educaitlin

06:36 pm: Nor'Easter
We are here in the Big Dawg Bungalow Ark, safe and sound, as Mom Nature tries really hard to clean all the people off of Tidewater with rain-spit and a big ole wind hanky. No school today, none tomorrow, which means we can lounge in sweats and get our grades done, while watching Firefly DVDs and taking chase-the-puppy breaks.

We'll have to make up for it later, but right now it's good to have a vacation.

When we bought the Bungalow, I knew it was on what passes for high ground in these parts. It's very close to two late-18th c. farmhouses, a block off one of the first roads ever built here, in the 1600s. When that stuff went up, people could choose to build on higher ground (and did, sensibly), unlike newer developments around here, which go up wherever there's room. Our street and yard don't flood, except a few spots in the side yard.

I spent a lot of time this summer improving our gutters and waterproofing the foundation, so my main concerns are the roof (holding up well, so far) and losing power, which happens a lot in Kempsville. Many of our friends in Norfolk are under water, or have ceilings and roofs caving under the weight of 48 hours of driving rain.

We have food,no reason to leave the house, and plenty of stuff to amuse us. Life is okay!

12:41 pm: Dance like no one's watching!
Friday night, I chaperoned the first school dance of the year. For my 6th graders, it was their first school dsnce ever. They begged me to come, so I signed on, and at 6:30 I was urging hordes of chattering, bright-faced tweens into the balloon-festooned school cafeteria. Some of them swaggered in wearing fine new dancin' clothes: girls in neon skirts and matching Mary Janes, boys in cool Hawaiian shirts and new Vans, one wee hipster in stovepipe jeans, black dress shirt with the collar up, and enough hair gel to make him look like a large hedgehog. They had a grand time bopping around, doing the zombie dance to Thriller (and they all knew it!), drinking waaay too much Mountain Dew, and talking REALLY LOUDLY.

We had one boo boo when a boy tried break dancing on the slick cafeteria floor, but we're pretty sure his front teeth can be saved. There were a few weepy moments as friends fussed, but overall I think everyone had fun. I got lots of hugs, to my surprise--eighth graders aren't given to hugging, but the little guys really are. I caught up with one special parent of a new 6th grader; she was my student for both 7th and 8th grade, and we've stayed in touch. Her son isn't in my class, but I'll be keeping an eye on him anyway.

I can't wait for the Halloween dance. The kids are already giving me costume suggestions.My favorite is "Old Harry Potter."

10:29 pm: It's Picture Day!
Hello, LJ!

The annual school-induced IQ regression has begun. Yes, I am so tired at the end of the day that I forget the alphabet entirely and cannot type, so no LJ postings. Tonight, fortified by a nap and an episode of Glee, I must share with you a tale of eleven-year-olds.

This year, I am teaching sixth graders exclusively. I have been an eighth grade teacher for sixteen years, but last year I did half sixth and half eighth. This year, I annoyed someone in the office, so I'm all sixth, all the time.

I am pleased to relate that it's not that bad. My kids are generally polite and sweet, reasonably intelligent, and cute as bugs.However, they are still (mostly)eleven. This means that they are totally illogical and loony,and hysterically funny. I have to fight not to giggle all the time, especially when I'm fussing at them.

Today, for example, was school picture day. I stood at their lockers as they arrived, reminding them (at least sixty-seven times) to bring their picture money to class.

Of course, when we got inside and seated, four had to go get their money. Later, when we started to line up for our trek to the gym, two more had to go back to their lockers. I repeated several times that they needed to have their picture money in their hands RIGHT NOW. As we were about to leave, two more headed to their seats to get the money they were supposed to be holding already.

We trooped off to the gym, in line by height,but when we FINALLY got there, the last girl in line told me she needed to go back to the locked classroom to get her money. Sigh.

Everyone else seemed to get things straight well enough.Hair was combed, pictures were snapped,and we wended our weary way back to our classroom.

As the kids got seated and ready to begin a city-mandated pretest,one of my more adorable critters raised his hand, blue eyes wide, goofy grin splitting his sweet, vapid little face. In his hand he held a picture form and a grubby check.

"Was I supposed to give this to the photographer?" he chirped.

02:05 pm: If it's not one thing, it's another thing.
Roseanne Roseannadanna had it right.

