Friday, June 29, 2007
I am inches away from getting those packing boxes ready.
It would be so easy. Tyson's already in Switzerland, working. I could just eBay everything and come, too.
If Switzerland shared France's healthcare system, I would be there in a minute.
But, returning to Planet Earth, where I am in debt, have no passport, have 2 dogs, 2 cats, a bunny, a gecko, a tortoise, a turtle, and a snake to think about, not to mention an impending teenager, almost 3 more years on my lease, and no real concept of how one secures a job abroad, let alone completes permanent-residence status paperwork....and I begin to understand how the only people who can really afford the luxury of up and moving somewhere else are, well, people who can afford it, and people in their early 20s with no money, nothing to keep them in place, and without the sense to know any better.
Well, cheers to them. Maybe the rest of us can work on changing what we've got here.
And my that, I mean looking for jobs in Canada.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
I just got home from helping some very good friends pack up their house in preparation to move to Missoula, Montana. When I showed up at about six this evening, it did not look like the home of a family preparing to move. There was still no truck, even though the U-Haul had been reserved for several weeks, and they had run out of boxes earlier, so there were piles of random things scattered all throughout the house. (It was with a sigh of relief, then, that I surreptitiously began checking kitchen cabinets and drawers to find them all empty.)
Finally, the truck arrived, along with a half-sister, her husband, and two teenage sons, intended to be the workhorses for the evening. I was a bit alarmed when one of the boys asked for "some kind of painkiller, like an ibuprofen or a Lortab" because of a torn rotator cuff, but things went just fine. The half-sister ordered us all around like a general marshaling her troops, but it soon became clear that what was really needed was a second truck of approximately the same size as the first.
Monday, June 25, 2007
After that, I got more interested in just watching her twist herself all around than in trying not to split my pants. Doesn't it seem like everyone should be able to touch the bottom of their foot to the top of their head?
When we finally got to savasana, or the final relaxation part where you just lay on the floor in what is alternately called corpse pose or laying-down mountain pose, I realized why there were so many guys in the class (I've never been in a class with more than 2 or 3): the instructor walked around and gave four-minute massages to our faces, necks, and the backs of our heads. You could opt out, of course, and I heard several people rolling up their mats and leaving during this time, but I stayed. It was unreal. I had no idea that was exactly what I needed to close my practice. The whole process took almost half an hour, and afterward it was interesting noting who had stayed to be massaged: all the guys, and about half of us girls.
Anyway, I am off to bed very shortly. I think I am relaxed to the point of collapse.
- I get the dishes washed right after I get them dirty, or I can just rinse off the ones from earlier. Hell, they're my germs anyway.
- I can wear the same clothes three days in a row and nobody notices.
- Less laundry to wash (in conjunction with #2).
- I can leave clean laundry on the other side of the bed when I go to sleep.
- Pity points with friends. Free lunches and movies and stuff.
- I can leave the TV on all day, tuned to whatever I want, and I don't have to be watching it to keep "driving privileges."
- I can play on two computers at once.
- I'm forced to figure out how to do some things on my own, like hook up computer stuff and replace car headlamps.
- I'm not hampering anybody's schedule if I go to bed at 8:30, take 3-hour naps, or wake up at 6.
- I can vacuum at 6 a.m. and not wake anybody up.
- When I IM Tyson in the morning, it's already, like, 5 or 6 p.m. there, so I can see whether the day is going to go okay or not.
- I can keep the bedroom as cold as I want at night.
- I get to pick which side of the bed to sleep on--as long as there's no laundry sitting there (just in case my side gets too cold).
- I can watch tv and practice guitar at the same time. (See #6)
- I finally solved the mystery of who doesn't rinse their cereal bowls. (hint: It isn't me!)
That's not to say there aren't many, many things I miss, but being sappy is just so trite. Some of the less-smarmy things I'm sorry to be doing without are:
- punches in the butt
- punches in the porcupine
- a lap to lay across on our God-awfully uncomfortable couch
Saturday, June 23, 2007
The woman checking out in front of me had 8 cases of Pepsi, about as many packages of nitrate-laden lunch meat product, Sunny D, a gallon of milk, and two boxes of no-name sugar cereal. AND IT ONLY COST HER 18 DOLLARS. That made me feel sort of angry, but also kind of smug, but then angry again. It shouldn't cost more to eat better food. Even the lifetime health care savings I'm probably earning by taking care of myself now, rather than later, doesn't offset the fact that I could have bought soda and lunch meat and a new pair of shoes.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
It was actually good, in some ways. It all happened so fast that neither of us had time to get all sad and sappy. It signaled an end to a lot of worry, stress, and frustration. Yes, having another few days together sounded nice, but they would have been filled with stress and resentment and not really all that pleasant.
On the other hand, it meant that he spent our last day together for a month on the phone, pissed off at government bureaucracy, while I played on the computer, trying to stay out of the way.
