Big Money, Big Money!

Tried out for "Wheel of Fortune" on Saturday in Tunica, which is Las Vegas South for those who aren't edumacated in Southern geography. Maybe "tried out" isn't the most accurate phrasing. "Went to try out, filled out a form and sat in a huge room with about 1,500 other hopefuls for an hour and half" is more accurate. Dressed up a little. Drove the hour to Tunica from downtown Memphis (where I stopped off to hit the last Farmer's Market of the season), waited in line for about 20-30 minutes (fastest-moving line I've EVER been in!!), filled out a form with my pertinent info and interesting things about me, dropped said form in a box, took my seat, and pretended to be OVER THE TOP excited about being there.
I would have been excited, had I gotten on stage; I would have danced, sang, done yoga, yodeled, recited Chaucer, or whatever that obnoxious travelling host and "Vanna" asked me to do, for a chance to be on the "real" show and win the Big Money. But alas, Lady Luck was not smiling down on me on Saturday, because my name was not drawn at random to appear on stage for a chance to be called back for a second round of auditions, which would move me ever closer to Pat and Vanna.
All is not lost, or so I'm told, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. The Big Money probably isn't coming anytime soon for me.

The Many Faces of Love

I'm always thinking about possible lessons I can use in the classroom these days, and today, for some reason, I was mulling over the idea of love songs and love poetry. After Sukkot, my juniors and seniors will be entering the Middle Ages, and we're going to spend a goodly amount of time on the Romantic ideal in relation to knights, their ladies, and the chivalric code.

I tend to blare my radio, windows down, singing off-key, on my way to pick Madeline up after school. I have a good 20 minutes in the car these days, so I get to listen to several songs. Today, one of the first songs I heard was "Promiscuous" by Nelly Furtado. Immediately after that, "You and Me," by Lifehouse, came on. I was struck by the irony of how similar and different these songs are at a glance. The former has a great beat and is perfect for dancing, working out, or making out; the latter, great for making out, but is closer to a ballad than Ms. Furtado's song. However, the underlying message is shocking similar: I like you, I am attracted to you and want to be with you. Each is effective in its own way, and each is useful, depending on how one is trying to woo a potential mate.

I KNOW I can use this in the classroom, though bringing in Furtado's version to play for the students *might* not be the best idea. I am, still, in search of the perfect love songs.

Why I Couldn't Put This Book Down

Recently, I was invited to become a part of a real book club. Ok, I invited myself, but that seems to be okay with these people. So anyway, I've always been a voracious reader but I've never belonged to a group who sits around and discusses books for fun. Books, wine, junk food. I am besotted.

This month, the book is "Twilight," by Stephenie Meyer. Not knowing much about the series but having a vague idea that it was written for teenaged girls, I turned my nose up slightly at the thought. I am, after all, in the middle of several other books, including Oliver Twist, a re-read of The Time Traveler's Wife, and whatever I happen to be reading in class with my students. Everything I've heard or read about this first book of the series has, heretofore, kept me at bay.

Well, the book club meets next Thursday night, and last night, I didn't have much school work to do, so I decided to go ahead and start reading. The book is 500 pages long, and I thought if I could just get a little bit into it, I'd be good. Whitney, a history teacher at MHAFYOS, warned me that I wouldn't be able to put the book down. Hmph. I sniffed as I began reading.

The first few chapters of this book are written exactly in the style of a teenaged girl. This, in my opinion, is NOT a compliment. There is a formula to the prose: noun, verb, adverb; noun, adjective, etc. I slogged through Bella's awkward reunion with her father, her first few days of school, her inane descriptions of each of her classes. Honey, I thought, I went to high school already. I don't need to relive it.

I already knew the premise of the story: girl meets boy, girl falls for boy, boy ends up being undead. Formulaic, boring. For an almost-thirty year old woman, I was really wondering how this novel ended up as a Book Club Pick.

Around page 100 or so of this tome, I began to notice the incredible tension that surrounds every exchange between Bella and Edward. Her other friends are not very well-developed (and alas, I have been told that they don't ever get more developed than that in the subsequent volumes); her relationship with her father seems to be on an even keel. The drama in each and every conversation: do they like each other? Does one hate the other? Why does Edward act the way he does upon Bella's arrival at the school? Why does he play with her mind? was getting tiring. But then, the explanations begin, and the conversations, though still fraught with high-school drama, are now rather intriguing.

