The Tales of Fishy Fun-ness!

Hello everyone!

I know I haven't blogged in quite a long time, however today I have had a new and enormously exciting experience, so I just had to share it with you! Mom and Stephen bought a Salmon today; we're going to eat this salmon tomorrow. Now this salmon is whole, the only thing missing is it's guts (oh darn!).

I've never had the pleasure of getting to play with fish heads before, but sure enough this fish has it's head, and Mom came equipped with four extra fish heads for a homemade fish stock. I was practically jumping with excitement, I mean, Come On! Fish heads! Fish heads that I get to play with! What more could any girl want?!

Mom set me up with my own cutting board, a long serrated knife, and a fillet knife. My instructions were simple: cut the heads and the tails in half, and remove the gills. Cutting the head in half was a feat in itself, because the fish were quite slippery. Thankfully I quickly figured out that pushing my thumb and forefinger into the gills help hold the fish still so I could hack through the bone. Holding the fish in this manner also produced the lovely and slightly gross act of squirting blood. It squirted onto my hands and all over my cutting board in lovely, clotted dark red spurts!

Now, it must be pointed out, that I'm used to having my fish already cut up for me, so I've never seen the gills of a fish (with the exception of the goldfish I dissected in the 7th grade, but that fish was tiny). So there was plenty of excitement and learning involved, as I studiously examined the gills, figured out where they joined to the jaw, how they were jointed together, and tried not to stab myself on the teeth (I failed).

Eventually I was able to apply my newly acquired visual knowledge of these gills to that of a chicken wing, so I could figure out how to cut the gills out in two slices (instead of hacking my way through like I had been doing) after that everything came easily, and I felt extremely proud of myself and how fast I was going.

All too soon I was out of fish heads to cut, and then Mom and I moved onto the next phase of making the fish stock; putting the fish into the pot of vegetables and sweating the fish until it turned 'White' (I say it was more of a pale pink colour, but still). I was extremely fascinated by the eyeballs, because they started to pop out of the sockets and float around like little white gobstoppers! Finally, the juice was strained and put into Tupperware containers, and Voilà! We have homemade fish stock!

So yes, I had a good day today ^.^

'Till next time!

Xoxo

Ash

Amy's Teaching Career

Last Friday was the Christmas faire at school, which I was required to attend. A few things happened over the course of the evening that I thought were funny or interesting enough to share.

Story 1:

This story requires just a bit of backstory. Thanksgiving day I (of course) had to work, and I was slated to present an assembly about Thanksgiving and what it means to the entire school. I was slightly weepey and missing family that morning, but I thought I was ok. I WAS ok through the story about the Mayflower, and the starvation, and the Indians. I was OK all the way until the story started to talk about how everyone doesn't work and instead drives thousands of miles to spend Thanksgiving with their families. Then I just... lost it a bit. *cough-a lot-cough* I tried so hard not to cry in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL, but failed miserably.

So The Christmas faire has every child and their parents show up. I, being in love with cake and expected to part with some of my hard earned money, made my way to the bake sale and began a conversation with the ladies manning it.

Amy: Oooo! Cake! I'd like that one and that one and that one, no wait, that one - is that blueberries on top?!

Lady behind the Cake Stand: Your accent doesn't sound too familiar - where are you... (insert long dramatic pause here, with expanding ring of silence) Wait - you must be Ms. H - you're the teacher that CRIED AT THE THANKSGIVING ASSEMBLY!!!!!!!!!!!

Other Lady behind the Cake Stand: Oh! Little Suzie* came home and told me all about how you were missing your family and cried in front OF THE WHOLE SCHOOL!

Yet Another Lady behind the Cake Stand: Oh! My Brett* came home and told me all about that too! He didn't know what to do - that's why he doesn't talk to you anymore. Poor dear... aw, bless ** ...

Amy: *sputter, stammer* um...

1st Lady: I cry all the time too, you know (thinking: What kind of baby cries at an assembly? Unheard of!)

2nd Lady: Yes, dearie (patting my hand) we have great big sob gatherings where we just go on and LET IT ALL OUT (thinking: Shocking! What about the stiff upper lip?)

3rd Lady: Oh, and they are so good - we just all gather round and cry and cry and we feel so much better after - and my family is only down Hastings way! (thinking: wonder if my little Brett* can be moved to a less whingey teacher?)

Amy: gulp... *runs away*

*not the child's real name
**bless=something you say about someone who is absolutely so pathetic there really is nothing else you can say. i.e. Little Scooter was an absolute nightmare in class today - he cut Rachel's hair and threw knives at me....bless.

Story 2:

Earlier, I was conversing with a colleague as we sold the goods our children had made, when a man came up to her and started talking to her about buying her orange juice. I had never seen this man before, but owing to the level of intimacy in the conversation, I hazarded a guess and asked her, "Is he your'n?" She looked at me strangely and didn't answer, and I decided that perhaps she was sensitive about it and dropped the subject. Later, after the fateful Bake sale incident, I was again at my booth when one of my students came up to me, so very excited. She wanted me to meet her mum, who was working in the kitchen. I had seen and partially overheard (my name anyway) this person murmer about me as I had passed by on the way to my fateful Bake sale encounter, so I was a bit anxious to meet her as well. The little girl walks me over to the kitchen window, and as we get there, this is the scenario.

Amy: (asking the little girl while pointing at her mum) "Is she your'n?"

Mum: (gasping and getting a horrified look on her face) "Urine? why are you calling me urine? Do you have a problem with me?!?"

Little Girl: Mummy, no, she means are you mine!

Amy: (bright red) Oh, my....

Needless to say, when I asked my colleague, she had thought the same thing. That explains SO much. Urine. Your'n. That's my teaching career in a snapshot.

In case you were wondering...

... I am exhausted to my bones.















That is all.

Since my week been awful...

