Glove compartment

Yesterday, as I was leaving campus, I felt the need to dig out my ice scraper for the car windows.  It is such a rare need in my life, that I have placed that item in my car's glove compartment.  I pulled it out and went to the front windshield.  I wanted to check first if the windshield wipers were free, or if they may be frozen to the glass.  That was my number one priority.  If those were good to go, then the rest of the car probably needed a dust instead of a scrape.  I wound up using the scraper as a duster, and my commute home was surprisingly simple.  I guess everyone was either already home or totally petrified of driving on the somewhat crappy roads.

When I finished with the scraper, I threw it on the floorboard in the car's passenger side  No need to return it to the glove compartment all wet.

Today, I set out in the afternoon to procure some wine.  I am really getting a lot of work done, but it is the kind of work that may benefit from buttoning up my wine jacket this evening.  When I picked up the now dry ice scraper from the floorboard to return it to the glove compartment, I saw where I had been hiding a very nice pair of suede gloves from myself.  The freaking glove box.  I probably put them there last year in a moment of appreciation for the literal interpretation of things.  Where do these gloves go?  Duh.  The glove compartment.

I decided to put them on, though my hands were not as cold as they had been the last few mornings of driving to work (when I really wished I could remember where my nice suede gloves were located).

Note to future self: When it is cold out and you are in the car wishing for gloves, check the appropriately named compartment,  You will probably find them there.

They killed Kenny!

Thursday night Netflix has come and gone again, and it was pretty chilly out. We had soup. Cas and I both feel soup is a great thing to enjoy when the weather is this crappy, and tonight was a perfect occasion.

I came over with that and a few other things to eat. It had become even colder while I was in his apartment, so when I left, I pulled the hood up on my favorite hooded sweatshirt. It occurred to me (about halfway to the car) that I may bear a striking resemblance to a character from a cartoon. 

Oh my God! They killed Kenny. 

You bastards!

Upon texting Cas a photo of the resemblance, he told me to pull down my hood before something bad happens. 

See? I like the smart ones. 

He ain't move. He dead.

Many years ago, I visited New Orleans for the first time. It was pre-Katrina, if that helps your mental calendar. I went with my friend Lori before she became my roommate, my ex-roommate, and the motivation behind so many bill collectors calling my number looking for her. We went during spring break.

We walked around the French Quarter. We heard great music and tried wonderful food. We ventured into a place that, she said, smelled like casino nickels and whiskey sweat. We saw the town. 

One of the many things we did in that city was a trip to their aquarium. It was really interesting, and we saw plenty of creatures. We were allowed to pet a small shark, for God's sake. How often does that happen?

In the aquarium, there was one creature that stood out- not because it was vastly cooler than all the others, but because it elicited a terrific reaction from two old black ladies. 

The creature in question was an albino alligator. I guess we were all supposed to marvel at the white, pre-historic looking monster. Maybe we were supposed to fear its snapping jaw. Lori and I stared at it for a while, but it wasn't terribly intimidating. In fact, it may have been sleeping. 

Enter the two old black ladies. They saw us speculating on the less-than-lively gator. One of them volunteered an observation, "He ain't move." 

Astute woman. 

The way the exhibit was designed, we passed the gator and looped the room. We had to go out roughly the way we came in. The two old black ladies were still staring down the pearly beast. 

I think Lori was the one who asked them for a progress report on our reptilian friend. 

"He still ain't move," the same woman repeated. 

Her friend chimed in, "He dead."

Those voices were in my head as I left my house today to go have lunch with Cas. I pulled out of my alleyway and onto the street, when I saw this vehicle. 

It was clear that, since the onslaught of the winter weather, he ain't move. I sure hope he not dead. 

Snow day, parts I & II

I finally got it together this afternoon. I got on to the inner-nets and came up with some kind of plan for the next few weeks of school. I did this because I thought there may actually be some classes to teach tomorrow.

Guess not. We got word around the same time today as we did yesterday. No school tomorrow, part deux. 

I have really been enjoying my new flannel pajama pants today. I switched out of them only briefly this afternoon for a trip to 7-11 to pick up some frozen pizza and a bottle of Shiraz. 

I had two glasses of that Shiraz this evening. It was an effective use of the wine jacket for me. I was pretty warm all evening. That was after a morning of tea and hot chocolate. 

