Hypenated Modifiers

I made a kid a bit mad in class.  I can't remember what I said or what the context of the situation was, but he gave me the face.  I started to laugh, and thought to myself, "Oh my gosh, I have to write this down!"  He was not amused by my mirth.

The face to which I refer was a mad face, but not just any mad face.  It deserved this hyphenated modifier:
"Small-mouth, Mad-face".  I said that to the boy...I said, "Oh my goodness, it's the elusive "Small-mouth, Mad-face"!  I was in awe, as this face only reveals itself on a handful of occasions throughout any given school year.  This particular kid had it DOWN!  It was the perfect trifecta...Lips pursed just so, making the tiniest "o"...eyes stitched in, narrowed, irises barely discernible, forehead puckered.  He was indignant, unapproachable, beautiful. 

I am truly blessed!

The True Beauty of Recycling

This is my first try at inserting a photo into this blog. 

The photo in question is my "new" deck furniture.  Actually, it's been around for a while.  Mark's parents bought the furniture sometime in the late sixties or early seventies.  It graced the exterior of their home for decades until they recently moved into an adult living facility.  Many a conversation has been had, rocking back and forth in these old chairs.  Many a moment savored, gazing out over Pullman, enjoying the summers on the Palouse.

The bodies of the chairs and footstools were solid, although they were carrying a little rust and wear.  The cushions were the most "lovely" seventies print, yellow with large brown flowers...plastic.  They looked a little rugged when we picked them up, but I couldn't put them in the yard sale, as I could see their bones...good bones.

Mark loving used steel wool and took off years of rusting.  Then, he bought some white "Rustoleum" and went to work, bringing back the gleam they must have had on the showroom floor way back when.  We are running low in the cash department, but somehow these great blue and green cushions were on a sale rack at Home Depot, and we couldn't resist...and now they have new life, and they grace our deck, enhancing an already spectacular view.

Wait for it...here comes the metaphor.

Though age may wear us down, and we may show the years we have lived, we are not useless and we are not forgotten.  (Also, a good scrubbing and a new outfit never hurts.)

Pay it Forward

I was on my way home from work tonight when a strange thing happened.  I got rear-ended.  Nothing exceptional, just a tap, but it was a little "slow-motiony" nonetheless. 

I felt the bump, crinkled up my brow, and turned to the guy in the car next to me.  We exchanged "What The Hell" looks, and both of us shrugged.  I rolled down my window and leaned my head out of my car to look behind me, and a young boy (seventeen) was getting out of his car to talk to me.  I looked for a pen, but the light turned green.  He said he would meet me at Wal Mart (up the road a piece), and that he was so bummed...you see, he'd just hit another lady last month.  He was certain, however, that my car was intact and that there wasn't any damage.

I drove to Wal Mart, glancing occasionally in my rear view to be sure he was following me, but my "Mom of a 17 year old boy" intuition told me he would be faithful to his word.  I pulled over, he jumped out his car.  I got out slowly and looked at his face.  He was scared and his adrenaline was racing, so I put on my mommy voice, and calmed him down.  There was nothing wrong with my bumper.  He was so relieved that I wasn't going to call the police that he kept self-reporting.  He said, "Honestly, I was looking at my phone!"  To which I replied, "Dumbass". 

I scolded him, painted a scenario of me being a young mother with a possible infant in the car and how upsetting that would be.  How a tap like that could injure a small child.  I said he needed to be more careful, as I'm sure his mom wouldn't want him to get hurt.  I pointed to his passenger and told him he needed to be responsible to his friends, too.  Then I sent him on his way.

His name was Sean.  I hope he listened.

Hairdos and Hemispheres

OK, my stab at a catchy title.  It’s workin’ for me.

So on my most frazzled days, I pull my hair up in a French Twist and clip it.  My students always think I took a bunch of extra time on my hair on these days (as it actually looks somewhat professional), and often mention how nice it looks.  I find that ironic, as it takes me so much less time to do it than my regular hair. My hair is curly/wavy, and it does what it wants.  With the right product and a little time, I can make it behave, but that’s about it…it has a life of its own, and I am at its disposal most days. 

The reason I bring up hemispheres is that I live in one (I know, don’t we all).  Actually, I live in two.  I live in the northern and the western hemispheres.  That means that this time of year (autumn as I write this) it’s DARK when I get up to go to work.  This is difficult for my sleepy head to get around, and I am constantly challenging myself to try to get out the door on time, as my feet tend to move slowly when it’s dark out.  I want to putter in the morning.  Maybe I should get up at 5:30 instead of 6, but I honestly think I’d be just as frenzied getting out the door if I were to get myself up early.  I would just waste that time and still have to hurry to make my lunch, pick an outfit, get a shower, feed the dog, check kids’ homework, find my running gear, get the keys and coffee and my book bag and rush to work hoping I don’t get pulled over on the way. 

This is how hairdos relate to hemispheres…who knew?

Dreams

Last night I had a wonderful dream.  My friend, Cara, and her family bought some property at Silver Springs (a place we like to camp).  There was a spot for every family, and each family had its own new double-wide trailer (this is my big dream...no mansion, no sweet condo...it's a double wide).  Anyway, we had a beautiful deck on our double wide, and we had a party.  That was my dream.  No drama, no worrying about life, just a fun party on the deck of my double wide trailer.  It's not an earth-shattering dream, it won't save the world or cure anything, but it was nice, and I liked it.  You should meet me there tomorrow night, and we'll have another party.

Homophones

Did you know that the word "canvas" is a homophone?  It's match is "canvass".  The former is an artist's tool, the latter, a politician's...I learned this just today.

On another note...my seventeen year old son just walked up behind me.  The conversation went like this:

Him:  "Are you blogging?"
Me:  "Yeah."
Him:  scoffs
Me:  "Why are you laughing at me?"
Him:  "You're blogging."

End

Funny

I was explaining writing techniques to my seventh graders yesterday.  Humor came up as an effective technique for connecting with one's reader.  I had been looking at spelling words from the kids all morning, and I came across one that made me giggle (I was alone and I giggled).  One of my students had spelled the word "particularly" like this:  PARTICURLY.  I said it out loud and laughed, silently thanking her for not knowing the spelling because I found it so cute the way she phonetically spelled this word.  (By the way, that is a difficult one for some seventh graders).  I shared this story with my class while wearing my tiara and proclaiming myself queen of my classroom.  They have not quite figured me out, but I think they enjoy me.

musings on friendship

As I enter the uphill swing of my forties, I am starting to realize some things about friendship. 
1.  It is not as easy as it used to be. 
2.  Geography makes matters difficult. 
3.  People I thought would always be a part of my life, those powerful vivid and beautiful intense friends with their history intermingled with my own, have disappeared and left a dark smudge on the canvas of my life. 
4.  I don't know why this has happened.

Is it me, or time?  Why can't I find that common ground on which we used to effortlessly tread?  It matters to me and causes me a great deal of frustration and contemplation.  I have no answers.

writing

I am starting this blog in an attempt to begin my illustrious writing career.  I have, for some time now, had the aspiration to write something.  At this time, I am not sure what that something might be.  I have stories to tell.  Ideas are always Pop-pop-popping in my head...I just need a jumping off point.  A place in which to smear the stain of my ideas and hope that art is what I find, and not just something that needs to be removed with a Shout stick.  There is much to say.  That person I see in the mirror, that girl, that lady, she has something to tell you...I just need for her to start talking.  She is funny, smart, and mildly good-looking, so you may want to take a seat and listen.  Stay tuned.