OTB- no wagering, please

In other parts of the country where there are multiple horse racing tracks and few good places for Tex-Mex food, OTB stands for Off Track Betting. My friend Joyce got me into the decidedly Texan habit of using these letters as a shorthand for On The Border.

It's Sunday, and with Dad out of town, I called Danny to see if he was down for a few beers. It's March Madness right now. I have no idea when that crap started, nor do I know how much more there is to endure, but the effective playoffs of college basketball have the unpleasant side effect of cluttering up some otherwise pleasant bars with loud basketball enthusiasts.

That's what made OTB such a great idea. It's a beautiful day, and they have a killer patio. There are a few televisions mounted out there, but they have the sense to mute the otherwise obnoxious volume. I had to select yet another garment that hid the stupid looking sunburn I'm wearing around today, but otherwise, it was a very nice way to spend a few hours. We had some margaritas instead of the typical beers, and we ordered some appetizers. It was kind of funny. Dad never orders food, and we always have beers with him. He is a very consistent person, and margaritas + food would have screwed up the whole formula. It's probably best that he's at Jeff's house in South Carolina. 

That's it for now, though. I'm debating having a nap prior to making this week's updates to my classroom webpage. I may do just that. 

Anyhow, here's a photo of Dan and Laurie who came out to enjoy some quality patio time with me today: 

Domo arigato

After the street fair, I took a shower and set an alarm for 30 minutes. I thought that would be enough for a quick nap. When it went off, I reset it for 15 more. When that went off, another 15 had to happen. It turned into an interrupted hour long nap. The sunshine was pretty draining, I guess.

When I got up again, I had to search for a shirt that would adequately hide my sunburn with sleeves loose enough so they wouldn't rub against my skin. A serious sunburn changes your wardrobe requirements. 

Cas and I had a groupon to a place that advertised itself as a steak and sushi restaurant. They kind of buried the lead, though. They were also a hibachi place, meaning they seat you around a flat grill and a fast-moving cook prepares everything while flinging food items around in front of you. When we walked in, we chose between a dining table or a seat at a hibachi table. We went for the chef who flings things. 

After everyone around the table had their dinner (I had amazing scallops in front of me), the chef began flinging chunks of a fried egg into people's mouths. The girl across from me was first, and the chef's first volley landed down her shirt. The second one hit the mark. Her date missed catching the egg in his mouth. Another man at the table took a turn, and Cas caught the second piece of egg professionally flung at his face. I opted out. 

It was a fun dinner. Heck, it was a fun dinner-and-a-show. We went back to Cas' place after that, and we watched a little Netflix. 

Today, I need to get some work done. Not pumped about that, but not every  part of the job is fun...

I am the great Cornholio!

I'm home and quite pink, having spent the last four hours at the fifth annual WT White street fair. Some of my kids and I have been running a beanbag toss game called Cornhole. It was kind of slower this year, but The Hoofbeat managed to squeeze a few bucks out of the afternoon.

I failed to put on sunscreen- it's been overcast for so many days that I forgot sun would have such an effect on me. I remember now.  Boy, do I remember...

It was fun, though, and I think I've made a few connections with potential advertisers. 

Bonus- Cas came out toward the end of the event and hung out with me for a while. He even went over to a food truck and bought me lunch. Pretty great guy, really. 

There was a booth there for the campaign of Edwin Flores, our former school board rep who is running for his old seat. I walked over and said hello. I tried to sell an ad. His campaign guy wants to make sure it's legal to run one, so we shall see. 

He also managed to help the junior class fundraiser by taking a pie to the face. The kids got 50 bucks added to their fund for that one. And I got a pretty great picture for the newspaper's Twitter feed. 

Now that it's wrapped up, I need to wash myself and apply some lotion to my poor arms. I guess I'll be sporting the farmer tan look for a while...

*Next day update*

This is what the sunburn looks like 24 hours later:

If it ain't broke...

