Spent Pumpkin's nap today outside - mostly weeding. The strawberries out front are going gangbusters, and I had to do some (a LOT) of pre-emptive weeding out of bloomed out hyacinth and weird jurrasic looking reed things, so that they have room to grow yummy. The hubby is taking out a couple bushes that line the back of the house (we may put in pavers this summer, and turn our tiny patio into a big patio!), so the debris bin was already full before I started.
Which is my favorite way to start, because I have a really good excuse to stop any old time I want.
I also went to Jerry's (dear lord, I love that store) and got advice on removing old concrete plugs from where the fence used to be, checked out sledgehammers and chicken wire, and bought two packs of little blank garden-bed labels for my raised beds that are starting to sprout.
I actually was smart enough to write a little schematic of where I had planted what, so it's not like I need them to tell the lettuce apart from the tomato or anything. But I filled the beds in with soil from my monstrously large mulch pile (3 big raised beds only took about 2/3 of the pile), which has sat un-turned and un-taken care of since the squirrels only know when, so there are a butt-load of weeds in it. I scraped off the top layer before digging, but I am pretty sure that most of the little sprouts I see in the beds right now are weeds, not veggies or herbs. Pretty sure I say, because a tiny two-leaf sprout looks like a tiny two-leaf sprout, and how am I supposed to know which will turn into carrots and which will turn into stinkweed?
So, me being brilliant in my own mind, and an OK drawer, I looked up pictures of seedlings of all the things I planted, and drew them in sharpie on the back of all the labels, so I can weed out the bad and recognize the good! As soon as they get a little bit bigger, of course.
I also was feeling motivated, so I did all the kitchen work for Ahiru, mowed, blew the tree debris from the rock garden, spot-shotted the hairball spots on the carpet, and now am waiting for the laundry. Mostly because I am monumentally unmotivated to write this week's lesson plans.
I have a general idea of what I will do. That's good enough for goverment work - right? I find it HILARIOUS that I am payed by taxpayers, so that actually applies to my work. hehehehe.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Why I Love Middle Schoolers
They call youngish teachers 'miss' and older teachers 'mrs,' no matter how carefully you explain your marital status
They draw me things, like hearts, gophers, bunnies, and fire-spewing slugs.
If you tell them you are awesome, they will believe you. Without any further proof!
They copy my fashion statements, maybe without really knowing where they saw it (I think I am being confused with Vogue!!!)
They write novels in their spare time.
They will do pretty much anything you ask, so long as they are promised a cookie.
They try so hard to flirt with each other, but are soooooo bad at it.
Their voices crack at embarrassing moments.
They are so enthusiastic about absolutely everything.
They are physically incapable of going a full day without gossiping.
They still want to hug their teachers.
They try really really hard to be good when the teacher isn't feeling well. Even the 'bad' ones.
They have no idea how embarrassing their current fashion statements are going to be in few years time ;-)
They draw me things, like hearts, gophers, bunnies, and fire-spewing slugs.
If you tell them you are awesome, they will believe you. Without any further proof!
They copy my fashion statements, maybe without really knowing where they saw it (I think I am being confused with Vogue!!!)
They write novels in their spare time.
They will do pretty much anything you ask, so long as they are promised a cookie.
They try so hard to flirt with each other, but are soooooo bad at it.
Their voices crack at embarrassing moments.
They are so enthusiastic about absolutely everything.
They are physically incapable of going a full day without gossiping.
They still want to hug their teachers.
They try really really hard to be good when the teacher isn't feeling well. Even the 'bad' ones.
They have no idea how embarrassing their current fashion statements are going to be in few years time ;-)
Sunday, April 11, 2010
random angst
"couch"
"You want up on the couch?"
"Yeeeeesssss"
I am unable to get over how adorable Pumpkin is. Everything he says, is cute. Even when he is screaming and arching his back on the floor to avoid the dreaded diaper change, he is beautiful. How did I get so whipped?