I also tucked in and watched Silver Linings Playbook on Netflix. Pretty much a great day. It was calm and easy and pretty refreshing. I never really need a snow day, but I treat every one as another penny from heaven. 

I'm pretty sure I'll be totally stir crazy in 24 hours. We shall see. 

Snow Day

Tomorrow is a snow day.  School is off, and I have a pretty good plan for the day.  I bought some fire wood today.  I have a half of a bottle of wine in my possession, and a lot of planning to do for the next little chunk of school.  My Distinguished Teacher Recognition evaluation should take place sometime in the ten day window of the week directly before and directly after spring break.  Pretty much the worst time to do an observation, if you ask me.  Those two weeks are the ones in which students are the most highly distracted, and the times during which I will be evaluated by a team of people who will determine my worth as a professional.  Yippee.  I guess I am pretty happy for the unexpected day off, because I really should plan something impressive.

The Dallas ISD Twitter account made the day off official at around 6:30 tonight.

Yesterday, I was over with Jeanne and Dave.  Apparently, Dave's birthday was earlier in February.  Becky's birthday is today, in fact.  The dual-birthday celebration was last night.  

Cas may be starting to realize the upside of dating someone who is organized about gift-giving and keeping track of things like this.  I showed up at his place at the pre-appointed time with Becky's gift and a selection of cards to give.  We were going to pick up Dave's gift on the way.  As I was getting all ready for the evening and running all of the necessary errands, I saw a vehicle in front of me with a rather amusing bumper sticker.  It said. "If you're reading this, then at least you're not looking at your smartphone.  Thank you."

For a little snippet of irony, when I saw that sticker, I immediately pulled out my smartphone, looked at it long enough to open the camera app and took a photo.  Whatever the opposite of Mission Accomplished is, that's what the result of the sticker was.  Mission un-accomplished.  I was reading it and not looking at my phone, but it caused me to pull out my phone and use it to take a photo.  No worries- I was stopped at a red light when this all went down.  Here's the sticker...

Anyhow, that's all for now.  I think it's time to do one of two things- I'm either going to wrap up this evening super-early or get out a pencil and map out the lesson ideas I have to knock the evaluation crew's socks clean off their feet and into the washer.  The first option is sounding pretty appealing...

The year of the sheep

Last night, rather than our regular Nexflix date, Cas and I celebrated the Chinese New Year. Welcome to the year of the sheep; so long to the year of the horse.

This had always been little more than a clever bit of trivia for me. I was born in the year of the tiger. Multiple placemats in Chinese restaurants have informed me of that. Cas was in the year of the sheep, Danny is from the year of the horse. Jeff, appropriately, was born in the year of the ox. 

Cas had the brilliant idea to go out and eat Chinese food last night. Specifically, we had a pupu platter. We are both big pupu fans. Fun fact- pupu is a noun, a verb and an adjective. We ate pupu from a pupu platter, but we never pupu-ed the idea. 

I have to go to a day of teacher training this morning- not the most thrilling prospect, I know. I feel that there may be a short discussion about fires in bathrooms today, as well. Happy year of the sheep, everybody. 

Fire in the Bathroom

There was a period of time when one of my school principals had the whole teaching staff do a book study together. Each year, a book or a group of books were selected, purchased and distributed to the staff. I read them all- some with great interest, but most out of obligation.

I had one title in mind today as the fifth bright red fire truck pulled up in front of our campus: Fire in the Bathroom.

The premise was something about getting down to the business of teaching school, even with major distracting factors, both on campus and off. For example, teaching when there was a fire in the bathroom. 

Today, we put theory into practice, from what I'm told. I never got the official word on the cause of our 4:10 pm evacuation, but I heard there was an actual fire in one of our school's bathrooms. Turns out, we don't teach during that event. We evacuate the building. Probably the better call. 

At the very least, it was relatively pleasant out. The sun was shining, and it was brisk, but not out-and-out cold. As a bonus, all the newspapers had been distributed already. I hope no issues of The Hoofbeat were involved in the event. We did hand out a few thousand... 

But alas, we all escaped safely, and the students got the opportunity to begin their three-day weekend five minutes early. The teachers will be in training tomorrow, but we will endeavor to keep the building flame-free all day long. Fingers crossed... 

