Dadisms

Last weekend Mitch and his brother Mat brought all of our kids up to Rainy Lake to spend TWO WEEKS with their grandparents at the cabin.  The girls are going to attend a hockey camp.  While Mat and Mitch were there over the weekend they had to pack two weeks of parenting into a couple of days which resulted in some good "Dadisms" that I'm sure the kids will remember and tease them about for many years to come.  When the teenage girls got a little snotty and entitled and generally teenage-y Mat told them,

"I think you're special. Grandma thinks you're special.  But nobody else does and someday Grandma is going to die, and someday I am going to die. Then who will think you're special?  Nobody."

Thanks, Dad!

International Falls is a small town and the girls are planning to ride bikes around town which led to this exchange between Mitch, Mitch's dad, and the girls:

Mitch: This is a smaller town than you're used to.  The boys are going to be more aggressive here because they have to be.  

Mitch's Dad:  Yeah, you're going to have to skate harder to keep up with the boys.

Mitch:  You know I'm not talking about hockey, right?

Girls: ..... Yes.

Last year when the kids were getting ready to spend a few weeks at the cabin Mitch asked them if they were all packed which led to the inevitable sigh and strained whiny, "Yes, DAD." And Mitch said, "Do you have your toothbrushes?"  They didn't.  Then Mitch yelled this gem:

"Come on!  This isn't a holiday from hygiene!"

Which has had me laughing for over a year.  The kids still don't find it funny but someday they will.   

Brief Jerky

It was our wedding anniversary over the weekend!  Mitch tells me that the fifteenth anniversary is the one where it is traditional to give beef jerky.  In fact, he sent me a link to a website that makes "brief jerky."

I understand the (gross) principle behind edible underwear, but I think it would be more practical to make it thong-like and made of fruit roll-up material or cotton candy.  Beef jerky is a little tough and salty.  You don't want to spend all your foreplay time chewing and drinking water to quench your unquenchable thirst.

Happy Anniversary to me! (and Mitch)

Hidden Pictures

After dinner we were just sitting around and Mitch found a Highlights Magazine that we just got in the mail.  I don't know why we get Highlights Magazine.  I certainly never ordered it.  Our kids are teenagers, they don't read it.  I think Mitch ordered it.  Why would a 40 year old man want Highlights?  I wouldn't have known how to answer that question one hour ago, but since then Mitch has told me (although he didn't specifically admit he ordered it).  He said, "Highlights of this Highlights Magazine:  The picture find and the riddles.  Lowlights:  all the stories."  I happened to be at my computer while he was working so diligently on the picture find and I had the the chance to capture what happened after he got serious and got a marker.    

Mitch: ... Well... I'm really kicking ass now...

Mitch:  Yes.  Is this a toothbrush?  Yes.  It's gotta be.  Yes.

Mitch:  That is clearly something.  Is it a golf club?  Sure it is, but which way does it go?  Oh, that way.

Mitch:  What is this?  It's clearly something.  Is it a flower?

Me:  No, I think it's an egg.

Mitch:  There is no egg on the list.  It's not an egg. 

Mitch:  This looks like a sock but it's not on the list.  Why would they put a sock in here?

Me:  Are there bonus items?  Maybe it's a bonus item.

Mitch:   There are bonus items!  It's a bonus item!

Mitch:  Cupcake.... where's the fucking cupcake.  It's got to be somewhere.  

Mitch:  OH!  I've been looking at that egg all the time and it's the cupcake!

Me:  So you thought it was an egg too.

Mitch:  No, I said it's not an egg.  It's the cupcake.

Me:  (laughing)

Mitch:  WHAT?  I LIKE these!

Mitch:  I can't believe that dog didn't have anything on him.

Mitch:  I got an A on this.

Mitch:  (paging through the rest of the magazine)  Just because the kids don't like this magazine doesn't mean it's not a good magazine.  (continuing to page through)...... maybe it's not.  

Mitch:  Hey!  The riddles!  What will happen if you throw a white hat into the Red Sea?

Me:  It will turn pink?

Mitch:  No.  It will get wet!  

Me:  Ugh.

Mitch:  Why was the police officer always sleeping?  

Me:  (sigh)... I don't know.

Mitch:  She was "A-RESTIN'"!!!

Me:  Oh jeez.

Mitch:  Why did the mattress store employee get in trouble?

Me:  He was sleeping on the...HE WAS SLEEPING ON THE JOB!!!

Mitch: No, he was a pedophile.

(I don't think that last joke was actually in there)  Anyway, here is his hidden picture puzzle:

  

Ask Hobo Siren

I was looking through old posts and found this one that I forgot about and I'm re-posting it because it cracks me up.  Since this post was written, I have learned to embed video too, so BONUS, the video is at the end! Enjoy!  (Thanks again, Summer!)

