It Was A Dark and Stormy Afternoon

We've actually had something like sunshine for the last couple of days, but around four this afternoon, it turned dark and started to monsoon. I had to take off my hearing aids, because I hear a burst of static with every flash of lightning, which is annoying. It's passed, for now, and let's hope it doesn't come back, because R and the Gentleman Friend are flying to the U.K. tonight. They'll be there a week, but they're actually going to be at a wedding of a close friend of her from when she lived in Cardiff. And K is house/cat-sitting for them, so, although she'll be home here and there, she's basically away for the week, too. Which means I can do the Wii Fit when I want to, and not when I think she won't be wanting to watch TV in the family room. I did about 20 minutes of aerobics this morning, pretty good for me.

I seem to be having trouble creating paragraphs here today.

I also made sure that I didn't take my standard two hour nap this afternoon so that I sleep better tonight, which may or may not happen, but I'm a little brain-fried at the moment as a result. I'm also really, really hungry, which shouldn't happen, since I made a very nice meal for myself. So now I either need to eat or sleep, I don't know which. Probably eat.



watching THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2078
READING: ----- by -----

Goodbye

Goodbye, friend.






watching --- :: ENTRY #2077
READING: ----- by -----

Random Stuff, Illustrated

We spent the afternoon at the sister-in-law's today, which was very nice, although we all got a good look at my father-in-law's declining state. Which was sad. He's slower, mentally, but it's all still there, it just takes him longer to get it out. The real heartbreak is his almost lack of ability to move around at all. He's in a lot of pain all the time (mostly from his back), and mobility is a serious issue. It took him over a half hour to get up from his chair, down the two steps to where his little scooter was waiting, and then to the car, and in the car. And this was with my mother-in-law and three men helping him. So, sad.

In other random news ...

I have this oddly shaped drawer on my desk that I've been stuffing things into for years, and opened it last night to find something (which wasn't there), but I found all kinds of other treasures. All the "coupons" my kids made me, like "good for one hug", and stuff like that. (When I told them today, K said, "Those things expire, you know.") Cards that I've kept. Odd things, like a traffic ticket I got on my first day of work, so that was February 2, 1977. I can never mock my father again for not throwing anything out. (And ... I also found certificates for trees planted in Israel in memory of my grandfather, who died in 1955, so I clearly got those from my father at some point.) Anyway, I found some pictures.

I'm sharing these with you; I don't think I've shared these before. In a way, they're before and after pictures, although I didn't realize that until I started writing. Here's the first one:


Yes, Virginia, at one time I did have some athletic abilities. Here I am in a faculty softball game, so that would have been the last day of school -- June -- 1980. I was at my lowest adult weight, probably about 108, because I had been sick the summer before and unable to eat, and had never gained it back. Yes, that's me in the Harpo-like curly perm. See me catching the ball and my feet are both off the ground? Can you believe it? And if memory serves, I was probably also about 48 hours pregnant at this point, unconfirmed, of course, because there were no home tests then, but I was already sure.

After.


A week or two before Christmas, 1981. We used to have a holiday tea in the library, and I brought baby R in for the occasion. She was nine months old.

This is, I think, my favorite picture of myself ever. Or, more precisely, it's exactly what my image of myself is. This is what I think I look like, wished I look like, whatever. I loved this haircut. I had lost my baby weight, but kept the extra fifteen pounds I needed to keep after being so skinny, so I guess I was around 123. Oh, and the baby, of course, although this was hardly the best picture of her; she was the most adorably photogenic baby of all time. But I digress.

So there you are. There I am. I'm tired now. Long day.



watching THE SIMPSONS :: ENTRY #2076
READING: ----- by -----

Much Has Been Written

... and much more will be written. I didn't post last night because I wasn't ready to write yet. I don't know if I am now, but we'll see.

I've read what K-Lo and Chris and Bluesleepy wrote about Cosmic, and I agreed with them, in spirit and in the comments. Chris wrote about a weekend in New Haven, and I will, too. But first, as always with me, some background.