Last night, the general editor of my school's newspaper got up and spoke in front of the Dallas ISD school board. He was there talk about the need for major repairs and a general overhaul of our campus. It's a 50 year old building, and you can see immediately that it has aged poorly.

In a stroke of irony, my classroom ceiling sprung a leak yesterday right next to where he sits. It waited until about five minutes after he left, but there was serious condensation dripping for a few hours in the afternoon. 

The board approved a plan to fix nine facilities to the tune of millions of dollars, and our campus gets the largest piece of that pie. It's about time, too. Older buildings often have quirks, but some of our problems are downright unmanageable. I mean, you can't have water fall from the ceiling in a computer lab. It's just a stupid thing not to fix. 

Some rooms are cooled to the 50 degree range while others remain in the 80s all day. Ceilings drip. The first floor has an unholy stench about a third of the time that's likely something we shouldn't speculate about. The probable answers are too gross. I have ten windows in my room. Three of them open. Things like that are the daily frustrations of working in a building constructed five decades ago on the cheap. 

To their credit, the regular maintenance folk are out there all the time. There was a man halfway in the ceiling before the first class started this morning. 

There is almost always someone fixing something on campus, but they know the same thing we know. They're applying band-aids at best. 

As for my persuasive speaker, I genuinely couldn't be any more proud of the guy if I tried. Because half of my classes involve teaching some level of public speaking, I know how rare it is to find a teenager who can confidently stand in front of a crowd, let alone the school board and an assembled audience, and talk about an issue that really means a lot to him. The kicker? He's set to graduate in under three months. None of these improvements will happen while he is still a high school student. He spoke up for those who come after him. 

Well done, young man. Well done. 

What do we want? Sleep! When do we want it? Now!

Fun thing from the weekend- as Cas and I were headed over to the place with the glowy mini golfing, we managed to get to a traffic light that took us a few cycles to pass. As we waited to get where we were headed, we saw some agitated looking people standing on a street corner holding signs. I figured them for protesters. They were a small but energetic group. I started to wonder if we were near a Planned Parenthood or a pet shop that sold dogs from a puppy mill or something. And why did it look like that girl in front was wearing a squared-off bag?

The light changed and we got close enough to read the signs. Mattress-palooza. Wow. It was a sales pitch. 

I snapped that photo as Cas executed a left hand turn. That's about the same time I noticed that he managed to leave a hand print on my leg. 

In addition to learning the motivations of the angry mattress mob, I now know what to look out for when I wear that particular pair of pants.

Anyhow, it's getting near the time for my own mattress palooza, so I'm out. Good night, all. 

Indoor glow in the dark miniature golf

What do you do on a Saturday when it's rainy out? Stay in? Hit the movie theater? Find some other indoor activity?

We selected indoor glow in the dark miniature golf. Seemed appropriate. Cas called up his friends Adam and Jennifer, and for extra fun, they brought their son, a sixth grader named Micah. Oh, and I lost spectacularly, but it was still a blast. 

Here's my totally goal-focused boyfriend: 

The course had these obstacles, and the most likely to thwart me was the painted wooden paw-print. By the end, I would whack my golf ball into one, then shake my fist at the heavens, shouting James T. Kirk style the word, "FOOT!" 

We followed that up with a very nice dinner and a few glasses of wine over at their house. They're really pretty nice people, and I was pleased that the kiddo seemed to enjoy the afternoon. He was decidedly less communicative during dinner, but that's to be expected. We started talking like grown up people during the meal. When we were all dorky and playing a kid's game, I'm sure we were far more interesting. 

Next weekend, I have to go run a booth in our school's street fair  I've done that once before, and it's actually more fun than it sounds. But for now, I must wash up and get over to mom and dad's house. They'll be visiting Jeff next weekend, so we're taking this opportunity to wish Jason a happy birthday. 

That's all for now. I must clean off the stench of indoor glow in the dark miniature golf failure. Have a lovely Sunday, all. 

Who put that I in Team?