I love, and I mean LOVE, the concept that seems to play out here: vampire with a conscience, a predator who hunts animals so he doesn't have to kill people. The reasons he gives Bella for needing and wanting to stay away from her, though they get repetitive and a bit tiresome, are also juxtaposed with the absolutely palpable tension and electricity in their exchanges, once they declare their feelings for one another.

And I think this is what is so completely disturbing and unnerving about this book for me: as an adult, reading the sexual and emotional tension between these two teenagers makes me itch. It physically makes me have to move around while reading the story, and because I am so visual, I have detailed scenes playing out in my head while I read.

The actual writing is terrible, but I love the concept. I began reading at around 9 and didn't stop reading until I'd finished the last page, at 2:30 in the morning. I NEVER, EVER do this. I don't know really how to put into words why I could not tear myself away from what I consider "junk food" in the literary world. This book should not win any awards. The author should be flogged for some of her prose. But her idea is just so alluring-- just like Edward Cullen's topaz eyes.

And for the record, I will NOT be seeing this movie. It makes me feel like a dirty old woman.

I Need You... to Help Me Feel Better

Ugh. Woke up this morning with the congested, achy head, sore throat, and stiffness in the neck that can only mean one thing: New School Year Funk. The ice-cold (blessedly) classroom, the new students with all their icky little germs, the fact that I can't work out as much as I'd like... these things all contribute to the generally crappy feeling that rolls around every fall semester when I'm exposed to a bunch of new people and germs.

I'm glad I've had my tonsils out (granted, that only happened summer '07), because otherwise I'd likely be out of school for a week with the funkiness. As it is, I'm hoping that I can keep it under control so I don't miss any school. We have several days off for Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot (Jewish religious holidays, for the uninformed) and I need all the time with the kids I can get between now and then. Being sick would be BAD.

I'm appealing to my readers (all 2 of you) to bestow upon me your remedies for keeping the cooties at bay. I don't do flu shots but I'd be good for herbal, homeopathic or straight traditional medicine. Just help me. Quickly:)

Hmph. A Tofu Master, I am not.

Tried a recipe from veganyumyum.com, which looks absolutely gorgeous and not very difficult to make. Smoky miso tofu sandwiches-- I mean, how easy could this be, right?

Der.

I forgot the-- apparently-- most essential ingredient necessary to the success of the wonderful marinade for the tofu slices. Sugar. Add a bunch of salty Asian ingredients together and what do you have? Well, without the sweet contrast of the sugar, an MSG-fest.

So, I should read more carefully next time. Tomorrow: blueberry grunts, from the same website.

Wish me luck.

Iron Man with a Purpose

Coolest. Idea. Ever.
Exo Suit

What a fantastic use of intellect and ability, and what a horrible joke on the man who invented it not to be able to use this himself.

I hope people worldwide are able to use this suit, and that rehabilitation centers and medical insurance companies will cover the use of this.

Wow.

How the time flies

A brief apology: sorry I have not kept up like I wanted to with house renovations and the like; once we actually got moved in, the whirlwind did not-- and hasn't, yet-- slow itself. It seems rather to have gathered strength. I went to FL briefly to pick Maddie up from my parents' house, and came back to prepare for the new school year. This week, I'm in inservice all day without access to a computer or laptop, so there you go. Please forgive my sloppy contact. Soon, I will post some more pictures of the house, some of the Florida trip, and maybe even some of my new school and classrooms.

I have to go to the doctor tomorrow morning to have my left hand checked out; I have been having lots of pain and it's hard for me to grip anything tightly, to lift Madeline, and even to write (as I am left-handed). I'm thinking carpal-tunnel, but there's a slight chance of some sort of hairline fracture. Carpal-tunnel is more likely, and I will update all my readers (all five or so of you!) on that once I've heard from the doctor what the deal is.

Wishing you all well! Enjoy this un-summer-like weather for a few more days, as I'm sure the heat will return in full force very soon!

Renovations Day Two

So tired today, but we got a lot more done. My awesome friends Tiffany and Christine came to help, and that was really the thing that got us over the hump today. All the rooms are painted and the carpet is up in two rooms and the hallway. It's easy to get up, but the tack strips are a hooker to get out. Luckily, Patrick doesn't mind doing those!

