Adventures in substituting for everyone...

I have referenced the fact that I have been fulfilling my grandmother's antiquated expectations.

I am in the office today, as Jill-of-all-trades, working as financial assistant's assistant.

I am, thus, the fine ass ass.

Or so it seems to me.

Today, the fine ass called in sick (it's Monday) and I am signing in under the login and password of the full on fine ass.

Let it be so noted. PS. I originally wrote this post a few weeks ago. It is not Monday today. As it happens, it is Friday the 13th and I am now subbing for the secretary.

Upcoming

The next several weeks are busy. Today I am subbing for the Spanish teacher for 7th and 8th grade. Tomorrow I have a webinar to "attend" in the school finance department. Then-- the weekend! Monday, I am either babysitting for my sweet grandson or working at the school. Not sure yet about Tuesday, but I am subbing Wednesday. Then, Thursday after work we are driving to Chicago for a production meeting for my next directing gig. Back home for a day, then flying out to Alabama to visit my dad December 22-27. I'll also get to visit Dear Daughter number 1 and her fiance. Then back home and have periodontal work done before the end of the year to use up our insurance funds before more big work next year. January 2 I am back in Chicago for 6 weeks to direct the rehearsals for the world premiere of Unshelved. Back home the second week of February to start more extensive periodontal work. Yuck. Expensive and scary. Yuck. MEANWHILE keep helping with wedding planning and funding for the spring wedding. After that? We'll see.

On the eighth night of Channukah, I did not buy for you...

Channukah's over. There's just one gift left that I didn't buy for you.

This is a Pocket Hose.

It's the hose that grows.

It's so easy...

Just turn on and watch it grow.

Easy to handle.

Is that a hose in your pocket, or...

Why didn't I buy this?

That's the beauty of the Pocket Hose. You don't have to buy it to make the jokes.

You just have to know that it exists.

(Buying it would be too kinky. Never good for a hose.)

On the seventh night of Channukah I did not buy for you...

On the seventh night of Channukah, I did not buy for you...

 

This is a RetroPhone.

 

 

This Retro Phone is an attachment for your cell phone. It resembles the handsets of phones of my youth. You attach it to your cell phone.

 

 

That's right, you attach the old-fashioned hand set to your cell phone-- you know, the cell phone that you keep wanting to get slimmer and more light weight.

 

 

You can get even more retro than the above. Try this:

 



This is a Victorian-styled Retro Phone handset. You attach it to your cell phone. This one is especially designed for those who love steam-punk-style. As noted on the website selling this one:

"Victorian themed handset for fans of history or steampunk fashion

Take phone calls while staying in character

Materials: Plastic, finished to look like antiqued brass & wood"

See, it's plastic, but finished to look like real antique brass and wood!

Now, the one promo point that I have read on this item that makes some kind of sense to me is "reduces harmful radiation from cell phones."

Okay. I could get behind that.

Although, one could just learn to use the dang ear bud and microphone that came with the cell phone.

Or-- really radical thought-- reduce time on the cell phone and maximize face-to-face time.

(I know, I know, I'm a phone phobic. So that would be my advice!)

On the sixth night of Channukah, I did not buy for you...

On Monday night, I was busy not-buying your Channukah present! Guess what I didn't buy for you on the sixth night?

I did not buy you a Flash Light Friend.

True, it is the Festival of Lights.

True, we all could use a friend.

True, this is HUGGABLE! and LOVEABLE!

And a flashlight.

However...

 

Read the fine print: It shuts off after 20 minutes and never gets hot.

 

 

All that cuddling, and then it shuts off before it gets hot?

 

Besides, the friends you have already are quite enlightening. Or enlightened. Or both.

On the fifth night of Channukah, I did not buy for you...

I'm still behind, *butt* not as far behind as(s) I was in the last post...

Okay, enough with the scatological references.  On the fifth night of Channukah, I did not buy for you:

YES! This is a Twinkies Maker! With this you can make your own fresh, hot, cream stuffed twinkies!

 

(insert inappropriate joke here)

 

WHY wouldn't I buy you such a device?

 

 Comes with its own oven.

 

This is why: Twinkies are the one edible item with a shelf life of like, a gazillion years. The POINT is not FRESHNESS! The point is SHELF LIFE! This machine is not a Twinkie-maker, it is the Anti-Twinkie!

 

At least, that is my story and I am sticking to it.

 

On the first/second/third/fourth night of Channukah, I did not buy for you...

Channukah came quite early this year on the standard calendar. So of course I am behind on my not-buying gifts this year. (As you may recall, last year I blogged on all eight nights of what I was not-buying for my Dear Daughter's Significant Other).

