Snow Day

This past week Canterbury, and indeed most of England has been covered in snow. C-O-V-E-R-E-D in it, to the point where both Thursday and Friday most of the schools in the Kent area were closed. We had extremely heavy snow fall on Saturday morning/early afternoon, where you couldn't see that far down the road with the snow and the wind blowing around. This was horrendously exciting for me, because I love the snow, and I love snow days almost as much. On Thursday I was determined to go out and see people (snow be darned!). So I went over to my friend Katy's house. Her boyfriend Liam got snowed in there as well and so we made a day of hot cocoa, movies, and the inevitable Snow Ball Fights!

Now while I was sitting inside, minding my own buisiness watching A Knights Tale with Liam, Katy sneaks outside (without shoes I might add) mushes together a big snow ball, tucks it behind her back, walks into the living room, and chucks it at me. It collided right smack-dab in the middle of my chest! So while I'm gasping from the cold, shocked into immobility, the snow (as snow does) starts to melt and drip down my top, making me gasp even more. With vengence in mind, I jump up from the sofa, give Katy a warning glare as I scrape snow off my bosom, then start charging towards her. She squeals in delight and runs into the snow. It should be noted at this point that I am only wearing my socks, since putting shoes on wasn't on my to-do list for getting her back. Off I run in to the snow, slipping and sliding as a thin layer of ice forms on the bottom of my socks. I'm catching up to her now, a hastily made snowball in hand, and I'm just about to launch it at the back of her head when BAM!

I fall.
(<-- the spot where I fell) This was the epic type of fall where your legs keep moving as if you were still running, but you slowly fall on your bum. In a deperate attempt to save my poor bum from the oncoming impact I turn so I'll be able to land on my front, braced by my arms. That was my intention. What ended up actually happening was that I landed on my hip, because the slow-motion falling wasn't actually that slow. Needless to say it hurt. Katy turns just in time to see my graceless tumble, and slips and slides her way back to me, helping me up, while giggling like a maniac. She thought it was hilarious. I glanced at her with a mumbled "at least ONE of us thinks this is funny". Which encouraged her to giggle even more hysterically. But the day was fun, I got hit in the face by a few more snow balls later during our all-in fight, and as I was leaving two kids who lived in Katy's neighbourhood came and attacked us with snow balls again, and we creamed them. So many snowballs flew that you could hardly see what was going on! When we finally finished, snow had gotten trapped behind the lenses of my glasses and I kept trying to scrape it off. Liam makes the witty comment while chuckling; "Hey Ash, you need windshield wipers for those things!" this causes Katy to burst into another round of hysterical giggles. I attempt to glare at him through a thick layer of snow. It fails and they laugh harder. So a few good points to take away from this blog is the following: In a snowball fight, always wear shoes, take off your glasses, and attack everyone else before they get to you! My snow days were fun, but school is scheduled to be on next week, and I'm back to preparing for exams. Hope everyone is enjoying the new year! Until next time! xoxo SmAsh

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.