I am essentially a very shy person, for starters, especially when I am part of a group of strangers. Starting up on Diaryland was kind of like that, being in a room full of strangers. I don't know how I found any readers at all in the beginning, or even how I found other diaries to read. Somehow, I found a little start-up group, for me, of people who seemed to read each other, mostly. One of my first finds was Cosmicrayola. I don't have to tell anyone why I started reading her diary, because you all read it, too. As I commented somewhere yesterday, I felt from the beginning that I had a special, personal bond with her, and part of her magic was that everyone else felt the same special, personal bond with her.

A little over four years ago, a group of d-landers in the general northeast area started talking about getting together. I can't tell you how amazed and delighted I was to be included in the group. I didn't read all the people who were going to be there, but I started reading the ones I hadn't seen yet, and by the time the plans were set for a weekend in New Haven -- in May, I think -- I was ready to go.

I didn't tell many of the people in my 3D world that I was doing this, but the ones I told were astonished. I had never done anything as out of character in my whole life than to travel two states away to spend the weekend with "strangers." I kept trying to explain that none of these people were strangers to me, anything but. Yes, I had not met them in person. But I knew them.

What I did not tell a single other soul was that I was very eager to go, but also very anxious about it, because, let's face it, it was out of character for me to do this. What I kept reminding myself was that I would be okay because Cosmic -- Karen -- would be there.

I drove through lots of traffic on the Connecticut Turnpike, which is the normal state of affairs for that road, and finally reached the hotel. I parked, entered the lobby, and registered, and asked hesitantly at the desk if anyone else from our group had arrived. The clerk had no idea what I was talking about. I turned for the elevator, and saw two women seated at the computer in the lobby. I saw them from the back, but it didn't matter, because I already knew. I walked toward them; Karen heard me coming and stood up, turned around. I saw her, she saw me and we knew exactly who we were. I remember how she smiled, and then how we hugged.

The three of us -- her partner in crime and roomie for the weekend was Diane -- had dinner and spent the evening together. Everyone else was arriving the next day. Oh, what a night. I hadn't laughed -- or smoked -- that much in years. No way these were strangers. These were old pals.

It was an incredible weekend. More crazy people came in the next day. It was magic, a weekend that I will never forget.



I still have Karen's cell number in my phone contacts. I've never called her since, because I'm too shy to intrude on people like that, even people that I know wouldn't find it an intrusion. She's always been a phone call away, though, y'know?

I'm going to leave my three happy faces down there tonight, not because I'm especially happy, but because Karen always seemed to be; even when life threw her crap, she found the happiness there. Oh, and if you haven't read her book, read it. That would make her happy, too.



watching ALFRED HITCHCOCK MOVIES :: ENTRY #2075
READING: ----- by -----

Done!

School's out for summer! (Which were the exact words the principal used to dismiss us from the final faculty meeting. Oh yeah, and the words from an Alice Cooper song, of course.) He let us out by 11:30 this morning. Very nice.

Which caused me to learn that I do actually have the energy in the middle of the day to do other things, as opposed to coming home from work and collapsing. I got all my laundry done and put away, so I can start the summer with a clean slate. I tidied up my car and the living room. I decided to cook myself some dinner.

I know! Me!

Well, I've been thinking about how I was going to eat intelligently this summer, which I do intend to do, without going on any kind of actual plan, because I never want to get caught up in obsessing over food again. It turns out I did eat well today, so far only about 1000 calories (which means I can finish the Coffee Toffee Frosty in the freezer; I'm not a fanatic.) Anyway, I went to the produce market in town, which also has a fabulous fresh fish counter, and made some tilapia with veggies on it in a parchment paper packet in the microwave. I could have that every night, but I think they say you shouldn't have fish more than three times a week because of the mercury and stuff.

I could even do some Wii yoga tonight, but I'll be horrified enough when I step on it tomorrow and see my weight in the morning, I don't need to see my after-dinner weight. Perhaps a bit of bowling or golf might be a good toe-in-the-water to see how my shoulders and elbows take it.

Massage in the morning, and then I need to pick out my first book of the summer. I have ... counting ... about 15 books on the piano bench, and a few more ebooks, and one coming from my sister. I know I won't read them all, but I like knowing that I'll get to a lot of them. Some are YA novels, which I'll either love, or toss aside after the first few pages, and three big books are the Mary Stewart Merlin/Arthur trilogy, which I read many years ago and loved, and I'd like to try to re-read.

