When siblings grow up...

...it can be a beautiful thing. La Petite took this last summer while Amigo was reading to me in our backyard swing. His hands are very graceful when he reads, and she saw a picture in it. One of the best parts of this story is this: he had a bit of sauce on his hand from the lasagna we'd had for supper. She had to airbrush it out using Adobe Photoshop. Ah, some things never change.

La Petite entered this photo in a contest at her University and won 1st prize in the category. She called Amigo to tell him first because it was a picture of him.

Happy Love Thursday, everybody.

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Things I’ve learned from participating in NaBloPoMo:

I still can’t figure out how to add a logo to my sidebar. Sorry, Yoda. Text link, yes. I guess ads will have to wait.
Coming up with topics to post wasn’t a problem. If nothing interesting was going on in my life, I posted another coffee mug & its story. Nothing going on? That rarely happens in my life.
Love Thursday is as much fun to post as it is to read. Go to Karen at Chookoloonks for more. If I can figure out how to load the logo, I’ll join her “Nice Blog” community as well.
Many other blogs have the same template I do. That either means I share their good taste, or I’m too lazy (or cheap or inept) to create a unique template and banner. Nah, must be the first one.
I’m more interesting some days than others, but there are bloggers that are even less interesting than I am!
Life can be more interesting through the eyes of a writer thinking, “Hey, I could blog this.”
Stat counter has been interesting.
Most of my readers turn up in the evening and overnight.
Now that both my teens read the blog regularly, I have to be cautious how I talk about them.
Connecting with other bloggers, mommybloggers and otherwise, has been a gift. It’s great to read others’ posts and find out that I’m not alone.
There are many progressive moms and dads out there expressing themselves through the blogosphere. It’s reassuring to read and hear from other like-minded folks, especially since I live in a rather conservative town.
Thanks for the idea, Mrs. Kennedy, it’s been fun!
Thanks, too, to Lane for the Randomizer. What a great way to sample the participating blogs!
(Um, yes, I know there's one more day. I'm not done yet!)

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It really is the thought that counts.

You might be a teacher if your home has a few of these scattered about. They're the cute little decorative things proclaiming that teachers are the salt of the earth, fabulous people, the greatest ever -- all of which, of course, are true.
I won't give you advice on how or where to pick out a holiday gift for a special teacher -- the pretty Mir does that better. I'll tell you, instead, a story of some of my favorite "teacher" gifts.



Ten years ago (was it really that long? Sheesh) the Green Bay Packers were on their way to the Super Bowl and I had one lone Dallas Cowboy fan in my 6th grade class. The other kids gave him a very hard time, but he took it with good humor. This student got me a Packer ornament for Christmas. Thoughtful? You bet.
I keep a popsicle-stick craft piece on my bookshelf. It's cute and handmade, but it makes me smile because I remember the girl coming into the room that morning with her glue bottle still open, putting the last sticks in place. It was just like her homework; her intentions were good, but she was an endless procrastinator.
One Christmas the trendy items were blanket throws. They were inexpensive and came in a variety of colors and patterns. I received several, and each giver was creative. One came with a box of popcorn and a gift card for movie rentals. Another included a box of hot cocoa and and a cute holiday mug. Blanket throws -- a person can never have too many, and the parents & kids who gave these put a lot of thought into their gift giving.
The bear says, "Teachers rule," but maybe it's more accurate to say that we do our best to measure up. I know that we'll keep on doing what we can to make the world a brighter place. Thanks for the memories.

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Funday Monday

Win or lose, run or pass, Cheeseheads never lose their class.

Well, teachers who are also Cheeseheads (Packers fans), that is.

You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if you can dress like this for work, and not only is it considered completely appropriate, your boss compliments you on your new attire. (The boss, by the way, was dressed in a Brett Favre jersey and khaki pants.)

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Funday Sunday

You might be a Green Bay Packers fan --

if you can dress in team colors from head --

-- to toe.

(I must clarify: dressing in team colors occurs whether the team is winning or not, through thick and thin.)

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mmm

The best bedtime snack ever: a piece of birthday cake and a glass of wine.
Mmmmm. Thanks, dear.
Goodnight.