So, here is a mighty mega-post with ALL FOUR OF THE NIGHTS SO FAR in one post.

DDSO: I don't know why, but many of the items I am refusing to buy for you are scatological in nature. For instance:

These are fart-filtering underwear. I kid you not. I did not buy this for you for a few reasons.
1. These are called Shreddies. How could I buy you something called Shreddies?
2. These are imported fart-filtering underwear. I am trying to buy American.
3. Apparently these have been fart-tested butt the reviewers say nothing about the sound-baffling abilities of the undergarment. Insufficient, I say.


On the second night of Channukah, I did not buy for you:

This multi-pack provides woods-ready TP with Deer Flask / Shot glass. I did not buy these for you for following reasons:
1. The TP looks suspiciously like bark, especially the green-brown roll.
2. I don't like the voyeuristic buck watching the wipe in action.
3. Deer flask? Really, I don't think we should be enabling alcoholic deer.
4. It says there is a "Handy Loading Funnel Included". It doesn't specify loading what. Loading your rifle? Getting the deer loaded (not to be encouraged- see #3 above)? A funnel for your "load," pre or post wipe? One shudders to think.

On the third night of Channukah, I did not buy for you:

This is Poo-Pourri. It is a real product with several funny videos marketing it. Why didn't I buy it for you? Too hard to choose between fragrances: Sh*ttin' Pretty? - apparently too feminine. Could have gone for manly scents like Royal Flush or Trap-a-Crap...

On the fourth night of Channukah, I did not buy for you:

This is a Squatty-potty. Apparently, this is the solution to all our poop problems. This footrest can prevent appendicitis, diverticulitis, and who-knows-what-all!

Why didn't I buy this for you? I'm not sure.

But, I hope this one post will get rid of all the sh*tty gift ideas.



Adventures of a Substitute Teacher

This is a really existential job.

Every day when I come in, I ask, "Who am I?"

I've been working as a substitute teacher at the local public charter school (where my Dear Husband KK is the director of finance) for more than five years now. When I am asked to substitute, I'm not told until I arrive what class I will be teaching. For whom will I be substituting?

Who am I?

Last night I dreamt...

I am coming back to this several weeks after I the night when I dreamt this: I dreamt that I was at a bakery and someone (my mom?) had said that I should apply for a job there, because I needed a job.

But this bakery was very far from my home. Over an hour.

But I was there, right? I was there because I had given someone a ride. To a funeral, I think.

So I decided to apply for the job. I could always decline, if offered, right?

So I came in and I announced to one of the teen-aged staff, I am here to interview for the job.

And the teenager acted deaf. She didn't want me to get the job.

So when I saw the manager-looking person go by, I announced, very loudly, I AM HERE TO INTERVIEW FOR THE JOB.

(this is where I am coming back to this so I am not sure of these details) I think I might not have been married?

The manager wanted me to work one day a week ten hours.

There were dead bodies with braille IDs on them.

101 tiny actions

Little things. Tiny actions. They may not seem like much, but added up in the hundreds or thousands of repetitions, the hundreds of activities, these actions accumulate to mean something. I’m not even going back to our grandparents or great-grandparents’ days when everyone had to plow, plant, walk or hitch up horses. I haven't made it to 101 yet, but here are my first 21. 1. Cooking: mashing potatoes 2. Cooking: rotary beaters OR spoon mixing 3. Cooking: making dinner 4. Cooking: making bread 5. Cooking: chopping vegetables 6. Home: beating rugs 7. Home: pushing a lawn mower 8. Home: shoveling snow 9. Home: Hanging laundry 10. Home: Washing dishes 11. Daily Life: Changing the station on the TV 12. Daily Life: Answering the phone 13. Daily Life: Walking to the mailbox 14. Daily Life: opening the garage door 15. Daily Life: washing the car 16. Daily life: changing a tire 17. Daily Life: research in real books 18. Cooking: opening cans 19. Daily life: typing or writing (and rewriting) vs. word processing 20. Daily life: Walking from one office to another 21. Daily life: winding your watch or clock

Time is gobbled up

I have about two weeks to: * clean my house from top to bottom * shop and prep for Thanksgiving * complete the fantasy novel I am writing Panic much? My house is in disarray in part because I have been directing a play during all of October. The rehearsals (and the show itself) took place an hour or more from my home - depending on traffic. Then I was working most days with my Adventures in Substitute Teaching. Luckily, just got a message from my sister that my nephews are looking to earn some money. Looks like I have a cleaning crew- now I need to schedule them!