I wrote in to get some advice from Hobo Siren recently.  Today she answered my question with an amazing video blog that you can see here. (or at the end) Here's a screenshot of her:

Wait, that's not the best shot.  This is better:

Like how straight her teeth are?  Anyway, my question was:

Dear Hobo Siren,

There is a woman I see occasionally because she is a substitute teacher like I am.  I have known her for years but I don't remember her name.  In my head I call her "Wet Head" because her hair is dripping wet when she comes to school in the morning.  Seriously, it's like she stuck her head in a bucket right before she walked in the doors.  Is there any way I can tactfully ask her her name after all this time without it coming across as totally insulting?

Sincerely,

Forgetful

She gave me some great advice.  First of all this:

Coming to Hobo Siren with my query was half the battle.  She had a few different options for me to solve my problem, and she reassured me that not remembering Wet Head's name is not my fault.  I can't be expected to remember the stupid name of every person I work with for five years, now can I?

No.  I can't.

Like I said, she gave me a few different methods, and was helpful enough to tell me which methods probably wouldn't work.  That's a real time-saver.

She was even kind enough to act out the scenarios I might use to tactfully find out Wet Head's actual name using real names so as to make the scenarios even more realistic.

Fool proof!  Now I don't have to hide behind doors and sneak through hallways when I see the tell-tale trail of drips indicating that Wet-Head is in the building!  I have options!*  Thanks, Hobo Siren!

*(I'm just going to call her Jessica)

(Follow up:  Wet Head got married and got a real job so I never had to learn her name.)

Pocket Man

I got an email from my dad this morning.  As you know, he likes a shirt with a lot of pockets.  I knew that, but I didn't know how much. Here's his email to me...

I just read an ad in my latest Guns and Ammo magazine by Scottevest.  They have the "Revolution Jacket" 26 pockets... 

  O----M----G!!!! 

 and the Explorer shirt, 19 pockets!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Can you imagine how much stuff I could travel with if I wore this jacket and shirt with my new Blackhawk pants (8 pockets)? I could go on a two week vacation and not have to carry any luggage! Could life GET and better?

Wow, my dad really likes pockets.  And he's not the only one.  I looked at the Scottevest blog and there is a post that asks the readers "What do you carry?"  and then people commented with mile long lists of things they like to carry with them.  Seriously, to read just one of the lists I had to scroll and scroll and scroll.  Not only do they carry a lot around with them every day in their millions of pockets, but they are actually pocket aficionados who seem to be carrying things for the sake of carrying things and sharing it on the internet.  This is one guy's list:

In Fleece:
Shure e2c headset
HP hx4700 iPaq
Sony Walkman 850i mobile phone
32Gb iPod Touch
6 pack credit card holder
SureFire G2 LED flashlight
2 spare lithium batteries for G2
LeatherMan mini toolkit
SureFire Sonic Defender ear plugs
Pack of 6 cleansing wipes
Pack of 2 Self heating hand warmers
Pack of 2 travel sickness wrist straps
1 disposable sick bag
Pack 6 plasters
Nokia 6120 mobile phone
Driving Licence
Nokia N810 Internet Tablet
Serengetti Drivers Glasses
Car Keys with £20 and headache tablets on ring
Pack 3 tooth picks
6 sticks of instant coffee
Laser pointer
Whistle
£20 in canister
headache tablets in canister
Gloob-Toob waterproof LED light

In Jacket
RoyalTec BlueTooth GPS Receiver Logger
Office ID Badge
Olympus mju725SW Camera
USB Cable
Invisio BlueTooth Headset
BlackHawk Gloves
Sealskin inner gloves
WaterProof Notepaper Pad
Notepad holder
Fisher Q4 Space Pen
BlackHawk Fleece Cap
Garmin Colorado 300 GPS receiver with topo and street maps
2 AA Lithium batteries
Oatmeal bar
O'Reilly computer book
40gb usb harddrive

In Cap
Oyster Transport Card

In T-Shirt
Shure e4c headset

When traveling I also carry an eee PC with power supply

That guy is ready for anything.  If he went out in the morning and found himself:

1. in pitch darkness (flashlight and extra batteries), 
2. underwater and needing to take notes (waterproof notepaper and sealskin gloves AND waterproof LED light),
3. nauseous (travel sickness wrist straps and sick bag for when the wrist straps don't work, which they won't), 
4. with a headache (headache pills in TWO different pockets), 
5. eating corn on the cob (three toothpicks), 
6. needing to point at a person's crotch across a room (laser pointer),  
7. in space (space pen), 
8. bleeding profusely and/or refreshing a wall (6 pack of plasters), 
9. craving a stick of coffee (6 coffee sticks), 
10. coaching a sporting event and/or deterring a rapist (whistle), 
11. at his own office (office ID badge), 
12. taking some selfies (camera), 
13. wanting to play Angry Birds while listening to Ballroom Blitz (iPod), 
14. driving across the Serengeti (Serengeti driving glasses),
15. needing to repair an O'Reilly computer (O'Reilly computer book),
16. dropping a cell phone in the toilet and needing to call someone to them them he dropped his phone in the toilet (2 cell phones), 
17. and transporting oysters (Oyster Transport Card)... 

he would be READY FOR ALL OF THAT AND MUCH, MUCH MORE.