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Life is what happens when you're not looking -- or counting

Keeping track of numbers must not be too important in my life -- I missed the chance to "celebrate" my sesquicentennial post on Compost Happens. Maybe it hasn't been 150 years -- but today's post is number 153, so any real anniversary discussion would have taken place three posts ago. I must have been too busy preparing Thanksgiving dinner, cleaning up after it, contemplating (but not actively participating in) Black Friday, ringing a bell for the Salvation Army, and the daily chores of life. Come to think of it, all of those things were more interesting to do (and to blog about) than the simple number of 150, anyway.
With Thanksgiving over with, I can start to work on (drumroll, please) Birthdays! Hahaha, you thought I was going to say Christmas, didn't you?! In our home, the Christmas season is also the birthday season. Mine is in November (ahem, today), Husband's is in mid-December, La Petite's is the day after that, and then we can put up the tree. After the New Year's ball drops and the Christmas tree comes down, we have about two weeks until Amigo's birthday. That's just the immediate family; there are other birthdays in and around this time in our extended family as well. I wrote up my "Holiday Gift Inventory Notebook" today to make sure I don't overshop or inadvertantly miss someone.
I am taking some advice from an article in today's paper and wrapping presents as I buy them. I have almost everything I need for my Secret Santa project at work, so I will wrap these and hide them in my classroom's locked closet, in the space that was filled with test booklets a week ago.
Now that I have reclaimed the kitchen at home (stored leftovers, threw away what was left of the turkey carcass, prepared soup stock for freezer), I can focus on real life again. Real life, coffee mugs, lesson plans, and the works. We have a saying in my workplace when things get frantic: "Never a dull moment." Life, such as it is, isn't dull. Not at all. Not even at Post #153.

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November has been an interesting choice of months for NaBloPoMo. Election Day (rather dramatic elections!), Thanksgiving Day and preparations for it, and now, Black Friday. Shiver, Shudder.
I'm not a big crowd shopper. The only store I will visit today is the grocery store where Amigo and I will ring a bell for the Salvation Army's Red Kettle Campaign. I made a contribution to the cause and the craziness, though. I helped feed the boys. Um, the young men. You know the type: the kids, er, college students camping out in the parking lot of the big box electronics store last night. They were in their spot, equipped with tent, heater, and other essential equipment, by seven last night. And get this: they were not first in line. Since one of these boys is La Petite's boyfriend and the other is a family friend (and former student of mine), we sent over leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner. La Petite put together a bag full of rolls & sliced turkey for sandwiches, some crackers, and a few assorted other goodies. She delivered the food, hung out for a little while, and then came home to watch late-night TV with her dad.
I'm sure they're home and sleeping now. I hope they got what they wanted to buy. I'm sure they enjoyed the overnight camp-out!

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Early to rise, early to begin

...Makes the house smell like a turkey again!
(with apologies to Poor Richard's Almanac)

Timetable so far on Love Thursday, Thanksgiving Day:
6:00 -- get up, feed bunnies
6:15 -- stuff turkey, preheat oven
6:30 -- start turkey!
6:35 -- start a pot of Door County cranberry creme coffee
6:45 -- put a load of La Petite's laundry in the dryer
6:55 -- bring in the morning paper, heavy with Black Friday ads
7:00 -- watch the Early Show, drink a cup of cranberry creme coffee in a Pop'n'Fresh mug. Appropriate for a big day of cooking, don't you think?

Update:

9:00 -- The house smells lovely. Amigo is watching the Macy's parade, Husband is cooking the rootmash, and La Petite is sleeping late as only a college student can. I have showered, folded two loads of college sheets, and refilled the doughboy mug with holiday-flavored coffee. Life is good.

Second update:

10:40 -- turkey is perilously close to done, and we're not eating until noon, so we turned the oven way down. Amigo is dressed and taking breaks from the parade to help mash the potatoes. La Petite is awake, and the bunny litter boxes are cleaned. Guests will start arriving in an hour or so. House still smells wonderful and reminds me of one reason I love Thanksgiving!

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'Twas the day before Thanksgiving

'Twas the eve of Thanksgiving, and all through the kitchen
All the creatures were stirring and cooking and mixin'.
The tables were moved and were set up with care
All set for the banquet that soon would be there.

And teens in their sweats and their slippers were wrapping
A few early gifts while their mother was napping.
Her birthday was looming, and more to remember,
The Dad's and the daughter's were early December.