What I've done today (so far)

I swept. That's a lot of what I've done. I swept in the laundry room (we're anticipating delivery of a new washing machine on Thursday). I swept the stairs leading to the laundry room (the laundry room is downstairs). Then, I swept the path from the stairs into the laundry room.

Not the entire basement. A girl's got a life, ya know. That could take years.

(Maybe not years. But more than I can manage today. Especially since:)

I dusted in the living room, brushed down the couches, then moved furniture and swept out the living room.

Cleaned counters in the hall bathroom, tidied, and then swept the bathroom.

Now, in the various garbage bags, there is enough dog hair to stuff a California King comforter.

Not that anyone would want a dog hair stuffed comforter.

(Unless you are interested. In which case, email me. I can fix you up.)

Rockin' the Rewards, Rollin' the Rebates

When planning my trip to visit my Dear Daughter in Jackson, Mississippi, she was trying to help me scope out possibilities for flights as opposed to my driving down- solo. The short version of the story is that for the time span I wanted, the flights weren't really cheap.

It's cheaper to drive. Then I have more flexibility, too.

And, I said to my daughter, I don't mind the drive.

Also- I didn't mention, but I will mention now, in this current quarter, I get additional reward points when I use my credit card at gas stations.

I work all the reward and rebate angles I can.

This quarter, my main credit card, in addition to the 1% on all purchases, is awarding 5% on purchases at gas stations.

When I accumulate enough points, I ask them to cut me a reward check for real money.

But that's not the only way I'm accumulating points. Because, during the month of July, if I make purchases on 10 separate days at my usual gas station, and use *their* reward card, I will get 7000 bonus points on my gas station rewards card.

I can't get *cash* back with this card. However, when I accumulate enough points, I redeem these rewards for gift cards. One holiday, I was able to get 3 different $25 gift cards just with reward points.

I have so many reward cards that it's hard to keep track of them all. I have reward cards for gas, office supplies, printer ink, pet supplies, groceries (2 different chains), cinema, restaurants, department stores. I use some cards more than others, but I have a ton.

Plus the credit card reward program.

One of my restaurant cards is a "club". We pay $59 a year for the club; in return, we get $59 credit towards food, 20% discount on food at the restaurant, a free brunch for me on my birthday, and a free brunch for my husband on his birthday, a free brunch on our anniversary AND on the anniversary of the restaurant. AND 20 free passes to the Comedy Club in the basement  of said restaurant. SUCH a deal!

Since we dine out, and enjoy taking friends to the comedy club, it feels like a deal to us. And since we buy drinks- which aren't covered by the discounts or credits- and because when we redeem the free birthday brunch we buy brunch for the one who *isn't* having a birthday, it works out well for the restaurant, too.

I love working the rewards system. This is how I score better wine: I look at what wine is on sale. I see a nice pinot noir, regular price $23.99, on sale when I use my card for $14.99. BUT WAIT! If I  buy 4 or more bottles of any wines, I get an additional 10% of the sale price! Winning!!

AND, with this grocery reward card, every time I use the card, the store donates a percentage of what I spend to the charity of my choice. I have them donate to my theater troupe.

WINNING!

What was I saying? Oh, yeah...

So, I drove to visit Dear Daughter. Next quarter, though, gas stations are done- we are on to Amazon gift cards and department stores for the holidays. So then I could fly.

A swinging day and good clean fun

I was trying to post some pictures that I discovered have motion- to share with my Facebook friends in a private group. The pictures would post, but only as still shots.

I think they will post here. These are photos that I took when Dear Husband K and I were babysitting for #1 grandson. I hadn't realized that these pictures had motion until the photos uploaded to my Google+ site.

All of this is still mysterious to me; I will keep investigating. Meanwhile, we can enjoy these here. I think.

Do Stuff, Write About It

“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It's that easy, and that hard.”
― Neil Gaiman

It is that easy, and it is that hard.

If I write, every day, I will find that I have things to say.

So I believe.

A few days ago, I did a lot of stuff. I will write some of it down.

Friday was the day we had decided to have family over to celebrate my birthday.*

I got up relatively early. The day before, I had spent a long time cleaning the living room: moving couches and sweeping underneath them, dusting everything, putting away clutter. I'd made a start on the two bedrooms. I made more progress on the bedrooms and kitchen, and then I went out for errands - stopping to get cash to pay my nephews, gas to rack up the Rewards Visits, make some returns of retail therapy merchandise, and then on to pick up nephews.