I'm going to go sort out the dry cleaning to see what I need to take in tomorrow. Whatever I get cleaned (shirts, for me) will just sit in the closet, ready for September, because I like to wear only denim shirts in the summer (I have six or seven) over a tank top. And jeans. Voila, my summer wardrobe is complete.

More tomorrow from the exercise front.



watching THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2074
READING: ----- by -----

What're You Doing This Summer?

This is a question that teachers routinely ask each other during the last week of school. I guess it's a normal making-conversation kind of question. Sometimes people ask me if I'm "going anywhere." I usually answer that I don't go places, I just go to doctors. Although this summer, I am going to Disney World. We have a couple of bachelor guys in their fifties who always go to exotic places during the summer -- not together -- and in September, those of us with houses and children (aka, no money) get to see pictures of them in front of pyramids, or in the rain forest. But I digress.

The question implies, to me anyway, something like a New Year's resolution, except for the summer. In the past, you've seen me declare my intent to clean the basement, which simply does not happen. Maybe it will this year, since the Hubs is around to carry the stuff out, but I'm not holding my breath. I'm not even thinking about it.

I don't want to make resolutions. I would like to exercise more, sleep better, eat properly, and relax. Read a lot of books. There you go, my summer in a nutshell. And Disney World, of course.


Okay, so my library has this alcove with windows that overlooks the new main entrance to the school, and out into the parking lot:


My car is just out of sight on the left, and this little red roof under the window is the overhang that shelters the main doors, directly beneath it. I drove into the parking lot at 6:45 this morning, came up the stairs, turned the lights on, started working, and so on, and at about 7:30, I glanced over at the windows and saw this:


which, of course, reads "Seniors 2009" on the outside. How did I not notice that when I drove in, or when I turned on the lights? No clue.

(This was not put up from inside, btw, and was certainly put there by kids who climbed on the roof of the main building and then down to the little red tin roof outside the window. Swell.)


In other news, the weather was unbelievable today: sunny, dark, monsoons, beautiful sun showers, and more. I caught this right after the rain stopped at some point:


This is in our front yard, and is certainly the clearest picture I've taken with the iPhone. It looked so pretty. I have another one that's even better; I thought I had rotated it, but it didn't save, so maybe tomorrow.

And now, perchance to sleep, or something like that. I can go in a little later tomorrow, so I set the alarm for seven. Excellent!




watching TWO AND A HALF MEN :: ENTRY #2073
READING: ----- by -----

Aieee!

I'm having that old issue with my eye again. It hurts. I've tried all the drops and that stuff; all that remains is to close it and keep it closed. It's going to be a long evening.

Tomorrow is my last day with my lovely library assistant, and graduation at night. So that's a long day. I'll miss her, but really, she was just what I needed when I needed it to get my old mojo back (if that's using mojo correctly.) I do hope she gets the job she's interviewed for a couple of times. She's good, and she deserves a nice job.

So my sister activated texting on her phone yesterday, but she can't upgrade to the phone with a keyboard for another few weeks. She's developed her own punctuation system, since she can't seem to manage punctuation on the keyboard she's got, and she can't go without. I'll bet it's killing her not to punctuate and capitalize, but so far, she's sent me some very cute messages, with lots of xxxxx's in them. She uses an x to stand in for other things, one x for a comma, two xx's for a period, and so forth, and she also ends each message with xoxoxoxo. It's like reading a secret code.

In other news, no summer yet to speak of in New Jersey. It's very, very strange.

Okay, I'm going to goop up my eye now with ointment, which will be like wearing glasses with vaseline smeared all over one of the lenses. Mmm boy.



watching THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2072
READING: ----- by -----

The Sun Shone

for five minutes today, long enough to remind us that it exists. And then, poof. This is the weirdest June ever.

I'm going to follow up yesterday, but first, two articles. Here's one. Is this the coolest app ever? If only they would deliver.

Next. We are living in a topsy-turvy world for sure. I'm worried that they won't let me on an airplane because of my middle name, but it's okay for people on the terrorist watch list to buy guns. Can you believe it?