Dad, what do you carry in your outfit with 53 pockets?

Beating Up Animals

Remember this conversation I had with Mitch?

Mitch:  What is the biggest primate you think I could beat up?

Me:  .....???? .... what?

Mitch:  (sigh) What is the biggest primate you think I could beat up?

Me:  Like, win in a fist fight?

Mitch:  Yeah.

Me:  A spider monkey?  Lemur maybe?

Mitch: (clearly insulted)  No way!  I could at least take on a baboon!

Me:  No, you couldn't.  They are vicious.

Mitch:  Yeah, but they're not that big.  Just a minute, I'll google it...

And so on...

Well this conversation isn't over, apparently.  Yesterday Mitch asked me if I think he could beat up a chicken, specifically a rooster.  I think he is just fishing for compliments.  This is how that conversation went:

Mitch:  Do you think I could take on a rooster?

Me:   No.

Mitch:  Yes I could!  You know I could.  But what if it was the size of Foghorn Leghorn?  Do you think I could then?

Not a chance, Mitch.  Especially if he had that board.

Me:  I already told you, I don't think you could beat up a real rooster, not to mention a man-sized cartoon rooster with hands.

Mitch:  Yes I could!  It's a bird.  They are like, three pounds.  But anyway, what if it was man-sized?  Do you think I could then?

Me:  No.  Roosters are meaner than you think.  If it could get you down, any rooster could kill you.  What they lack in bone density, they make up for in rage and evil savageness.

Mitch:  How would they get me down???

Me:  I don't know.  I just know that a smart person wouldn't lay down in front of a mean rooster.  Or they're dead.

Mitch:  THAT's ridiculous.

"Bring it, Bitch."

When Did I Get So Embarrassing?

Sam is an unusual kid.  He's always been so good and helpful and sweet.  Yesterday his bed wasn't made and I said, jokingly, "I see that summer vacation for you means a vacation from bed-making," and without missing a beat he turned around with candy in his hand and said, "What do I have to do to make this problem go away?"  He knows me so well.

He went through the briefest phase where he was a little embarrassed when I would drop him off at the bus stop wearing my pajamas, but he didn't show it until I started doing the cabbage patch dance and then he asked me firmly but politely to "PLEASE STOP DOING THAT!"  And one time when he had a choir concert at his middle school he walked ahead of Kira and me instead of next to us.  I attributed this to him being annoyed with Kira and didn't think it had anything to do with me. Maybe I was wrong.  I got him back by taking a bunch of pictures of how cute he was in his skin-tight black pants that were too tight around his adorable frog-body.

But Kira, who is 13 now, is mortified by my very existence.  Unless I am blending into the woodwork like I'm invisible, she is totally embarrassed.  I dropped her off at hockey the other day and said, "Bye," and later when she got home she told me that I didn't need to say bye to her.  I said, "Why not?  I just wanted you to know I was leaving!"  and she said, "Mom, please."  I think this new mom-phobia she has can be cured with immersion therapy.  I need to start truly being embarrassing.  Here is a list of things I am considering doing when I'm out in public with her, please add your ideas in the comments:

1.  Black out a tooth.

2.  Wear shorts and a bikini top with long socks and sneakers.

3.  Wear bandaids on my face.

4.  Communicate with her only through interpretive robot dancing.

5.  Stop bathing.

6.  Wear an "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt.

7.  Start talking in a cockneyed British accent.

8.  Ask where they keep the bras at every store, gas station, and restaurant we go in.

9.  Do a dance mob routine without the accompanying mob.

10.  Introduce myself to people by saying, "Hello, I'm Kira's mother, nice to meet you." 

Kira's Dreams

Kira's friend texted her and told her that she (the friend) was going to church camp and they were supposed to make a poster with the theme "Follow Your Dreams."  Kira's friend said she didn't have any ideas about how to start or what to put so she asked Kira for some input.  Kira told me about it and she started drawing.  I was interested in seeing what she was making for her Dreams poster because she is 13 and doesn't really talk to me all that much about what is going on in her head.  She's too cool.  She suddenly has a private life that she doesn't want me to know about.  I thought this poster would be a good tool of communication for the two of us.  I could see what her hopes and dreams are and maybe even help her achieve those dreams.

She was busy drawing but wouldn't let me see what was on her paper.  I thought maybe she wouldn't let me in to see her dreams and I was a little sad.  As she was drawing, she seemed pretty happy with her work and thought her friend would really like it.

Finally she said, "Well, do you want to see it?"  I had to act all casual, like I didn't care whether she let me see it or not.  I said, "Sure, I guess," and sauntered over and saw this:

It's an otter sitting on a table, wearing a cape, in front of a fan which is blowing on him making the cape flap.  I said, "How does this fit with the theme 'Follow Your Dreams'?"  She said, "Well,... it's not my dream, but I bet it's the otter's dream."  

And then she laughed.

She sent it to her friend and the friend said, "Funny, but not really the point," which Kira thought was really funny.