My funny Valentine

Of all the zillion love songs in the world, it's around this time of year that I invariably hear My Funny Valentine.  It's not exactly the sweetest song.  The lyrics imply that the singer is a man in love with a dim-witted, unattractive woman who has a bad figure, but his devotion to her has little to do with her looks:

   My funny Valentine
   Sweet comic Valentine
   You make me smile with my heart
   Your looks are laughable
   Unphotographable
   But you're my favorite work of art
   Is you figure less than Greek?
   Is your mouth a little weak?
   When you open it to speak
   Are you smart?

It's amusing to me how this song is one massive backhanded complement.  I did get to hear it last night, too.  Cas and I went to see a Valentine's day double feature.  Ricki Derek sang some great, old crooner songs, then the Granada pulled down a movie screen and played Casablanca.  Ricki had promised that his set would be followed by a Jamaican Led Zeppelin cover band named Casablanca.  He corrected that error later in the show and said that it would, in fact, be a showing of a movie.

I had sincerely hoped Cas would enjoy Ricki Derek.  I had first seen the singer in my twenties, and he puts on a show that is funny and genuinely entertaining.

We had wanted to see his New Year's Eve show in Fort Worth, but it was sold out before we could get tickets.  This time, I bought the tickets for a mid-February show about a month early.  That's how we were assured a seat and wound up on the very front row.  The Granada decided to put in chairs for this one.  Smart move, in fact, as some of the other members of the audience were older.  

I had spent the morning working on newspaper pages and that is how I intend to spend the majority of my day today.  It was good to have a little break in there, and Cas really knocked it out of the park.  He arrived at my house with a grocery bag.  It contained the things he needed to make me his specialty dish- shrimp scampi.  He had mentioned his ability to prepare this dish previously, but he had never proved this claim to me until now.  Yesterday, he showed up at 4:30 and cooked me dinner.  

Gotta say, that was totally cool.  The food was fantastic and the cook was very good looking.  We ate a wonderful dinner, threw all the dishes in the sink and headed to The Granada.  

I haven't had a Valentine's Day date in a pretty long time, and this one was certainly the best one I have ever had.

Hugs not drugs

Not gonna lie- yesterday straight up bummed me out. It was a day when I saw two people do dumb stuff.

Starting at work, one of my kiddos told me that another of my sweet children was very high during school earlier in the week, and suddenly, there was a great hullabaloo over The sober kid driving the high kid home. I get it- sober kid wanted to help her friend, but the word got out and there was hell to pay. Who sold the drugs? Why did the high kid do it at school? Why didn't the sober kid say something? 

I honestly would have probably done the same thing when I was in school. I would have helped the high kid out. Either way, the high child is suspended for a bit and the dealer(s) are most certainly headed for alternative school or jail. It just bummed me out. 

But what do you do? You rally and teach some more when the next bell rings. It's not unlike boxing. Ding! Round five. Go in fighting. 

It was Thursday, so I was pretty darn ready for my weekday Netflix date. Cas and I decided on flautas and quesadillas, and I went to pick them up. The boy at the register was also one of mine, but a throwback. He had been my student at the last school where I worked, and at the time, he had been a pretty bright, clever kid. I subsequently taught his sister, who told me that her big brother had gotten into drugs. Great. That was a while back, but last night as this man, now in his mid twenties rang in my order and made change, I could see that the spark was gone. He was clearly and severely addled. He had managed to diminish his own cognitive abilities with drugs. Shit. 

I smiled and waved as I left. He said, "You take care, Miss Hinds!"

I will, I guess, but I was pretty rattled. 

My current student was allegedly using bars, a drug I had to Google. Evidently, it's Xanax-based and can cause seizures. Oh, it can also kill you. The man-child at the register was a known cheese user. That one I knew. It's Tylenol PM and black tar heroin, crushed up and snorted. Usually with a straw. Because so many Latino children used it when it first hit the scene, it was often referred to as queso. 

When my former student asked if I wanted guacamole or queso with my order, I only winced for a moment. 

Both, I guess. Can I have both? 

Water, water everywhere

I was very concerned with a billing and payment issue for our school newspaper when I went to work this morning. I have been  very concerned since before the weekend, in fact. There has been some issue somewhere in between me requesting that the check is cut and the printer actually receiving the money. 