... and my first week of teaching in the UK has been horrid, and have had nothing at all to laugh about, and am far too busy to give you all the details and would really like to be able to say something positive when I finally do give you all the details, and because Dar, Dan, and my Mom have all wanted me to say something rather than nothing, I thought I would instead share the only thing that has made me laugh this week.

So laugh, darn you.


Dumb Cat Can't Figure Out How To Drink - Watch more Funny Videos

Just saying...

I HAVE been writing... tomorrow I do not work so I might have time to transfer writing from paper to blog.

Consider it a date!

Playing with words

Unfortunately, I didn't write these, but in the spirit of all the writing I'm doing, it seems appropriate.

A Few Punnies...

A bicycle can’t stand alone; it is two tired.

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

A backward poet writes inverse.

A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.

If you don’t pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.

The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine was fully recovered.

He had a photographic memory which was never developed.

The short fortune teller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large.

When you’ve seen one shopping center you’ve seen a mall.

When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she’d dye.

Santa’s helpers are subordinate clauses.

Marathon runners with bad shoes suffer the agony of defeat.

Atheism the only non prophet organisation.

Seven days without water makes one weak.

When making whipped cream churn it a little longer, it’s butter that way.

Puns are for younger readers, not for groan adults!

Dyslexic Devil Worshippers sell their souls to Santa.

Two hunters saw a sign while driving which said, “Bear Left,” so they went home.

The mushroom is always the life of the party because he is such a fungi.

Ever hear of Mothers Against Dyslexia? They call themselves DAM.

Protons are positively sure they are not electrons.

A pun is a rare medium well-done.

Day Four

Day Four was a gaming day, so you get a gaming backstory and a day late posting. I am running a StuperPowers game, silly and light but fun. The group has 11 players (!) and this was a first day for the two in the story. This backstory is how they met up with the rest of the party.

On Friday evening, Jon and Laura returned from their holiday in Germany early. Noone was in the house when they arrived, and there was not much in the way of food, so they headed into town to have dinner. On their way to the restaurant, they were surrounded by a large group huge rodent looking things.

Some of the rodents were white, and some were brown, but they were all about the size of a small dog and they were extremely aggressive. Jon and Laura thought that the rodents were going to attack, as they kept nipping at their heels and making angry sounding chitters at them. Jon and Laura moved away from the rodents, but they only circled behind and nipped at their heels again. It was soon obvious that Jon and Laura were being herded by these angry, giant-teethed creatures.

They forced the young couple to the Cathedral, and to a hole in the ground at its foundation, which led to a tunnel. The walk down the gently sloping tunnel was extremely long (about a 45 minute walk) and led to a series of underground rooms that had been dug and well packed. The floors of the tunnels were layered with grasses and leaves, and the smell was earthy and pleasant. Jon and Laura walked through many rough-hewn rooms and down a flight of dirt steps before Laura was separated from Jon and herded into a sterile looking metal room. Jon was herded into a different direction and placed into a different room. Hours later, Jon was taken out of the holding cell and herded by the rodents into a different room where a short young man with crazy white hair (looking decidedly like Albert Einstein’s) strapped him into a chair. The man wore a white lab coat, thick yellow plastic gloves (like cleaning gloves, but much thicker,) and a pair of goggles that made his eyes huge.

He was doused with pink powder, which made his head feel funny and swimmy, and the man talked at him for a long time. Jon didn’t really understand what was being said, but it felt like he knew what he was supposed to do when the man was done. The man then stuck Jon's face into a bag of green powder and poked at him until he screamed, which gave Jon a big lungful of the stuff. After about a minute, Jon began shrinking and felt very strange. He was slowly turned into one of the same rodent things that attacked him!

There was a huge commotion outside, great chitterings and stampeding noises, and the man ran off, leaving Jon alone in the room. He went exploring in his little rodent body, having forgotten that he was anything except a rodent. As he nosed, he found a jug filled with brown liquid on the counter, which he knocked over. It's thick brown viscosity oozed across the counter top and down the side of the counter door. It smelled interesting, and Jon could not help but have a good taste of it. It counteracted the work of the pink powder and Jon realised that he was actually a human named Jon who had been turned into a redent. He remembered Laura, and realised that he hadn't seen her since.

In great haste, Jon scampered around the room looking for a way to escape. Luckily for him, the man had left in such a rush that he left the door open a crack, and Jon took off down the corridor, looking for Laura, or anyone else that could help him find her.

Day Three

Day Three was my birthday, and while I did write, I didn't take the time to post it. So here it is.


Birthday dinner: Mexican food, which is always disappointing. But this place was new, and seemed to know how to make margaritas. They had poppers!!!!! And they were good poppers. The chili con carne was spicy, but they used it as a staple. I had a beef burrito. Inside was the chili con carne. Stephen had chicken tacos. The sauce on the chicken was the sauce from the chili con carne. The margarita... well, it didn't suck, but it also wasn't wonderful. I spoke to the barman afterwards who said it was made with some random silver tequila. Tell me I have champagne tastes, but I like my margaritas with Jose Curevo - gold. Silver has such a delicate flavour that it is lost in the frozen margarita. The barman said that he makes margaritas on the rocks with Cuervo gold - so I might have to try that another day. So all in all - birthday dinner: didn't suck. I guess that it pretty good for Mexican food in England.

Day Two

Sweat
once as familiar as breath
trickles down my back in a slow crawl.
It is not a friend, this new sweat.
It sticks and clings.
It mucks and binds my clothes to my skin
and slides stinging into my eyes.

What is this creature
that burns my thighs
and hangs under the swell of my breasts?
Sweat drips and cools.
I know because sweat was once my friend.

This is not my friend. This is not that sweat.

This must be a relative come to visit that just won't leave - like dead fish, smell after seven hours (as I smell - though I never actually dried from the cold shower and my hair is still damp twisted into my bun.)

The air hangs ponderously in
obeisance to this sweat,
worshipping at the alter
of the damp that covers the world.