In related news, when does summer get here? Spring keeps teasing me - sure Steph, come on out and work in the yard. It will make you feel better. I PROMISE not to get you wet (sneaky laugh).
I want new shoes. I want to sleep in with my baby every morning. I want a reason to paint my toenails!
In not-so related news, Hubby and I are trying hard to get our groove back - we never used to get on each others cases (and last nerves) like we have been this winter. Counseling is helping some. His new meds are helping some. New work stresses aren't helping so much.
That's right folks, someone gets the butt-end of the staffing changes again this year! On the bright side, I get to keep my job, and I get to stay at my (challenging)awesome(challenging) school, and my new teaching partners is a lady I adore. On the occluded side, I was one of three who got shafted last year, and I am one of two this year - but I am the only repeat.
My take on all this depends on my stress level. When I am feeling chill, I figure it's because I am known to be pretty flexible, and willing to get things done. When the girl drama and lack of HW completion get to me, I start to figure it's because maybe I'm not as good as the other teachers, so they don't mind moving me around.
And lastly, on an equally angsty note, I would like to tell the void how much I hate being asked to talk to authority figures. I ALWAYS have this panic moment, thinking 'omg, I'm in trouble, what did I do? Am I gonna get fired? Arrested? Are they going to make me cry?' Even though my head knows I have been working hard and doing a decent job and waiting for the walk signal. Just one of those little things that reminds me I'm just as crazy as everyone else.
"You want up on the couch?"
"Yeeeeesssss"
I am unable to get over how adorable Pumpkin is. Everything he says, is cute. Even when he is screaming and arching his back on the floor to avoid the dreaded diaper change, he is beautiful. How did I get so whipped?
In related news, when does summer get here? Spring keeps teasing me - sure Steph, come on out and work in the yard. It will make you feel better. I PROMISE not to get you wet (sneaky laugh).
I want new shoes. I want to sleep in with my baby every morning. I want a reason to paint my toenails!
In not-so related news, Hubby and I are trying hard to get our groove back - we never used to get on each others cases (and last nerves) like we have been this winter. Counseling is helping some. His new meds are helping some. New work stresses aren't helping so much.
That's right folks, someone gets the butt-end of the staffing changes again this year! On the bright side, I get to keep my job, and I get to stay at my (challenging)awesome(challenging) school, and my new teaching partners is a lady I adore. On the occluded side, I was one of three who got shafted last year, and I am one of two this year - but I am the only repeat.
My take on all this depends on my stress level. When I am feeling chill, I figure it's because I am known to be pretty flexible, and willing to get things done. When the girl drama and lack of HW completion get to me, I start to figure it's because maybe I'm not as good as the other teachers, so they don't mind moving me around.
And lastly, on an equally angsty note, I would like to tell the void how much I hate being asked to talk to authority figures. I ALWAYS have this panic moment, thinking 'omg, I'm in trouble, what did I do? Am I gonna get fired? Arrested? Are they going to make me cry?' Even though my head knows I have been working hard and doing a decent job and waiting for the walk signal. Just one of those little things that reminds me I'm just as crazy as everyone else.
Monday, February 8, 2010
moaning from us both.
Hmmmm,
the stress level in my fat little head is crazy right now. I have no idea if things are going to get better, or worse, or stay the same (really hard) as they are now. But the odds on 'better' wouldn't convince me to lay any money down.
This SUCKS because it's not something any of us did wrong. Hubby is a wonderful man, but Parkinson's doesn't care if you deserve it. The Pumpkin is an amazing little guy, but I worry that he will grow up seeing his daddy deteriorate and his parents get more and more stressed and angry all the time. Plus, this week he has pink-eye. Yay.
And I feel like what was the freaking point of doing everything the right way? Which I did. I was responsible, and thoughtful, and all of that shit, and look where I am. I didn't rush in to marriage, I waited until I was both eager for, and able to support a baby before having one. I am careful with my bills and credit, I work in a career that is hard, but fulfilling and not designed to line the pockets of a few old white guys. I recycle. I turn off the lights when I leave a room. I use more tech than most teachers in the district, largely because I hate the idea of all the clear-cuts that go into the paper in our imc.
