that vision thang

My first real political event was a Bill Clinton rally in 1992 at the Mayfair Diner in Northeast Philadelphia. I was so excited to go, and believed in his ideas, that I cut my morning class at Temple to go and endured a longer than usual commute from there to get to school (by at least 45 minutes.) I stood in crowds and pushed my way close enough to get to shake Hillary's hand, who was speaking for Bill because he had lost his voice. I didn't care that I didn't get to shake Bill's hand; Hillary impressed me as smart, and the real power in the marriage.

I lost some respect for her and Bill amid the controversies and scandals, but didn't stop supporting them. Didn't surprise me when she ran for Congress, or decided she wanted to be president. But the more she talked, the less I liked her.

This week, she came back to the Mayfair Diner, which I now live around the block from, literally. My commute home from school was completely disrupted by police barriers and street closings. I had NO INTEREST in going to this rally. Didn't go. Sent students to record the experience of a political rally for extra credit (and the Obama rally the next night downtown-- and will if I hear when/where McCain might plan a rally.)

Why didn't I go? Because, in between deciding that the Democrats could save us from the disaster created by the Reagan/Bush and witnessing the hard scrabble fighting for a nomination that will almost definitely lead to the White House (there is no way the Republicans will win this, let's face it), I have become completely disillusioned. There is no way there will ever be substantial change in this country unless a third party candidate will win. It's that simple. Until then, we play "The Lesser of Two Evils" game.

The Lesser of Two Evils has become more and more distasteful over time, as my daughters have come along and its not just about me anymore. I want to leave them a good world, a better world-- and the system we have is not working.

****************************

On another front, my idealism is not being restored on the big scale political front, but I dare to hope a bit on the local front. Although I work in charter schools, I have long been aware that not all charter schools are honest and forthright and well run. The one I am at now does things the right way, but schools I have been associated with in the past do not. Finally, the Philadelphia Charter School commission had taken notice and is doing something about it. It took them long enough, dammit. I have previously worked with some of the people involved in this latest scandal, and nothing in these articles is a surprise to me, honestly. And no one else should be surprised. This goes on in many, many charter schools in Philadelphia and I am sure every where else in the country.

The idea of a charter school is free up educators from the constriction of the usual educational environment. Unfortunately, that also means that some of the administration things built into the public school system that are there for the public's benefit are ignored. If all schools actually followed the rules, the charter school system would be great.

I do hope that some day, it will.

Current Mood: cynical

 Just a quick update-- total of only ten parents (out of thirty in my homeroom, and the hundred or so total students that I teach) showed up for parent conferences Friday.

And the extortion accuser? No show. At all. The principal had already gone over the extra credit issue, explaining the math (thank goodness she used to be a math teacher), and told me a did a good job of writing the matter in a THREE PAGE MEMO for the parent.

And the extortion accuser was a pain in the butt for another teacher about a field trip this week.

Lots of grading today, for tomorrow, and official observation on Friday. I hope it all goes well. The observation is for Civics, the class I hate the most and am least creative. I'm nervous about it. Really nervous.

I need to cut back on the caffeine again.

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: anything loud, rude, and thrash-y

Students who fail an academic subject or conduct in a class for the third quarter are not allowed to attend the prom. I remind them of this on the first day of the report period, have them write it out and sign it, and verbally remind them pretty much once a week. I give out printouts from my grading program two times a quarter in addition to report cards and progress reports that are required, so that students (and parents, who have to sign and return the sheets) know where they stand. I even let students redo failing projects for a minimal passing grade (60) to help their average.

I also I offer extra credit like water- come after school and clean my room, sweep, grade stuff, hand out books, etc., etc. I also offer one point for each board marker, bottle of hand sanitizer, or box of tissues a student chooses to bring in, up to five or ten points.  Completely voluntary. Extra credit points go onto assignments, not onto the class average. I also regularly tell the students that extra credit will not make an F into a passing grade; extra credit is really for those who are doing okay who want to turn a C into a B or a B into an A.