I typically hate doing "team building" activities, but I forced some mandatory fun on the children today, and they seemed to enjoy themselves.

My afternoon classes were instructed to build towers from marshmallows and dry spaghetti today, and I was actually able to have them do it. Each team had 20 minutes to build, and the goal was to create the tallest tower that would stand freely at the end. Sounds stupid, but they had a blast. The team leader was not supposed to participate in building- just give instructions. The team members were to build with no planning. The whole thing was to demonstrate how to give and follow directions, how to work together and how to fulfill the requirements of a nearly impossible task. Marshmallows (even those that do not melt in mid-day) aren't really touted for their great structural integrity. 

It was stupid hot again, and I left the building a sweaty mess with marshmallow in my hair, but a shower and a few glasses of iced tea have put me right again. 

Whelp, that was fun. Now what? 

I'll stop the world and melt with you

The problem, I'm told, with the school's HVAC system is something having to do with the "chiller tower." In not crystal clear on what a chiller tower actually is, but I can make the assessment that it refuses to chill. Personally, I think a large number of the problems on our campus have to do with the fact that is has been open for business for fifty years.

Welcome to Texas. If you're not familiar, this is the season when you can't pack away any of your "seasonal" attire. Two weeks ago, school was cancelled because the roads were icy. Today, the whole third floor was unbearably hot and humid. And so it goes. 

I had a great activity planned for the day, too. It was just for my afternoon classes. They were supposed to demonstrate teamwork in an activity where groups would build towers out of dry spaghetti and marshmallows. Tallest tower wins. There's a whole set of rules that I did not have the opportunity to explain. We built no towers today. 

Funny thing- when it's stupid hot, marshmallows stored in bags melt together into a marsh-mass. It makes using them individually quite difficult. I opened the first bag and quickly changed my whole afternoon plan. I couldn't invite the gooey mess, dirty up the kids and make a nightmare for the custodial staff. It would have been hilarious to try, but not funny enough to warrant all that goo. 

So, we regroup and try again. The man at the grocery store who bagged up my purchase this afternoon had a lot of questions. I purchased every one of the eight available bags of marshmallows- at least those of a reputable brand that I imagined would be safer from early demise. Tomorrow, we build. I hope. And I also hope the third floor learns to chill out. 

If it gets much warmer, we may be able to build s'mores without a fire. Maybe I should have picked up graham crackers and chocolate... 

I did it all for the cookie

I am pretty straightofward with my students. I always tell them what's going on. Every year, they know who my evaluator is, and that I would prefer it if they were well behaved whenever that person (or any other adult, really) enters my classroom. When they're good, it makes me happy, and when I am happy, their lives as students are considerably easier. This is simple, but they seem to appreciate the honesty. It makes them feel like they're on my team, in a way.

With that behavior pattern established after years of teaching, the new evaluation system presented me with an opportunity to shed a little light on the changed process. I told them I was up for a bigger deal this year. I told them when my ten day window would be for my three-person formal evaluation. I even asked them to be nice if they happened to be the class during which that evaluation occurred.

Well, it occurred today. Fifth period, to be precise. Those kids were really good. Almost too good. I even commented on it. You guys are being so nice today. Is it because we have guests?

I think it went well. Of course, I am riddled with self-doubt and I'm second-guessing my every move. But it's done. No more waiting for Godot. Now, I'm in my kitchen. I am making a very nice batch of cookies for that class as a thank you. It's the least I can do. 

Back when I won the STEM award eight years ago, I made treats for the kids who knocked it out of the park for me. Today, I'm making more treats. Seems like the thing to do...

Obstacle course

The reason it's a bad idea to walk around my neighborhood after dark isn't that the walker risks danger of assault or robbery.  The danger in walking my street and the streets surrounding it after dark is that the sidewalks require full daylight for proper navigation.  I am trying to get back into the habit of walking a few miles every so often.  I went out with Dad in Richardson on Wednesday.  I went out in my 'hood today.