Finally,
       I collapse into a chair
              AIRCONDITIONING........
                     AHHHHHHHHHHHH........
                            and the sweat dies on my skin -
                                          only to rise again as I step into the street.

Day One

The day is just warm enough in the sunshine to make me drowsy and careless. The steps I take, loud in my own head, are drowned out by the heartbeat of the crowd. Men in suits and ties, teens in dark clothes and spiked hair, and ladies dressed in the long robes and head coverings of their faith pass me. Suddenly I am trapped between the tall buildings whose centuries-old façades block out the sun and the green and white medieval tents that fill the center of the High Street. I am crammed in between strollers and tendrils of cigarette smoke, between girls in short skirts and old men in top hats and canes. Languages swirl around me like eddies in the waters of the river over which I pass. Even if I choose otherwise, the crowd carries me forward. Groups of foreigners gather in excitement; dogs and men covered in tattoos drink lager under the shade of the pub umbrellas, but eagerly crane their necks to watch. It is Market Day.

I look for a place to sit and listen, a place to escape the crowd and seek to understand the sights and sounds of a busy English High Street on Market Day - but there are people everywhere I look. Every spot of shade is filled with bodies stacked upright. Vendors hawk their wares to the vertical dead. "Flowers! 2 bunches a pound!" "Cigarettes - Get your fags and cigars here!" Stalls, rainbow fields of colour, act as the market's own façade: hiding the stacked boxes filled with emptiness behind them. A tub of watery marbles entices passers-by with a sign that says, "Touch me - but do not squeeze." As I pass, a small girl sticks her hand in the tub and shrieks shrilly. She tugs at her mum's ample skirts, but they are swept away in the crowd, her hand caught in the folds, her voice fading to a whisper on the wind. The vendor calls to me, "A bag is only a pound, why don't you take some home?" I back away, shaking my head.

Bees drone complacently at the baker's tent - pastries tempting them with bright colours and sweet icings. These lures work on other creatures too, for there is a line forming and dumpy pigeons peck at the crumbs dropped by those who have gone before. Enough have plunged their coins into a cup for their desire to stuff themselves, without a thought for what might come afterwards, that the cup splits, spilling coin. While young apprentices scurry to gather the fallen coins, the people only shuffle in the line towards their reward. Nearby, a small table holds a sign on which is written "Children's DVDs" and houses Ghostbusters, The Darkness Within, and Home Alone side by side in a silent, emphatic statement. People pass, oblivious to the warning.

As I walk, I am tempted by the old, familiar smell of blue coconut. Visions of sno-cones and blue lips fill my eyes - marks of innocence and childhood that are buried in my olfactory sense. I thought this was something I'd left behind - but as I turn and walk past again, the smell reveals a sour undertone and my stomach rolls. Eventually, I end up in the small bit of America in the midst of Market Day: Starbucks. There are tables at which to sit and absorb, though I am no more safe from Market Day than I was before. The words I write, punctuated by the screams of a newborn desperate for suck and darker than I thought, make me wonder if there is more to Market Day than meets my conscious brain. But the people who walk past my watchful eyes don't even seem to notice. After all, it's Market Day.

Goals

Kelli and I talked for 7 hours today.

She told me that she only wishes that she were as good a writer as I was, and while I don't actually think I'm all that awesome, it did get me thinking about my writing. I really enjoy writing, and used to do it everyday. I use to take time and make myself write, about anything. And usually the things that I wrote when I was stretching to find something, anything to write about were some of my best writings.

I miss writing like that.

I used to blog everyday. The earlies entries on this blog were not always about information that was needed to catch people up on what is going on in Amy's world, but were instead bright fresh meanderings in which you thought with me.

I miss writing like that too.

I used to sit and watch, write about those things that I saw or felt or thought. Writing that was an active process, and that the world around me was involved in as well as I was.

And guess what... I miss that as well.

The rest of my summer is supposed to be about getting myself ready for school. But when it comes down to it, there are some goals that I have set for myself, personally. I need to get back to finding the core of me. Unsurprisingly, I am not all that great at balance. I give 'it' my all, whatever 'it' is, and now is the time to balance that with getting back to those things that I find important, that I want to make time for, and that make me a more reflective and complex person. My writing is one of those things.

I know there are not many of you who read my words here, and I'm ok with that. But I feel as though I have things to share with you. Thoughts and processes that you could see if only I were to get back to what I know I can do: what I'm good at. If I would only open up and write. The last 2 years has been a lot about closing things down, changing to fit into a world that I don't easily understand. I have had to reinvint myself simply to be understood and fit in. But I miss the writing.

So I am setting myself a goal. For the next 30 days, I am going to write, everyday, about stuff. Things I see and hear, notice and feel. I am not going to write about things that are going on, those posts will ahve to be seperate and in addition. The next 30 days I am going to get back to the writing.

Wish me luck!

T-H-E-C-A-R

The school that I will be teaching in is too far away from my home for me to get there easily. There is no public transportation services. And that means that I have 2 options: either I rent a car on a long-term basis, or I buy a car. After much research, I have discovered that not only is it less expensive to buy, but also to buy a new car rather than a used car. So, after even more research, I found the car I would buy. It is called a Toyota Aygo, and is a "micro-car." It gets more than 60mpg, and is tiny. I ordered it yesterday, and it should be here sometime in September. I'll still have to rent a car at the start of the school year, but for a lot less time than I thought. Here are some pictures of my exact specification.


The outside, which has 4 doors. There is enough space on the inside for Ashley to fit, but it will only ever fit 4 people.

The back, with the tiny trunk. It produces 106 g of carbon per kilometer, which means that I only have to pay the lowest amount of road tax each year. This is good.


The inside. Yep, the driving stuff is on the right. I have discovered that this disturbs me most when I am trying to flick the windshield wipers on, because I end up messing with the turn signal instead. My brain hasn't figured out that I need to think about which side the wipers are on yet.