My nephews did tons of work at my house: they trimmed the lawn (Dear Husband had mowed the day before) and cleaned my car (we had driven dogs to and from the Pet Hotel and fetched Dear Daughter's dog from Dear Almost-Son-In-Law's parents place). The  nephews swept and mopped and cleaned and cleared. Then, before and after they showered- each choosing a bathroom- they cleaned the bathrooms.

I wasn't idle, either. I worked hard on continuing to sort and pitch and recycle the STUFF that I had been clearing and cleaning from the various Convenient Flat Surfaces in bedrooms and on snack bars.

Then I got busy cooking. Even though it was my birthday, I was cooking. Yes I was! Because one of the things I have remembered is that I like to cook for people. So I made my famous macaroni and cheese, steamed broccoli, and had chilled pears and watermelon chunks. I also was about to make a delicious baby spinach and mandarin orange salad- but found that the salad spinach that I had bought JUST THAT DAY was slimed! EW! So Dear Husband was sent out to fetch more salad, while I made my famous herb mayonnaise salad dressing and visited with the first arrivals- Auntie B and Cousin S Lee.

I had bought a Bumpy Cake because I love it and because calories don't count on your birthday (that is my story and I am sticking to it. Besides, I had worked off cake and ice cream with all the housework that day and the day before.) And ice cream. Because it is summertime and because Bumpy Cake loves ice cream.

As it turned out, my mom couldn't help herself, and bought me a Bumpy Cake as well.

An embarrassment of riches. We sent left over Bumpy Cake off with the nephews, because it won't be my birthday forever** and the calories will eventually catch up.

I also made rice and black beans, with shredded cheese, salsa, and sour cream on the side, because nephew M doesn't like cheese, and we couldn't have the poor boy starve, now could we?

Eventually, my mom and my sister and her hubby joined Auntie B and Cousin S Lee; and later son J, his wife J, and my grandson J (we call them J3 from A2, since they are from Ann Arbor) arrived.

Lots of food was eaten by all and we were all delighted watching grandson J discover the delights of delicious pears and it was a good night.

I took Ibuprofen and two senna tablets before bed. I already ached from the housework, and I didn't want to get constipated from the pain killer.

I know, too much information.


* One can never celebrate a birthday often enough. As of this writing, I have celebrated my birthday before (while up North with family and friends), on (at a Tigers baseball game) and after (twice so far) the actual date. I will be celebrating at least once more, as I have a birthday credit at a local fancy-shmancy restaurant. So there!

**Somehow, no matter how many celebrations we manage, the birthday excuse eventually expires. Usually in less than a month.

The To Do List

What a to-do to do today!

I am a list-maker. There is no point in denying it.

There is quite the list for today.

I have a play to read and review for a friend.

Follow up on the play I'll be directing in Detroit in the fall.

Follow up on the play I'll be directing in Chicago in January 2014.

Follow up on the play I finished directing last month.

Laundry.

Dishes.

Writing of my own. Which also requires a list: topics for scholarly articles must move up the list, returning to the NaNoWriMo novel, plays to return to and revise. A long list of anecdotes and topics for this blog and others. Letters to friends.

At the top of the list: Coffee.

First things first.

Litter on the Information Superhighway

The "Information Superhighway" is one of the names we once gave the Internet and World Wide Web.

Lately, I've been thinking about the trash, litter and abandoned rusty vehicles we've been leaving behind.

I need to clean up the old Livejournal, MySpace, and started-then-abandoned blogs, email entities and web pages that I've left behind.

There are links to functions that I no longer have, positions that I no longer have- jobs I have grown out of or out grown.

It's still out there. Litter and clutter.

Adventures in baking

On the last night of The Good Person of Szechuan, I presented Director's Awards for Excellence in Ensemble.

I wanted to recognize and celebrate the helpful, generous and dedicated members of the company that contributed to ensemble- that magic that takes a group of disparate individuals and makes us and our project greater as a whole than the sum of our individual parts.

The winners would be recognized with our words of appreciation and a special date with the director (me).

And a cheesecake. That I would make for them.

We closed the show, and the actors finished out the school year and I went to the auditions for my next round of shows.

Then the time came for dates and cheesecakes.

We checked our calendars and I made my plans to make the cheesecakes. I had it all scheduled tightly.

I was on track to get the cheesecakes done with time to chill (the cheesecakes and I would both have time to chill) before picking up my actors - when disaster struck.

My beater blade broke midway through the second of three cheesecakes. Yikes!

Below: Bad Broken Beaters

 

 

Now I have gone from having plenty of time to chill to not having time or tools to finish cheesecakes!

Fortunately, I had a back up mixer- the one I use for Passover- in the basement. So I fetched that from the basement.