So what insights have I learned about my teenager?  She's incredible strange, likes to entertain her friends, and has overwhelming empathy for otters who wish they could fly.

Traditions

Every year when the weather finally gets warm enough to walk around without a jacket, the kids and I take a trip to Canal Park in Downtown Duluth and walk along the Lakewalk.  And every year when we go past the beach Kira says, "I want to go in," and every year I think to myself, "God, she's nuts.  There was ice out there just a few weeks ago!"  and at first I argue and tell her no, it's too cold, she'll get hypothermia, the water is only 45 degrees blah blah blah...  And then eventually I relent and say, "Go ahead," in a I'm-calling-your-bluff kind of way.  And every year she does it.  It honestly surprises me every single time.  (What does that say about me?)  To illustrate how much of a surprise it is to me every year: ever since she was a toddler and ran in with her diaper on, I have not once thought to bring a change of clothes along.  Not. Once.

This year she went in wearing shorts and a fleece pullover.  After the initial shock she got used to it and swam around for about 20 minutes.  When she got out I felt her leg and she was FREEZING.  I made her roller-blade up the Lakewalk to dry off.  

Buff

Last month my friend Shelly and I started going to classes with a personal trainer.  It is at a gym that specializes in training teams and elite athletes so naturally it's the obvious place for middle-aged mom-types.  Our trainer's name is Jeff and he's been hiding his true self behind a facade of niceness and smiles and friendliness but his inner Jillian Michaels comes out sometimes.  One day he told us to do waiter walks (you hold a gigantic weight with a straight arm above your head and walk) to the end of the gym and back three times.  Then he decided that it would be better to do it outside because it was nice out.  So he showed us a spot about twice as far from our starting point as the length of the gym.  Shelly and I did it two times instead of three times because the distance was so much further.  The other ladies did it three times and asked how we got done so fast.  We told them our thoughts about the difference in distance and Jeff blurted out, "Nobody told you to think about it, just do it!"  Then he smiled like he was joking.

This morning he was telling us these arm exercises he wanted us to do and Shelly said, "So we'll use about 5 pound weights?"  and Jeff said, "five pounds??? What, are we 'toning'?"  And I really wish I had a sarcasm font because the disgust he had in his voice when he said that was absolutely hilarious.  Shelly and I were flabbergasted.  We said, "Um... yes, we are toning, aren't we?"  And he laughed and said, "No you're not.  You're adding mass."  Oh Jeff, the only reason I'm in your class is because of all the "mass" I've packed on in the last year.

Another thing we had to do this morning was some work with the yoga ball.  If the object of the yoga ball work was to see how far we can make a yoga ball shoot out from under us while we fall on the ground in a heap, we would have been world class, but that wasn't the object.  First we had to squeeze it between our legs and then do leg lifts with the ball.

We didn't look like this.

For us this was mostly throwing a huge ball in our own faces over and over again and then chasing it when it rolled away.  Then we were supposed to do planks with our elbows on the ball for what seemed like hours at a time.  Jeff came over and told me I was doing it wrong.  He took my ball and said, "This is what you're doing," and he draped himself over the ball like he was sleeping.  (I wasn't doing that) He said, "This is easy, I could do this all day."  Then he showed me that I was supposed to be planked up like a board, with only my elbows touching the ball.  Way harder.

He really works the shoulders a lot and I have been having a hard time even lifting my arms lately.  I got a new sports bra the other day and the first time I wore it I thought I was going to have to call 911 for help getting it off.  I'd hate to have to quit training because I ripped both rotator cuffs in a sports bra injury.  

Book Review: Rogue Patriot

You know, I guess I should have known when I read the title, Rogue Patriot, that this book was going to be bad. If that didn't tip me off the three dollar price should have.  But I thought I was just getting a good deal!  Amazon is giving it four and a half stars!  And it's summer!  I wanted to read something dumb and fun.  This had plenty of dumb and NO FUN.

I don't usually like to write bad reviews of books because it's hard to write a book and I don't want to discourage someone just because I don't like it.  Who cares what I think?  But Gerald Meunier wrote a real stinker.

It started off promising with the protagonist, FBI Agent Clay Holt, and his wife in bed.  She wakes up and makes him promise that if anything ever happens to her, he would take their children and move out of Washington D.C. "Hmmm.....," I thought, "iiiiinteeeerrreessttiiinnnggggggg...." I thought.  Of course the mom dies but not from covert spy stuff, she dies in a car accident.  The other driver was an illegal Mexican and that is when I learned why the guy wrote the book.  He hates immigrants.  Especially Mexicans but also anyone else who isn't white with an American accent.  What better place to pop off about your racist values than in a novel?

So the mom dies and Clay makes plans to keep his promise and move his kids out of Washington.  He gets a job offer in Colorado, where his parents live and he goes out to visit.  While he is there he happens upon a human trafficking ring that had the sour luck to also traffic a couple of Muslim terrorists as well.  Those rascally terrorists kill all the other illegals and the local sheriff, and eventually Clay's parents.