Here are just a few of the obstacles along the course:

That one in the middle is the hole temporarily filled with gravel in front of my house.  It's certainly an adventure walking around in all of that, but I can safely say that I won't miss the challenge if I find myself living in a different neighborhood at some point.  Maybe I can make that one of the criteria when I look for a new home- I can check the sidewalk conditions and make sure that they're not this crappy.  

When you're in a hole, stop digging

The city of Dallas water department came out and turned off my water again yesterday.  I saw the first vehicle arrive to expand and deepen the hole in the ground, and I decided to take a shower right away.  I had a feeling that free flowing water with which to wash myself would become scarce, and I was right.  I got that sense when I saw this view out of my front window:

That hole in the ground was very large in diameter, and deep enough for a grown man to stand in it, with only the top of his head visible.  

When it came time to roller-skate, there were so many trucks lining the street that Cas couldn't really park the car to pick me up.  When we returned from skating, he parked several houses down and the water was off.  I decided that I should probably take a nap.  The other option was to go for a walk around the neighborhood, and I wasn't entirely sure that I would be able to clean myself up afterward.  

Yesterday was Thursday.  Netflix night.  I couldn't go over there all sweaty and gross.  The promise on the little door hanger sign said I would have plenty of water at 6:45.  When I left for Cas' place after 7, nothing was coming out of the sink.  

When I got back from Netflix night, all was well again, and these guys were gone.  

There is still a big hole in the ground, but at least they filled it up with gravel so no one would fall in.  I don't know when they plan to finish the whole thing and repair the sidewalk and the road, but I hope it doesn't take another month.  

Adulting all over the place

A while back, I saw a particularly clever Internet post.  It said,

I keep thinking, oh man, I'm so immature.  How am I allowed to be an adult?  Then I spend time with teenagers.  And it's like, wow, okay, yeah.  I am an adult.  I am so adult.  Look at me adulting all over the place.   

Cas and I were very aware that we were adulting this afternoon.  We started out with lunch at an Outback steakhouse.  I had a $25 gift card that a colleague had given me a few years ago, and it finally got used today.  The tab with the tip was the perfect amount.  We used the whole gift card and not a nickel more.  Hooray for free stuff!

After that, we decided to use one of the Groupons I had, and this time, we went to roller skate at a rink in Lewisville.  

That even came with a pair of free drinks from the concession stand at the rink.  To continue the throwback to an earlier time, we had root beers.  Right as we were finishing them, the DJ finally played a decent song.  Billie Jean by Michael Jackson.  That belonged with skate-wearing me and a root beer.  It just fit...  The DJ must have a knack for playing at least one song every so often for the older folks in the room.  It was like he felt sorry for all the moms, daycare workers and other adults.

We were not particularly great skaters, but we had a pretty good time.  At least we didn't fall...  There was a liability waiver page that everyone had to sign.  Adults had to sign it for the kids they had with them.  We signed it for ourselves.  There was a blank that asked our ages.  It was nearly entertaining to write down 40.  I think Cas probably snickered as he wrote down his information, as well.  The rest of that column was full of decidedly smaller numbers.  We're so grown up.  It probably helped us feel even more mature and adult-y that the skates had sparkly lights that flashed whenever the wheels spun.

When we wrapped that up, Cas had to head home.  He has to get all organized for a conference he's attending starting tomorrow morning, and he wants to hit the gym, though I am willing to guess that the skating was a pretty good leg workout.  It certainly reminded some of my dormant calf muscles what they were there for.

We may do our regular Thursday night Netflix date this evening.  We're going to play it by ear and see what he gets accomplished in the next few hours.  

Hinds performance

Interesting and somewhat fun fact: there are two shops I have located through the magic of the Internet called Hinds Performance. One is a motorcycle shop in Ohio, and the other is a motorcycle repair shop in Oklahoma. As it turns out, the Oklahoma shop is very friendly over Facebook.