A parent went to the principal today and accused me of extortion for my supplies for extra credit "scheme."

Why? Because her daughter spent twenty dollars on supplies and still failed me. Let's start with the fact that apparently, the "extortion" would have been okay, as long as her daughter benefited (passed.)

Okay, NOW we can discuss the fact that the child has failed before, other quarters, but I've never heard from her parent. But, as she told the principal, The Girl can't attend the prom because of me. (Yup. I made the girl unable to follow directions on two major projects as well as the re-do, fail to study for the three tests, forget when to turn in homework and class work assignments, and talk constantly during class.)

The Girl who failed me-- one of three in her class, by the way, one of whom has only been in for two days in the quarter-- brought in ten boxes of tissues and ten very small bottles of hand sanitizer. I told her the limit before she did it, but she brought it in anyway. I told her that I would give her the points, as she already had purchased the items. I made no guarantee AT ANY POINT that The Girl would pass my class as a result.

The parent had already signed a grade report that showed the girl's average was a 39. (Passing is a 60.) Even if I added the extra credit to her average, against my general practice, she STILL would have failed. I'm sorry that The Mother's math skills are as poor as The Girl's- but I resent the accusation even being put in those terms, much less brought to the principal instead of to me.

So I had to go over my records and explain everything verbally to the principal today after school, and spend an hour between tonight and tomorrow printing out records, writing up an explanation of it all, and copying it/putting it together for the principal to call the parent back tomorrow. And even though I'm in the right, clearly, and the principal agrees once it was gone over, that's a slur against my name that registered for at least a moment with the principal, and anyone in the lobby who overheard the comment The Mother made.

I am pissed. And aggravated. I bend over backwards to help these kids pass doing much more than I have to and using up my free time to do it. And there's never a thanks, not really, from the ones who benefit the most from my work. The appreciative ones are the ones who understand why I do it-- and don't need the extra help. Days like today make me want to be the evil bitch I used to be, never letting kids know they were failing until they got the report card, not letting them see my grade book, never letting them do extra credit (which I was morally against, until the math was explained to me to show that extra credit doesn't help the slugs).

SIGH.

Let me go waste my time with this stupid paperwork, instead of grading or lesson planning or doing something fun like playing with my kids or talking to my husband.

Current Mood: aggravated
Current Music: SCHOOL'S OUT BY ALICE COOPER

The medical field blows big chunks, man.

I have been having hearing issues for over a month now. Can't hear right, constantly have to ask students to repeat themselves and be louder; horrible tinnitus, like I've been to a Metallica concert; and this pressure in my ear, like an ear infection, but pressing in, not out. It's been driving me crazy. This is the third time its happened, but this is the first time I've been able to get an ENT appointment anywhere near the time I'm having symptoms. I only managed this appointment because I am going to a new ENT, recommended by my rheumatologist because he deals with autoimmune disorders of the ear, which is what my primary and rheumy think it might be.
Well, I went to my appointment this morning with the specialist ENT. The good news is, I don't have any autoimmune disorders of the ear. (Not that he looked at my blood work, or asked any details about my arthritis or fibro.) Other good news is that I have excellent hearing. Above average.

So he has no idea why I feel like I can't hear right. Unless I had above-above average hearing before, so I notice a loss but am still within what is considered the normal range. Despite the fact that this has happened three times in the past two to three years, and my hearing eventually returns to the same level. Essentially, I'm crazy.

Since he really can't explain it, I have come up with my own theory, based on my years of experience with my own body and how it works. I do have the beginning stages of autoimmune disorder, but my excellent hearing makes it impossible to tell yet. My primary thought for years I had some autoimmune issue going on, based on symptoms I had, but couldn't find one with testing until after I had my first daughter. Even then, it was my symptoms, not my blood work, that showed it was autoimmune. I barely register above normal on blood tests, yet I damn well know its there.