 

Guess what? That mixer is so ancient that it struggles and moans and emits I-am-a-motor-straining smells.

 

BUT I finish the cheesecakes. Not much chill time for me or the cheesecakes, but it is done!

 

On my way home from my director date (and first round of cheesecake deliveries), I stopped at the store.

 

And bought a new mixer.

 

 



 



The N word

I can't say it. I'm a white woman of a certain age, raised in a certain place, in a certain era, and I can't say that word.

The following incident happened with a group of teens that I'd been working with a few summers ago. In the teen theater troupe I was directing, we have occasionally had Hispanic or Black youth as participants, but only occasionally. There were no youth of color in our troupe at the time of this incident.

During this particular summer, an incident occurred. Not during rehearsal, thank goodness, but after, when some of the teen boys were hanging out being cool together.

So, imagine three guys, 14 or 15 years old, hanging out.

Chillin'.

Three white, suburban boys, who think they are gangsta.

So, they are hanging out, goofing around, yelling back and forth to each other outdoors in this public park.

Calling one another the N word.

I wasn't there (rehearsal was over, and I had headed home). The boys' moms were around, but not right near them ('cause that wouldn't have been cool).

And I might never have heard about the incident at all, except that-

As it happened, in this public park, there was a Black man and his child.

Who heard the boys- gave them a look- and took his child and got in his car and left.

Enough was observed by one of the moms so that she talked to her son and to the other moms who talked to their sons and then I heard about it. The moms told me about the incident, and asked me to talk to the boys, because I wasn't their mom, maybe they would hear me.
 
  I tried to talk to the boys.

JE, I said, you aren't Black.

Yeah I am he said.

NO, I said, you're NOT, and that is not your word.

I don't think the boys ever "got" it.

I felt terribly disturbed, though. It still bothers me.

It makes me cringe and it makes me want to slap those privileged white boys upside the head.

Even being 15 doesn't excuse being ignorant, when people have first gently then firmly tried to point out the error of your ways.

Part of what disturbs me about this is the lack of understanding/appreciation of history.

Off to work

I am off to work this morning. I will be working in the finance office. There may not really be enough to keep me busy all day, so I will clock out when I am caught up.

When I clock out, I will turn to the blogs - because I have many exciting topics on the horizon.

Note added much later: I never did return to the blog that day, did I?

Why I don't (currently) donate to my universities

I am a graduate of two universities- one for undergrad and one for my graduate work. I have donated to both universities in the past. Sometimes, in spite of appeals, I have not donated, due to lack of funds.

Currently, I am receiving plenty of appeals for donations from both universities. Currently, I could afford to donate something- maybe not the "suggested donation" level, but something. Currently, I am not donating. Here are the reasons:

My undergraduate alma mater cannot spell my name right. This in spite of the fact that on my donations in the past, I either received a correct spelling- or, I corrected the spelling the first time or two I received the mailing with the incorrect spelling. After correcting my name several times, I thought, forget it. Why should I keep making the same correction over and over? No one cares enough to note the correction. Simple follow up would have helped their cause- by a lot. And now, they are mailing to the wrong address. My mom's address. An address at which I have never resided.

So, no. Taking a break from that one.

My graduate alma mater is also mailing to my mom's address. This one I have even corrected IN PERSON because I was (under) employed there at the time. Still, the appeals for donations (AND my W-2 form) keep going to my mom's address. That's not the only reason I'm not donating to this university, though.

For a variety of reasons, I am not currently employed at the university. And though I have some mixed feelings about not working there currrently, my lack of employment is not the reason I don't donate.

Here's the possibly-petty-but-most-galling for-me reason: I worked my butt off to get my PhD from this university. That's how I got on their lists of people-to-ask-for-money.

They do not refer to me as Dr. LHK. Or LHK, PhD. Not in their requests for money. Not in their cheery alumni updates (when they also make clear they'd be happy to receive money).

Not even- most painfully- when I was listed in the theater programs for the season as adjunct professor (finally! after having worked for years!) WITHOUT the title. All the other PhDs were listed as "Dr. So-and-so." But not me.

Really?

So maybe I'm petty. But it bothers me.

family

My attention has been drawn in a more focused way to my family in recent weeks. Sometimes in good ways, sometimes not so good.

My brother-in-law has cancer. Multiple myeloma. My sister and he have always been marginal financially. Now that he can't work as he goes through treatments, and the bills are rolling in, it is challenging in the extreme. They've had some assistance from their worship community- financial and practical- and some assistance from some charitable organizations.

And a lot of assistance from family.

Because that is what you do.

