo factories in front of my student teacher? Are you trying to convince her that teachers are crazy?" Mary says after we get out of the car and the ST is out of earshot. Oops. I was just taking about television. It was on cable. So now the mouse is probably going to have to go to therapy. Or at least bring it up in those student teacher sessions when they talk about how all the old teachers are too old and their brains have been turned to mush by close contact with teenagers. I remember that discussion. It always ends with a group feeling that "we are going to be different".
Oh and the "holding dirty hands" is from this episode. Hilarious. About 1 minute, 52 seconds in . . .
"Look at all the people holding hands . . . holding hands around the world . . .
it's making me want to go wash my hands . . . dirty hands around the world . . . yeah . . ."
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