The problem I had with the book, besides the overt jingoist racism, was the fact that the Clay character was so unbelievable.  I can easily suspend my disbelief when it comes to book characters not following police procedure, but the basic human stuff has to be better.  At one point Clay's children are kidnapped and he is looking for them and the terrorist that took them, and he is at a Redskin's game because he thinks there is going to be a bomb there.  He finds the bomb, disarms it himself, and then thinks how nice it would be to sit down and watch the game, but he can't because he has to go look for his kidnapped kids.  STUPID KIDS!  What parent would ever even contemplate watching a football game over looking for their kidnapped kids???

After his parents are brutally murdered by the terrorist, not a lot more is said about it.  It doesn't seem to affect Clay that much.  Puh-lease!  That would change a person at the very core.

I kept reading it because one of the reviewers on Amazon (Mr. Meunier's mom) said there was a great twist at the end.  There was no twist! NO TWIST!  Just a dumb, regular, predictable ending.

I read that Mr. Meunier is planning a second Clay Holt thriller to which I say,  "PASS!" 

Happy Father's Day!

I don't know if you know this, but my dad, like most dads, is really into the latest fashions.  On a recent visit he was wearing a new shirt that he got that he was VERY happy with.  It is a neutral green color (goes with ALL his shorts),  is semi-waterproof (so you can wipe off spills before they stain) and has pockets hidden all over it.  AND it has a little loop for him to hang his glasses.  He had been shopping that day so I thought he just bought it.  I asked him where he got it and he said, "Amazon," so this is something he computer shopped for.  I then got to thinking, "What does one type into the search bar when looking for a shirt like that?" and then I imagined all the ways that he had to refine his search parameters to get just what he wanted.  Like this:

"shirts"
"men's shirts"

"men's button down shirts"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves, goes with everything"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves, goes with everything, stain proof"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves, goes with everything, stain proof,  pockets"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves, goes with everything, stain proof, LOTS of pockets"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves, goes with everything, stain proof, 15 pocket minimum"

"men's button down shirts, short sleeves, goes with everything, stain proof, 15 pocket minimum, glasses loop"

and VIOLA!  The perfect shirt!

(You can't tell from the picture, but this shirt has 20,000 pockets.)  

Happy Father's Day Dad!  I love you!

Recurring Themes

Last night while Mitch and I were watching TV, he started a conversation with me.  This has been an ongoing topic that he apparently hasn't gotten a satisfactory conclusion to because it is something we have discussed in the past.  This is how it started the first time we had this particular conversation:

Mitch:  What is the biggest primate you think I could beat up?

Me:  .....???? .... what?

Mitch:  (sigh) What is the biggest primate you think I could beat up?

Me:  Like, win in a fist fight?

Mitch:  Yeah.

Me:  A spider monkey?  Lemur maybe?

Mitch: (clearly insulted)  No way!  I could at least take on a baboon!

Me:  No, you couldn't.  They are vicious.

Mitch:  Yeah, but they're not that big.  Just a minute, I'll google it...

I thought he was Googling baboons to see how big and tough they are.  It's what any smart opponent would do, learn what you can about your foe, right?  But he wasn't Googling baboons.  He typed "Biggest primate I could beat up" into Google Images.  Here is the result he got:

It was the Google equivalent of saying, "IN YOUR FACE!"  I will say that I agree with Google that Mitch could beat up the monkey pictured above, but only because I think her beads would get in her way.

So last night, completely out of the blue, like always, Mitch said to me:

"I could easily beat up a sun bear, but not a black bear."

Me:  You could not beat up a sun bear.  They are BEARS.

Mitch:  Sure I could.  They're small.

Me:   They're not that small.

Mitch:  They range from 40 to 160 pounds.

Me:  That's oddly specific.  I still don't think you could beat one up.  Even the 40 pound ones are 40 pounds of teeth and claws.

Mitch:  I could beat any one of them up.

Me:  Even the big 160 pounders?

Mitch:  Yes.

Me:... (letting the conversation die.)

Mitch:......

Me:................

Mitch:  I still think I could beat up a baboon.  Especially if he tried to take my chips.

Me:  .... what...??????????????

Mitch:  Why are you looking at me like that?  What's the biggest animal you could beat up?  A bird?

This weird conversation is starting to get contentious.  If I really have to think about it, I think I could easily take on a smallish dog or a declawed cat.  At least I have the common sense to stick with domesticated animals.

Does anyone know where I could set up a relatively safe fight with a baboon or a large sun bear so Mitch can prove his theories?  I think we would all like to know how this shakes out.

Things Mitch says to me when he's procrastinating on the internet

"Did you know that a nude painting of Bea Arthur sold for over a million dollars?"

"Ha ha, this guy says Bea Arthur has 'heavy hangers.'"

"Look, Bea Arthur has a mug shot!  ... Oh wait, she was in the marines.  She was in the MARINES!"

"I wonder if any of the other Golden Girls posed nude..."

"Wow, Betty White was naked a LOT."

"Is it R-e-w, or R-u-e?"