It's getting to be close to bedtime now, and, while it's fun to be independent when the sun is out, this is the time of day the house feels the emptiest. Miss you, baby.
That's just f*cking sad. It's not enough that kids are raised by fundies themselves, but even children of parents sane and rational enough to allow them to, I don't know, practice yoga or giggle over horoscopes get things taken away from them by these crazies.
What's really sad is that the library's decision to acquiesce and close the summer program is indicative of broader relations between the political right and left. The tacit assumption has always been that the left is "better than that," which means that, yeah, we as a nation were pretty pissed when Dubya lied about WMDs in Iraq, but we were really, really upset when Clinton lied about a certain blowjob he received. We expect people on the right to do what they do. The left is supposed to value the means more than the ends, so we've got this higher standard to live up to.
The whole situation reduces to the same schoolyard politics most of us grew up with: bullies continue to get away with their egregious behavior, while the good kid who fights back is the one suspended.
It makes me want to go back to bed.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
My, it's amazing how things just don't change.
1. Vegas is still a miserable, smoggy, soul-searing, apathetic, lethargic, sun-baked hell-hole after about 10 in the morning.
2. I still don't have much more going on than meals and naps.
3. I still weigh the same as at this time last summer.
4. I think my skin cancer is back.
But if that was the whole story, there would be no reason for this blog to exist. Let's see what else happened over the last 100 posts:
There were lots of great vacations, with lots of great pictures. Click here, here, and here for cool, refreshing photos from the Sierras.
Last August, Tyson wanted some pictures for Tracy, an old friend from high school.
In September, we had a little poster contest. The second poster from the top was declared the winner.
In December, we got snowed on and said goodbye to the beach house.
Things were pretty boring around here until the end of February, with the debut of the a series of participation exercises. Soon dubbed Audience Participation Monday, these activities quickly became the highlight of this blog.
April brought a potential Spring Break crisis and a new job for next year.
May consisted almost exclusively of Audience Participation Mondays, and June, well, scroll down to reminisce about June. It's all still there.
I just want to give a shout out to all my readers who have been there from the very beginning--Tyson, my sister, and my moms. Without their support, this would probably have been another one of those "ehhhh" projects that sounded good, but never got off the ground. And for everyone else--Tammy, Erica, Elaine, Brannon, Michael, Billyfish, J--I'm glad you showed up and stuck around. (With apologies to anyone I may have forgotten. I can always add you in, good as new, and nobody will know the difference.)
Here's to another 100 posts.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
I've done all this work, like trying to do step aerobics moves (requiring me to count and differentiate right and left--at the same time!) while also simultaneously using hand weights, then attending an uninspiring pilates class that left my midsection trembling like a Jell-o mold, then furiously riding a bicycle that steadfastly refused to go anywhere...
...and I still can't wear most of my pants. So now I'm just tired, achy, chafed, sweaty, and fat, which is two adjectives more than I was at this time on Sunday (tired and sweaty are par for the course around here on summer afternoons), with no benefits. Where is the instant sexiness and energy promised to me by the diet-and-exercise people? Where is the tighter, less jiggly ass? The firm, pert bosom? The sculpted abs? Not to mention the overwhelming feelings of joy and empowerment. I paid my dues. Now how 'bout a little something in return?
What they don't tell you is that sometimes all you get is tired, achy, chafed, sweaty. And, if you're watching what you eat, bitchy from lack of cookies. Try putting that on a poster and using it to sell gym memberships.
On the brighter side, I think I rode harder than the very pregnant woman next to me in cycle class this morning. Go, me!
Friday, June 15, 2007
This morning I signed up for Aikido classes and a guitar workshop at the rec center up the street. Okay, so they will occupy exactly four hours of my time each week, but that's four fewer hours to mope around the house, bitching about the heat. (Which has, by the way, become excruciating, particularly during the hours of 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., the time each day most people in other cities set aside for doing things other than lying pantsless in front of the air conditioner. It becomes very difficult to get much done when half of the day has to be spent in this way.)
Anyway, that is, at least, something to look forward to. My new personal organizational software reminded me this morning that there are only 68 more days until I have to go back to work. Which reminds me, I have to get rid of the lurid orange-pink on my classroom wall. What would you recommend? I was thinking of a crisp apple green. Any other suggestions?
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
As we all know, by virtue of being teachers, or married to teachers, or students, or parents of students, graduation season is winding to a close. Graduation is often a time for gifts, and the one gift that everybody wants to give but no new graduate ever wants to receive is advice. (Hint: Graduates want money. Lots of money. And possibly new cars, but it's best to just give them the money for that, too.)
So in keeping with graduation season, tell us,
What is the best or worst advice you've ever gotten? Explain, if necessary.
- School to be out
- My hair to be pink
- Having bought a new camera to replace the lost one
- Getting Tyson to take a picture