Sometimes, when I get bogged down in details, life hands me the opportunity to gain perspective. When I got home from work today, I was greeted by a large, yellow construction vehicle with a scoop on the front. 

Not knowing why it was there, I carried on with my regular business. I went to wash my hands so I could eat a snack with clean hands. No water. 

I looked out the front window more closely at the vehicle. It was from the city's water department. Aha. That makes sense. And I got the perspective I apparently needed. The Dallas ISD accounting practices had been all consuming. Maybe I should be focused on the fact that I generally have access to clean, free-flowing water. Except this afternoon. 

The things you take for granted... I was wondering for a while if I would be able to take a shower in the morning, but that thought quickly gave way to a nap. When I woke, the water was back on. I decided to go check the mailbox, and I saw this note on the doorknob. I guess I should have checked earlier. 

There is a big hole in the sidewalk with flashing lights and safety cones lining it now.  

There is a lot of water-based news lately.  Danny has passed another test in his job with the City of Irving.  He is now certified to handle wastewater and drinking water.  The more I think about it, the more I am glad that the people who handle both clean and dirty water have to prove they possess a certain body of knowledge.  I'm very happy for Danny, as well.  

So, that's it.  There's a blocked-off hole in my front sidewalk, but I have clean, free-flowing drinking water.  Danny has another gold star to add to his resume.  Also, I have someone looking into the mess with the billing at school.  I am told things are going to work out fine.  

Little Miss Sunshine

This afternoon, Cas and I headed downtown.  We had a Groupon, of course.  This time, it was to get to the top of Reunion Tower.

We left my place in the afternoon and headed south, hoping to figure out our lunch plans on the way.  We ended up at an Uncle Julio's on Lemmon Avenue.  It was kind of busy and pretty full of families and groups of friends.  The meal was fantastic- we had fajitas.  We were enjoying the food and having a generally good time, when a family in the same area as us started singing happy birthday to one of the members of their party.  Several of the nearby tables joined in, and when that song was over, a table right next to them indicated that there was a birthday celebrant there, too.  So, the whole portion of the room we were in sang to the next person.  Turns out, there was a child at another table with a birthday, and that was the third iteration of the song.  A fourth table said they had a birthday, and the song piped up again.  That's when a manager at the restaurant pushed an employee to the center of the floor and indicated that it was her special day, as well.  It was the silliest, craziest series of birthday songs I had seen in a while.

We found out after the last note was sung that the fourth one was a lie (she indicated that her friends had fibbed), but I am confident that one, two, three and five were the real thing.  

With that done and all of the birthdays in Uncle Julio's recognized properly and celebrated through song, we finished our meal and carried on. 

As we were walking from the parking lot to the tower, we kept seeing very young girls dressed pretty inappropriately.  Scantily clad, even.  It took only a few under-dressed little girls to pass with their yoga-panted mothers for us to figure that there was probably a dance competition happening at the attached hotel.  We decided that there may, in fact, be a pageant.  We dubbed the event we were imagining "Little Miss Sunshine."  

We went on- up to the top of the tower.  The observation deck is 470 feet up, and it was a pretty windy day.  It was a great time, but that's not at all surprising.  We always have a great time.  We walked around the outdoor part of the deck  twice and we wandered on the indoor portion a few times, as well.  It was pretty cool.  

When we made it back to the ground floor, I saw something I had never seen in real life before- I saw someone taking a selfie with his phone, but he was doing it with the legendary selfie stick.  I couldn't help myself- I pointed at the stick and said, "Oh wow.  I have never seen one of those out in the world!  They exist!"  I should have taken a photo of the boy taking that photo.  Missed opportunity...

After leaving Reunion Tower and the myriad Little Miss Sunshines, Cas and I headed back north and stopped for a few drinks to round out the afternoon/early evening.  

We agreed that we would part ways before the nighttime.  We've spent a lot of time together lately, so it's no big deal to stay home on a Saturday night.  We kind of did it up in the afternoon.  Plus, I am pretty sure we saw Little Miss Sunshine somewhere along the way, and you can't really top that.  You may as well stop your Saturday there. 

15 minutes

Andy Warhol famously said, "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes." It appears that last night was Cas' turn. We went to the musical at his school in the evening, and unbeknownst to him (and me), the kids saw his presence there as an opportunity to pull him up on the stage.