And yet life keeps handing me rotton lemons this year. I say rotton, because you can't make lemonade out of a disabled husband who broke his hip twice in two months and now cries every time he gets out of a chair. I see no caraf of icy-cold goodness coming from the perenial state budget shortfalls that will, at their best, have me teaching much larger classes, and at the worst have me in the lay-off firing line again.
And I know that others have it way worse. I am so insanely grateful that Pumpkin is happy and healthy (current crustiness aside), and I do still have a job so far.
But I am reaching the breaking point. And it's because of the moaning. Ahiru, who used to be so brave and calm, has gone over the edge. Every single breath comes out as a moan. Every. single. one. Unless of course, there are people around to hear besides the Pumpkin and myself - he works very hard to spare others his new habit, but the two people who live with him hear it for hours at a time.
And when something hurts, he says so, over and over - not just once or twice, but 15 or 20 times, rapidly, before moving on to repetative cussing, repetetive doom-saying, and back to the moaning.
I feel like such a raging bitch, because I do know that it hurts. He's not making it up. But I can't handle hearing about it every waking second. He can't change a diaper without an unbroken stream of complaint. He can't get up, or down, or anything. And when I try to ask him to stop, he won't / can't (I go back and forth depending on my mood), and I am forced into the choice of simply listening to the stressful shit, or nagging.
Which of course starts an argument.
And now, I am bitching to the void of the internet because I am so tired of bitching at home. But this won't make any more difference than my requests to him have made.
So my stress, it's not going down.
the stress level in my fat little head is crazy right now. I have no idea if things are going to get better, or worse, or stay the same (really hard) as they are now. But the odds on 'better' wouldn't convince me to lay any money down.
This SUCKS because it's not something any of us did wrong. Hubby is a wonderful man, but Parkinson's doesn't care if you deserve it. The Pumpkin is an amazing little guy, but I worry that he will grow up seeing his daddy deteriorate and his parents get more and more stressed and angry all the time. Plus, this week he has pink-eye. Yay.
And I feel like what was the freaking point of doing everything the right way? Which I did. I was responsible, and thoughtful, and all of that shit, and look where I am. I didn't rush in to marriage, I waited until I was both eager for, and able to support a baby before having one. I am careful with my bills and credit, I work in a career that is hard, but fulfilling and not designed to line the pockets of a few old white guys. I recycle. I turn off the lights when I leave a room. I use more tech than most teachers in the district, largely because I hate the idea of all the clear-cuts that go into the paper in our imc.
And yet life keeps handing me rotton lemons this year. I say rotton, because you can't make lemonade out of a disabled husband who broke his hip twice in two months and now cries every time he gets out of a chair. I see no caraf of icy-cold goodness coming from the perenial state budget shortfalls that will, at their best, have me teaching much larger classes, and at the worst have me in the lay-off firing line again.
And I know that others have it way worse. I am so insanely grateful that Pumpkin is happy and healthy (current crustiness aside), and I do still have a job so far.
But I am reaching the breaking point. And it's because of the moaning. Ahiru, who used to be so brave and calm, has gone over the edge. Every single breath comes out as a moan. Every. single. one. Unless of course, there are people around to hear besides the Pumpkin and myself - he works very hard to spare others his new habit, but the two people who live with him hear it for hours at a time.
And when something hurts, he says so, over and over - not just once or twice, but 15 or 20 times, rapidly, before moving on to repetative cussing, repetetive doom-saying, and back to the moaning.
I feel like such a raging bitch, because I do know that it hurts. He's not making it up. But I can't handle hearing about it every waking second. He can't change a diaper without an unbroken stream of complaint. He can't get up, or down, or anything. And when I try to ask him to stop, he won't / can't (I go back and forth depending on my mood), and I am forced into the choice of simply listening to the stressful shit, or nagging.
Which of course starts an argument.