The cooler was full, to make room in the fridge
For the delicacies that would soon rest within.
The turkey was huge, with a big bag of stuffin'
Just waiting for cranberries, jello, and muffins.

We'd no Iron chef, and no jolly old elf,
So all shared the workload, not one by herself.
What's left? Cook the turkey, the stuffing, the rest
Then share our Thanksgiving with family, our guests.

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Hark how the bells -- updated

Here's a taste of the big bell we used last year. It was hard to get a picture because Amigo was too excited to stop ringing, but La Petite managed to take these.

We are off tonight for our local small-town style Christmas parade. Amigo is "riding" with the school district's float. To me, this is when the holiday season truly begins. Now if only we had snow, I'd really feel like Christmas.

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Hark, how the bells...

A few years ago I asked Amigo if he would be interested in sharing a shift with me to ring a Salvation Army bell. He said yes, and loved it. We've been "ringing" ever since. Yesterday we went to their web site to register. I chose two locations close to us, one indoors and one out, and then listed the available shifts. I printed those in Braille, and then we talked it over. We'll be ringing at a nearby grocery store on Friday in the late afternoon.
Last year it was a cold, long-underwear day when we did our shift. We kept taking breaks to go into the heated bathroom. But the most interesting part of the shift was the bell. One of our bells was broken when we got there, so I let the cute and enthusiastic one (Amigo) do the ringing. Then a Salvation Army person stopped by to switch buckets with us (our full for his empty) and I asked him if he could fix the bell. He took the broken bell with him and gave us a replacement -- about twice the size of the other. Well, you guessed it, I got the small one and Amigo rang in the donations with the new and improved model. We had a great time, and the bucket filled steadily with coins and dollar bills.
It's great to see my child thinking of others. I really like that he can channel his outgoing and friendly personality toward making a difference. We'll be between the doors of a supermarket on Friday (no longjohns needed), and I hope we can encourage people to donate, too.

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Funday Sunday

You might be a Green Bay Packer fan -- if your Cheesehead doesn't hide in a closet, but shares an honored space on the piano with the music.

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Planning Ahead

We are hosting Thanksgiving this year. To be prepared, Husband wrote up the entire menu and noted who would be responsible for each dish. We printed this in Braille for Amigo to review it, and then we took inventory.
We found a few surprises. We own enough serving dishes to put everything on the buffet table. We have barely enough silverwear, though, and dinner plates and dessert plates are a little short. To rectify this, we headed to the nearby outlet mall, only to find that the Pfaltzgraf outlet had closed up and moved some time ago. It moved to a location on the route to La Petite's college, so we know we'll get there eventually, but we need to wing it on Thursday.
Husband went out to the French place (Tar-jay) to replenish our flatware and get a few glasses that don't say Bacardi or Packers on them. So what's wrong with Packer glasses, I ask? Isn't Brett Favre someone to be thankful for? But I digress -- here's the menu, and the plan. You'll have to imagine the snooty restauranteur accent while you read.
2006 Thanksgiving Menu at Chez OK
Appetizers:
Fresh Veggies with Dip -- Her Mom and Stepdad
Fresh Fruit pieces -- Brother & Sis-in-Law
Pickles & Olives -- Husband & Amigo
Harvest Carrot Soup -- Husband
Main Course:
Turkey with Stuffing -- Daisy
Sides:
Old Fashioned Plain Mashed Potatoes -- Husband
Root Mash (Mmmm) -- Husband
Gravy -- Daisy
Packer Veggies (Corn & Peas) -- Daisy & Amigo
1-2-3 Cranberry Sauce -- Amigo
Cranberry Jell-O -- Her Mom
Pumpkin & Cranberry Breads -- Her Mom
Dinner Rolls -- His Mom & Dad
Desserts:
Pumpkin Pie with Whipped Topping -- Brother & Sis-in-Law
Apple Pie -- His Mom & Dad
Mince Meat Pie (maybe) -- Her Mom & Stepdad
Beverages:
Wines, as chosen by your Sommeliers, Brother & Husband
Apple Cider -- Husband
Soda (Various) -- already stocked
Milk -- already stocked
Water -- Bunnies (They have to have a chore, too!)
Coffee, Regular and Decaf -- Daisy
Some beverages will be in a cooler with ice to free up space in the refrigerator
Menu subject to change.
Her Mom & Stepdad will bring some small paper plates for use with appetizers.
Her Mom & Stepdad will bring some folding chairs.
His Mom & Dad will bring a folding long table with tablecloth to use as a buffet table.
La Petite will pitch in somehow.