I got some comments about people with name discrepancies who never had a problem, and in fact, I've never had a problem; I just don't know if I will because the rules have changed. Even so, I tried to think about why this is bothering me so much, why I'm obsessing over it. (I'm not anymore. I got over it.) The therapist I used to go to, when we discussed my fears, would ask "And what would happen if ..." for example, I saw a snake in person. (My greatest of all fears.) And I said "I would die." She said, "Would you really? What would cause you to die?" and so on. So the question I asked myself was, what am I afraid of?

I am not afraid of some things that other people are, reasonably, afraid of. I am not generally afraid of or made nervous by having a mammogram, and I'm the only woman I know who can say that. Why not? What will be will be, I guess. Am I afraid to fly? A lot of people are. I don't enjoy it, but I'm not afraid of it. I'm more afraid when my children fly than when I do.

What will happen if I am at an airport and my ID is challenged because of the not-matching middle names? There's the question. I am, apparently, afraid of getting stopped at airport security. I need to make everything as smooth as it can possibly be so I can just breeze through. If there's a hiccup of a doubt about anything about me, and it slows me down, I'm scared. Of? I'm afraid of getting stopped and sent aside for further screening. I'm afraid of being detained illegally. I'm afraid of being questioned closely, and not hearing them. I'm afraid of the whole loss-of-civil rights potentiality that the TSA has at airport security.

(I'm not saying I live in constant fear of this stuff. I'm just saying this is what I came up with when I analyzed the name thing.)

Ultimately, what I'm afraid of is facing a situation where I lose any and all control I might even have seemed to have had. It's the whole loss-of-control issue, which is a big issue for me (and for many others, I would guess.) Airport security has tremendous potential for a loss-of-control experience of the highest caliber. That's it. That's why all I want is to make sure that I breeze right through without a hiccup.

I'm glad we had this little talk.




watching THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2071
READING: ----- by -----

Identification, Please

It's possible that I'm overreacting.

Homeland Security, or the TSA, or someone or other, recently passed the edict that henceforth, all airlines tickets must show exactly the same name that is shown on the holder's legal, government identification. And therein lies the problem. (Or, if you're normal, no problem at all.)

When we bought our tickets for the Disney World trip, the travel agent booked us with our names, just our plain names. Oldersib Chai and Youngersib Chai (or the reasonable facsimiles thereof.) The new edict had already been talked about, but didn't go into effect until a couple of weeks later. Even so, I asked the travel agent up front if the names on our tickets needed to match the names on our ID, and she said not to worry about it.

My sister has the middle name she was born with, as well as a maiden name and two previous married names, as well as her current married name, so she pretty much goes with her basic current married name in all circumstances, which is as simple and sweet a name as Sue Smith. (That's not her real name, of course, but it's a name a lot like that.) Mine is not so simple.

First, I never had a given middle name. So my birth name, first and last, was something along the lines of Rozmari Mxyzptlk. This was fun growing up, let me tell you. I got my first passport when I was in college, so that was the name on it, and the name on my driver's license; it was my name, and the only one I had. I got married when I was 24 and acquired a lovely, simple Italian last name, and I kept the initial of my maiden name as my middle initial, becoming, in effect, Rozmari M. Chai. (Chai is not an Italian name, however, it's a Jewish good luck symbol.) This is the name I have used ever since. It's on my license, my tax returns, my paychecks. It's my name. It's my signature, it's my monogram. It's my name.

But when I renewed my passport, years after I was married, they just tacked on my last name to what I already had. The name on my passport is Rozmari Mxyzptlk Chai. And I signed it Rozmari M. Chai.

So, really, who the hell am I?

My plane ticket says Rozmari Chai, although I have absolutely no ID in that name. After searching for weeks on the Internet, I finally found something that says this won't be a big deal for the first few months. Henceforth, I shall buy any and all airline tickets as Rozmari M. Chai.

I cannot find anything anywhere about my passport. Is it okay? Do I need to change it? If so, how? What about the fact that I signed it differently than it's printed? (Let me also point out that I flew to Europe and back with this four years ago, and no one batted an eye. No doubt because there is no Rozmari Mxyzptlk Chai on the terrorist watch list.)

I'm going to try and call the feds one day this week, and if I ever get through, I will ask my question.

