I'm sick of being sick. I've had a nonstop snot thing for 2 weeks solid and I'm doing prednisone and insulin and getting fatter by the millisecond.
I hate that.
I hate being at the whim of my body. All I want to do is breathe, so I can go right back to walking around the neighborhood. Tonight, I went out to help Russ put a light in the chicken house because we got the first snow last night, and I had a hard time with that. I think that whole breathing with half a lung thing is just kicking my ass.
I'm here at 2am writing this because I've been up working on a mid-term due by midnight (22 hours from now) and my parents are in town. I don't know what they plan to do tomorrow, but I'm hoping that I can work writing my mid-term around it.
*sigh*
Tired. Grumpy. Grad. Student.
Good news front? Mike got another kickass raise!
Happy Halloween!
(May the chocolate be copious, and the sugar be free!)
Friday, October 31, 2003
Monday, October 20, 2003
My husband is such a geek. He sands, stains, varathanes, and installs these bookshelves in our bedroom and then....
*snicker*
...he doesn't put BOOKS on them. So we have these really pretty bookshelves that are nekkid. I feel like I should toss them a robe. I came >< this close to putting some of my texts on them, so they wouldn't think we are running a nudie shelf wall.
It's too late. They think we're kinky. They're over blushing like hell as I write this. I'm cursing my husband's name and wishing he got the damned books out of the garage, but he didn't.
As I said, my husband is a geek!
__
In other news, my parents are coming out next week. Gack! They threatened to call me from the airport here to tell me. I told them if they pulled that, we'd be conveniently out of town for a few days until the house got clean. My mother snickered. I told her that we're trying but I've got mid-terms this week and I'm awfully damned busy until Thursday. Hopefully, she'll take pity on me and call me the night before. I can pull an all-nighter and clean the house, as long as the rest of the family leaves the house until my parents show up.
I live with pigs. My cleaning efforts are like gourmet food given to swine -- totally unappreciated as anything different than the usual slop.
I think I'd like to keep this martyr robe because it's pretty, purple, and velvety, and it compliments my "I'm_taken_for_granted_way_too_much" working-Mom complex perfectly.
*snicker*
...he doesn't put BOOKS on them. So we have these really pretty bookshelves that are nekkid. I feel like I should toss them a robe. I came >< this close to putting some of my texts on them, so they wouldn't think we are running a nudie shelf wall.
It's too late. They think we're kinky. They're over blushing like hell as I write this. I'm cursing my husband's name and wishing he got the damned books out of the garage, but he didn't.
As I said, my husband is a geek!
__
In other news, my parents are coming out next week. Gack! They threatened to call me from the airport here to tell me. I told them if they pulled that, we'd be conveniently out of town for a few days until the house got clean. My mother snickered. I told her that we're trying but I've got mid-terms this week and I'm awfully damned busy until Thursday. Hopefully, she'll take pity on me and call me the night before. I can pull an all-nighter and clean the house, as long as the rest of the family leaves the house until my parents show up.
I live with pigs. My cleaning efforts are like gourmet food given to swine -- totally unappreciated as anything different than the usual slop.
I think I'd like to keep this martyr robe because it's pretty, purple, and velvety, and it compliments my "I'm_taken_for_granted_way_too_much" working-Mom complex perfectly.
Sunday, October 19, 2003
Mike says that after going to a UC, that my expectations are just too damned high, but I think that if you are going to college to be a teacher that you ought to have a rudimentary grasp of how to write a fucking paper, or at least, how to use fucking grammar and spelling checkers. No, Virginia, "there" does not refer to whose thing it belongs to, but rather functions as a stand alone subject substitute or a stand alone place as in, "There is a lot of noise in the hall" or "I threw those horribly written papers from the licensure requirement course over there in the recycling bin." What interests them does not constitute there interest, but rather their interest, stupidhead.
Nor does that someone owns something constitute owner ship, but rather ownership. Nor is "alot" a spelling variance I have a lot of patience for. Sentences that span for four lines damned well better have some punctuation in them or a really good excuse, OK? Authors that use sentences that are all 2-5 lines in length with little or no punctuation deserve a slow and painful death. Students who turn in first drafts as final drafts to an instructor, who told them that they were expected to write a grammatically correct paper, should be beaten to death with a keyboard.
An introductory paragraph should tell me what you're going to write about. It should start with a general statement and get more specific from there. For example, if you are asked to write a personal perspective paper on your view of special education, then perhaps, you would start with a historical remark about people with disabilities of any kind were often abused, institutionalized and generally marginalized in some manner for centuries, but that now, those same people are being included in regular classrooms, workplaces, and the real world. That evolution has come about because of many changes, but the three or four I will focus on here are : 1, 2, 3, and 4. Then you have a paragraph or two each for items 1 -4, then end the essay with a paragraph that says how you covered these salient points 1-4 and that you're sure glad things have changed and that your duty as a teacher will be to perpetuate changes that continue to include folks that learn differently in your classroom, your life, and your world.