And now, I am bitching to the void of the internet because I am so tired of bitching at home. But this won't make any more difference than my requests to him have made.
So my stress, it's not going down.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Pumpkin to English Dictionary
Someone dear to me has new words almost every day lately. He started talking at about 10 1/2 months, with "num-num," which was used for both food and eating. I keep thinking I should record some of this, so I don't forget how amazing and cute it is to watch him learn. Some days he literally wakes up and has a new word - like he was dreaming about ducks all night, and decided to say "duck" before he forgot it in the morning. So his current vocab looks something like this:
Aight= light, switch
Daoooo= down (he sounds like Dori speaking whale when he says this!)
Dat= that
juice=any drink
Dog=any unrecognized four-legged animal
wwwwuh=woof
At=cat
La-la-la=pig (thanks, Sandra Boyton)
duck=any bird
tuck=anything with wheels. Also, anything that looks like a wheel (like a floor fan)
baooo=balloon
yeah=yes
cock=chalk (for drawing on the blackboard)
ta-tuh-tuuu= toilet paper
And then there are those that strangers can understand too:
ma-ma
da-da
snack
up=his very favorite word. For a long time there was a dramatic pause before the 'p' sound - like "uuuu... PUH." So cute.
book
shoe
sock
out
stuck
sip
ball
banana
yogurt
cheese
eyes
cracker
And he still uses some signs, especially the one for more / again. I am pretty sure I am missing a few words, because sometimes he says words for a couple days and then drops them totally. I don't get that at all, but he isn't really into the metacognative discussions.
yet.
Aight= light, switch
Daoooo= down (he sounds like Dori speaking whale when he says this!)
Dat= that
juice=any drink
Dog=any unrecognized four-legged animal
wwwwuh=woof
At=cat
La-la-la=pig (thanks, Sandra Boyton)
duck=any bird
tuck=anything with wheels. Also, anything that looks like a wheel (like a floor fan)
baooo=balloon
yeah=yes
cock=chalk (for drawing on the blackboard)
ta-tuh-tuuu= toilet paper
And then there are those that strangers can understand too:
ma-ma
da-da
snack
up=his very favorite word. For a long time there was a dramatic pause before the 'p' sound - like "uuuu... PUH." So cute.
book
shoe
sock
out
stuck
sip
ball
banana
yogurt
cheese
eyes
cracker
And he still uses some signs, especially the one for more / again. I am pretty sure I am missing a few words, because sometimes he says words for a couple days and then drops them totally. I don't get that at all, but he isn't really into the metacognative discussions.
yet.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
I wonder
If all women are astounded every day by the beauty of their kids, or if I am just an especially huge sucker
What I will do if the budget gets cut again and I end up laid off
Why my friend hasn't answered my attempts to talk in so long
How hard would it be to tackle my kitchen cabinets
Why the population as a whole is so infatuated with sunshine, when rain feels so much better on my skin
If grandma were around, what would she think of how I turned out, impatience and all
Why I am so intrigued with the idea of blogging, but so reluctant to post regularly?
What I will do if the budget gets cut again and I end up laid off
Why my friend hasn't answered my attempts to talk in so long
How hard would it be to tackle my kitchen cabinets
Why the population as a whole is so infatuated with sunshine, when rain feels so much better on my skin
If grandma were around, what would she think of how I turned out, impatience and all
Why I am so intrigued with the idea of blogging, but so reluctant to post regularly?
Monday, December 14, 2009
Around to Eugene in 80 blogs
The Best of My Town:
Sweetlife Bakery
My very favoritist blog author Everyday Stranger is throwing a little shindig called "around the world in 80 blogs." I volunteered like an idiot, because it sounded fun, but now that it's time to post, I find that everything I have to say feels trite. As opposed, of course, to my usually brilliant prose. But here I go anyway!