"Rue McLanahan played it loose, but she wasn't in real life, apparently. No nudes.  Now that's an actress."

"I should get back to work."

"How do you spell 'Estelle Geddy?'"

Let Summer Begin!

It's the last day of school (only for teachers) and my room is packed up and cleaned, I've filled out my check-out sheet, I got my last paycheck and I'm ready to go.  It's only 12:20.  We are here until at least 2:00.  I am ending the year by being SUPER EFFICIENT!  Now comes the three month unraveling at the end of which I will be proud if I shower, get dressed, and do two or three chores all in the same day.

Just kidding.  I hope I won't get that bad.  I'm sad that the school year is over.  I've been laid off because of cutbacks, but have a few other prospects for next year.  I will miss being in this building with this staff.  They are so much fun.  We had a breakfast this morning and I was laughing until tears were streaming from my eyes.  The FACS teacher (home ec.) is retiring and she brought out the text book from her first year teaching in the 70s.  It was for a class on teaching boys how to dress and behave like young gentlemen and it is called Call Me Mister!  Hilarious.

My summer job is to get in shape and I have actually started going to see a personal trainer.  I go with one of my teacher buddies to a sports training facility that specializes in training talented young athletes.  Being teachers, we know many of the kids that go there, but for some reason they don't acknowledge us when we are there.  One eighth grader was in my room first hour all year and is very friendly to me in school, but when he sees me at the gym in my shorts, straddling a yoga ball and sweating like a pig, he pretends he doesn't know me.  Weird. 

The workouts are really hard but after 6 or 7 sessions with him, I am already seeing results.  Yesterday I squatted down in front of my bookshelf, organizing books for about 20 minutes, duck walking back and forth; and I DID NOT cramp up or feel like passing out even once!  Progess!  One of my friends is hosting a half-marathon at the end of the summer and I'm hoping to do (half of) that.  Yeah, that's right, running.  But mostly I'm signing up for the homemade pies she is serving at the end. 


 

Team Uruzgan

My sister and her team in Afghanistan are AWESOME.  The kids in my class had a big project to do this quarter called the Duluth Project.  They had to read about our city, choose a landmark that inspired them, research it, and then make a postcard and a brochure about it.  I sent their postcards to my sister and her team in Afghanistan because they like getting mail and I thought I could tie in a little real-life teaching about what's happening in the world.

Amy and her team finally got the postcards and Amy took the above picture of them holding them up.  I showed it to the kids yesterday on the Smartboard and they all gathered up at the front and looked for their card.

Amy also wrote them a really nice email commenting on several of the cards and telling the kids that she and her team learned a lot about Duluth that they didn't know before. (Some of them have never heard of Duluth before, can you believe it?)  Then at the end of her email she said:

Anyway....if you guys have any questions, let your WONDERFUL teacher know and I'll be sure to get right back to you!!  I hope you all have a great summer!!!

So I asked the kids if they had any questions for her and then proceeded to write down a question from just about every kid in both my classes.  They wanted to know everything from what time she goes to bed to do they serve chicken to do the soldiers ever get scared.

Amy addressed the kids by name and answered their questions.  She told them that her team does not have to fight because they are on a reconstruction mission, but sometimes they get scared.  She said:

D., I'm sure the soldiers do get scared from time to time.  I was scared the other day when I saw a spider in the bathroom.  :)  But the soldiers are also trained really, really well....so even if they are scared, they know what to do and how to get the job done.

That made me laugh because Amy would get scared of a spider in the bathroom.  Who wouldn't?  I bet she screamed a blood-curdling scream (known in our family as the "spider scream") and then immediately felt stupid for screaming over a spider, but also got out of the bathroom as soon as humanly possible.  Screw brushing the teeth!  Right Amy?

At the end of her long email answering all the questions she left the door open again by saying:

I hope I answered everyone's questions!!  I know you only have 2 days of school left but if you have anything else, ask away!!  It was fun to hear from you....  :)

Take care and have a great summer!!

I love how she ends each email by telling them to have a great summer.  That's the email equivalent of the high, sing-songy goodbye voice you use on the phone when you are trying to hang up.  Sorry, Amy, they are not ready to hang up yet.  I'm sure you will get a ton more questions today.  Get ready.

Thank you so much to Amy and her wonderful team in Afghanistan.  I am SO GLAD you guys get to come home this month!  

Brilliant Parenting Idea

Oh how I wish I would have thought of this when my kids were smaller. 

I LOVE the pure misery on both of their faces.  I might get one of these for me and Mitch.

Why sixth graders can't be spies:

Like every teacher in the world these days, I have trouble with kids taking out their phones and texting when they are supposed to be working on something else.  Frankly, I'm not much of a stickler for the no-phones-in-class rule, but it is a school policy so I follow it.  I have one student who is super sneaky.  I never see her texting, but the girl who sits next to her, (I'll call her A), does and it bothers her that the texter gets away with having her phone in class.  So A came up with a system for the texter to get caught.  She stayed after school one day and worked this out with me, (all her idea.)  She said, "I am going to give you a signal when B is on her phone.  What should the signal be?  It should be something subtle, but obvious to you.  Hmmmm.  What should it be???  How about if she takes her phone out I will scratch my forehead like this," and she scratched her forehead like a meth addict. I agreed and then promptly forgot about it.