Are we ready? I think so. Turkey Day? Bring it on!!!

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Give my regards to...Billy Joel and Andrew Lloyd Webber?

I don't get out much. Really. It's not a complaint, it's just a fact. When I do get out, I enjoy and appreciate every minute of it. On the rare occasion that I get to see a Broadway touring show, I like to remember it. A souvenir mug makes more sense to me than a t-shirt or photo album.

I use the Phantom of the Opera mug at school, where I wash it by hand rather than in the dishwasher. Rumor has it that heat-sensitive mugs like this last longer that way. You see, when I add hot liquid to the mug (who am I kidding -- coffee, of course), the trademark Phantom mask appears. Until then, the mug seems to be mostly black.

In fact, one cold and dreary day I walked into the teacher's lounge to see our building engineer staring in horror at the black mug he had filled with coffee as a spooky white mask appeared in front of him. Yes, it was his first cup of the day, and yes, he was still half asleep when he picked it off of the rack. I burst out laughing and he just shook his head and admitted that he really, really needed to get more sleep. And in case you're wondering, yes, he washed it out for me afterward, and no, I wasn't upset.
There are a few shows I've seen for which I did not buy mugs: Oklahoma (classic, fun), and Wicked (wow!) to name two. I'd love to add those to my collection. And if I am lucky enough to get tickets to The Lion King, coming next spring to our town, I will definitely look for a mug.

In the meantime, I'll drink my morning cup o' joe from a mug with a story and a song behind it.

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Love Thursday -- on Wednesday

Yesterday I came home from my conference in Mad-town to find Husband with a fresh haircut. I was so jealous! I've been way overdue for a cut, not just a trim -- so much so that I couldn't see through my bangs any more. They were hanging down to the tip of my nose.
He greeted me with a big grin and said, "You're going in at 5:00." Oh, what a sweetheart! He made an appointment for me. How thoughtful.
Then he followed up with: "You're getting a cut, color, and massage." Before I regained the power of speech he added, "And it's all paid for already. Enjoy."
Yes, he was grinning wildly.
Yes, it was awesome.
And yes, every stylist in the salon was envious.
And they darn well should be! (Deep, heavy sigh, big smile)


Love Thursday was created by Karen at chookaloonks.

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My internal GPS failed -- kinda

I attended a professional conference in Madison today with our school counselor. She and I work together to train and supervise our peer mediators, so when the opportunity came up to learn more, we jumped at it. Or, I should say, we drove ourselves to it.
If you don't know Wisconsin's fair capital city, let me describe it for you. It is part government, part commerce, and a large part university. It's located on and between a couple of lovely lakes and at least one smaller waterway, so the roads are not exactly on a square grid. Our conference was at a hotel/conference center almost smack dab in the middle between the University and the Capitol building, on the isthmus between the two main lakes. This meant it was easy to find (Thanks, MapQuest), but a little tough to get to. Why the disparity? One way streets.
We pulled up to a parallel parking spot, plugged the meter, and planned to come back and move the vehicle after our hour was up. We went in, registered, and enjoyed the opening presentation. My colleague slipped out of our first breakout session to move her minivan -- and didn't come back.
Forty minutes later, she came in, breathless and looking frazzled. During our break, she told me that she'd gotten disoriented (okay, lost) on the one way streets. She could see the hotel, but couldn't get to the main parking garage entrance. During her ordeal, she started down a one-way street the wrong way, ran a red light, endured many impatient horn honkin' drivers, and narrowly avoided getting ticketed. Finally, safe in the underground garage, she had to back up because her minivan only fit in one section. The other had a low ceiling proclaiming in large red letters "No Trucks or Vans Beyond This Point." She decided not to take a chance with her Grand Caravan.
The conference was good; we got some new ideas and were reassured that we are doing well in our training methods. We left shortly after lunch to (gulp) brave the one-way streets and go home.
My limited knowledge of the city combined with the compass in her minivan helped us go in the right direction. By keeping the capitol dome on our right, we confirmed that we were heading toward the highway we wanted. But when we left the center of town, it was a little tougher. I think she will forever tease me about the way I kept giving her two choices: "Well, my gut feeling is this, but we could also do that." And "I think we're paralleling the road we came in on, and eventually we'll make a right and get there. Or maybe we'll go straight and this street will curve to meet it." "There's a McDonald's. We can't be too far from civilization as we know it." Sure enough, the road curved to the right, landing at the intersection with the McDonald's that brought us to our destination: the road out of town. (The intersection took us out of town; the McD's only provided us with sustenance for the journey.)
The rest of the trip was uneventful, thank goodness. I came home to hug Husband, Amigo, and the bunnies, and then get a haircut, color, and massage. But that, my blogosphere friends, is another story.