And now I think I'm going to take a pill.



watching FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2070
READING: ----- by -----

It's a Quarter to .... One

No, not a quarter to three, no singing me from me. It's a quarter to one, which means school ended for the kids twenty minutes ago (although I hear voices down the hall), and it's the teacher lunch hour. But I'm in the library, just in case any of the little dears have books to bring back to me, which means I can leave for home at 1:35.

A word about the teachers and their inability to do relatively simple administrative tasks. One, it's actually worse today. Two, in most cases, I don't think it relates either to their intelligence or to their teaching ability. There are plenty of people who are not good with paperwork, and if they're lucky, they have a spouse who does it all for them at home. As far as teachers go, there is a lot of paperwork, and everybody gets it done somehow, sooner or later, but being knowledgeable about your subject and being able to teach it are not connected to that kind of chore. In fact, for many people, there's a real disconnect. Some of the ones who are always late with their attendance and grades are the people who are so intellectually gifted, and so passionate about what they know and teaching it, that they light up the kids in their classes, but they can't always make it down the stairs from their ivory towers to do all that other stuff on time. They sometimes have trouble following relatively simple directions, but ask them to explain a chemical process, or something in The Great Gatsby, and their eyes light up; they practically glow, and every kid in the class can see what they see and feel the passion they feel. It's just real annoying for me to be on the receiving end, waiting for the paperwork. But I don't hold it against them (not most of them, anyway); it's just a pain while it's going on.

It is raining yet again. I expect to leave here in 45 minutes and find my entire car mildewed. Everything in the house smells, and it's just from the dampness in the air. It's disgusting, and seriously, cannot be good for the health, for anyone's health.

I forgot to bring something to eat or drink with me today, which is unfortunate; I can't even take my pills. I did have coffee earlier, but it was too early then. I'm gonna be really hungry when I get home. And I'm going out for dinner tonight with people, so I won't get real food until at least 7:30, so I guess I'm going to have to feed myself something when I get home.

Oh, NEWS ALERT NEWS ALERT! I got my hearing aids back ... and they work! Well, they have worked for about six hours now, anyway. Everything seems okay, but I've been in the library all day, which has its own atypical sound situation, so I won't know for sure until I leave, and hear what it sounds like in the car, on the TV, at the dinner tonight. But I'm hopeful. I did, however, look up the name and email address of the CEO of the company that makes my hearing aids, because I may want to drop him a line. I just don't want anything to reflect on my audiologist, who is THE BEST. I'll talk to him about it before I send anything.

I'm going to walk around the library a little bit now. More later.




watching L&O :: ENTRY #2069
READING: ----- by -----

Evening Report

I'm all snuggled on the couch, feet finally warming up and headache finally going away. The tylenol was useless, but the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream did the trick.

Not a bad day at school at all, other than it was freezing there. I stayed through lunch, so I got to leave early.

Now I'm all scrambled; it must be lying down that does it. I'll try to be more upright tomorrow.

Wait .. It's Friday, Right?

Not? Ugh. It feels like a Friday to me because it's the last full day of the school year. We start finals tomorrow, so that's half days for the kids through Monday, and then Tuesday and Wednesday are half days for the kids with shortened class periods, and Wednesday is also a half day for staff because we have to come back at night for graduation. So that's clear, right?

I had a nice talk with the principal this morning, who actually came here to the library to talk to me. I can count on the fingers of one hand the times a principal has come to the library to talk to me. Anyway, we worked some things out for next year, some very good, some ... well, you know. Ya gotta take da good wid' da bad.

I have just cleared the decks, so to speak, for the onslaught of the debtors, which begins tomorrow. I moved stuff off my desk to make more room for everything, something I do every year when this begins. But each year is different. I could be swamped tomorrow and in a mental institution by three, or I could be sitting here in the library with my thumb in my mouth. It's a matter of how many teachers understand my directions each year. Seriously.

So, after school today, back to the urologist, what fun. I think I'm going to tell him I've decided to live with my problem for the rest of my natural life. It's not as if I don't already have annoying conditions that I have no choice but to live with for the rest of my natural life. What's one more?

My knee is sore today, in the back, what my kids used to call the "knee-pit." That's where the bone is damaged, so I guess it makes sense that it should hurt there. No idea why, but I'm not really babying it anymore, no cane, no knee support. (I guess that's why it hurts, duh.) Anyway, one more thing to learn to live with.