And my sinuses still look like crap and are swollen and nasty. Of course, since I had that stupid surgery to fix 'em, they dont' look normal to begin with. But that could help explain the pressure that I feel in my ear, which is not an infection and is not caused by any part of the ear that is visible. So I have to take a round of Prednisone (a steroid), which I avoid taking at all costs on a usual basis. Its common to take for both asthma and rheumatoid arthritis. The last time I took it willingly was as part of the diagnosis process for the arthritis. It makes me the evilest, most cranky person in the word. (According to the PDR, one possible side effect is psychotic episodes, so you can see why I might not want to take it.) Plus my fat ass gets fatter. Prednisone makes me feel hungry all the time, seriously hungry, and I always gain five or so pounds when I'm on it. It makes me feel bloated and uncomfortable, no matter what clothes I wear.

So let me apologize in advance for being a bitch and miserable.

I also need to use this super antibiotic sinus wash that I tried to get before, but Walgreen's and most regular pharmacies don't carry. I had to wait an hour at the hospital pharmacy to get it, and I'm not sure where I'll get it refilled (the hospital is a little far from my house to go for a prescription.)

I have decided that I need to go back to the allergist, and get tested for food allergies. I tested positive for eggs, wheat, and milk when I was younger; I don't remember what other foods. (I do remember cats, dogs, dust mites, roaches, and all kinds of trees and pollens.) Then, once I know what I am allergic to, I need to start cutting it out of my diet. This won't happen over night. I won't give up everything that I like. But this isn't a fad, this is something that I need to try, for my health. My sinuses are linked to my allergies. Surgery made them a little better, mostly fixing the deviated septum, but didn't fix the basic problem-- that I'm allergic to the freakin' world.

I am also going to have to start back on time-consuming and uncomfortable allergy shots. I've done this three times as an adult (and I don't remember how many years as a child, just how much I hated it) and have yet to be able to get to a maintenance dose. A maintenance dose is a shot once a month, instead of every week. Every time I've done this, I've had horrible reactions. Not anaphylaxis (had that once as a child to shots) but big, hard, painful welts that itch like the devil and require Benedryl to keep them under control (which means I need to sleep.) I've been to three allergists, too. The last one was great, but so far from my house that is was just too difficult to get there with working full time and dealing with my arthritis and my daughter, etc. But with him, I went from two shots (to cover all my allergies) to four. I need to get my records and find someone closer. SIGH. Yet another specialist to add to my list...

This isn't going to be easy.

But I have to do it.

Current Mood: cranky

Elder Flower came into the bathroom while I was taking a shower this morning. When she does this, she tends to make herself at home until I get out so that she can flush. So she's sitting there when I pull the curtain back and grab a towel. As I start drying off, she says, "Mommy, you have hair on your girl parts!" in shock. I explain that she will eventually, when she gets older get hair there, too. Calm, rational response.

Then she wants to know if she'll get hair anywhere else. I tell her that she will get hair under her arms, and a little more on her legs. She's horror stricken, asking if she'll have as much hair as Daddy (Hubby is a little hairy, but not a bear or anything.) I reassure her no, she will not get as much hair as Daddy (apparently she had a conversation with him about toe hair earlier in the week that I didn't know about until I related this story to Hubby tonight.) Then Elder asks if the hair on her girl parts will keep growing like the hair on her head. I tell her no, it kinda grows out to a length and stops. She says what if she doesn't want hair on her girl parts. I tell her that she cant stop it form growing, it happens to every one, but that she can take it off if she wants. Elder shakes her head. "I don't want to shave, it will hurt," she says. (She play shaves with the soap-- and my forgotten in the shower razor-- sometimes.) I add that you can remove it without shaving....and stop myself, going- shit. I'm having this conversation with her and she's only 4 and a half.

This after the "How did I get out of your stomach?" conversation, when she decides that if babies come out through your girl parts OR get cut out of your belly, she wants none of it (YEAH!).