The next day during quiet reading time, A had apparently been scratching her head like crazy because she did an obvious "Heh HMM!" and I looked up and her forehead was all red.  She gave me the eye that said, "WATCH ME!" and then she went back to reading.  Apparently the phone wasn't out right that second.  So I watched.  Soon A scratched her forehead so I quietly asked B to come up and see me.  I was going to tell her to give me her phone until the end of class and rock her world by letting her know that I knew she had it when she was so sneaky.  Then A interrupted and said, "Oh no!  I just had an itchy head that time!" 

Cover blown. 

Memorial Day

Some of my favorite people in the world are American veterans from past, present, (and future).  Both of my grandfather's served in WWII.

That's my grandpa on the right.  He served in the infantry in Italy and Algeria.  He was a company clerk.

My other grandpa was a cook for his company.  He loved to cook.  He always made us big pancake breakfasts.

That's both my grandpas on the left and both my grandma's on the right.  I know you always wondered how I got so good looking.  Now you know.

My dad was in the navy during the Vietnam war, but thankfully he never had to go overseas.  He was a welder and said that he made a number of bbq grills out of airplane parts for the officers.

I couldn't find a picture of my dad from the navy, but I did find this one from when he was an acolyte in the Episcopal church.  He looked almost the same when he was in the navy.

There. But instead of the cross I wanted to put a gun or a welder thingy but they didn't have those stickers on Photobucket.

My sister Beth was in the navy too but I also don't have a picture of her in her uniform.  She looked pretty cute in it.  Instead I'll post this cute picture of her:

My sister Amy is currently serving in Afghanistan.  She comes home next month.

And of course, my favorite non-relative veteran is George Washington.

He is the original American veteran.

Thank you for your service, Veterans!

Hammocking

I came home from work the other day and spotted Mitch relaxing in the hammock I got him for Father's Day last year and that he never uses.  I immediately went over to join him and you'd think I was trying to spray him in the face with the hose the way he jumped up (Or tried to jump up.  There is no quick jumping out of a hammock).  I had to literally push him back down while simultaneously trying to get on the hammock, and he couldn't really fight because if he did, he'd lose hammock-balance and would get flipped on to the ground.  We struggled like that for several seconds until he finally got away.  My question is this:  Why can't he just romantically laze in the hammock with me for a while?  I picture this:

"Ahhh... I love you."

But I end up with this:

"You fucker."

Hammock-snuggling is not that bad, MITCH.

Sometimes I'm pretty smart

I had a stroke of brilliance at work last week.  I have this kid who I love, but who honestly, drives me absolutely nuts.  He is anal and needy and a total butinski.  Because he is so anal, he is super organized and always has his work done.  This leaves him lots of time to point out everyone else's flaws which drives his classmates NUTS.  If he sees a discrepancy between what another student said they did and what they actually did he literally cannot stop the loud, annoying, tattling words from spewing out of his mouth.  He MUST correct the situation.  His neediness manifests in asking me a question every 1.5 seconds no matter what else I'm doing (talking with another teacher, teaching the whole group, working one-on-one with another student, going the the bathroom, etc. etc.) which drives me NUTS.  I bet he has said, "Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl...Mrs. Lindahl..." a billion times this year. But generally, he is a sweet kid and a good student.  Just annoying.

I have another student who I also love, but who also drives me nuts.  He is a very bright kid, but is so slow-moving and dreamy that he is always ten steps behind the pack.  I passed out lists of missing work last week and this kid's list was looooooong.  I was trying to motivate him to do his missing work, but every time I turned around he was off in La La Land again.

How could I get Kid 1 off my back for two seconds and get Kid 2 to finish all his work?  The solution:  Assign Kid 1 to "help" Kid 2 finish his missing work list.

As soon as I proposed the idea, they both thought it was brilliant.  Kid 1 went from being on my heels every second of class, to tenaciously nagging Kid 2 in ways that I'm sure nobody has ever been nagged and cajoled and browbeaten ever before.  The result were wonderful:

1. Kid 2 finished about 2/3 of his missing work, bringing his grade up considerably.
2. Kid 1 was off my back for a few days which was a welcome relief.
3. Kid 2 was WORN OUT after a few days of having someone relentlessly dog him about every little thing.
4. Kid 1 and Kid 2 both privately expressed maddening frustration in having to deal with the other every day which gave me unbelievable satisfaction because I successfully deflected their annoying behavior off of me and on to each other.

Brilliant.

Annoying

I'm kind of irritated with Kira today because she keeps doing an annoying voice that for some reason gets under my skin like I just stepped on a mound of fire ants and then my legs turned into the legs I have in my dreams when I can't run anywhere because my legs weigh 400 pounds each.  I should have known better than to let HER know that the voice bugs me so much, but it bugs me so much that I couldn't help myself but to say (scream), "STOP DOING THAT!!!!"  Which for Kira (or anyone between the ages of 11 and 15) means OMG KEEP DOING THAT! 

