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I know, I haven’t posted in a while, and this is totally random. But how cool is this treehouse bike elevator? I love it! Now I want a treehouse. . . (Via Sho and Tell)

Pope Benedict XVI is abdicating. Still trying to wrap my brain around this one. . .

I’ve been thinking the past few days that sometimes it’s the little things that take the most courage:

1) Driving in the 1″ of snow. (I was terrified folks! Simply terrified!)

2) Getting up on time every day without hurling the alarm across the room. (Maybe that is more perseverance. At any rate, I still think it takes courage to get out of bed in the morning – you may have run out of coffee, there is a thought to strike terror into your heart.)

3) Wiping off the customary blank face and smiling at a stranger.

4) Calling the landlord to tell him the heater is broken.

5) Going down to the basement to change your laundry when no one else is home.

Little things in life take a little bit of daring.

  • My coffee cup from Dunkin’ Donuts this morning is red and green with the word Joy printed across the front. Although I do agree that coffee does give me some amount of joy in the mornings, the fact remains that it is still not Christmas yet.
  • On my commute there is a reading center called Wright to Read. This really bothers me.
  • There is an origami paper crane on my desk. I fold paper cranes when I get phone calls from telemarketers that won’t go away. I just let them talk, say “mmmm hhhhmmm,” and fold. I don’t really listen to what they are saying. Is that bad?
  • I am more nerdy than the Classical Radio Station. Sigh. So it has come to this. The other day the radio announcer said that the piece was played by flutist so-and-so, but I am pretty sure it should be flautist.
  • As I get older I am realizing more and more that I am becoming full fledge snob. But, I buy coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts, and I like it, so I can’t be too far gone.  
  • Did you know the first recorded use of snob was in 1781?
  • Okay, I am stopping now.

It’s going to be a stormy day today, and I have to work late. I hate to waste an entire stormy day at work, it should be properly celebrated with a sleepy morning, coffee, books (I am reading two very interesting ones right now, but more on that when I’ve finished), magazines and movies. And something simmering on the stove for dinner.

Most of my co-workers are complaining about the potential lightning and winds. I must be an adolescent at heart – I can find no reason for concern. So what if we lose power? It’s merely an inconvenience to me. Plus I’ve already been struck by lightning – so the odds of that happening again are very low.

Or at least I think I’ve been struck by lightning. It happened while I was watching the Ubi et Orbi blessing at the Vatican on Easter Morning. I was huddled under an umbrella and one of my students was standing with me, both of us were holding the umbrella. It was pouring rain, it was coming down so hard the facade of St. Peter’s was veiled, even though it was just a block away. The umbrella was more to keep the rain from pelting us in the face than to keep us dry, our clothes were soaking wet. And there was no reason to think there was lightning. Then all the sudden the umbrella sent off blue sparks, we both yelped as we felt a current course through our bodies. And that was it. The miracle is that we weren’t hurt or killed.

Maybe we weren’t struck by lightning, but why else would an umbrella send off blue sparks in the pouring rain?

I work in private education (no I am not a teacher,I am on the administrative end of things) and yesterday was the first day of school for most schools in the area. While to some, this is an exciting thing, to me it signals the beginning of phone calls from parents. In the heat of the moment, these calls are never fun – I don’t like being yelled at, or having to carefully word every sentence because what I say will be used against me. But afterwards, it can be amusing to mull over how crazy parents can be. For example:

1) The parents call to let me know their student is perfect and in no way deserves the D+ he was given. In fact, it is not even possible for their child to do D level work, therefore, their child deserves an A.

2) The parents are paying for private education, therefore their child deserves and A. (They literally think they are paying for a passing grade. Um, let me think. No. Oh, and guess what, your child would still be failing in public school because they have homework there too!)

3) Their child is failing class, they understand this, but its unfair to give them an F. (Right. And it would be fair to give them an A, demonstrating complete comprehension of the subject?)