The premise of the show was that several young people were competing in a spelling bee. They apparently bring a few audience members in to round out the cast of spellers. When Cas and I walked in, one of the kids ambushed us to pull her favorite math teacher onto the stage.  It was extremely cute, and you could tell he was having a great time.  Every so often, it was Mr. Dunlap's turn to spell, and as each speller came to the microphone, the announcer told the crowd something personal about the individual.  The kids had a blast.  They mentioned that his only friend was a fish named D-squared.  Cute because it's his classroom pet...  They mentioned that his favorite food was Pie.  Cute because math teacher, Pi...  They had a great time putting my date on display.  I told one of the kids that the whole thing was adorable, but I was lonesome for half of the night because they had hijacked my date.

Overall, it was a cute musical.  During intermission, he was basically famous.  Parents approached him and congratulated him on his ability to spell.  he got knocked out on the word "intolerant," which he spelled with an int or an ent at the end or something.  I am certain that he did that on purpose so the act could end.  When they bid him adeiu through song, he was laughing his head off, and I was wishing the ban on photography during the show would have been lifted for a special my boyfriend is on that stage, and this will not be repeated, so please let me take a photo exception.  Alas, all I have is him talking with his fellow actors after the show was over.

So, it was another great night with my newly famous boyfriend.  Hooray.  

I was glad for it, too, because my day had left a little something to be desired.  First off, my students were fine.  It was the teacher next door who was struggling.  She apparently used to teach at the college level, and as such, was ill-prepared for high school children.  Her kids are so profoundly bad that they can't even stay in the classroom until the bell rings to release them.  That's a pretty low bar to set, and several of our new teachers are struggling to keep children inside the confines of the classroom for a full 47 minutes.  Of course, these kids go to other classes and try to do the same thing.  When one of these badly trained children comes to my class and tries to get up in the last minute of class, I get frustrated.  The inability of others now affects my life in two distinct ways.  Some of her kids try that business in my classroom.  Um.  No.  And now, the kids who spill out of her door and make noise disrupt my students.  Also, no.  Hell no, in fact.  Yesterday, her children were so noisy in the hallway that I walked over the 20 yards or so (my door is pretty far from my neighbors) and asked them to please get back into the classroom.  The ones out in the hall were struggling to return because the ones standing in the door wouldn't budge.  I pointed at a boy who was filling the door frame.  You.  Move back.  I pointed at another door-blocker.  You.  Move away from the door.  I instructed the kids out in the hallway to now move into the classroom.  I indicated that staying in a classroom for all of the class time was not too much to ask.  

That's when my dirty Spanish language switch kicked on.  I understood enough of the words spoken by a nasty, little girl to get that one of the ladies present felt my mood would improve significantly if I were to enjoy more special time in the presence of male genitals.  Now that I have had time to think about this, I have a lot of follow up questions.  In order for me to be more pleasant, it seems the child was recommending more penises.  Do I need to seek out multiple penises, or should I spend more time with only one penis?  How often should I interact with a penis in order to be more pleasant?  What is the ratio of pleasantness to penises visited?  Should I just sit in a room where penises are out and about, or do I need to do something with them.  All of them?  So many questions.  So many.  I think that I should go back to this teacher's sixth period class on Monday and ask my follow up questions.  

Or perhaps not.  Maybe I should just get ready for my nice date with my famous boyfriend.  

Bieber fever

I have thirteen first cousins. The one who is closest to me in age is Holly, and she told everyone on Christmas Eve that she is pregnant. Extremely pregnant. Like pregnant cubed.

When my big brother and his wife found out they were having twins over sixteen years ago, their initial reaction was shock mixed with joy. For them, "It's a boy" was a phrase that bore repeating. 

Holly and Jason can say, "It's a boy, It's a boy, It's a girl." Though I am very happy for them both, triplets terrify me. 

I did have a rather funny, Justin Bieber-based T-shirt idea this morning, though. I want to get a maternity T-shirt for Holly that says, "Baby, Baby, Baby." And a shirt for Jason that says, "Ooh!" 

Deep, dark, Odin sleep

I just woke up in my work clothes- something I generally don't do. I usually change into some form of pajamas, wash my make up off and brush my teeth before crawling under the covers. As it stands, I'm up just before six and taking off my wristwatch. My classroom keys fell out of my pocket overnight.