I think I handled it okay, but man, was I thinking on my feet. I thought I had time before this stuff came up! I never had these conversations with my mom; its only thanks to my cousin Grasshopper that I got my first bra or wore deodorant or bothered to shave my legs. So this is new territory for me on several levels.

And Younger learned how to get out of her crib last night, too.

Current Mood: amused

Dance class last night, after staying at school until 4:30 trying to get my mountains of work done. Putting off an admin project for next year 'til the weekend or Wednesday, when I took off for a doctor's appointment to find out why I can't hear shit still (autoimmune related, and I am blocking the horrible info I've read about eventually deafness from it...) Gotta get done this week, need it for fourth quarter junior project assignments. Had to dash to a couple of stores for errands-- and of course, Walgreen's didn't have the sale item I needed, so I have to head to another store today for it. Had to go to Target anyway to get storage tubs, but still.

Youngest gave us a surprise last night, well, her dad directly (only fair, since the Eldest got me with this one). She was rammy and didn't want to sleep, so we were in and out of there trying to calm her down, even though my wonderful husband tried to do everything-- dinner, cleaning up, both bed times, lunches, etc-- so that I could work. (He really is wonderful. He keeps me sane and healthy and tries to reduce my stress.) Well, she can now get out of her crib on her own, the little monkey, six months after Eldest managed it, but with better dexterity (tells me she's been doing it far longer.) Hubby went to go check on a thump, and when he opened our bedroom door, there she was standing in the hall. The search for bunk beds is fast tracked now. On the bright side-- both girls in one room mean the nursery is a play room and I can reclaim my living room from toys. And get a piano.

Then bed at nine- medicated-- so that I could get up at 4 (ended up getting up at 3) to do the work for school that I was too tired to do last night but absolutely had to be done by today. Its printing now-- all 125 or so copies (thank god for laser printers)- and I am late for a shower by only a few minutes. Just have to wait for the printer to finish. Then dashing off to teaching straight through from 8 until 3, no breaks except to scarf down some food while I watch the kiddies do the same. Is there any doubt why WW is my avatar?

Current Mood: stressed
Current Music: Wonder Woman Theme

Stolen from tisara, who "stole" it from someone else....

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)
Friskey Forrester


2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fav ice cream, fave cookie
Chocolate Chocolate Chip (that one isn't so great....)

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial, first three letters of your last name)
C Hey

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (fav color, fav animal)
Purple Turtle

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city you were born in)
Charlotte Mae Philadelphia (Stole my daughters middle names- I don't have one!)

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first three letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name)
Hey Ci

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (second fav color, first tool that comes to mind, with the word "the")
The Pink Drill

8. NASCAR NAME: (names of your grandfathers)
Linus Charles

9. STRIPPER NAME : (fav candy, second fav color)
Dark Chocolate Pink

10. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (middle names of mother and father)
Ann James

And, of course, I add the famous porn star name....your first pet and the street you grew up on: Friskey Ridgeway.

This caught my eye because it was ROCK STAR NAME first, and I just Guitar Hero III from my husband and the girls for my b-day. I am ridiculously excited about a toy for a newly 35 year old teacher/wife/mom. We sat and played a little before bed. I am Vudu Dahl, the name of my mythical high school band (tons of bad lyrics and an electric guitar named Skull, gathering dust that I don't know how to play) with Sarcasmo. The Flowers each have a band named after them, and I helped them play. Younger simply hit any button and didn't care what happened; she's two, that's what I figured would happen. Elder, at 4 1/2, wants to play but doesn't quite have the hang of it. So she held the guitar, and I stood behind her and slumped down to her height to play it. My back is killing me, but that's the best song I did do far. "Slow Ride" is mostly down, now; but I still can't believe how hard that damn Poison song "Talk Dirty To Me" is, especially after listening to it so flippin' much in high school. I brought absolutely nothing home from school to work on tonight and am sitting and playing Guitar Hero until my exhausted body demands sleep. I am giving tests almost all day tomorrow, so I will do grading there and bring nothing home this weekend. We are losing the kids to Mom-mom, going out to hang out at the Art Museum and book stores and eat out in restaurants children aren't welcome. I may even venture into (GASP HERE) a BAR.