Do I sound bummed out? I'm not, not at all. It's like when this stuff happens, I think "Oh, well, now there's that," but very, very little actually upsets me. (Still not thrilled about the whole hearing aids thing though, which is not yet resolved.) It's amazing, and I owe it all to the little pills, which I resisted for beaucoup de years because how could I get it until I got it? What the little pills do is they let me be me, without the angst that made me not me. They don't make me artificially happy. They allow me to deal with what comes up without each little thing becoming a huge emotional issue. I'm just me. I rather like just me; I certainly prefer being just me to being that other icky, freaked out spaz.

.
.

Still in school. MORON ALERT! What did I say about the process only going as well as the teachers understanding the directions?

Normally, the library stays open after school. The substitute who's been with me is here until 3:05 and then a teacher comes in and stays until 5:00. But she's gone on an interview this afternoon, and normally I would stay the half-hour, but today I have the doctor's appointment at 3:00. So I put a sign on the door that says the library is closing at 2:35, but will re-open at 3:05 when Mr. K --- arrives and will remain open until 5:00. Is that hard?

A teacher just wandered in, looked briefly at the sign, and asked "Oh, the library is closing?"

I said, "Well, at 2:35."

She looked thoughtful, and asked "Forever?"

Yes, idiot, forever. There will never again be a library at Bizarro Town High School, ever, ever, ever, ever.

She couldn't just read the damn sign?

Perhaps I have not become as even-tempered as I have been led to believe, eh?




watching FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2067
READING: ----- by -----

Bein' Green

It's not easy.

I've said before that the Hubs is Mr. Recycler, the Garbage Police. Also a vegan. Now, who doesn't support the whole idea of recycling and being green? I'm taking baby steps.

A year or two ago, I switched all the light bulbs in the house to those compact fluorescents. Let me tell you, it is nasty when one of those breaks, or burns out.

A few months ago, I banned paper plates and cups from the house, along with disposable plastic tableware. (I really, really hate to wash dishes.)

The other day, I picked up some paper towels and toilet paper to try. It's unbleached, and made from recycled fibers. (Presumably not from recycled toilet paper fibers.) We haven't started using them yet, because I just stocked up on Bounty and Charmin last week. Those two are on the list of the worst environmentally friendly paper products. Who knew.

Next, once I've got the paper all sorted out, will be dishwashing and laundry detergent. I also picked up two huge bottles of Tide on sale last week, so that'll be a while, too. And then the other cleaners.

Why? Why not? Why not, hey, everybody stop using stuff that puts toxins in our bodies, our houses, our water. Just seems to make sense to me, I guess.

I will not, however, use the compost in the summer. We have a big compost bin outside and a small stainless steel one on the kitchen counter. I have no problem using the little one and dumping it outside all winter long, but I went outside to do it yesterday, and of course, a cloud of those horrid little flies flew out when I opened the lid. I swear, I almost stripped to my naked torso* right there on the porch lest I bring even one of them inside with me. So, for the summer, I throw my apple cores in the actual garbage, and let the little pail sit there until the Hubs takes it out. Those flies freak me out.

(*for kitchenlogic.)

But my big success of the day was the finding of the educational documents. Last weekend, K got her brandy-new master's degree diploma in the mail. (We're not fans of going to the ceremonies.) She opened the envelope, said "Oh, it's here," and R said "You have mine someplace, too, right?" And I said, "Oh, sure!"

Uh .... uh ....

I looked with something less than zeal here and there throughout the week, and it -- her graduate diploma -- was not where I was sure it was. And then I started to think: where were their undergraduate diplomas? For that matter, where were mine? I tore the family room apart this morning and came up with zippo. Nada.

What I did find, which surprised me, were copies of all my teaching certificates, which is pretty funny because I just received the duplicates of those I requested from the state to the tune of $80 in money orders (what a pain), but I found what I needed, even the one that the state somehow neglected to send me. Which made me think, now where could everything else be?