And the inside from the door. This car is also nice because it has the lowest insurance rating possible, which means that the insurance on it will be low.

These pics are not of my potential car, because it has not yet been built. There is so much demand for this brand that there is a 6 week backlog. It's nothing fancy, but it is safe, inexpensive (comparatively,) and ecologically friendly. It will happily get me to work and home. Don't worry, we still intend to keep walking everywhere locally, though. Our town is so compact that it would be silly to drive. But we may well get to go and do more sightseeing when we own a car. Here's hoping.

More Photo Goodness

2009: Courtesy of Kelley

These photos were taken while out for a simple walk by the river. The day was warm and bright and sunny, and it had been hot enough that the banks of the river looked fairly dry and dead. In these, however, I think it looks really good.


There was a little old man sitting close by on a bench, feeding the ducks. This photo shoot took about an hour, and the man just kept staring at us. I suppose we were a bit more interesting than the ducks were, though if you had given Ashley the opportunity, she would have disagreed. She thinks there is nothing more interesting than ducks.

Personally, I think these photos came out as well, if not better than they would have if we had gone to a photographer. Thank you again, Kelley.

Pictures (because Kelley is good at those and I am really not, so I'll take advantage of her goodness now, kthxbai.)

Kelley is here, trying not to catch our sick-bug and snapping photos of the interesting things we are doing. She is much better at posting pictures than I am. Obviously. Just to pretend that I am not quite as bad as I actually am, I'll post a few here for you all. Not the interesting ones, of course, but only the ones of us, because there are fewer of them and all.

Day 1: B00's Birthday

Kelley arrives. B00 (not my Boo-bear, but a friend) has birthday dinner at pizza express. Then there is a pub involved. Don't worry - Amy drinks water.


Day 2: Deal Castle

We go and check out my new school, see my classroom, and meet the headteacher. Then on to Deal where we have just enough time to tour Deal castle before needing to head home so Amy can go to a dinner thing with the people she will be working with next year. It is at a casino - Amy is not impressed. And again, don't worry - Amy drinks water (though they really tried to get me to drink champagne and wine and cocktails.)



Day 3: Bodiam Castle

We all 4 brave the hour and a half trip to Bodiam castle, and have way too much fun in the stocks while we are there.

Kelley sad in the stocks.


Amy, well pleased, stealing Kelley's shoes.


Stephen in the stocks.


Amy getting herself in trouble again.

Amy finally gets put in the stocks herself.


Ashley not even pretending to be sad. She likes it, that one.



"Hey - let's put our heads in!" says Amy.

"Ash - I think we are stuck and its your fault!" "Wait a minute, this was YOUR idea!"

Again, Amy decides that she is the queen and Stephen is the king and that she could live happily in a castle. She also asks Stephen if they can build one. And again, he says no. On the way back, Kelley tries out her hands at driving on the wrong side of the road. Her thoughts? "It's absolutely nerve-wracking and not a little confusing." she says. (She did pretty well, if I may say so myself.)

Well, that's it thus far. Maybe more pics later.

The Doctor Adventure

I am sick. Ashley is too, poor thing. I think she passed it onto me, but my body apparently really enjoyed the idea of being sick, and so embraced it with both arms. She has a cough and headache and is congested. I have a sore chest, phlegm, hacking, fever, headache, clogged ears and no voice. Joy. I called the doctor this morning, and they asked me to describe my symptoms, which I did. They told me that they didn't want me to come in, that I might have the swine flu, and that the doctor would call me later. He did, listened to my symptoms, and told me that he needed to consult with some other medical entity, and that if they thought I had swine flu as well, someone would be coming to the house to examine me. Another long wait between phone calls. Then a call back: I don't have swine flu, just a chest infection. They prescribed antibiotics, which wonderful Stephen will pick up on his way home from work. Ashley, though still sick and sent home from school, is only supposed to call the doctor if she develops a fever, which she hasn't yet done.

So no work this week.

I am trying to get the fever broken, and feeling pretty pathetic and sore and sick all over, when Christi and Zach send me an email: Zach has been watching classic Sesame Street and they found a song for me. I don't think I told Christi I was sick - but the video shows that she knew someway or another. I'm posting it here for you to enjoy too.

So....

My mom sends me an email, and it says: "Your last entry is May 20. Today is June 30. Did I miss the invitation to your funeral?"

Well, no, and if I were going to be pedantic (which of course I am not) I would wonder if it were reasonable to expect a dead person to reply to an email asking if they were dead...

To be perfectly honest I don't even have the busy excuse (for the last week anyway) of why I haven't posted a blog. Since I can't really give you an excuse, I can tell you what I have done since that last post.

Since May 30 I have:

*Written and turned in 2 papers, 4000 words each
*Created a final presentation which consisted of a movie and a live action play with 2 other people (though I did the movie by myself)
*Taken 3 tests to test my ability to teach
*Given 3 presentations: 1 a lecture on schools in the United States, and the other 2 of my final project (1 to be marked and then 1 in front of the entire 3rd year)
*Finished my undergraduate degree
*Found a job teaching a year 4/5 class for next year
*Rented a vehicle 10 times (for transportation to said school)
*Found out my marks and turned in final paperwork (I had 2 marks that were 2-1 level, and all the rest were 1sts, including 2 90's, 2 85's, and 3 papers that I have been told that I should publish. At this point I think it is safe to say that I have a first in my Bachelors degree.)
*Cat-sat (for Moses the cat, who is here now and makes me really miss my cats)
*Worked every day that I have not been studying, at University, or at the school
*Found out about Visa situations and in the process of dealing with them
*Planned Ashley's trip to the United States for the summer
*Rearranged the living room
*Planted a new garden box for my miniature rosebush to live outside
*Evaluated plans, decided to wait on a doctorate just a little bit, and applied for entry into Grad School starting in September
-and-
*TRIED to maintain a fairly tidy house and kind of keep up with the laundry and cook dinner and pack lunches and make sure that someone washes the dishes though it is often not me that actually does so.