Then Sunday will bring a family trip to see Horton Hears A Who.

I'm having a lot of fun just hanging with my girls and hubby. I sometimes get really wrapped up in work-- deadlines and new assignments and such-- and I really did the past week, as I took on an extra class for a teacher that left. English. Which I swore I'd never teach again. We are doing Fahrenheit 451 (I'm still at the background and history part; today was a vocab lesson on anti-intellectualism, utopia, and dystopia) which I haven't read since high school (pushing twenty years, here) and have never taught. So that, on top of my usual craziness, had been the last week. Everyday of the last week. And today/tonight has just been fun. My heart is a little lighter than it was yesterday.

And, to top it off, a student wrote me a letter telling me happy birthday, since she didn't have a card, and how much she appreciated all my help with her senior project. I almost teared up.

Almost.

Current Mood: happy

I missed the Top Ten on Letterman, but hubby found it for me on-line here.

Current Mood: geeky

My grandfather died this morning. He was ill for some time, in a general decline from prostate cancer that he wouldn't have treated. He was a stubborn, stubborn man, right up until the end. Always did things his way and screw anyone else who got in the way. Not perfect, mind, but with plenty of vices; a typical male in my family of mostly women, thinking we couldn't do every thing a man could do, and certainly not better; ready to criticize and make fun of you at the drop of a hat. I wasn't particularly close to him. But his passing saddens me in a way that's hard to describe. I have no living grandparents left, now; he was the last one to go. I'm not in tears, torn up, beside myself, like I was with my other grandfather, but I was much closer to that grandfather.

Am I just so used to people dying, these days, as the numbers stack up-- all grandparents, my mom, my stepfather, pets too numerous to count, great aunt and uncles galore? Or was it because I saw how much pain he was in (the only time I cried was when I saw him in that hospice bed, not looking at all like himself and thrashing around in his sleep, in pain) and not its ended? This troubles me a bit. I expected to have more of a reaction than this. Doesn't mean my reaction is wrong. I'm just trying to understand it.

Current Mood: morose

Okay, I have been sick and incredibly busy at work (picked up an extra class from a teacher's resignation), so very little time to write, much less play on line. But, in a few spare minutes tonight, as I was contemplating my latest version of a story that's been giving me issues, my husband laughed out loud and distracted me.

Hubby was looking at funnyordie.com, a video website that he first shared with me to show me Will Ferrell's videos with his daughter, like The Landlord. So, of course I went on to look at what he was laughing at (Will Ferrell singing the Stevie Nicks part of Leather and Lace, an old favorite song of mine that I will never be able to listen to in quite the same way again.) Then I started clicking around. I'm going to blame my muscle relaxers and lack of adequate sleep this week as the reason this clip amused me so much. Sorta like a car crash, but in the end, I went to IMBD.com and looked the little guy up. He's was a real actor. Whoever wrote his bio actually worked on a documentary about Weng Weng.

I know not every one will be amused by this. I may not be in the morning. But for now, it's a hoot.

Current Mood: amused

Six days home straight with the Flowers and sick Hubby. We have all been laid low by a nasty bug. Elder missed a couple of days in the past two weeks at school, what with spiking a fever and the nose faucet. Younger was the most unaffected; a little bit of a fever, some nose snot (which isn't that unusual.) After sleeping pretty much constantly all weekend, I got Hubby to go to the doctor's with me (SiL watched the kiddies, thank god) and we both got some heavy duty antibiotics (which my body DOES NOT like.) We have been taking them for two days; I go back to work tomorrow (thank goodness it was a long weekend to begin with; only needed to take two sick days) and the Flowers go back to school. I know it will be a rough morning, as we haven't been getting up until two or three hours after our normal time this weekend.