I have a sort of captain's chest which we use as a coffee table, but it has doors on one side and is full of all the family pictures. It was the only place left I could imagine all of it being, so I looked. What I found was actually a nice archival storage box for each of us, full of the kids' report cards, camp swimming awards, and all that stuff, and our diplomas. All of them, except mine from library school -- no idea where that is, don't care -- and the Hubs', which he has framed someplace. I found all our high school diplomas (all from the same school), and even, tucked into my box, my kindergarten diploma and my three years of high school Latin awards. Aw.

So that's my accomplishment for the day. I barely slept last night, was wide awake from about midnight to four, and couldn't sleep this afternoon. I sure hope I sleep tonight, or I'll be cranky tomorrow.


watching L & O/SVU :: ENTRY #2066
READING: ----- by -----

Let Me Tell You About My Day

We had a very icky day here today. Most of it was rain, and all of it was humidity. The sun actually came out for about three minutes, but otherwise, it was unpleasant to go outside, and when I did, I came in feeling like I needed a shower.

I slept relatively well and woke up with the wherewithal to get some stuff done, but I let that peter out pretty quickly. I did hit two supermarkets today, so I guess that was something. I tried to nap this afternoon, my usual Saturday or Sunday afternoon three-hour rest, but only got a half hour out of it, so now, of course, I'm dragging again. The Hubs has gone out to pick up the Chinese food, so at least I have a meal coming.

We got our annual invitation to the Hubs' sister's father's day barbecue for next weekend, and, as always, the decision was up to him, and we are going. We had a lovely time last year. I talked to R, who is away for the weekend, and she says she will definitely be joining us, but the gentleman friend may spend the day with his father, as is certainly his choice to do. They're not married or even engaged, so, as she says, Mother's and Father's Days are still not necessarily spent together. They have time ahead of them for those arguments. All I have told her is that Thanksgiving is mine, and Christmas belongs to her grandmother for as long as she lives.

Tomorrow is for paperwork and laundry. Oh boy oh boy.

Oh, in answer to a comment, managing the list of who owes what to the school has nothing to do with being a librarian. It's my non-teaching duty. Years ago, it belonged to a guidance counselor, and when he became head of his department, they gave it to me. It has to be done by someone who doesn't give final exams at the end of the year, because there wouldn't be enough time in the day. It's also my graduation night duty, which means once the kids march out of the building to the football field (which means they have all cleared their obligations), I can go home. It works for me.

Who am I kidding? I am not getting through that Andrew Jackson book. I have a few nice ones in reserve (as well as a stack for the summer), but I haven't made a choice yet, so no book listed below.)



watching MARRIED WITH CHILDREN :: ENTRY #2065
READING: ----- by -----

Fourth Period Begins

Oh god, it's only the beginning of fourth period. It seems to be a never-ending day of drudgery and boredom. The reason for that is that it has come to be the time of year for me to be consumed with keeping the list of which kids owe what to the school before they can graduate or move up a year, and I am focused on that, but it's an off-day, so I don't have much business, which is to say, not many kids coming to clear what they owe today. Yet I can't get involved in any other chore that requires thought or room on my desk, because I have to be ready to accept cash/books/notes from the nurse or cafeteria at any moment. So far today, I have refined my system of paperwork for this nonsense, have double-checked one thing against another to make sure no kid is listed as owing something that's been paid for, and have called a half dozen kids out of homeroom to clear stuff up (which they mostly did, because we have mostly nice kids.)

It's also that time of year when teachers are sending kids to the library without passes all day, kids are staying here for two or three periods in a row and hiding out in corners where I can't find them, and not signing in, so it's an administrative nightmare. Everybody's finishing up final projects or showing final presentations, and there aren't enough computers in the school. In any given period, I have a class in the library classroom (24 computers), another class in the library's main room (16 computers) and 20 to 30 kids coming in with passes from class (if I'm lucky) to use computers, most of whom I have to send back because their teachers didn't think to call me first and see if there was any room. Attendance-wise, all I can do is remind everyone to sign in when they get here, and hope that nothing troubling comes up, like the office is looking for a kid who can't be found.

After today, there are only three more regular school days. Final exams start on Wednesday, so that's four half days, followed by a full day for no reason, and then a half day with graduation at night. As you can see, our computer network isn't the only thing in school designed by monkeys.

Excuse me for a moment ...

Back from a Crohn's break ... more at home.