How fucking hard is that, people?!
I told my assessment class that writing is very mathematical. I guess what I mean is that it's very formulaic. I thought teachers would know the formula, so they could teach it. I am very upset to see that I'm wrong. I think that it fundamentally upsets me in ways I can't entirely articulate. It also makes me think twice about my place in the world. Maybe I should be teaching high school English. Maybe I am just too damned smart for my britches. Maybe I'm just full of righteous indignation and should be smacked with a gummibear.
Maybe the schools really are failing our children and my sole mission in life will be to save each child, one child at a time, so that they can all be literate and intelligent humans.
Okay, where are the gummibears?
Nor does that someone owns something constitute owner ship, but rather ownership. Nor is "alot" a spelling variance I have a lot of patience for. Sentences that span for four lines damned well better have some punctuation in them or a really good excuse, OK? Authors that use sentences that are all 2-5 lines in length with little or no punctuation deserve a slow and painful death. Students who turn in first drafts as final drafts to an instructor, who told them that they were expected to write a grammatically correct paper, should be beaten to death with a keyboard.
An introductory paragraph should tell me what you're going to write about. It should start with a general statement and get more specific from there. For example, if you are asked to write a personal perspective paper on your view of special education, then perhaps, you would start with a historical remark about people with disabilities of any kind were often abused, institutionalized and generally marginalized in some manner for centuries, but that now, those same people are being included in regular classrooms, workplaces, and the real world. That evolution has come about because of many changes, but the three or four I will focus on here are : 1, 2, 3, and 4. Then you have a paragraph or two each for items 1 -4, then end the essay with a paragraph that says how you covered these salient points 1-4 and that you're sure glad things have changed and that your duty as a teacher will be to perpetuate changes that continue to include folks that learn differently in your classroom, your life, and your world.
How fucking hard is that, people?!
I told my assessment class that writing is very mathematical. I guess what I mean is that it's very formulaic. I thought teachers would know the formula, so they could teach it. I am very upset to see that I'm wrong. I think that it fundamentally upsets me in ways I can't entirely articulate. It also makes me think twice about my place in the world. Maybe I should be teaching high school English. Maybe I am just too damned smart for my britches. Maybe I'm just full of righteous indignation and should be smacked with a gummibear.
Maybe the schools really are failing our children and my sole mission in life will be to save each child, one child at a time, so that they can all be literate and intelligent humans.
Okay, where are the gummibears?
Thursday, October 16, 2003
I have the coolest little boy in the whole world living in my house.
I have been desperate to figure out some way to exercise. I finally asked the Bear if he'd like to get up with Mom at 630AM and go walk for a half hour. I know he's been desperate for Mom-time and I've been desperate for Bear-time, so it seemed like a good thing to do. I was just worried about him whining about going or complaining that it was too long, etc.
He didn't whine though. In fact, I can't remember when I've enjoyed being with him more. I think he really misses being the only kid in town, something with the advent of a sister, he no longer is.
We hiked up a hill first, where we can see the whole valley, and I asked him,"Do you know why we're hiking up the hill?" He said,"No, mom, why are we hiking up the hill?" I said,"So when we go home, we'll be walking DOWN the hill!" To which he laughed. There's just nothing more beautiful than an awkward prepubescent boy that you know actually getting your jokes, especially before the sun actually rises.
As we came down the hill, Russell said,"Hey, Mom, look!" I looked and the sun was putting this wierd shade of pink on the sierras. We stopped a second and talked about it. Then he looked up and said, "Hey, there's half a moon and half the mountains are pink. It's all about halves today." I laughed. Then he said,"Don't you wish Dad could see this?" I said,"Well, yes, but he can't because someone has to stay with Genevieve, and to be truthful, I'm enjoying just spending the time with you."
I heard him grin. He said,"Me, too, Mom."
I have been desperate to figure out some way to exercise. I finally asked the Bear if he'd like to get up with Mom at 630AM and go walk for a half hour. I know he's been desperate for Mom-time and I've been desperate for Bear-time, so it seemed like a good thing to do. I was just worried about him whining about going or complaining that it was too long, etc.
He didn't whine though. In fact, I can't remember when I've enjoyed being with him more. I think he really misses being the only kid in town, something with the advent of a sister, he no longer is.
We hiked up a hill first, where we can see the whole valley, and I asked him,"Do you know why we're hiking up the hill?" He said,"No, mom, why are we hiking up the hill?" I said,"So when we go home, we'll be walking DOWN the hill!" To which he laughed. There's just nothing more beautiful than an awkward prepubescent boy that you know actually getting your jokes, especially before the sun actually rises.