The Flowers have been pretty good about being trapped inside-- not perfect, but good. And when they have irked me, I have tried to take a deep breath and calm down first. Not always working-- I am yelling way too much, but I can't seem to help myself. I am just so tired and sick, and they don't care. I know they don't do it on purpose, but sometimes that's hard to remember. On the bright side, Younger used the potty pretty good, and actually pooped on it. (That's been a struggle.)

Although I have been studiously avoiding the stacks I brought home from school to grade on Friday, because I choose to re-arrange and clean my room on the day without students instead of grading (in the hopes that I will be more organized and be able to find things.) Yeah, I still don't feel like doing them. I have been taking advantage of my time at home, justifiably sitting on the sofa, to write. I finished my first flash fiction piece to send to a workshop I am attending in June; I have started reworking a fan-fic into an original, Going All In, and needed to do a bunch of background work for the characters; and I started reworking an Angel fic, Rowan, into something original. (It was an OC piece to begin with.) Lots and lots of work, yet very little finished. All of it is in process.

And, in the midst of all this, I am having a flare up of-- thank god, not the normal auto-immune crap, so no pain-- an autoimmune disorder of the ear. Its the weirdest thing, too. Imagine, instead of feeling pressure pushing OUT, like with an ear infection, immense pressure pushing IN. And tinnitus to beat the band, worse than the day after a Metallics concert. The pressure is dying down, but the tinnitus isn't getting better. And, of course, it is accompanied with intermittent hearing loss. If there is background noise and you talk to me, I can't hear the words. At all. Just background roar. And the earliest I can get an ENT appoint? April 2nd. So, yet again, by the time I see someone, the symptoms will be gone. This is the second or third time this has happened, the first time I knew what it was when it happened. And my primary confirmed that I have absolutely no fluid in my ear-- it is NOT an infection.

My autoimmune issues have gotten bad enough at this point that I am beginning to consider the theory that it is all due to food allergies. I have enough mild ones that I've always just ignored that it is possible. I may actually switch to an organic/vegan/gluten free diet (I'm allergic to wheat, milk, eggs, pineapple, and coconut) for six months and see if I do any better. The diet will suck, but the autoimmune crap sucks, too.

Wow, this ended up whinier than I intended it to. Sorry.

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Enya

Okay, I was bored and not feeling entirely creative and starting readings other blogs, which of course lead me to silly things that amused me, and these amused me....

Quizzes!

So, after answering some questions, my theme song is (drum roll, puh-leeze!)--

Not a surprise.

Your Theme Song:


"Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)" - Pink Floyd


'What is your theme song?' at QuizGalaxy.com</td>


And, a surprisingly accurate match, which made me go to more of these foolish quizzes....

Your hidden talent is writing



Your hidden talent is writing. You have a unique way of viewing the world and are able to express your thoughts eloquently on the page. Some people might think that you are weird, but you are just the next Pulitzer prize winner.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com</td>

And, what would surprise many of my (former)students, is that I am NOT the Devil incarnate. My rep would suffer if this got out-- I'm almost a fluffy marshmallow bunny in terms of evil...

You are 46% evil



You are not so evil. You are overall a nice person, although I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side. You have an extravagant imagination.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com</td>

And, just for shits and giggles, because I belong to NO religion....

You fit in with: Humanism 20% spiritual. 100% reason-oriented.
	Your ideals mostly resemble that of a Humanist. Although you do not have a lot of faith, you are devoted to making this world better, in the short time that you have to live.
Take This Quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

And, since I'm in a twenty-year relationship, this really doesn't matter, but again-- just for hte heck of it...

What's your flirting style?