Truth be told, the past week I have had time to sit down and write in the blog. I thought about doing it, but I have no motivation. I'm tired, and it seemed like yet one more thing that had to be done. Funny how with nothing going on I still feel a lot of pressure to get things done. I have been feeling the same way about making phone calls to people. I know that I should call my mom, my sisters, my best friend... but the thought of actually picking up the phone and holding it against my ear for that long is overwhelming. The past few weeks I have been feeling it emotionally too, what with being really run down and sad and weepyand moody and grumpy and hard on myself. I am taking steps to get myself out of the funk (I love St. John's Wort...) but that is where I have been: in Funkville.

I want to think that the summer will give me an opportunity to slow down, but I actually don't think it will. Getting ready for next year, working as much as I possibly can, applying for and absorbing the tremendous cost of the next set of Visas, having to buy a car (and praying someone will give me financing,) Ashley being gone, missing Tristan's birthday, missing my family... there are some days that I am not just an ostrich sticking my head in the sand trying to hide, but I actively wonder if I should just give up, abandon the life I am trying to build here and the education that I am pursuing, and go live at moms house and work at a fast food joint. I don't actually think about that seriously, and I know that it is my just wanting to run away.

I am trying to do things that will help me have time for me, and things that I like to do (like gaming) but I laugh at myself because right now I even resent the planning, time and effort that creating a character to play in a game requires. My poor family... they must be walking on eggshells. I don't even understand myself.

Anyway, Mom, that is what I have been doing in the last month. Thank you for making me post, thank you for calling me on my stuff, and thank you for being patient. No, I have not died and have no plans to do so in the immediate future, and no there is no funeral for you to come to. Other than that, I make no promises.

Drumroll please.....

I got the call this evening offering me a job in response to the interview I had yesterday.

I don't yet know anything more than that. Don't know what year I'll be teaching or anything. I'll post a longer blog very soon giving you all the gory details.

Yay for being gainfully employed!

Look what my son can do!!!!!

Here is Tristan at his talent show. This is definitely something worth watching.



I'm so proud of him.

Today: job interview. I'll tell you about it all later. Wish me luck!

more Piglet Flu...

I found another piglet swine flu cartoon today. I think that the Piglet Genre is ripe for the picking , and I will gather the ones that I find on here just for you (or to be more accurate, for me, as I am particularly fond of piglet.) Enjoy!

w00t?

An email I received this morning:

Dear MS AMY XXXXX

Thank you for your recent payment to XXX University of £2550.00 for your tuition fees.

Your payment reference number is xxxxx xxx_xxxxx_xxxx_x_x

If you have any questions about this information please contact XXXXXXX on 05555 555555.

Many thanks

Exchequer Services

Do you know what that means? I have paid off my degree. They can't stop me from graduating. Even if I went broke to do so. w00t.

Now I just need to pay off my student loans from all those classes in the United States....

Piglet Flu

There is the start of world-wide panic regarding this up and coming swine flu that has been popping up. Actually, I didn't know anything about it at all until Wil Wheaton mentioned it in his twitter feed. That same day I noticed news articles on the BBC, on the TV, and on the radio. I even found this interesting article about the modern emergence of panic through social networking sites - how Twitter is spreading swine flu panic.

Then Stephen showed me this:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/matt/?cartoon=5232572

And I thought I would share with all of you. I love Piglet and the thought of putting him down had ME squealing. I didn't get it at first... but swine flu? Piglet? Get it? I'm sure we are all on the same page now.

Swine flu panic is silly! Wash your hands, stay home if you are sick, and spend more time taking care of yourself than you do worrying about swine flu. And don't scare the bejebus out of people by spreading swine flu rumours on twitter.

The Good and the Bad.

I'm tired of making excuses for myself and the fact that it has been so long since the last post. I know that everyone loves to read this. I love to know that I have posted and I love that I have people who care enough about me to read. I am really not good at being consistent about keeping up with the blog. I suppose I get tired. I suppose I get busy and it takes low priority. I suppose, if I am going to be really honest with everyone, that I get lazy. So I'm apologising, but I'm not making excuses.

Lately, it has been all about adjusting to the weather change (It's SPRING! There are flowers and it is not so bitter cold and the trees are growing leaves! There are nettles, which is the not-quite-so-good.) and the change from being in a classroom everyday for the past however long to being back at University and settling into working. I have minimal motivation for that as well. I have 2 large research projects that are due on the same day. I suspect that1 will get the majority of my time and attention, and the other will just get by. I have come to terms with that. I can't seem to split my attention well enough to focus on both at the same time. Overall, I do not think that it will affect my marks that much, as I still intent to pass. I think I'm to the point that I am content with scraping by. (can anyone say senior-itis?)

We re-arranged the house a few weeks ago, and I am enjoying the results. I was feeling a little like we were just staying here. Not everything had a home. Not everything was "moved in" after almost a year. And I confess to having a moment in which I just couldn't stand living here and not being settled. So we re-arranged and it has helped a lot. The living room, which is small to start with, was piled with the table behind the desk, so we were using only half the space and it was crowded and uncomfortable. Now it is more spread out and feels less crowded. We still don't have enough seats for everyone, but it is much better and a whole lot more bearable. We also found a new-to-us set of chairs at a second-hand shop. They are not great, and won't last long, but they are a lot better than the chairs that we had that didn't survive the overseas trip well. Those had fallen apart. There was 1 left, and it was wobbly. The new chairs are green, which I like.