I found them on there and hit the message button, then I explained that my dad, Mark Hinds, is a bike guy. I was trying to get my hands on a logo t-shirt for his birthday, which is all the way in May. Heck, it was worth a shot, right?

I briefly explained that my dad's garage had been the Hinds motorcycle repair shop since before I was born. 

The person who wrote back (in about a minute) wanted to send a t-shirt right away, not wanting any money, because he said it would be worth it for the story. 

So that's it. Dad should be expecting a package on the porch containing a t-shirt from the Hinds Performance motorcycle repair shop up in Oklahoma. He will, I'm sure, wear it with great pride. 

With that done, I decided to do the next logical thing- tell my mother that there would be an unexplained delivery on the porch soon. Somehow, I decided that was the opening volley necessary to invite myself over for dinner. 

While I was there, the sun decided to make its first appearance in a long time, and I went for a walk around the neighborhood with dad. I guess that was another form of Hinds performance. We managed to walk past a neighborhood oddity- the person with the strange animal and human figurine, fountain and disco ball collection out in the backyard. Here you go: 

And just when you think that's the weirdest thing you may encounter, the next street over housed the victims of a poorly executed toilet papering job:

Pretty weak tp-ing, if you ask me. 

Mom did not disappoint. She made an Asian-seasoned pork tenderloin and a chocolate cake. I brought over a bottle of wine and a very fancy Godiva chocolate bar. It was a nice way to spend a day of my spring break, and I was totally fine with the day off of girlfriend-ing. I did talk with Cas as I was driving home, and he had a pretty good day, too. Sometimes, I guess, I just need a day to walk around with my dad and drink wine with my mom, and he just needs a day to get a haircut and do some laundry. 

Friendship IS magic!

Tuesday night trivia was a summer staple, but when the school year came, Tuesday night beers and question-answering went. Tonight was the first time Cas and I made it out to the Addison Ice House for a game since the thanksgiving break, and our team was fabulous.

He and I were there, of course. His brother Chad was present with his wife Becky, and Jerone finally brought Julie out for a game. It was an all-couples team, and we kind of crushed it. 

Quizmaster Brett announced the scores periodically throughout the evening, and aside from being tied for first place after round three, we were in the lead all by ourselves for the remainder of the evening. We're #1. No, really. We are. 

The funny thing is that Chad and Becky arrived before us. Brett saw Chad and took him for Cas in a curly hair wig. Then he saw that Chad was with a brunette woman. He thought there were two distinct possibilities- either Cas has a brother with a very similar face or Cas was going incognito on a date with another woman, hoping that the wig would be a sufficient disguise. 

When Cas walked in with me and we said hello to Brett, he immediately said to Cas, "You have a brother, and he is here." 

It was kind of hilarious. 

The fifth round is a visual round, meaning that the answers are based on recognition of pictures. The content for the visual round is distributed at the beginning of the game. This time, the pictures were of flying people or things in movies. There was Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Birdman, that creepy white monster from Neverending Story- you get the idea. One of the pictures looked like it may have been from a My Little Pony cartoon movie. We guessed Friendship is Magic, but it was the answer about which we were the least certain. We were incorrect. Some other My Little Pony movie, I'm afraid. Still, it gave us a dumb enough team name. We called ourselves "Friendship is magic." 

Come to think of it, I wish I would have gotten a pic of the art Cas put on the cards. Each one of the first seven was all dolled up with hearts, rainbows, stars, etc. I'm pretty sure he got Julie to draw a unicorn on one of them. The card for round eight (the last round, of course) was covered in the stuff of a death metal album cover. Oh, Cas. So funny. 

Anyhow, it's actually Wednesday now. Midnight came and went... I should get under the covers and sleep. I'll steal a photo of our team from Brett's blog tomorrow, but until then, good night, all! 

Update: here's Brett's photo: 

Or, I could just go outside...

Sometimes, I laugh at my students.  They do everything with their phones.  They ask me if it may rain that day, for example.  It goes like this: A kid is holding his phone with a frustrated/upset look on his face.  He says, "My phone battery is almost dead.  Is it supposed to rain today?"  Presumably, the precious battery should be spared the trouble of looking up a weather report.