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Mind spinning, round and round

There are too many things on my mind tonight for a coherent post. Or maybe not. I'm off to a conference tomorrow in a neighboring big city, and I spent a great portion of my day preparing plans for the substitute teacher who will teach my class tomorrow. We had a staff meeting after school with some pretty heavy issues to deal with. After supper and after helping Amigo with homework, I corrected four -- count 'em, 4! -- stacks of papers to be added to my gradebook when I get back on Thursday. If my sub corrects the work that's done tomorrow, I'll only have a few things to score on Thursday night. If she doesn't, well, I'll pour some apple cider for my sore throat and settle myself in for a long haul. I'm overdue for a doctor's appointment and overdue for a haircut, too.
One of my dearest friends, a wonderful woman who had a mastectomy about 18 months ago, is undergoing more reconstructive surgery tomorrow. I promised her I'd wear pink and send positive thought waves in her general direction while I'm at the conference. What else can a person do? She'll be in surgery for a minimum of five hours, spend a little while in recovery, and then go right home. Don't even get me started on the injustice of the drive-through surgical center mentality.
This is someone, however, with an amazing amount of resilience. She sported a "Bad Boob" sign on her right breast the day after she announced the diagnosis. She sewed scarves in a multitude of colors to match her outfits while she lost her hair from chemo. It was a red-letter day when she realized that she had enough hair to have a Bad Hair Day! She began exercising regularly and walked her first marathon roughly one year after her radiation ended. And through it all, she was always there for the rest of us when we needed someone. She also loaned me the feather boa to wrap around the banana -- but that's another story altogether.
Tomorrow, the doctors are re-doing the reconstruction of her right breast and making the left one reasonably equal in size.
With that in mind, my over-due haircut and my sore throat are small potatoes. Mind spinning? Yes, it still is, but it'll spin a lot less when I know she's out of surgery and feeling better.

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Truth, no matter how trivial, is stranger than fiction.

In honor of Children's Book Week, the library- media specialist in my school sets up a trivia contest. She asks two questions on the morning announcements: one for the primary grades, and one for the intermediate. Kids who know or can find the answer go to the library during recess and enter a prize drawing.
Last time she did this, I asked her if teachers could try it. She decided that teachers could do it if they could answer all three daily questions. Yes, she had three at that time -- one for Kindergarten/first grade, one for grades 2 and 3, and then an intermediate question for grades 4-5-6. Well, I answered all three the first time I tried it, and won a cool trivia book, Just Curious, Jeeves.
Well, she sent out the student questions in advance, two per day, last week. I had a few minutes, so I answered what I could and sent it back to her. I had 95% right. 95%, I tell you, without looking up a single one! Watch out, Ken Jennings! So she decided to put together a whole new set of challenging questions for teachers.
I hope my co-workers don't get mad at me for ruining the curve.
Here's the best part: research is allowed. I can look things up in books, ask my students, and even use the Internet. So here goes: today's question is "What is author Avi's real name?" I've found at least three answers so far, so she may need to accept a variety of responses.
According to interviews published by reputable sources, Avi's twin sister gave him the nickname Avi because she couldn't pronounce his real name. Now the real name?
Avi's real name is either Avi Wartis, Edward Irving Wortis, or Dghtyto Bvith Bnpht Ingworht Quvopt Jr.
I'll stick with Daisy, myself.