My husband likes to call me Sisyphus, referring to the never-ending hamster wheel I always seem to be occupying.Today the stone I am rolling uphill is this badword-filth-foulness house.

My reward for replacing all the kitchen cabinet hardware with lovely new hardware is that now some of the cabinets don't close properly, I've discovered some rot in the under-sink cabinet, and a drawer support has fallen clean off. I'm supposed to be scraping expletive bathroom walls, but I'll be repairing cabinets instead.

If I could rewind, I'd have gutted the kitchen and bathrooms and replaced EVERYTHING before we ever moved in.

07:28 pm: Huh?
My neighborhood has lovely sidewalks on every single street. Most neighborhoods around us do, too.

Why, then, do all the nice folks who get out and exercise every evening walk in the (narrow) streets? Sometimes two or three abreast? If there are cars trying to squeak past each other, it gets pretty hairy. Many of the streetwalkers are wearing earphones, and can't hear approaching vehicles well.

I know we have a "pedestrian in roadway" ordinance of some sort. Time to look it up.

12:18 pm: Retardinals
Every year the local cardinals raise their young in our bushes, close to many bird feeders (ours and Susie the Bee Lady's next door) and several birdbaths. They often come to our deck in parent/fledgling pairs, with the fledglings cheeping and shaking their wings while begging their parents to feed them.

This year, one male fledgling just could not figure out how to perch on the feeder. His sister got it right away, but he would sit on the fence and cheep forlornly. Eventually, he got it (and hung upside down a lot), but not before we nicknamed him "the Retardinal."

On Saturday I noticed that my tomatoes, growing in a large pot on the deck, had been gnawed around the tops. Some were untouched, but others were ruined. I blamed the squirrels, and applied cayenne and dog hair to ward them off. I never actually saw any squirrels, but the holes in the 'maters looked gnawed.

Then this morning, I saw the Retardinal flitting around the deck. He hopped onto the grill lid, then right into the tomato plant, pecking busily at my poor tomatoes!

I chased him off and left Thor out there for a bit. Now I have to figure out how to repel cardinals.

04:24 pm: Habitational Retardation
My garage is on a slab. The previous owners of the house put in a new prehung al-yoo-mini-um door, and hung it level. They did not bother with the gap under the door between the floor and the doorframe, other than a few shims.

When it rains, water runs in underneath the nicely weatherstripped door.The gap ranges from nearly 3/4" on the right to under 1/2" on the left.

I've thought about just filling the gap with foam, but there must be a better way. Any ideas?

08:52 pm: Chubby Puppy
Our vets think Thor the Thunderdog is too fat. His weight has gone from 187 to 195 recently. (Over the last 6 months.) He eats 5 cups of food a day, no treats, no people food. He gets regular walks and lots of play time.

I can't find any fat on him. He is huge, indeed, but he's covered in well-defined slabs of muscle. You can feel his ribs without much effort, and he still has a waist. He's got a 27" neck and a 46" chest, so he is a very, very big boy, but I can't find any pudge. I'm gonna make the vets wrestle him and see if they still think he's fat.

04:40 pm: Yarrgh
In spite of being miserable over the prevalence of death in my life this past year, I am trying to carry on with mundane necessities such as buying a new fridge and refinancing the Bungalow. It's not turning out to be easy, and my tolerance levels are at an all-time low.

We purchased a new fridge last week, and it was delivered today. Both of those things turned out to be shockingly simple, free of drama, and positively crawling with competent, capable professionals. Nasty old malfunctioning fridge is gone, replaced by gleaming coolness. Except that the New Coolness has a badly cracked crisper drawer (discovered after delivery) and a smear of some virtually indestructible substance across the front. Nice lady at the store assures me that a new drawer will be sent to me ASAP. Still working on the schmear.

Mortgage refi is more problematic. I appear to be dealing with third graders,although my mortgage company calls them "relationship specialists." I've had a whole slew of problems mostly stemming from their inability to operate copiers or fax machines correctly. I've had to request our closing date repeatedly (nine times!) and finally forced the issue by contacting the attorney's office and setting it up myself. I've also been to their offices in person twice, just to be sure they knew I would show up and make a nuisance of myself if they couldn't keep me happy.Now I find that our closing might not happen because all the stuff they told me they had done has not, in fact, been done. I let them know that I'd be over there to watch them do it all bright and early tomorrow if the attorney's office had to call me again to complain.