I've been working with them on organizing bills, applying for aid, navigating the health insurance and the Social Security application forms.

Taking my nephews out for movies and McDonalds.

My mom has been working on applying for aid, and my dad has come into town with his wife to be another driver for the various treatments.

I've been driving too.

I'm just back from a wonderful weekend with one of my daughters (and a couple of my alterna-daughters) and both of my sons (and a couple of my alterna-sons). And I'm looking forward to the weekend ahead, with my other daughter (and some alterna-daughters) and my sons (and some of my alterna-sons) coming together to celebrate my grandson's first birthday.

There are some days when I wonder how to escape from the crazy and the stress of family ties that bind and strangle.

Other days I cannot imagine how I would ever manage without the love and joy and hope and pride I enjoy with my dear, dear family.

Spinning plates- again

A few weeks ago, I started this blog post and then I got sidetracked because I was too busy spinning too many plates.
_____________
Monday was a long hard day that ended with some wonderful news.*

Tuesday was a day of spinning plates. Remember Ed Sullivan? The novelty acts like the man spinning plates?

An act that was always popular, because so often life feels that way. Taking time to attend to one area, you risk having another area fall apart.

Tuesday I met with my mom to meet with the attorney to finally - after six and a half years- start the distribution of my great-aunt's estate.

After meeting with my mom, I got prepared for another rehearsal, scrambling to get everything done- to find the right balance of encouragement and threats to get the teen actors engaged and commited and working on their roles.-

_____________________

I lost track of that week. I know there were more rehearsals, and shopping, and working, and a set build session and meetings with my sister and her husband and making doctor and dentist appointments.

So busy spinning the plates, I lost track of the commentary on my act.


*the long hard day started with a painful doctor's appointment, and housework and long drive and longer rehearsal- and ended with the really wonderful news of my daughter's engagement. Totally worth it :-)

lips and ears

I am going to start wearing my earrings again.

Once upon a time, lipstick was the makeup essential. "Hang on while I put on some lipstick," my grandmother would say, before she would venture out to the mailbox.

Lips are alluring. Mouths and lips are sensual. We highlight our lips with liner and lipstick.

We (often) hide our ears with our hairstyles.

Yet, I'd like to listen more, and speak less.

So, I shall make it a month of earrings.

You've got my ear- see?

afterglow

It is odd to be lonely at the afterglow
of your own show.
I'm glad I brought a date.
I don't know if I am too scary or too distant
or just too old for this sort of thing.
Once it was I who was the center of
the inner circle.
Now I am the outsider watching rings form
away from where and who I am.
Once I was the nucleus binding us together
fusing oneness of disparate elements to create
wholeness
energy
that matters.
Now I find I am a
free radical
dangerous and damaging
decaying unwatched.

dream job

This will ramble a bit.

I am thinking and thinking about what my dream job might be.

And feeling like I am running out of time.

Recently, I have been working at the local public charter school. I looked it up, and by working part-time I have accumulated 2 years towards the 10 years that would make me fully vested for retirement benefits.

I would like to "retire" at some point.

I would like to continue to have income.

As I have noted in another post, I have ended up working at jobs that I thought I had rejected.

At different times, I have thought of being/worked towards becoming:

1. writer
2. actor
3. director
4. journalist
5. midwife
6. college professor
7. rabbi
8. cantor
9. lawyer

Okay, the last three I thought were kind of cool but I hadn't actually worked towards being any of them.

I've actually been paid, although never a living wage, for 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6. I've done some of the functions of 7, 8, and 9.

But I've never felt like I fit in.

As I am thinking of the college professor type jobs, my only real shot at scoring one means that I need to write and present at conferences.

To work full time and score something more like a living wage where I am right now (the public school system), I would pretty much have to go back to college for a degree of some sort in education.

Honestly, I feel so PhinisheD.

What to do?

More rambling as I think of it.

what fresh hell is this

I am subbing again.

For music, again.

And today is Wacky Wednesday- so the kids are more out of bounds than usual.

I am *dreading* "arts ensemble" and band...

the longest hour

I am substituting for the music teacher today. *sigh* I feel completely inadequate, as I am not musically literate. It is a serious flaw in my education.

Mostly, I am fine. When it's singing, I'm fine. When it is the lower grades practicing tempo, or beats to the measure, I'm okay.

But now, 5th hour, an "improvisational elective"- not so much.

It's loud.

There are 7 or 8 groups, working on "original compositions", simultaneously, all in this one room.

Fifty minutes never lasted so long.