You are a shy flirt



You are more inclined to leave anonymous love notes for your crush then go up and ask them out. You prefer to leave the ball in their court and see where it takes you. A lot of people find this style romantic, but sometimes you are going to have to work up the nerve and ask your crush out, because if your crush is shy too, you may both like each other and never know.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com</td>

Current Mood: blah

I was at a 70th birthday party last night. It was a 50s theme, and just about all the music and the attendees came from the time period. I actually enjoy the music-- both my senior prom theme and wedding song were 50s music. As the night was winding down, and people began leaving, I sat watching this one couple who were dancing next to their table, completely oblivious to people around them and ignoring the open area for dancing.  Its the same dance I think I've seen every couple in that demographic use for any song that wasn't slow.

I'm not even sure how to describe it accurately. Lots of spinning, coordinated hand holding, some kind of synchronized step pattern-- yeah, I don't dance, as you can tell from my attempt at description here.

I've never really danced, in any form. I think my only public dance performance was in the fourth grade, when I played a dancing flower in Alice In Wonderland. Put a fat girl in a big cardboard flower head and dance leotard, and make her twirl around next to the twig girls. Can you see why maybe I never got up the courage to dance?

Now, if you aren't willing to dance as a teenager, you lose out. That's when everyone learns how to-- dance classes, those silly after Catholic school/CYO things in the gym, just hanging out with friends. Yeah, I didn't do those things, either, so-- no dance skills. Unless you count square dancing in gym class, where no one really wanted to be my partner (the whole isolate the smart fat kid thing,) And although my grandmother wanted me to take ballet lessons, those frequent comments about me essentially being an extraordinarily clumsy bull in a china shop didn't help the self-confidence much, either.

I preferred head banging, a singularly solitary dance-like motion, and moshing, which is more injuring others than dancing and my large size is actually an advantage.

So now, when I am at a function that dancing is a part of, I sit it out. Over the years, I've gotten braver. I did my required dances at my wedding, without too much trauma (but quite a few drinks to loosen up the joints.)  I will dance like a silly, silly woman around my living room with my daughters (as long as the front blinds are closed.) I've ventured a move or two in front of my classes, when they've asked if I will dance at the prom and won't take my I-look-like-I'm-having-a-seizure reason for not dancing. It always gets me a laugh or two. But lately, the talk about dancing and watching people dance has made me want to dance.

Honestly, I never thought it would happen. But watching people who know how to dance and enjoy it is like reading a novel by a really good author, or hearing a very good singer sing. The dance itself does not have to be perfect, by any means. And I don't mean ballet or something. Simple dancing. What makes it good is the enjoyment of the people doing the dancing, which is what I've always lacked. I was always too busy being self-conscious, worrying about how I looked to others instead of concentrating on how it felt to be moving.

I regret that now. At almost thirty-five, I am so much more comfortable with myself, who I am, and not caring a great deal about what others think. My husband and I have created a life together that gives me a place to be myself and have someone who completely supports me, no matter how goofy I may be. We have gathered friends around us over the years that reinforce that. My family's opinion is not as crippling to me if we have a difference, as years of differences and opinions have shown me, repeatedly, that they are not always right. Teaching for eight years and trying to get teenagers to give a rat's ass about anything other than themselves has taught me to laugh at and make fun of myself to get their attention. It has also taught me to be more self-forgiving in order to try and teach them to be less judgmental of themselves and others as well.

But the desire to dance has grown. Music that is good to dance to will make my muscles want to move. And I've grown bolder. Not only did I ask my husband to dance with me several times last night, I even asked two of our male friends. Granted, I stuck to slow numbers and still stumbled and stepped on toes.

But I did it.

Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers

I would love to have something worth while to post here, but not much is going on in my life that inspires me to write. I haven't even worked on any fiction, really, in over a week. Work, work frustration, kids, kid frustration. And big time fibro fog, pain, and fatigue. News aches I've never had before, though none that mimic the symptoms of a blood clot, so no ER visits.

Spending some time trolling the internet, looking around. Finding some interesting blogs.

Not much else to report, but I didn't want anyone to think I've forgotten my blog. I'm trying to keep updating once a week, and today was a week.

Okay, this isn't much of interest, but at least I posted :-)

Right?