If you have any modicum of sense, do you really want to annoy a veteran middle school teacher by blowing off your homework? Seriously? Because I can make Severus Snape look like Little Miss Muffet if you get me started. Wasting my time and money will definitely get you the Thermonuclear Teacher Treatment.

09:50 pm: Big Dog Bungalow
Those of you who have visited Thor's house know that our home is a work in progress. Lately, it's been overwhelming me, but I feel like we're getting somewhere this summer.

When we bought the place, we thought it just needed a coat of paint and some TLC. We should have looked harder. If I were to see it now, I wouldn't buy it without at least 80 grand extra in my account, ready to pour into this joint. There are so many things that were not apparent, even to the inspector. Most of them are easier to do when the house is empty.

For example, our floors are uneven, and in some areas a bit springy. We have carpet. Yes, I can empty one room at a time and rip up carpet to install hardwood, but I'm terrified that I'll end up replacing lots and lots of subflooring. Maybe I'll think about that next June, because I think it would take all summer. Even if we could afford to hire someone to do it, I'd have to pack all our stuff out first. Not something I feel like doing right now.

We have done windows,some kitchen remodeling,new electrical panel, new HVAC system, and one and a half bathroom remodels.I've also pretty much re-landscaped the yard, and continue as money and time permit.

We still need to do a lot, especially exterior work. Sigh. I must eat my elephant one bite at a time. Pass the ketchup.

06:33 pm: Useless, Again!
My continuing saga of the Former Resident continues.

Moron boy,let's call him Useless,has apparently been in another ruckus, requiring medical treatment. He's still got our address on his driver's license, in spite of everything I've done to make him stop. I have contacted the DMV, local city attorney, state AG office,and every local police dept. No one can help me.

I've deflected summonses, subpoenas, child support bills, creditors,you name it. NOW I'm being hounded by a debt collector because Useless won't pay his doctor bills.

I tell everyone who calls that he hasn't lived here for five years and that we don't know him. I've sent a ton of letters stating same to anyone who needs telling.

I am sick, sick, sick of this boy. I want to get my hands on him so I can let Thor use him as a chew toy.

Any ideas?

10:22 pm: Explosion!
I began my Independence Day lounging abed, listening to my husband pattering down the hall to let the dog out. I heard indrawn breath, then shocked silence, so I got up.

We had an explosion sometime this morning. Our dog weighs over 190 lbs. I am grateful that he made it (mostly) onto the linoleum.

So I spent my July 4th morning using the black belt in carpet cleaning that I earned during Casey's twilight years. I also made rice for Thor, since he'll be eating that until he's back to normal. We'll also be checking the yard carefully, since we both saw him eating "something" yesterday, prior to the, um, fireworks.

We did get in a lovely bike ride, nice barbecued dinner, and our own mini Coen brothers film festival (Burn After Reading and Fargo, don'cha know.)We're not on vacation in an exotic locale, or thinking lofty thoughts, but I am grateful that I may pursue happiness as I see fit.

09:31 pm: Solicitors Will Be Shot
I have completely had it with people showing up at my door and trying to sell me stuff. The Samurai and I are usually polite, and we listen patiently to whatever spiel they're doing before we say, "No, thank you." Most of the time the door-to-door folk are running scams, and most of the time I recognize the scamminess, but we still refuse politely.

Recently, though, our refusals are often met with anger, even rage, from the salesfolk. I find this alarming in the extreme.

If you come to my door uninvited and demand that I spend my time, on my own property, listening to your proposal, bear in mind that I am not obligated to do anything for you. I can refuse to open my door. I can tell you to get the hell off my property. I can call the police and report you. I can let my extremely large dog bark in your face. I could hurl curses and verbal abuse at you.

Instead, I corral my dog, answer my door, and treat you with courtesy. When I refuse your offer--because I am not stupid--your job is to politely thank me for my time and move on. Good salesfolk are always, unfailingly courteous. They also never, ever, ever show anger towards a customer. Ever.

The enraged response to my refusal to fork over my cash alarms me because it tells me these folks are not civilized. They don't understand that they're guests on my property. They don't know the behavior expected of guests. Often they are curiously unafraid of my dog--and he is not fond of most of them. They cannot be trusted.

In the future, I'm not opening the door to any uninvited solicitation, unless it's to poke the shotgun barrel out as I mutter, "Git offa my LAND."