Mondays with JD

I spend Mondays babysitting my grandson, JD. So much fun. He's nine months old. I'll write more later, and expand upon his *singing with me*- and right now, he is still essentially napping but every few minutes he gets on his hands and knees in his crib and rocks back and forth. He's not fussing or saying anything, just rocking. I can watch on the video monitor.

destiny

My grandmother had some antiquated ideas. They certainly seem antiquated now, and I rejected them as antiquated when I heard them oh so long ago.

Having lived through the Depression and the rationing of World War II, my grandmother always insisted on keeping her driver's license current. This, in spite of the fact that in all the years I knew her, I never saw her drive. Ever. Her husband drove. Or her son, my dad. Or, later one of her grandkids would drive.

She never drove.

But she kept her license up to date. Because, if rationing came back, we'd have another driver's license in the family.

More ration coupons for the family.

When I was in high school, she advised me-- more than once or twice.

"You're a smart girl. You could be a nurse, or a teacher. But make sure that you take typing in high school-- a good secretary can make some money too."

Nurse, teacher, secretary.

Those were the career paths she recommended again and again.

Good jobs for women, until they get married.

Of course, I wasn't especially good at following grandparents'-- or parent's -- advice.

I deliberately turned my back on those career paths.

(Especially the secretarial path.)

It's funny how things work out, though.

I've been an educator, formally and informally, off and on, for the better part of 30 years.

Over the last few years, I've been a caregiver or assisted caregivers.

And now, I'm working part time in the finance department of a school-- when I'm not substitute teaching-- I'm doing filing, research,wordsmithing and typing for others, writing checks, taking notes.

Funny how it works.

ideas

ideas buzz around like gnats
annoy me like imps
like gadflies and mosquitos
that won't land
but still must bite
because they itch
and won't let me rest
but they won't land
won't light
don't set me alight
keep me up nights

daily grind

I've been working a lot at the public charter school around the corner from where I live. My Dear Husband is the director of finance there.

I have been substitute teaching there when it fits with my schedule over the last several years. More recently, I have been working in the finance department as well. So now, I work most days at the school, either as a substitute teacher, or as a finance assistant, or as both at different times during the day.

Most days. On Mondays, I babysit for my grandson. It's a little less than an hour's drive to my son's home. It is a great pleasure- most of the time- to have a flexible schedule that allows me to do this.

Saturdays and Sundays, if we are home, DH and I usually have one day to ourselves and another day for errands or visits. When we aren't home, it's because we head out for a visit to our children in Chicago.

Evenings we go out to eat more often than not, these days. We come home and watch TV - often episodes of NCIS or Pawn Stars that we have watched many times before- each of us with our computer screen open in front of us. We comment on what we see on the computer, or on the inanity of the commercials on the TV. Sometimes I am reading- when I have a good book going. Often we have a glass or two of wine while we watch.

We go to bed. I usually read for awhile in bed.

There are some good things about this routine. It's comfortable and comforting. We are together, and this is comfortable and comforting.

There are some not-so-good things about this routine. We're eating out a lot and I am sitting on my ass a lot.

This is a marked contrast to other times in my life.

When I was a girl, growing up in my parents' home, we didn't go out to eat. At all. Ever. We had cereal for breakfast, and my mom, staggering around with sleepy eyes and bed-head hair, would pack sack lunches for all of us. We had dinner at home.

I believe my mom knew 1001 ways to fix ground beef.

If we kids had homework, we did that. Mostly, we roamed around outside, until it was dark.

The TV was on, but my dad was master of the house and we watched what he watched or we didn't watch at all. It was literally true that a kid might be watching a program and my dad would come in and change to a program he wanted.

He was home. It was his castle.

When I was 12 or 13, I saw a couple of episodes of Star Trek at some friend's house, and I fell in love with the show- and that was the main reason that I saved up my babysitting money and allowance and gave all that I had saved towards what was my main Christmas present that year- a little TV that could go in my room so I could watch Star Trek.

I felt very rich.

I went to college- I think I took my TV with me, but I'm not sure. My memory of my life is so foggy- I have often thought that either I had a terrible time and repressed it, or it was so unremarkable as to be forgettable.

In any case, the years of later high school and college and post college study in London were so consumed with theater and socializing that I didn't watch TV, probably for 6 or 7 years. I was physically active, and once I got out of the dorms, I was back to making my own meals.

Then I worked in restaurants. I made my own breakfasts, made my own whole wheat bread for toast, and eggs, and orange juice, and coffee. I ate at the restaurants where I worked. And I went out to bars and restaurants with girlfriends and others. I waited on tables, and I danced to the jukebox. I was living in Chicago, I didn't have a car, I walked everywhere.