I once saw a facebook friend describe that as deep, dark, Odin sleep. Sounds about right. And I must have needed it, too. I was pretty wiped out yesterday. 

The funny thing is that Cas probably did something similar, though I'd like to think he had the sense to change out of his teacher-wear. He finished a pretty major work project yesterday, and he texted me after work to tell me he was going to turn in early. Maybe it was the power of suggestion that prompted me to zonk out in a sweater and slacks. 

I should be very energetic today as a result of my sleep-of-the-dead style rest last night. I just wish I had bothered to wash my face, brush my teeth and otherwise get into sleep mode before I crawled under the covers. 

Anyhow- time to hit the showers and get back to the classroom. And I really want to brush my teeth twice to make up for my failing last night, but I'm guessing that wouldn't help... 

For sale by owner

Since it is Sunday, I was over at Mom and Dad's house.  Dad wanted my help posting Jeff's old Fiat for sale on CraigsList.  He has been keeping the car in the garage for a pretty long time, now, and the plan was finally in place to sell the car and use the money from the sale to help contribute to a car for the twins to use.

It's their 16th birthday today, so the timing was pretty appropriate.  Dad and I wrote up the ad and posted it, then we were off to the grocery store.  When we got back from the store, he went upstairs to do the stretches for his shoulder recovery.  When he came back down, he had two emails, 50 minutes apart, from one man who was very interested in buying the car.  The man apparently put down some money on the vehicle a few moments ago and will come back to collect it with the full payment amount in a few weeks.  So, that's it.  The Fiat is headed out of our lives, and not a moment too soon.  It is a 1966 Fiat 600 that starts, but doesn't stop.  The brakes don't work.  The interior is torn up.  It is the perfect thing to own if you want to tinker around and play with an old Italian car.

Here's one of the photos we put in the ad:

With that done, it's back to work for me, I suppose.  I have school stuff to get accomplished.  See what you can do when you handle other things while the world watches the super bowl?  

Brother, can you spare a tire?

I got up in the morning today and got myself ready to attend a District event- it was STEM day.  I had signed up for several sessions, and the first one was scheduled to start at 8:30 am over at Skyline High School.  When I was ready to leave the house at about 8:15, I knew I would definitely miss the first session.  I hadn't particularly rushed or anything, either.  I wanted to hit the keynote speaker's session and a few of the other classes.

Here was the keynote speech:

The day was overall pretty useful.  I wasn't super excited about any of it, but there was some good content.  I decided to skip my last session of the day so I could get home earlier, and with that. I headed for the car so I could start the trip home.

As I walked up to the car, I could clearly see the flat tire.  Crap.  So, I opened up the trunk and started to get out the spare.  It was getting very cloudy and the air was thick with humidity.  I could feel my hair getting damp.  With that, I put the jack under the car and took off the flat tire.  The flat one went into the trunk and I placed the spare tire onto the car.  It turns out that the spare was a little low on air, as well.  Crap.

I decided that the smart thing to do would be to drive at a totally reasonable speed to the closest reputable place that may repair a flat.

While I was down at eye level with the flat, a series of three cars drove past me.  Every one was driven by a man.  Every one slowed to take a look at me, and every one went on its way without stopping, checking to see if I was okay or even cracking the window to wish me luck.

Thanks a pant load, fellas.

I wouldn't have accepted the help, anyway, but still, it's pretty crappy that nobody even stopped to check.  The whole thing felt like the premise to a joke.  A blonde was in a parking lot changing a flat tire...  I just need the punchline.

No punchline, I'm afraid.

It turns out, though, that Pep Boys is awesome.  Apparently, they will repair a flat for free if you are a member of their rewards program, and as a bonus, membership is also free.  As much as I hated the whole experience, I was happy for the no-cost fix.

After that, I was in a bit of a sour mood, so I came home and took a nap.  That helped a little.  Then, Cas came over to take me to dinner.  That helped a lot.  We went to Rockfish and shared a great dinner, then we came back to my house and watched an episode of Archer on Netflix.

He sure does cheer me up when I am in danger of becoming a real grinch.

Tomorrow is the super bowl, by the way, so it is my super-opportunity to display my extreme apathy about sports.  Woo-hoo.  At least my car has four full tires and a recently inflated spare.