I suggest they look on a weather website on one of the 32 computers in the room- or even look out of one of my classroom's many windows.  I have a tendency to say that sort of thing with a heavy duh tone in my voice.

I may have just done something like that.  I was standing in my own kitchen just now, wondering if my most recent Amazon package had arrived yet.  If the package was present, it would be on my front porch.  Still, standing in my kitchen, I opened the Amazon app on my phone and checked the delivery status.  Then I thought of how stupid that was.  I could look out of a window.  Or open the door.  I have turned into one of them.  As I sit writing this in a room with windows, I guess I should wonder what the weather may be like.

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts

I get the distinct feeling that, after May comes and goes, Cas and I will probably stop marking each month of our relationship with such appreciation and awe.  Of course, that is after we hit the one year mark, and that hasn't happened yet.  As of yesterday, we have been dating for ten months.

Yesterday was rainy and gray.  I was texting a bit with my sweetie, and neither of us was feeling terribly energetic.  I said that the sky was a good metaphor for my mood.  I was pretty happy about my all-day fashion choice to stay in my pajama pants.  At about five, though, I was pretty hungry.  I decided to shower and put on actual pants.

We went to a Greek restaurant called Stratos.  We got a platter for two with a little bit of everything on it.  It was as delicious as it was beautiful.  We even decided to pair it with some Ouzo.  I normally don't love the practice of people photographing their food, but this was a pretty platter.

It was way too much food.  When we got back to my place, Cas pulled out his phone and pulled up the translation software.  He wanted to know how to say food coma in Greek.
κώμα τροφίμων

It's apparently pronounced (coMA truFEEmon)

I just wish I knew which item in particular upset our stomachs so much.  Neither of us felt very good about an hour or so after the meal.  I haven't talked to him this morning.  He's not exactly an early riser when he has time off, and it's not even 9 am yet.  I hope the storm has passed, because we've got to be ready for trivia night with Chad, Becky, Jerone and Julie tonight.  It should be a good time.

Oh, by the way- Cas sent me the Fair Park selfie he took in front of a fountain on Saturday.  It's pretty cute.

Space phone from the future

I am now the owner of an iPhone 6. I skipped 5 and jumped straight to this model. It's pretty cool, and I've spent the majority of the evening getting it all set up the way I want it. I even made a few new ringtones. I also recycled a fair number of the old ones. I mean, you can't do a whole lot better than He ain't heavy as an audio clue that one of your brothers is calling.

So far, I am quite happy with the new toy. It's going to take a bit of adjustment for me on a few things, but I'll manage. It's just slightly larger than I'm used to, so I'm going to have to re-work my one-handed texting technique. First world problems again, I know. 

When I got my very first iPhone, I called it my space phone from the future. This one may actually fit the bill. It seems amazing that I have something with this tremendous computing power that is so light and slender. Gene Roddenberry would have been impressed. 

But it's nearly time to put down my space phone (from the future, of course) and get some sleep. It's been kind of a long day, and I have to be relatively awake at some point tomorrow, though I have no idea why. Sprang Brake! Woo! 

Sprang Brake! Woo!

The first full day of spring break has come and gone, and Cas apparently ushers in the week with a ritual shouting of the intentionally mispronounced, "Sprang Brake!  Wooo!"

Yesterday, I went with my sweetie to the North Texas Irish Festival.  I had never been to the Irish Festival before, though it came highly recommended by several of my fellow teachers.  So Cas and I went and checked it out.  It was at Fair Park, and I picked up some discounted tickets before we took off.  It was a pretty good time, but I don't think it needs to become an annual outing.

I did notice that about a third of the women present were wearing leggings with a very short shirt, and only about a tenth of those women actually should own leggings in the first place.  I have a few pairs, and I only wear them out in public with very long shirts.  I heard a little bit of truth a few months ago, and I desperately wanted to share it with the women who had made the wrong fashion choice for themselves that day.  There are three things in the world that never lie: small children, drunk people and leggings.