When I met DH, he and I were both working in restaurants. We ate out at restaurants a lot, but I also cooked. When we were on oppositive schedules, I would come home from working the lunch shift, prepare delicious meals timing them to be ready at 2:00 in the morning when DH would arrive from the dinner shift. We would sit on the balcony of his condo and drink wine.

So I was physically active then, too. And I cooked.

When we married and had children, we were broke. In fact, for a number of years, I thought that DH losing his job was a symptom of pregnancy. I cooked our meals and took care of our kids.

I watched daytime TV for a while, until my Dear Daughter, age 2, while I was nursing her brother on one side and she was balancing on the other side,  announced she was going to give me a kiss "like on Love Boat," grabbed my face with both hands, and ground her lips against mine from side to side.

That was the end of daytime TV for me.

Mortality

My friend Michael died on December 14, 2012. He was 50 years old.

On that day, 20 children and 6 adults were shot and killed at Sandy Hook Elementary school in Connecticut.

I just learned a few hours ago that the parent of one of "my" theater kids died in a car accident yesterday. She leaves behind a husband and six childen, ages ranging from 3 to 16.

Over the last several weeks, I have been working on the labyrinthean paperwork required in applying for Social Security Disability Benefits for my sister and her husband. My brother-in-law has multiple myeloma, and while we are hopeful and he is getting the best treatment available, it is scary for him and his family.

I will be making soup.

This is a hard winter.

I am cold, and cannot get warm.

Up and down

I am working on making 2013 a better year. I am working on being grateful. I have been reminded recently of The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz that I read a number of years ago.

The four agreements are:

1. Be Impeccable with your Word: Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
2. Don’t Take Anything Personally
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.
3. Don’t Make Assumptions
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
4. Always Do Your Best
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

***
I've fallen back into some of the habits that aren't helpful-- I am taking things too personally and I've been assuming rather than just letting things be.

I am working on doing my best, although lately I have been tired and putting my efforts into frustrating exercises.

I am working hard to only use my words for good. I want to use my words-- for good-- and use my words-- well-- and use my words--

more often.

2012- review of the positives

I hope to come back and add more events and detail to this review, but for now, here is a quick summary of blessings.

January 2012- A new year is a new opportunity. I accepted a job directing a musical. (I later dropped the job for very good reasons.) I started teaching two classes- to upper classmen-- in my major! I loved that! A trip to Chicago--always fun.

My mom, who had moved in with Dear Husband K and me following a series of surgeries, found in January that she had recovered from her surgeries and was able to move back to her own home!

February 2012- I signed a contract to teach Intro to Theatre online for the Spring semester

March 2012- Dear Husband K and I made a road trip south to see Dear Daughter's play win an award in Tennessee and then visit my dad and his wife on the Alabama Gulf Coast.

April 2012- I resigned from the directing job for good reasons. My mom had another great report from her doctor.

May 2012- I had a fantastic Mother's Day. A trip to Chicago to see my kids perform their music. A trip to Pittsburgh to attend the wedding of one of my alterna-kids. And... he just couldn't wait... in the small hours of May 31, my first grandchild was born a bit earlier than anticipated!

June 2012- We learned my grandson's name at his bris. We saw lots of our favorite people when they came in to town to meet our grandson. I had a trip to NYC to see a play I may direct in the Midwest, and stayed with one of my alterna-kids- who asked me to officiate at her wedding!

July 2012- After DH K's hernia surgery, and several procedures for me, we learned he and I had a clean bill of health.

August 2012- Great visits with DH K's goddaughter and her family, and with one of my alterna-kids and her fiance

September 2012- I started babysitting for my grandson once a week. Such a treat!

October 2012- Celebrated my mom's 75th birthday.

November 2012- Another wedding trip, this time to Cinncinnati. Went to Chicago to see Dear Son A in a play, and saw another play as well-- a gift from DS A, Dear Daughter C and her Significant Other K. Another great Thanksgiving. Then a rockin' concert of DD C and her SO K at a local cafe. ALSO participated in NaNoWriMo and wrote a novel. And started helping out in DH K's department (finance) at the local K-8 school where he is an administrator.

December 2012- Triumphed over bureaucracy as I helped my sister and her hubby with difficult paperwork in applying for various kinds of assistance due to his illness. We covered all the gift bases. We made it through another year, a challenging year.

I feel stronger already.

(not) shopping early for Hannuka!

This was so wonderful that I couldn't WAIT to not buy it for you!

Yes, you read that correctly! This is a a vacuum cleaner for your ears!

I bet you don't have one (yet)!

I actually saw an ad for this on TV. Today.