Home, and with a haircut I'm very happy with. I won't be able to get it to look like this tomorrow morning, but it's exactly what I want. I guess after 17 years, Ray either reads my mind or understands the nonsense I'm spouting when I tell him what I want.

Tomorrow is Friday; isn't that nice?





watching THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2064
READING: American Lion: Andrew Jackson by Jon Meacham

Which Alfred Hitchcock Movie Am I?

(It's not a meme. Or a quiz.)

I suppose my moods are swinging like a menopausal metronome, but I'm generally not having down periods, or at least, not bad ones. The one over the weekend was the worst one for a long time. Mostly, I just get all sappy and mushy, not so much teary, but grinning excessively, which looks a little grotesque on me, but I don't always do it when I'm with people. I'm reminded of a classic film scene, and a favorite of mine, from The Philadelphia Story (not a Hitchcock movie, btw):

Tracy (Katherine Hepburn) is drunk on the eve of her wedding, and loosens up for the first time in her life while she's hanging out with Mack (Jimmy Stewart,) who is not her fiance. Liz (Ruth Hussey), who is not Mack's fiancee but would like to be, is more of a skeptic, or cynic. Tracy, in an uncharacteristic burst of good humor, sweeps her arms and looks dreamily into space and says to Liz

"Aren't men wonderful!"

And Liz replies, deadpan, "Yes, the little dears."

Anyway, I'm usually in Liz mode, but here and there these days I morph into Tracy mode, feeling gushy about relatively ordinary things. For example, last night, my daughters went to a concert in the city. I did my very best not to get all freaked out over this. K was meeting R at Penn Station after work, and later, they would be coming home by train together to R's house, where K would be staying over.

R emailed me during the day to tell me all the plans, so I wouldn't worry. I wanted to call her on the phone at work and gush "Oh! I just love you so much!" *ahem* But I wrote back a nice email asking her to have K confirm the sleepover plans (which weren't definite at that point), and she said she would.

At 6:15, I got a text from K telling me that they were together, and she would, indeed, be staying over. Isn't that wonderful?

When I got up this morning, I saw a text from about 12:30 last night that they were home, and she hoped the text didn't wake me. (It didn't.) So then I wanted to call her up at R's and say "Oh, I just love you so much! I love both of you so much! you guys are THE BEST!" But it was six a.m., and I figured that would not be the way to start her day, considering she was asleep at her sister's, and isn't a morning person, and anyway, the upshot of the whole thing is not my children, good or bad, but is that I AM A PSYCHO.



watching ---- :: ENTRY #2063
READING: American Lion: Andrew Jackson by Jon Meacham

Nice Day

In fact, I had no real nickname when I was a child, and no middle name ever, so my name, which I don't like, is pretty much all I've ever had. Oh, my sister called me Bushy -- really -- when I was a baby, because she said my hair all stood up on my head, like a bush. Or something. My father often called me "Sannie-Pie" (the s is pronounced like a z) as a take-off on Sweetie Pie, and for a period of years my sister actually did routinely call me E-Pie. (I did the same sweetie pie thing with my kids' names, too.) If there was a name I detested, it was Rosie, and anyone calling me that would be the immediate target of a very nasty tantrum. Which is all to say that I was doing something nice for myself today, and the thought went through my head that I was "doing something nice for Little Sanne." You remember, the kid in the picture the other day.

So now it's turning into a real thing, which is also okay, because with any luck, I can somehow turn it over into a kind of meditation, which can only be good for me. After I had that thought, I ran through all those "lovelier thoughts, Michael" memories, you know, the things I would have to think of in order to fly after Peter Pan sprinkled the fairy dust on me. (Or alternatively, the things that would help me conjure a Patronus. Pick your children's mythology.) All this was while I was getting a therapeutic massage on my neck and shoulders. So, all good. And this was after a quick shopping trip with my sister.

And my knee is much better, even without the cane. Of course, my hearing aids are winging their way to Pittsburgh, or wherever it is they get fixed -- I don't know why I think it's Pittsburgh, but I do -- and I have the substandard loaner, but again, whatever.

If only I didn't have to get up in the morning. Twelve more days.



watching FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #2062
READING: American Lion: Andrew Jackson by Jon Meacham