Current Mood: lazy

Don't I wish I had the money and babysitters to go to some of these. One day, I guess, long after the Flowers have gone through school and gotten married.............

Current Mood: geeky

Geeking out again. My snow day has led to some internet browsing, and I found out about this great sounding traveling Star Trek exhibit. Only the first stop in forty cities is on-line right now, but I will certainly be checking back for some place near us. I can't wait!

Current Mood: geeky

What a morning. I went to bed at 9:30 last night, and I am still tired, even as I sit drinking my coffee. That stubborn fatigue I had thought was better with new RA/fibro meds is back and just as bad as before. I practically fell asleep at my computer last night trying to write some. I have two novellas I need to finish and send off to the publisher, and I just can't seem to get it done. I'm hoping today will provide more of a chance to write because---

IT'S A SNOW DAY!

Current Mood: cold
Current Music: A Hazy Shade of Winter (Bangles version)

Well, I've got a few minutes before Elder is due home from dance class with hubby, and I've got some cute stories to share.

Younger is on a growth spurt fueled (I think) food tear. The child that wouldn't let me eat ANY meat except for pepperoni on pizza for the nine months we cohabitated in my body (the smell or thought of meat brought about instant projectile vomiting. For all nine months) has eaten nothing but meat today. The carnivore ate half of her daddy's left over veal chop from our late Valentine's dinner last night (Thanks much to the cuz who monster sat), taking the bone in hand to chomp  on it. Missed the picture, though. I used to love veal, and after my experience with Younger-in-the-belly, I can't eat it at all. That was the first meal I had to run from the table to puke. Not the last, but the memorable first.

Elder had her first real dentist visit today (yes, I am remiss, and it is entirely because I am afraid of the dentist-- after working as an assistant and xray technician for one for three years, I might add.) She was scared. We talked about ahead of time- she's read books about it-- she learned about it in school-- but she regressed quickly into terrible twos (at 4 1/2) and was so tense sitting in the chair waiting that she practically vibrated. I've never seen her so stressed. She was fine once he talked to her a bit, and she had her exam. Then she was a thousand and one questions while I had my exam. I'm proud of her. She did really well.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

We got an e-mail at school earlier this week. A '06 graduate-- not one that I personally taught, but one who went to the prom with one of my real pain in the ass students, one that was so smart and shouldn't have been dating that albatross around her neck, one whom I and the English teacher across the hall (who actually did teach her) harassed about her choice in date relentlessly-- died from lupus. She was one with a shot, too.

That's three this year.

Current Mood: shocked

Well, I am running small errands today in an effort to keep moving and not sink into an "Ow! My whole body hurts!" rut. So, as I watch Elder clean up the tornado of toys she and Younger have deposited across my living room this morning and wait to get her dressed to run to my favorite thrift store, I decided to update again.

The Philadelphia Writer's Conference finally posted it's 2008 Schedule. I've been waiting for a couple of months. Last year when I went, at the persistent nudging of my Writing Buddy, half on a whim; I had no original fiction ready to show, none written actually, and only a few blogging months to my credit. It was more to see what it was about. I registered at the last minute, missing the deadline for manuscript submissions to the workshops anyway, and didn't read the conference tips, etc. I picked my sessions rather randomly, and what really made me decide was that the mystery workshop was being done by Gillian Roberts. She was great, and that was probably the best session I went to. Some really blew chunks, were almost painful to sit through. This year looks pretty cool.

The genre this year is romance, and as I have two stories I am working on for Aphrodite's Apples, well, it seems like a good workshop to go to. I plan to submit a short to every workshop I attend, to the Word Wall Contest, and see what happens. I am also signing up this year for an agent/editor meeting, something I completely skipped last year as a waste of time at that point. I will schedule a meeting this year; there are several genre people that are going to be there. I am just very excited this year. I feel less like a fraud attending it-- although, to be honest, many of the people there last year were retirees who were just thinking about writing their memoirs and not serious writers.

Well, she's done cleaning. On to the thrift store.

Current Mood: sore