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Every story, new or ancient --

You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if:

• You have so much Green and Gold in your wardrobe you wear it all week and year round.
• Your team shirts are both official NFL sanctioned -- and unofficial.
• The unofficial pieces are more fun.
• Everything piece you wear has a story.

Here's the story on this one, modeled by Amigo, age 14.

A few years ago, I was wandering our downtown shops with my brother and his wife, buying a few Christmas presents. Our downtown has mainly small shops, very amenable to browsing, many family-owned and staffed. We saw this t-shirt hanging in the window of a shop that specialized in collectibles and knick-knacks. It was a little out of character for the shop, but it caught our attention.
"Hey, brother, Dad would wear this."
"Um, but I already bought him a present from the bookstore. So did you."
"My kids don't have anything for him yet. They'll love it."
"You two need to buy this. Your dad would definitely wear it."
So we headed into the store, asked for the Cheesehead shirt in a large, and the owner found one and wrapped it up for us. As he did so, he told us a story. Brett Favre and his mother, Bonita, had a new book out (Yes, I own a copy). Bonita had been at the bookstore down the street for an autograph session just a few weeks earlier. One of the fans in line had been wearing a shirt like this. She laughed at the image, said she loved it, and asked where he'd bought it. She then sent a family member down the street to buy a St. Brett shirt for her and one for her sister.
We included a note with the gift telling our Dad that he was in good company, that Brett's mom and aunt both owned shirts just like his. He was thrilled.
Dad passed away last December. We went through his Packer apparel (he had a lot!) and divided it up between us. Amigo now proudly wears the St. Brett, Patron Saint of Cheeseheads. And when people tell him how cool it is, he responds with a thanks and an acknowledgement that yes, if Mom Favre can wear one, it must be cool.

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The first real snow

The first snow changes everything. Earlier in the week, I was outside without a jacket. Now I'm pulling out the gloves and scarves and making sure my car is equipped with its snow brush and ice scraper. My students were so excited they asked if I would turn out the classroom lights so they could stand at the window and watch the snow fall. I said yes. I recognized the excitement of the first snowfall and let them express it. The clouds were so heavy that it was quite dark outside, and we could see the large flakes drifting to the playground where they became more slush than snow. The kids were amazing; when I turned the lights back on and asked them to settle, they did so calmly with satisfied smiles on their faces. Most are native to Wisconsin; snow is nothing new. But they still feel a thrill when the first flakes fall and the landscape changes. I understand; I feel the same thrill.

By the time I got home, the snow was sticking to everything. After supper, it was completely dark outside. In the view out front: the bench where Amigo often waits for his bus is covered.

In summer, this shepherd's crook held my lovely ivy geraniums. Now it has its own beauty, with the white snow on its black iron finish.

But below you'll see the evidence of my neglect. This is what happens when I don't get the deck furniture put away in time.

Ah, well, I'll brush the snow off, bring in the cushions, and dry them off. All will be well. Winter, in its own loveliness, is here to stay.

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When Work Email Goes Wild

Or -- sometimes "Reply to All" gives you more than you ever really wanted to know.

From the Media Specialist's assistant:
"We are missing a skeleton. His name is Mr. Thrifty. If you have seen him, let us know."
The responses:
"Is he in a closet?"
"Maybe he’s boning up for a test."

From the guidance counselor:
"Where’s my cardboard banana? It’s about 4 feet tall, heavy cardboard, and was on the 'Eat a Healthy Breakfast' bulletin board by the office."
The responses:
"The skeleton ate it."
"I know where it is, but I’m sworn to secrecy."

From the art teacher:
"My desk chair disappeared on election day. It’s gray, on rollers, a little paint on it."
The responses:
"Is it a Democratic party chair or Republican party chair?"
"Was that a committee chair?"
"Chairman or Chairwoman?"
"The skeleton has it – he’s sitting on your chair, in his closet, eating the banana."

The final follow-up:
The skeleton turned up in a classroom for a human body unit.
The desk chair turned up; it had been returned to the wrong classroom after the poll workers used it on election day.
The banana? It was hanging on the music room door, clad in a pink feather boa.

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But the polls just closed!