My adopted home, Eugene Oregon, through mine own eyes is:
A fabulous place to raise a kid. It is quiet, folks are friendly, and artsy. We have one of the oldest handcraft markets in the country, where the products are very earthy and sometimes beautiful. Speaking of earthy, we are also home to the Country Fair, where flower power lives on and old
hippies never die.
At the same time, we bill ourselves as:
We regularly host the US Olympic trials for track and field at the University of Oregon's "Historic Hayward Field," and our most famous local heroes all seem to stem from running: Prefontaine, Phil Knight (yes, he DID invent Nike's here!), and so on.
Though lately, football has been more popular than anything else.
I LOVE that our sports are college sports - I cannot seem to get too excited over the trials and tribulations of grown men paid millions of dollars to play games. But young folk getting a free ride to college, that I can get behind.
This is the view when walking to the stadium
I love that all summer and fall I can drive less than 10 minutes to get to the farm for fresh produce
I love all the old Craftsman houses
(that I totally can't afford). I absolutely adore this place:
As does everyone else with taste buds. I love my huge old cherry in front of my house, and it's little sister the dogwood:
I love our liquid culture (micro brews in every restaurant? check. Coffee every 50 feet? check. Looking down your nose at plebeians carrying umbrellas? check.) and our liberal bent.
I miss a lot of things about Portland, but there is no way I could afford a decent house back home on a teacher's salary, so I appreciate the low(er) housing costs. I love that our rush-hour consists of a 15 minute backup at the intersection of Delta and Beltline. I love that I can get anywhere in town in 20 minutes tops. I love how hippy-dippy, alternative the vibe is here. I love that the neighborhood kids can play unsupervised in the middle of my street, and nobody minds, and everyone knows they are safe. I love how foggy it gets in the mornings. I love living in a college town.
I hate the painful dearth of Uwajimaya and Powell's. But it's a trade I can live with.
Stephanie (Usagi)
Sweetlife Bakery
My very favoritist blog author Everyday Stranger is throwing a little shindig called "around the world in 80 blogs." I volunteered like an idiot, because it sounded fun, but now that it's time to post, I find that everything I have to say feels trite. As opposed, of course, to my usually brilliant prose. But here I go anyway!
My adopted home, Eugene Oregon, through mine own eyes is:
A fabulous place to raise a kid. It is quiet, folks are friendly, and artsy. We have one of the oldest handcraft markets in the country, where the products are very earthy and sometimes beautiful. Speaking of earthy, we are also home to the Country Fair, where flower power lives on and old
hippies never die.
At the same time, we bill ourselves as:
We regularly host the US Olympic trials for track and field at the University of Oregon's "Historic Hayward Field," and our most famous local heroes all seem to stem from running: Prefontaine, Phil Knight (yes, he DID invent Nike's here!), and so on.
Though lately, football has been more popular than anything else.
I LOVE that our sports are college sports - I cannot seem to get too excited over the trials and tribulations of grown men paid millions of dollars to play games. But young folk getting a free ride to college, that I can get behind.
This is the view when walking to the stadium
I love that all summer and fall I can drive less than 10 minutes to get to the farm for fresh produce
I love all the old Craftsman houses
(that I totally can't afford). I absolutely adore this place:
As does everyone else with taste buds. I love my huge old cherry in front of my house, and it's little sister the dogwood:
I love our liquid culture (micro brews in every restaurant? check. Coffee every 50 feet? check. Looking down your nose at plebeians carrying umbrellas? check.) and our liberal bent.
I miss a lot of things about Portland, but there is no way I could afford a decent house back home on a teacher's salary, so I appreciate the low(er) housing costs. I love that our rush-hour consists of a 15 minute backup at the intersection of Delta and Beltline. I love that I can get anywhere in town in 20 minutes tops. I love how hippy-dippy, alternative the vibe is here. I love that the neighborhood kids can play unsupervised in the middle of my street, and nobody minds, and everyone knows they are safe. I love how foggy it gets in the mornings. I love living in a college town.
I hate the painful dearth of Uwajimaya and Powell's. But it's a trade I can live with.
Stephanie (Usagi)
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