Despite the poor pants decisions of several of the women present, we had a pretty great day.  There was music...

There was good food and drink...

And there was (for some reason) this guy...

It's Sunday today, and of course, I am headed to Mom and Dad's house.  I think Cas is trying to get together with his brother today, but failing that, I am totally inviting him to have beers with Dad, Danny and me.

But seriously, the leggings were out of control.

Mister Yuck

The Dallas ISD has an automated call out system.  It's really quite efficient for people who don't have any other way of receiving the necessary information that those call-outs provide.  I appreciate them when they announce something important like a school closure for inclement weather, which they have done three times lately.

The thing is, they've gotten slap-happy.  I have received calls to participate in staff training events, textbook reviews, test preview sessions, feedback about the student code of conduct and of course, the notifications about days off due to inclement weather.  So far this calendar year, I have fielded 18 calls from this service.  I know that because each of these calls is accompanied by an email with the voice message in an attachment, in case I wanted to play back the recording from my computer.  These calls have ranged in purpose, but they have been pretty frequent.  I got so irritated with the whole thing that I added a name and a photo to the contact information.  I saved three phone numbers to that contact, as the robo-calls seem to come in from different sources.  I had initially used an image of a skull and crossbones, but after careful consideration, I determined that the best option for the picture that appears on the phone screen is none other than Mr. Yuck, a picture from the '70s of a disgusted face that was used in stickers placed on poisonous things that kids should not ingest.  I give you the picture that shows on my screen whenever a robo-call arrives:

Seems appropriate.  

On the night of February 22nd, Mr. Yuck accompanied a call that school would be cancelled on the 23rd.  That call arrived around 6:30 pm.  On the 23rd, I got a call around 6:30 pm telling me that there would be no school on the 24th.  You see a pattern, here?  

On the 24th, my second snow day was wrapping up and the city was wondering if its children would be in classrooms tomorrow.  The phone rang at around 6:30.  Mr. Yuck was on the screen,  I was certain that this would be the call to either cancel the following day or the notification to snap out of sweatpants mode and put on my teacher face.  It was, however, a call to invite me to participate in a feedback survey about the student code of conduct.  

Man, you can't play with me like that.  Don't establish a precedent like that, then call me about the student freaking code of conduct.  Maybe an email would have been nice.  That way, you could send a link rather than telling me where to go on the web.  

I woke this morning to the first day of spring break.  Tomorrow will be the beginning of Daylight Saving Time.  I sincerely hope that the people down at robo-call central trust me to adjust my clocks prior to school resuming in over a week.  While I am aware that this is a first-world problem, I genuinely wish there was some way to opt out of the non-essential calls from Mr. Yuck.

Countdown

Oh, the great and powerful Pete Delkus finally determined that everyone would be much better off at home yesterday.  Thank you Pete.  We serve at the pleasure of the Delkus.  So I spent the afternoon ridding myself of the last remaining firewood in the house.  If spring is to actually arrive, I think it's best to burn up the wood on the last (?) really chilly day.

 

The wine, of course, was placed there for decorative purposes.  I thought it would make a nice photo.  Then, I had to drink it because I hate to waste things.  

Cas decided to forgo his typical trip to the Cooper Center yesterady, and instead, we had dinner and a movie.  He even had some drinks on a school night.  I tell you, when he's all caught up on work, he's a wild man.  

As I was driving over to his place, I saw this sign in front of the Walmart Neighborhood Market that they tore to the ground a while back:

Not sure if you can make the whole thing out- I had to take the photo quickly before the light turned green- but the sign says, "Wal Mart temporarily closed."  I love that it's just closed, and only temporarily.   For God's sake, it's completely missing.  The only structure standing there is out of the frame, and it's a construction trailer.  The rest of what hides behind that fence is a series of dirt mounds.  