I am actively job hunting at the same time as all the other things. This is actually a very hard thing. There is an expectation that everyone who applies for a position will go for a tour of the school. These are scheduled at specific times convenient for the school. Most of the schools are not bus or walking distance from us, so this means that I need to rent a car. Sometimes for 1 school visit. Then I apply, but the competition is fierce. I didn't even get an interview at the school that I did my placement at. I feel a bit disheartened. I'm not sure if there is a problem with my application, my cover letter, or my CV. I don't know if my Visa is an issue or if it is just bad luck of the draw. But I am starting to worry that I won't be able to find a job, won't be able to finally do my part in keeping our family afloat. We have such big plans: buying a house, the potentiality of future children, and none of it can happen if I continue to be a less-contributive member of the family.

*sigh* I feel like this post is a lot of whining, and that is not exactly what I intended to do when I started it. There are good things. Ashley is 17 now. (Ok - good and bad thing. I have very mixed emotions about her birthday. One one hand, yay for her, and on the other, my time with her as a child is almost over and that makes me sad.) We have solved the fungus gnat problem with the handy help of a pesticide spray and some silver sand. I have new house plants. I am well loved and cared for. Mostly, I am happy. I miss you all a lot, though. I feel a bit lonely without my friends even close enough to talk to.

No more now, or I'll do something silly like cry.

A small, still thing...

Sometimes things happen that remind you of the things that you do that make a difference to someone's life, somewhere. And it humbles you.

This is a video made by one of my students. I taught him from when he was 12 until he was 16. He is now in his early twenties. He was my biggest challenge, the student who broke my heart and hurt my feelings and crawled under my skin until I could not let him go. He is the student to whom I meant something, though I had to prove that I wasn't going to give up on him, and who meant a whole lot to me as well.

I can't really tell him that I am so proud of him that I could burst with it. But I am. And he continues to twist my heart, just as he always has. This is Andrew, amazing musician, amazing person. And he changed me. He is one of the reasons that I am the kind of teacher that I am. Thank you, Andrew. And I love you.

A Tristan Report!

This is a video of Tristan's Dr. Seuss Program at school last week. His favourite song was 'The Things You Can Think'. I think he is so big, and so gorgeous. I am so proud.

Here is what Tristan says about it. "A lot of people got hurt and cried. They did a song for Mrs. Hardy because she is leaving. I did not cry about Mrs. Hardy. She is our music teacher that read the story in the video. I was scared because there was kindergardners and other kids and Mom's and Dad's. I was scared because there were so many people. We had to do it two times, and the first time Sherrie and Mama Kim went and the second time Sherrie had to go on a field trip so Chris my brother came and watched me."

Be warned that this video is set to be viewed only 25 times, so if you try to watch and it won't, that's why.


He also went to a live performance of 'The Vagina Monologues'. While there, he had a snack. Says he," I had a chocolate vagina. It hurt my mouth."

Dear me, I about to died laughing.
The plan is for a catch-up post tomorrow. So talk to you then!

When Mom says it's been a long time - then it's been a long time!

This is a very quick post to give a preliminary report on our trip to Wales a few weeks ago. We'll have photos to attach soon, but for the time being just a few links to give a bit of background.


View Larger Map

Above is a map showing the approximate route we took from Canterbury to Rhos on Sea - the place in Wales where we were staying.

We saw a lot of scenery and such, but the thing we did most was visit castles. The four castles we visited were Conwy, Caernarfon, Beaumaris, and Denbigh. The links point to Wikipedia (and open in a new window) and give some info and history on each castle. These castles were built by Edward I (King of England upon whose tombstone the motto reads ‘Hammer of the Scots’) to subjugate neighbouring Wales to English rule in the 13th century.

I think this is important enough to share.

A video that I think we should all watch and think on. Things like this affect more people than you might imagine. My son, for example. And my daughter, when she is old enough to choose the person that she wants to spend her life with.


"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

There is a petition, until February 14th. The link is HERE. Do something about this, please go and sign the petition, then call your governors office. The US is so far behind the UK in terms of equal rights for LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered, and Questioning) persons. The US is even further behind the vast majority of Europe. Every family deserves an opportunity to have the same rights, and when enough people stand up and defend the equality of ALL people, then change will come.

And did I mention it's BLEEPING COLD?!?!?!?!

This is what I am looking at on my igoogle right now.

Weather

Canterbury, England

32°F

Current:Showers Snow
Wind: E at 8 mph
Humidity: 59%

Sun

33° | 30°

Mon

41° | 33°

Tue

39° | 32°

Wed

41° | 39°

---

Las Cruces, NM

69°F

Current:Clear
Wind: N at 0 mph
Humidity: 15%

Sun

63° | 29°

Mon

58° | 25°

Tue

63° | 29°

Wed

63° | 32°

---

Nogales, AZ

73°F

Current:Clear
Wind: NW at 0 mph
Humidity: 14%

Sun

70° | 31°

Mon

72° | 32°

Tue

74° | 34°

Wed

74° | 34°

So I hope all of you are basking in the warmth right now, because I'm freezing! This storm is coming across from Siberia and waging cold war here (heehee-cold war) but honestly, I think if I wanted to have weather from Siberia I would have moved there. I'm wearing a shirt AND a heavy turtleneck sweater, the hot water bottle giraffe (his name is Jonah, for future reference) is my best friend, and I have my dead sheep (the grey fuzzy slippers that Ashley swears looks like I cut the feet off of a sheep, hollowed them out, and stuck my feet in them... but MAN are they warm!) on my feet, and I'm still cold.

COLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLD!

And did I mention COLD?!

But my lesson plans are done, not just for tomorrow, but Tuesday also, and I have the whole week well planned in my head, which means I should absolutely rock on Wednesday when I have my major important observation.

Oh, and Happy SuperBowl.

Oh, and Paula's new-and-improved-she-swears website is linked on the sidebar, and she has some new paintings. *drool* If only I had $2000 lying around not being used.

Ecstasy in the Pit of Despair

Things are very weird around here.