Exceptions will be made for little girls in green uniforms. The rest of y'all varmints, scram!

04:40 pm: Big Baby
For the past week or so, I've been doing a lot of Thor maintenance.

He's had a bath, which isn't too difficult. It's like washing a car would be if the car periodically shook itself all over you. He really likes the way he feels afterwards, especially the rubbing-with-towels part.

I've gradually reined in his long, scary claws with the Dremel tool. I'm going to go progressively shorter and try for weekly maintenance. His claws grow fast, and his paws are as big across as my hands.

The ears have been cleaned twice. Another soon-to-be-weekly chore, because it seems to keep him from getting ear infections. Antibiotics for those things are $150 or so. It's worth it to keep 'em clean.

Today was the annual vet visit with shots, blood work, etc. He was a sweet, polite boy as always, and enjoyed the enthusiastic greetings he got from the clinic staff. His weight shocked me. He was 187 last fall, but now he's up around 195 lbs. He isn't fat! There's loads of muscle, and we can feel his ribs. He's just enormous. He gets a pretty fair amount of exercise, but I'll continue walking him whenever it's cool enough. The vet also suggested adding green beans to his food. Somehow, this seems unwise. He can already clear a room with his thunderbutt powers.

I'm going to be researching a homemade diet option for him.Not sure how pricey it will be, but dog food is expensive, and it makes him quite gassy.

Right now he's passed out with his big ole slobbery head on my foot. It's good to be loved.Juicy, but good.

01:22 pm: Silence
My momma always told me that if I couldn't say something nice, I should keep my mouth shut. Since I've been a seething mass of utterly incoherent, exhausted rage for the last ten weeks or so, I've been refraining from posting. I wrote some posts, but they had lots of really nasty words in them, and would have left an ugly aftertaste in my readers' brains.

Now school is over, and I'm much more mellow. Gardening does that to me. Other creative stuff follows soon. I've read a lot; I highly recommend Diana Wynne Jones' Howl's Moving Castle and its two sequels, Castle in the Air and House of Many Ways. Ms. Jones knows how to write a rollicking good fairy story! I've got a stack of library books waiting for me. If I can find a skeeter repellent that works (our skeeters are Asian tigers the size of freakin' ROBINS) I will read out on the deck. Thor will enjoy that. He's annoyed because Mommy rarely stays still, and he's getting tired of following me everywhere.

I was hoping to get to Marinus' event on Saturday, but instead I will be attending a funeral. A good friend from school has lost her husband very suddenly, and I want to be there for her. She's in much the same position that the Pilot's wife was four years ago, so I have some idea of what she's got on her plate.

04:37 pm: Lessons Learned
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of choir rehearsals (featuring Emily the Choral Dictator, in all her diminutive, terrifying splendor), bookroom cleanout (21 years' worth of old paperbacks nobody teaches anymore-outta there!), grades (insert whining here), and miscellaneous crappus.

Now Spring Break is upon me, and I head for the yard to mow the knee-high meadow that passes for our yard. I roll out my trusty Craftsman mower,start 'er up, and *KLONK* she stops dead. Won't restart, either. The Samurai takes a look, and he's puzzled, too. I call the Mower Man, and while I await him, I idly check the oil. Now, I know we just changed the oil last fall, so I'm sure it's full but

it's not,

it is

EMPTY.

Yup. The mower, she is dead. See, small engines really need oil to work, or they gets broken. I mourn my beloved grass muncher machine. The grass continues to grow. The rain falls sadly.

After much sorrow, and lots of research, I drag home a new electric, cordless, self-propelled, mulching mower. It's plugged in and charging, and I'll let y'all know how well it works when the drizzle stops tomorrow. In the meantime, the lions stalk the gazelles and zebras roaming my pocket wilderness. There sure are some pretty wildflowers out there, too.