Also, I took the time to clean, fill and remember to bring my special water bottle to school today.  I had it in my bag and hauled it up to the fourth floor and just as I was unlocking my classroom door, she grabbed the bottle out of my bag, said, "My throat hurts, I'm getting a cold," and then took a long, sloppy swig off my pristine water bottle that I prepared especially for myself.  Now I can't drink it.  I wanted to push her down the steps.

However, I don't need to resort to child abuse because we spend every day in the same place, and by merely being the woman who birthed her and who takes care of all her needs, I am a total embarrassment.  As a teacher at her school I can simply go on the computer and get her schedule and see where she is every minute of the day, and now I am contemplating going into her 1st period class and pretending I'm having a stroke by limping and drooling and possibly peeing my pants and begging her to help me.  But you know what?  She wouldn't help me (and that would piss me off), and if I did that she'd keep doing the voice forever and ever, and I'd be stuck in pee-pants for the rest of the day.  There is no winning with a middle school kid.  They can't lose a contest of annoyingness. 

Also, there are only ten days left until the end of the school year and I may be just a tish touchy because every kid I come across is upping their own personal annoying factor exponentially each day and it's pushing me over the edge. 

Before my classes every day I prop my door open because I LIKE IT LIKE THAT and every single day the same kid comes in and pulls it shut behind him.  Every day I make him go open it up again.  It drives me fucking crazy. 

The kids in this school are all issued new beautiful free planners on the first day of every quarter.  They are to keep this planner with them to write down important information for classes, for parent correspondence, and to use as a hall pass during class.  I made it abundantly clear the first few days of school that if they don't have their planner, they weren't leaving my room.  I have one girl who asks me EVERY SINGLE DAY to go to her locker/go to the bathroom/get a drink/talk to a teacher/etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc, and EVERY SINGLE DAY I say, "Do you have your planner?" and EVERY SINGLE DAY she gets huffy and says, "NO! GOD!" and then sits down and pouts.  EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

Don't believe me that they are increasing their annoyance-level?  Yesterday the journal question was "What do you think is/will be/was the best age to be?  Explain."  And I came across these gems when I was correcting them:

"I think the best age is when you are a baby because at that age you don't have to go on the toilet.  You can go in you (sic) diaper."

And:

"I think that the best age would be a baby so I didn't have to go on the toilet." 

They don't even want to use a toilet.  In light of that, I'm pretty impressed that I can get them to do schoolwork.

I've been trying to get my students to FOCUS these last few days of school and you know what?  It is really really hard.  They are starting puberty and have spring fever and their brains are shutting down for the big sleep until they are in their early 20s.  The only super active parts of their brains are the parts that turn everyday items/phrases into inappropriate and not-very-clever sexual innuendos.  That part is spot on.  One day someone noticed that it was 69 degrees in the room.  HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Hilarious. One of my little angels learned the phrase "friends with benefits" and thinks that she made it up and nobody over the age of 13 knows what it means so every time the word "friends" is said, she says, "with benefits!"  and everyone laughs and thinks I'm not laughing because I don't get it.  I GET IT.  If it was even remotely clever, I'd give them my kudos, but it's just annoying. 

I remember the good old days when kids were sweet and not annoying.  Right before Kira started middle school she was shopping at a t-shirt shop with her grandma.  Grandma said she'd buy Kira any shirt she wanted.  Kira chose one with a cute bird on it, but Grandma refused to get it because it said, "I froze my pecker off in Minnesota."  Kira didn't know that pecker was a euphemism for penis, she just thought he had a really cold beak and that was the joke.  Grandma had to explain it.  After Kira knew what it meant, she didn't think it was all that funny.  She thought a bird freezing its beak off was funnier.  She just wanted a shirt with that bird on it.  The good old days. 

Never mind about my pecker.

Remember, eel holes

Mitch woke up this morning and noticed the words "eel holes" written on his hand in his own writing. He couldn't begin to fathom what it meant or when or why he wrote it. He was still thinking about it in the shower when his phone beeped reminding him of an appointment he didn't know he had. He looked at the phone and all it said was "Remember, eel holes, 10:00." Mitch vaguely remembered having a dream about the ubiquitous problem of eels coming out of the river and crawling around on land. Apparently he had some brilliant idea for trapping them in eel holes but now he can't remember it. Anyone know anything about eel holes or capturing land-dwelling eels?

"Where's mah HOLE!"

Kira in the Car

Kira and I were driving to school listening to the radio when she got a look of utter horror on her face.  I said, "Oh my god! What's the matter?"  And she said, "Aren't you listening to this story??!"  There was a news story on the radio about cyclones in Japan.  I said, "You mean about the cyclones ravaging the coast of Japan?"

She took a breath and looked relieved and said, "Oh.  I thought they said cyclops."

Someone finally gave a good description of what depression is really like.  Thank you Allie Brosh!