Stephen is ill again, and I have had this terrible headache that beats in time to my heart and feels like I am wearing a cap of pain for the last two weeks. My mother is not improving, and is, in fact, getting worse. I am stressed to the max, what with papers due and all sorts of other stressors, both ordinary and extraordinary. I'm in the midst of my final teaching placement, in a year group that I am not comfortable nor familiar with. (The only age children that I haven't worked with IN MY LIFE.) I am not sleeping well. Not nightmares, thank goodness, but toss and turn and doze but not sleep, and fall asleep just in time to wake up exhausted. This is the pit of despair.

And in the midst of all of this... my life is tremendously good. I love me. I love being alive and being in my life. I feel young and (most of the time) strong and healthy. Stephen may well be the most wonderful adult male alive (sorry Daddy and Dan - you can come in an extremely close second.) My daughter is the awesomest, as is my son. The world is a beautiful place to live, I am in the midst of extraordinary times, and the sunshine makes me bask in it.

It just struck me today, in the midst of mucking about in the pit of despair, exactly how good my life is, and how much I love it. Yes, I'm tired, I'm worn out, and I'm sad about a lot of things. I feel as though I have this gem, and that I don't deserve it at all. It is like a vein of precious jewels. The dichotomy is stark.

Some examples.

This morning, we overslept. By a lot. I had 30 minutes to get to the bus, which is a 15 minute walk away. My lunch was ready, though not packed. My computer was not packed. I was not going to get it all ready. Stephen offered to help me, and he packed my laptop and my lunch while I got dressed and threw in my contacts. As I was leaving, I moaned about the fact that I wasn't going to have breakfast, in a not serious way, to which he replied that my breakfast was made and in my backpack waiting for me. I love him so much more now than I did when I moved in with him.

Last year this time, we were struggling with Ashley about a myriad of things, including her grades. She had checked out. This year, she keeps up with her studies, works hard, and I am not frightened of going to her parents night next week. I get to let her go out and do things, and trust her. I get to tell her 'yes' to things rather than grounding her. She is doing really well and I am proud of her.

I am a few weeks away from paying off my tuition for the entirety of my bachelor's degree, a few months early. This may not sound that awe-inspiring, but it has been a lot of money and I have been really stressing out about being able to afford it all. I have been ultra-conservative in spending. And it is a huge load off of my back to have it payed off. That means I will be able to graduate, which means I can get a job that will enable me to pay off the rest of the things that I need to. This is a good thing.

There is a position opening up at the school that I am placed at (which I really really love.) I spoke to the administration about it today, and they have given me a timeline, and a really positive response to my inquiry. I had an impromptu pseudo-interview, and was told that Monday I start a "7 week job interview". No pressure there. And I want it. So badly. It is in a reception class (ages 4 to 5, kind of but not really equivalent to kindergarten) and while it is not my dream age group, it is my second choice. I would much rather be in a perfect-for-Amy school. They are inclusive, they work hard to be socially just. And it is in a beautiful tiny town called Reculver. I could easily see us living there, and raising children there. I would be comfortable with my kids going to this school.

I was thinking about how to title this post on the way home. It has been a dark dark time, what with death and illness and stress. I feel as though I am high. Like drugs that make you feel so physically GOOD that you just have to roll in it. Like heroin. It would have been an appropriate title, but I thought that there would be a lot of people who wouldn't understand that. Ecstasy explains it pretty well too, though. My world doesn't have to be perfect to just be that darn good.

Blech.

I am sick. It comes from Stephen being sick. He has been running a fever and has had a cough deep in his chest. Now I have the exact same thing. I feel absolutely terrible. No appetite, nausea, coughing so much I can't sleep. I am lucky, in that he has done a really nice job taking care of me. I almost feel coddled. Then I remember how cruddy I feel.

And then today, in the midst of thinking that perhaps I would feel a bit better if someone were to actually shoot me and put me out of my misery, my glasses broke in half. I took them off of my face to wipe them off, and the split apart in my hands. I have put off getting new glasses. These are the ones I think I got in 2005. I kept telling myself that, even though I was pretty sure that my prescription had changed, I could hold out just until I had finished paying off my tuition. Well, that is not happening. My old glasses are not repairable.

I have an appointment for an eye exam in the morning. This afternoon Kelley and Stephen went out and about, but I chose to stay home in bed for feeling so bad. While they were gone, Stephen took my old glasses into the place that I have the appointment, and secretly had them transfer my old lenses into a temporary frame. I have to give them back tomorrow, but it means that I have glasses to see with until then.

He really is sweet.

And now for something a bit different...

As I have been tired, busy, and promising someone a chance to be a published blog author for almost a year now, I am very happy to finally offer the chance for a guest writer (as opposed to a GHOST writer, and I am glad for that, let me tell you, as I would never sleep well again after being so well-haunted...) to take over for a bit. Kelley and I have been friends since we were small, and my sister Kelli introduced us. She is here on a visit, and I am happy to put our family blog in her so-very capable hands. (Or so she says, though we haven't actually experienced that massage magic as of yet. hint hint.)

Hi there! Kelley here. Amy thought it might be nice for a small change, so you are to temporarily to be exposed to my version of a little thing we like to call "return to the motherland." Just teasing, I have never actually called it that before, but since this is my second visit to Amy and Ashley in England, and Amy promised a blog from us last time (she lied, naughty girl) I promised that I would write this time. (She just thinks it will be once. I intend to milk her for every word.)

After a long flight from Dallas/Fort Worth airport to London Heathrow (9 hours) and then a trip on the tube to the train station (1 hour) and then a train trip down to Canterbury (1.5 hours) I arrived here on Friday the 2nd. Note that if you should visit from America, these sleep Nazis will NOT allow you to escape your exhaustion and jet lag until what they consider an appropriate evening hour. It gets dark here at four. Tor-ture. (In the infamous words of Sir Stephen: no pain, no gain, so deal with it. Or something like that.)