As we came down the hill, Russell said,"Hey, Mom, look!" I looked and the sun was putting this wierd shade of pink on the sierras. We stopped a second and talked about it. Then he looked up and said, "Hey, there's half a moon and half the mountains are pink. It's all about halves today." I laughed. Then he said,"Don't you wish Dad could see this?" I said,"Well, yes, but he can't because someone has to stay with Genevieve, and to be truthful, I'm enjoying just spending the time with you."
I heard him grin. He said,"Me, too, Mom."
Sunday, October 12, 2003
Grad school has settled down for a while. Suddenly, the teachers that weren't showing us different stuff, started to show us more practical examples, pushed us to work hard on a couple of ideas, and everything got better.
One day this week, I opened my big mouth, but I do that from time to time and while I got scolded, I also got educated, so it was okay. I learned that this is a small and poor university and that just kind of made me sad, but also at home.
I don't know if that makes sense at all, but that's how I felt. I've been very spoiled at some of the places I've worked to have "infrastructure." This place doesn't have infrastructure, but it does have some really nice people and that made me feel better.
I still hate all the work, but I'm working more with kids and that makes everything worthwhile.
Also, my friendships in the department are strengthening. The PhD students all got together and in abstentia decided that I was going to get my PhD. I told them that my family would probably have something to say about that, well, and that I'd rather chew glass.
Truthfully, I wouldn't mind getting a PhD, but I think I'd like to have several years of teaching under my belt before that. I really like the kids. My reading practicum feels soooo good. I enjoy it so much and I'm thinking that if I like it that much that this is why I'm called to do this and the PhD matters to me a whole lot less, as a result.
There are a lot of kids out there who need good teachers and I want to be one of them.
One day this week, I opened my big mouth, but I do that from time to time and while I got scolded, I also got educated, so it was okay. I learned that this is a small and poor university and that just kind of made me sad, but also at home.
I don't know if that makes sense at all, but that's how I felt. I've been very spoiled at some of the places I've worked to have "infrastructure." This place doesn't have infrastructure, but it does have some really nice people and that made me feel better.
I still hate all the work, but I'm working more with kids and that makes everything worthwhile.
Also, my friendships in the department are strengthening. The PhD students all got together and in abstentia decided that I was going to get my PhD. I told them that my family would probably have something to say about that, well, and that I'd rather chew glass.
Truthfully, I wouldn't mind getting a PhD, but I think I'd like to have several years of teaching under my belt before that. I really like the kids. My reading practicum feels soooo good. I enjoy it so much and I'm thinking that if I like it that much that this is why I'm called to do this and the PhD matters to me a whole lot less, as a result.
There are a lot of kids out there who need good teachers and I want to be one of them.
Saturday, October 04, 2003
I'm up to my butt in stuff to do, but it's a long weekend, I guess. I have a lot of work to do for the departmental web page and I've been studiously avoiding every ounce of it. I have a lot of schoolwork to do and I'm avoiding that, too. But dude, I've got clean laundry.
Lots and lots of clean laundry.
My son has started selling chicken eggs. We get $1.25/dozen at the local store for large ones and $1.00/dozen for smaller ones. Because I've got juvenile chickens, I get some smallish eggs about a third of the time. So last night, we sold 5 dozen eggs and got $6.00 because one dozen was smallish. Apparently, this store can't begin to keep on top of the demand for the eggs, which makes me four shades of happy because any thing we have we can sell.
I slept a lot, but I still want to sleep and I checked my sugars and fully expected that they would be high, but they weren't. I'm just tired, I guess.
Last night, I learned something.
When you take a muscle relaxant, do not try to get up in the middle of the night. I got up to pee and nearly fell asleep on the john. Then I came back to bed and nearly fell onto my knees and slept on the floor. It took every bit of will power I had to force myself into bed. Mike woke up and tried to talk to me and I was stumbling and fumbling around. It reminded me a lot of JarJar Binks in Episode I, where he gets his tongue numb because he sticks his face into some kind of power field.
Lots and lots of clean laundry.
My son has started selling chicken eggs. We get $1.25/dozen at the local store for large ones and $1.00/dozen for smaller ones. Because I've got juvenile chickens, I get some smallish eggs about a third of the time. So last night, we sold 5 dozen eggs and got $6.00 because one dozen was smallish. Apparently, this store can't begin to keep on top of the demand for the eggs, which makes me four shades of happy because any thing we have we can sell.
I slept a lot, but I still want to sleep and I checked my sugars and fully expected that they would be high, but they weren't. I'm just tired, I guess.
Last night, I learned something.
When you take a muscle relaxant, do not try to get up in the middle of the night. I got up to pee and nearly fell asleep on the john. Then I came back to bed and nearly fell onto my knees and slept on the floor. It took every bit of will power I had to force myself into bed. Mike woke up and tried to talk to me and I was stumbling and fumbling around. It reminded me a lot of JarJar Binks in Episode I, where he gets his tongue numb because he sticks his face into some kind of power field.
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