Didn't I just say, I mean JUST say on Monday, no less, that I wasn't going to even think about the potential for a flu pandemic until after the election? Well, the election is over, I've started to relax, and look what Mir posted. I like her attitude, though; she wants to go for the ice cream instead of six months of freeze-dried meals to hide under the bed.
So as long as I'm thinking about it -- I have a freezer full of various foodstuffs, and our back hallway/pantry is pretty well stocked, but I'm not looking at 6 weeks or 90 days by any means. We feel fortunate if we can skip grocery shopping one weekend and just buy bread & milk & bunny food. If we plan well enough, we can do that frequently. Honestly, we could wait out several days worth of blizzard with what we have on hand.
It's more practical in my book to plan for a blizzard than for a pandemic. If global warming gets significantly worse, I won't even have to plan for those. But in the meantime, I think I'll revise this to reflect the latest panic warnings. It will help me keep my head on straight and my priorities in order.

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Who are these Bloggers, anyway?

Motherpie would like to find out. She invites all bloggers to take her survey anytime between now and December 6. It doesn't take long, and the question are simple and logical. For more information, check out motherpie's blog explaining her project, and then take the survey.
When I search on my own, I tend to stick to those like me: parents, moms especially, autism blogs, and the various blogs on those writers' blogrolls. Lane's Randomizer has exposed me to many, many others. I've browsed college students, professors, people nearby, and people round the world. In fact, I reinjured my mouse wrist having too much fun online. (Don't tell Husband. Oh, well, he probably noticed anyway.)

I enjoy blogs that make everyday events exciting and fun. I come back to those that connect with me in some way: a similar situation, an ongoing problem, or simply someone who touches me in some way. I've made virtual acquaintances (dare I call them friends?) who live lives very different from mine, yet share my outlook on life.
And then the timer goes off, I stop waxing philosophical and stir the casserole for supper. Blogging is wonderful, but real life still trumps the virtual!

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Random Sights on Election Day thus far

At the polls:

• a long line (Yippee! People taking seriously their responsibility to vote)
• voters of all ages, from college on up
• professionals on their way to work, dressed in their office best
• everyday folk, dressed in their jeans and sweatshirts
• a few carrying coffee cups
• a voter carrying his bike wheel (one of those with the detachable front wheel to prevent theft, I think)
• a mom and dad with their sleepy toddler in a stroller
• a man in his pajama pants, big t-shirt, and slippers
• two firefighters in uniform
• a lot of friendly, talkative people who didn't mind waiting in line

Bumper stickers:

• If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention.
• Proud, patriotic, and pagan
• I'm pro-accordion, and I vote. (<--my favorite)

And more:

• The man in his pajamas was the first voter in line at our polling place. He came out the door, saw all of us still waiting, lifted his arms in the air and announced, "I'm number 1!" and proceeded to stick his "I Voted" sticker on his forehead. Yes, we laughed.
• A residence life staffer from a nearby college told me that they're running shuttles at regular intervals to all the polls that serve the campus. This young man also let me go ahead of him in line while he waited for a friend who was registering.
• I teach in a school building that is also a polling place. We had 5th graders dressed in red, white, and blue holding doors for people as they came into our building. The kids got a great view of democracy in action, and the voters got a chance to meet some good kids.
• The poll workers at our school request the location (are you ready for this?) because we provide them with comfortable chairs for the day. Many workers are elderly, and they work long shifts, so those of us with good quality office-style desk chairs loan them out for the day. It's the least we can do to support these wonderful people.

I posted early this evening because I'm almost afraid to watch the results tonight. I'm quite nervous about the close races in our district. If they go the wrong way.... well, I won't think about it.

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I had a thought.

In our house, the schtick goes like this.
"I had a thought."
"Sit down, relax, maybe it'll go away."