4) Their child has completely failed a grade but they still want them passed on to the next because they’ll do better in the next grade. (Right, because if the student doesn’t know how to read he’ll have ever possibility of success.)

5) Teachers don’t know anything about their subject, but they, the parents do. Their bachelor degree in business administration makes them experts on every subject taught in school. (Nevermind that most teachers and school administrators have M.A.’s (and in some cases doctorates) in their specific field.)

6) The administration is always out to get you. Even when the administration has clear logical reasons for what they do, they are trying to trick you somehow. (Because we are not about education but deception.)

7) I have the power to fail their child out of college, twelve years down the road. Therefore, every precaution to make every communication anonymous should be taken. This thereby will make it practically impossible to fix any problem, but at least their child will get into Harvard. (Hello? Harvard? Yes, I have a spastic kindergartener who won’t nap that I would like to report. I am pretty sure he is a misdirected genius even though I have never met him and you should never accept him because I am jealous of his potential greatness. Yes, his parents gave me his name. No, the fools, they didn’t remain anonymous! Buwahaha!)

8) I personally hate their child (who I have never met) and everything I do to help them is merely some twisted plot to get send the student to the slums so they will lead a life of misery. (If the parents refuse to let their child play high school baseball, because he didn’t make the A team, this will surely to happen. Playing on the B team means you will never succeed in anything ever and will be a failure for the rest of your life.)

9) Because parents are paying for a private education everyone in the entire school system must cater to their wishes. Included their right to block me into my parking space when I try to leave because they can’t back up five feet lest they lose their spot in the pick-up line.

10) Because they’ve sent a child or two to the same school they think they are donors and they will pull funding (i.e. their child will not attend next year) if things aren’t done their way. (Um, no. You paid for your child’s education, you are not a donor. True story: your ‘funding’ usually doesn’t even cover the true cost of educating your child, that is usually subsidized by real donors. Real donors give substantial amounts of money to our schools so your child can continue to receive his education at the rate he does.)

There is a painting that was bequeathed to me when I took possession of my office. The frame is battered, the colors are dull, the subject matter of the picture is stale and unmoving to me. To top it all off, the picture is much, much too small for the wall it is hung on. However, despite all that, almost everyone that comes into my office comments on how beautiful this picture is.

It has me completely baffled. I don’t really like it myself. I am just afraid to get rid of it because everyone in the office seems to be so attached to it, and seems to think I should be attached to it too. Plus, I don’t have anything I want to put on that wall yet, I have ideas, but nothing concrete.

Perhaps I will reach up, take it off the wall, and hand it to the next person that says they like it.

And this concludes my random thought of the morning. Have a great day!

 

Here ya go!

Image Source: dailydoseofstuf.tumblr.com via Trena on Pinterest

Source: tumblr.com via Trena on Pinterest

I’ve been trying to find the correct abbreviations for the days of the week. I think it goes like this: Mon., Tues., Wed., Thurs., Fri., Sat., Sun. But then one book says to shorten everything to three letters, so you have Tue. and Thu. Personally I like Thurs. better than Thu. – Thu. just looks a little sad and incomplete, it at least needs an “r.”

There, you’ve now witnessed the inner workings of the mind of an English Major.

Source: deliciousindustries.blogspot.com via Trena on Pinterest

I love sparklers, I have a stash in the trunk of my car. I bought them just before the 4th of July. (There is something about stopping at a firework stand that is akin to buying fruit. You browse a bit, ask a few questions about the selection a hand, and finally pick your favorites with joyful anticipation.) I meant to use them all on the 4th of July, but for some reason that didn’t happen.

Traffic was bad as I drove into work this morning, probably the result of an accident. The traffic reminded me that I don’t have road flares in my emergency kit, and I made a mental note that I should get some. But then I remembered the sparklers. Those would work in a pinch, right? So, if you ever see a woman standing by a broken down car, dressed for the office with a sparkler in her hand, that would be me, waiting for the tow truck.

Okay, okay, I’ll buy some road flares. . .

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