But are you SURE the Wal Mart is closed?  

Yes, ma'am, it's closed.  

Just some more scenery on the way to date night...

Cas and I took off from his place and headed toward Richardson.  We had a burger at a place called Haystack, which is right next door to the Alamo Drafthouse.  Yum.  I believe that the Dallas area has become inundated lately with fancy places to get an eight dollar hamburger, and this was another such place, but the burger itself was fantastic.  

After that, we saw Kingsman.  That was a very cute movie.  We laughed out loud several times, and that is pretty unusual.  I have no idea who decided to make Samuel L. Jackson into a supervillan with a lisp, but it was a great choice.  I also really appreciated the fact that Colin Firth, who previously played a king, was able to utter the following line in a church modeled after the Westboro Baptists: 

I'm a Catholic whore, currently enjoying congress out of wedlock with my black Jewish boyfriend who works at a military abortion clinic.  Hail Satan, and have a lovely afternoon, madam.  

I wonder how many times he tried to say that out loud before he could do it with such a totally straight face.  

We had a great night, and I'm taking Cas with me to my work happy hour this afternoon.  It's at the same place (perhaps not surprisingly, another place that specializes in fancy, eight dollar hamburgers) as the Christmas party, which he could not attend due to a nasty cold.  I went to his Christmas party.  He owes me one...

After that, Spring Break begins in earnest.  It seems odd, since I walked through snow and up some salted stairs (so no one would slip) on the way into work this morning, but whatever works, right?  As I am wrapping up this post, I see that we are four hours and 22 minutes from spring break.  The countdown continues, but my conference time is almost at its end.  Four more classes.  Ding. 

Pete Delkus: Power crazed meteorologist

Pete Delkus is a rather harmless-seeming local weather man.  He puts on a tie and points at a green screen with the best of them.  He gets a little out of hand on Twitter, though.  Whenever the weather turns rough and school districts announce closures, good old Pete seems to take on the role of the great and powerful Oz.  His Tweets are quickly becoming the stuff of legend.

Sure, he'll share a radar map, as you may expect, but he will also send out messages about the schools he has closed.  I'm shutting down Irving ISD.  Any more you want closed, kiddies?  It's just a little funny.  I hadn't expected to be entertained by the Twitter feed of a local weather man.

Coppell ISD... you're next.  Closed.  Followed by My next closure... Denton ISD.  It's clear the guy gets a kick out of announcing these things.  And his followers on Twitter are getting a kick out of it, too.  They are asking Pete to close their schools, as though he actually holds some kind of sway over the decisions of the Superintendents of these districts.

There is actually something to admire, here.  This is a TV weather man doing the mundane task of reporting these school closures one by one, but he seems to have decided to do it with flair.  He even looks a little badass in the photo...

I'm just waiting for good old Pete to let me know what he decides for Dallas ISD.  I have seven days left in my observation window.  (Still waiting for Godot)  If school is cancelled tomorrow, that leaves only 36 possible times the evaluation crew could stop by.  If not, there are still 42 opportunities.  

Gaze into the crystal ball, Delkus.  What'cha got?  Pete, don't fail me now. 

Waiting for Godot

So, today was the start of the ten day window for my Distinguished Teacher Recognition evaluation. I teach six classes every day, so with today's six in the bank, the evaluation team has 54 more opportunities to pop by. No pressure...

It's not the actual evaluation that is all that bad. It will happen when it happens, and it will either go well or it won't. Can't change that. It's the anticipation. That's the part that truly sucks. 

It is a little like Waiting for Godot. I'm standing there by the tree, being told Godot will come tomorrow. So life happens- the whole action of the play happens- while we wait. 

Stupid Godot. 

Today, I had good stuff. Tomorrow, I have a thing planned for my afternoon classes that involves "Hello, my name is" tags. I'm really doing my best, most creative work of the year right now. I'm knocking it all the way out of the park, in fact. 

Just waiting, though. That Godot fella had better show.