Being part of NaBloPoMo is a little like that; random thoughts keep poking their way into my tiny brain hoping for a brainstorm that will become the daily post. My rambling train of thought has travelled this route today.
State testing started this morning. I dressed for the occasion in my new sweatshirt from Wireless.com. Teachers loved it; students didn't notice. They were too worried about their pencils being sharpened and having time for a healthy snack.
I got my annual flu shot after school. Ow! Worthwhile, though, better to have a sore arm for a day or two than to get influenza.
So the flu shot got me thinking about the potential for a pandemic again. If a true pandemic begins, I expect to have enough time to stock up on bottled water, canned soup, and all the generic meds I need for my medicine cabinet. The freezer has stayed pretty full lately; we've been good about restocking whatever we use. This isn't pandemic panic behavior; it's school year sanity.
But then I watched the evening news, and I realized that the potential for a pandemic, no matter how real, is not immediate. Tomorrow's election is. The results of this mid-term election, especially in my state, will have a direct impact on me and my family. Legislation already in place, proposed, and under consideration, will have a heavy impact on me, my children, and our way of life.
It's not too strong a statement to say that if this election goes the wrong way, my income could go down, my health care expenses go up, and my workload increase.
If this election goes too far in the wrong direction, La Petite's tuition could rise again, her loans could get more expensive, and her chances of working through the summer could diminish within a dwindling local job market.
If those elected do not understand disabilities, Amigo's specialized education services could cost the district more and more money out of an already shrinking pot, making those services more and more difficult to obtain.
And so it goes; tomorrow, sore arm and all, I'll go in to school and prepare for day two in a two-week testing period. I'll do it right and make sure No Child goes Untested. Then I'll go to the polls and cast my vote for the candidates who are least likely to leave me behind.

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Funday Sunday

You might be a Green Bay Packer fan if:

• you pronounce the name of the Louvre the "Lurv"*
• you call your Buick LaSabre a "LaSarb"*
• you plan Packer Vegetables for Thanksgiving dinner
• when you cook on the grill, you call it a Tailgate party
• it's not a question of whether to wear Packer garb, it's a question of which piece
• you still call Mardi Gras beads "Super Bowl Beads"
• you've been overheard referring to the team as "We..."
• you drown your sorrows after a game like today's with Skittles in your favorite team colors!

(Okay, for those not in the know, the record-holding quarterback's name is Favre, pronounced 'Farv')

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Mugs and Memories

This coffee mug is a big one. I use it when I want a little extra coffee or tea or a hot cocoa with all the fixins. It's special in two ways. The back of the mug, shown in the top photo, advertises the Mielke Institute, an opportunity clothed in 3 graduate credits for local teachers of all ages, kindergarten through high school. The Mielke Foundation pays everything: tuition, meals, materials, the works. During the week, about 25 - 30 participants focus on a theme and work with college professors to examine that theme and how it relates to teaching every day. It's an amazing week of learning, thinking, and analyzing, and comparing notes with other teachers.

The other side of the mug shows Lawrence University, the campus where the classes and seminars are held. This part is extra special because I attended LU (not that long ago, the dinosaurs no longer roamed the campus). Husband, my college sweetheart, can also look over the drawing, too, and reminisce about our days on this lovely campus.

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I'm ready, I'm ready

I spent most of today teaching students. I didn't fill their young, impressionable minds with knowledge of geography or math or reading. I taught them -- are you ready for this? -- how to take a Bubble Test.
We spent reading class taking a practice test.
We spent math class taking a practice test.
We spent Writers' Workshop deciphering and interpreting the Constructed Response Rubric for the math tests.
Yesterday, we spent Writers' Workshop deciphering and interpreting the Constructed Response Rubric for reading tests.
Instead of Spanish class, we punched out the tagboard "tools" that they may need for the math test.
I also did my best to reassure them that they are intelligent and capable young men and women. This time is stressful, but they can do well. Now that they know the structure of the tests, they just need to follow the directions, read carefully, think, and bubble the right answers. They're ready, and so am I.
This came today. I plan to wear it Monday, the first day of our statewide, developed at great cost, required (but not paid for) by the feds, testing.
At least I'll have one thing to smile about.

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Thursday night lights

In honor of Love Thursday:

Love is attending a high school football game on a cool Friday evening and watching the moon rise between the bright lights.

(Photo Credit: Husband's camera phone. Not bad, eh?)

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Give me chocolate and no one gets hurt.

I have a theory about the Dementors of Harry Potter's world. Do you remember the dementors, the guards of Azkaban? They're rather frightning creatures. Men should fear these creepy strangers more than women. Why? Well, most women already know how to cope. We've felt this way before.

When dementors approach, the victims feel cold, chilled all over. Nothing can warm them up.
As the dementors get nearer, the victims are sad, depressed, as though they'll never be happy again. All happy memories are sucked away.
And last, but not least, is the treatment. Are you ready for this?
Chocolate.

Yes, I am convinced that dementors are really PMS in disguise.

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