Tomorrow's agenda includes: touching up paint in our room, pulling up the rest of the carpet, pulling up the tack strips, and sanding the kitchen cabinets. So we're still a little behind where I wanted to be, but perhaps I was a bit ambitious to begin with. Madeline was going to go to school this week one day, but perhaps we'll make it two so I can get a few more things done-- and besides, she misses her friends and wants to play outside all day anyway!

No pictures tonight but I'll have some, if not here, on my other pages, by Monday or Tuesday.

I am so sore but feel so great about what we've done without having to hire anyone to do it. That doesn't mean that I wont get someone to come in at a later date and finish the job--- but I think what we've done so far is something to really be proud of.

New Home Renovations Day One, or Why I Will Hire Someone to Do This Next Time

Oh, my back. Oh, my neck. My neck and my back. A day (plus a few hours) into the cosmetic surgery on our new house and I find I have seriously misjudged the amount of time needed to do the painting and carpet pulling. For starters, I hate pulling down wallpaper. Scratch that. The actual paper came off the walls like buttah. It was the backing, which did NOT come down like buttah, that I hate. We spent most of today taking turns scraping the walls, getting wallpaper glue all over our hands and piling up what looks like wet toilet paper on the floor in what is going to be Madeline's room. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

We did get two other rooms painted, and the colors, as you can tell from the photos, are really, um, brighter than we thought. We're hoping that they will dry darker, and of course, once furniture gets set up in the rooms, that will make a difference. Tomorrow's work includes cleaning the gross walls, pulling down a wallpaper border that didn't want to come off today, and hopefully starting on the carpeting.

So if any of my friends here in Memphis want to come help, please call me! I could use some extra hands:)

Reflections on Faith

Been thinking a lot lately about faith vs. religion. I am not, for many pragmatic reasons, particularly religious, though I was raised Catholic. Ultimately, I married a Catholic man whose family happens to run in the same religious circles as mine, but we are not really regular attenders of any type of religious establishment, Catholic or otherwise. We get a lot of flak about it from his parents, my parents, and silent flak from others.

For awhile, I thought that my lack of attendance might be working against me. After all, I didn't get an assistantship for the 2nd year of my Master's, I didn't get into any of the schools to which I applied for doctoral work, and I didn't get the first (or 2nd, or 3rd) job for which I applied and interviewed. Could someone be telling me something? Could it be that I am not, in fact, a decent enough person, despite my religious shortcomings, to have good things happen for me?

When I really sat and thought about it, I realized something that has probably been lurking for years, and which, though I've voiced before, I'm not sure how much I really believed in. That realization was that you *can* be a good person, have good things happen to and for you, without going to church every week, kneeling, standing, praying, singing, kneeling again (remember I was raised Catholic), standing, taking Communion, and lighting many, many candles in the hopes that one saint or another will intervene on your behalf and answer your prayers (or as it seems to be in so many cases, grant wishes). I have long thought-- and usually have my suspicions confirmed-- that there are a shitload of hypocritical "Christians" out there. Front row on Sunday, scrubbed and smiling, but last out of the bar on Saturday, scowling and drunk.

I have never really made apologies for who I am and what I do: yes, I smoke on occasion. Hell yes, I drink. But I have never, ever, tried to hide that. I believe in doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do, not because I'm trying to save my sinner's soul from eternal damnnation and hellfire. I have given money to beggars, fed stray animals, volunteered. I do those things, again, not because I want brownie points, but because it feels good to do them. To make another person smile, to help someone not so fortunate in their lives as I am in mine, is just the right thing to do. For me, going to church when I don't get anything out of it, or praying to God/Jesus/various and sundry saints when I need something is hypocritical, and I just don't think it's right. I'd rather be a sinner than a hypocrite, because I've never felt wrong admitting my shortcomings. I know I'm impatient, anal-retentive, overly annoyed by small things and a drill sargeant. I KNOW. I love myself anyway.

So for me, believing that something good would happen after so much negativity was faith in the universe, faith that the good deeds I'd done would recycle themselves back to me (the word is karma, folks. Learn it. Use it.) Faith in karma, in the cycles of good and bad, eventually brought those good things to us.

I'm going to keep on believing. But you aren't going to see me in church anytime soon, so don't ask.