04:37 pm: Flumonia
In a fit of generosity, my hacking, gacking sixth graders broadcast wee germies far and wide in my classroom about ten days ago.
Inevitably, I got sick. I had a fever, chills, dry cough, headache; it was awful. The Gack morphed into a wet, sticky cough and near-strangulation when I try to sleep horizontally. I've been propping myself up magisterially at night for a while now, so I can breathe.
Went to the doc, got antibiotics, and stayed sick, so now I'm starting round 2 of Gack Nukem.
Meanwhile, the Samurai has been sick, too, and he NEVER gets sick. Thor is worn out from checking on the current Coughing Human, to be sure we keep breathing.
And, of course, the kids at school are taking turns being ill,causing me to have a heckuva time getting all of them to do make-up work.
I'm still catching up on papers done while I was fixin' to die,and the admin at my school has decided to inundate me with pointless busy work, as well. Someone needs to tell them that planning and teaching good lessons is the most valuable use of my time before I go postal about the next Climate Survey or Curriculum Review I'm asked to do.
Hey, I got to school today at 7 AM, came home at 4 for an hour, and have to be back for an awards banquet (where I get to serve food to parents and athletes and give out pretty paper) from 6-8.I'll have two hours of prep for tomorrow to do when I get home, and I'll be back up at 4:45 tomorrow morning.
Definitely gotta check out the circus option.

05:50 pm: Controlled Climate
When last I mentioned the heating situation here at Big Dog Bungalow, we were heatless. Heat-free, Unheated. Cold. Running three space heaters and generally miserable, while trying to sort out the home warranty co. vs. insurance mess. The warranty company was counting on us to cave and assume responsibility for getting heat in our house, but they haven't run into anyone as stubborn as us before. We can endure camping conditions if we know we're right, and big corporations don't scare us. (We're teachers--nothing scares us!)

Well,the insurance folks sent their guy out. He pooh-poohed the "external damage" and "flattened coils " as we had, and pronounced the compressor dead. No surprises here. I contacted a lawyer (I recommend your state Bar Association's referral service) who advised me to fax a copy of the insurance inspector's report to the warranty company, letting them know I was appealing their denial and asking them to fix the damn thing. I also threw in that they had ten business days to resolve the issue with us. On day eleven, I'd be contracting with the company of my choice for a replacement system, at their expense.

Didn't hear from them, so on day 13, we signed a contract for a new heat pump.On day 19, I got a call from the warranty folks! They wanted to offer me a second opinion, which they had twice denied us in Nov. and Dec. I said sure, but you have to get someone here before the old system goes away on Thursday. They scrambled, and their guy #2 came out on Tuesday.

Compressor's dead, he says. Might cost $500 to fix. Want me to do it?

At this point, I'm locked in to a contract to replace the whole shootin' match, which I explain to him, and later to the warranty lady on the phone. I also explained that if they'd sent second opinion dude out in December, as I asked, instead of making us do without heat ALL FREAKING WINTER, I'd have been happy to have a new compressor while I saved my money for a new heat pump. She couldn't understand why I wasn't delighted with her offer of the cash value of the old compressor.

Now we are enjoying a wonderful, quiet, efficient new system, and our house is a comfortable, consistent temperature for the first time since we've lived here. (The old system was pretty awful.) I'll be meeting with a nice lawyer on Monday to sue the stoneofapeach warranty company. Stay tuned for courtroom drama!

10:42 am: Thor Gets More People
My extremely large dog's major life goal is to acquire More People. He loves us, but he really craves herds of persons whose wiggly appendages long to scratch his big itchy carcass.His idea of heaven is Lots of Company in Thor's House.

So last night, he got three extra people when Blueleader and two more dog toys stayed overnight. What a happy boy! He slobbered them, he leaned upon them, he engulfed them in his wrinkly, Thorpy embrace.When they packed their bags this morning, he was concerned. When they actually left, the whining commenced. He's finally stopped complaining and fallen asleep, but he's pretty depressed.

I'm playing hooky today to get caught up with grading. It's gonna be appalling; I can just feel it in my bones.

11:14 pm: Education
The school year is now officially half over here in Our Fair Coastal City.
To date, I have been summoned to twelve parent-teacher conferences. One was requested by us teachers. The other eleven were parent-initiated.
Three parents arrived on time.Two others arrived late (one 45 min., the other TWO HOURS) to conferences scheduled for the ONLY available twenty-minute window in our day. Neither of the late ones bothered to call, text, email, or send messages via pigeon.
The other seven parents NEVER SHOWED UP.
The five kids whose parents actually arrived at school are all passing.The other seven are all failing. Hm.
What sort of raging monster do you suppose I shall become the next time someone tries to blame SCHOOLS for their children's idiocy?
It's enough to make me run away and join the circus, or take to my bed with the vapors, except I don't have enough facial hair to be a bearded lady and teachers aren't really prone to the vapors.
I am starting to twitch randomly, though. Glurp.