On Saturday, the 3rd, we visited some friends of Amy and Stephen's for dinner. Here are Stephen and the Transplants (that's actually the name of their band):


By the way, he doesn't always smile like a serial killer in photos. Andy and b00 (the friends) made us a lovely meal, (involving eating anglerfish for the first time, and blood, gore, and medical-grade superglue, but not on any of us) and we played a few rounds of a new game called Bausack. It is a really challenging game where you make a tower of these odd-shaped wooden blocks. The catch is that other players choose your pieces for you. The last tower standing is the winner. The rookie (that's me) won the first round with this creation:


Ashley had a lovely 2nd place masterpiece with this one:


We stayed quite late past dinner, and walked home in the dark (very dark) and cold (really, really cold) and snuggled into beds with hot water bottles and many blankets.

Today, Amy and I went down to the High Street (yes I said down, then high), which is a short, quite scenic walk from their flat. (She says short and quite scenic NOW, but when we were actually walking it she sang quite a different song involving lots of 'Are we there yet'esque statements.) This is a school field nearby.


See the little black hills of dirt? Mole holes. Stephen says to call them mole hills, but I will let you decide. (Kelley and I both called them mole-holes until Stephen corrected us. I suppose I know that they should be called mole hills, and I don't know why my instinct is to call them mole-holes, but it is.) As you stroll down the path alongside the river, the Canterbury cathedral pops up in between the trees and over rooftops like a creepy stalking historical monument.


(Just look at those creepy stalker-building spires. You can't miss those, it's how you differentiate between a regular historic monument and a creepy-stalking one.) I kid. It is really quite stunning, but for some reason never fails to surprise me when I'm walking down the road surrounded by buildings and all of a sudden, Bam! No, it doesn't mow you down. It's more like, Boo! Here I am! Again! This is the creepy wooded path that Amy will not go down in the dark unaccompanied. Can't say I blame her:


(That picture may well be the favourite one that Kelley took today. I love the muted colours and it actually looks just like a creepy pathway should. Well done, Kel.) Here are a couple of buildings within town. This is a synagogue on one of the side streets (Story: This building used to be a synagogue, and it has since been bought out by The King's School, a swanky private institution that charges more in tuition for the boarding children than my tuition does. It is now a recital space used for music performances.):


This is an official Canterbury Historical Building (according to the sign)--there are quite a few of these in town. (In the midst of a variety of small shops, this house is actually residential. I almost feel sorry for the people who live there, as every tourist in the area has to stop and take a picture of this house. One time I actually saw someone taking a picture of the residents as they went in.)


Not sure if this sign is old, but it was on a historical building and I just liked it.


And this lovely old building houses...the Gap.


Here is a shot of the high street (also called the Parade) (Or at least 1/3rd is. There is St. Peters, The Parade, and then the High street all as names on this one straight, 1/2 mile stretch of pedestrianised road.):


And just around the corner, this sign wishes you a Happy Christmas. (On January 4):


And here is the cathedral again. I think it's following me.


Before we left town to head home, we made a couple of stops, one of them at Tesco, which is one of the groceries.


Now, the grocery stores amuse me, because one of the first things my mother said to me when I told her I was visiting England was "Yuck. You'll hate the food." (She doesn't yet hate the food, because no one here eats English food. We all eat Thai and Indian and American food, and French and Chinese and Spanish food. England is all about World food, anymore.) And it's not that it's just different, but they have odd names for things. For a complete mental perv like me, it is a joyous place.

For instance, there is an entire aisle dedicated to biscuits. Don't care that they are covered in chocolate or cinnamon flavored, they call them biscuits. Check out my picture of the cookie aisle. (I love biscuits. And cakes. Darn them. And this picture looks as bright and colourful and makes me want to bring them all to a much better home: namely mine.)


And this is the pickled portion of the store. Never seen so many pickled things in my life. And guess what wasn't in this section. Pickles. (Though there are pickled eggs, and onions and beets and garlic and sauerkraut, and lemons and shallots. English people like their pickled foods.)


And here is mince. Supposed to be ground lamb or beef or pork or whichever, but tell me truly. Doesn't this look like the bits in 'Kibbles n Bits'?


(If you don't think that looks like kibble, go HERE and look. I have thought that it does ever since I saw it for the first time, and I was so glad when Kelley said she thought so too.) For those of you curious about the edible porn, there are cans of things like this:


The can says things like "Everyone loves a pair of bangers!" and "Size isn't everything!" and "Hide the sausage!" These will henceforth be referred to as "Porn and Beans." And this:


Now, I saw the movie "The Full Monty", and I think that its funny that this is a can of sausage and beans. I'll let you run with that one. For those of you that haven't seen the film, and this joke is doing a complete flyby at the moment, go HERE. You'll see what I mean. (The Full Monty, in this case,refers to the full English breakfast, which the English have held onto tooth and nail despite being a culture of world foods. The full English breakfast consists of as many of the following items as possible: Eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, toast, mushrooms, black pudding, hashbrowns, fried bread, and tomatoes. The Full Monty=coronary heart disease. In a can.)

And after the Tesco, we stopped by the candy shoppe, called the The Sugar Boy, where you can see these:


Ahhh...Uncle Joe's Mint Balls. They keep you all aglow. You say immature, I say nevertheless amusing. Our last stop was to get kebabs, which are lovely pitas stuffed with meat shaved off these huge roasters, like this lamb one:


They are really yummy, I totally recommend them (mom's advice be darned). Afterwards we headed home and had dinner, including a yummy custard desert, which is like pudding, but a bit thinner, and served hot. We are now all huddled in Amy and Stephen's bed as Amy reads aloud, and I will shortly have to haul myself from the warmth to my own bed and hot water bottle (Best. Invention. Ever.) Thanks for letting me hijack your favorite blog, and I hope you will let me share again. Cheers.

No, Kelley, thank YOU. We all hope that you will hijack this blog again in the near future. Even Stephen is happy. Ill and delirious with fever (no Dearest, I am not a reindeer and I don't need to eat another carrot...) but happy nonetheless.