Smart pet tricks

Wow, what a parrot! But I still don't want any birds chez moi.

Einstein le perroquet - Vidéo

So, seeing this parrot talk, makes me look at my dog and wonder, is it that he's so smart he won't do all the tricks I try to teach him, or is it that he's so smart he does just enough for me to think he can learn more, so I keep giving him treats to train him? To date, my Beau can do only a handful of tricks: sit, stand (we call it dancing), lie down, roll over and shake. It makes for an entertaining morning before he gets his bowl of food. He doesn't talk, but to paraphrase a bumper sticker: "My dog ate your fancy, talking bird."

At last, at last, thank God, a winner at last!

Yesterday I attended my fourth Poetry Slam at the Barnes & Noble in Newnan. With a small crowd, my own children as a judging team and two of my own students as competition (and a darling little girl who couldn't have been more than 7 years old)...I WON! Youpi! Hourah! The $25 gift card is mine and Marie won a free desert for a cute little drawing. Below you'll find the winning poems and art work.

Guard Dog

Small black dog

asleep on a chair.

From outside

an engine's rumble or a neighbor's knock,

he's all snarls and barks and bristled hair.

Short races he makes

from one corner to another of the window ledge,

then two big brown eyes look back

for approval.

A short pant and a yip, a groan and a grunt,

now the home, protected once more,

gets a quick tour from a faithful

four-footed detective.

A damp black nose

sniffs ottoman and coffee table.

All's well.

Back to the chair,

once, twice, thrice

a circle of steps

before settling down again to surveille

the living room

for potential danger.

Little black pup,

homebound K9,

keeps me safe and sane.

Lazy Monday

Drip-drop from the espresso machine in the shop.

A rookie barista gets me the last cookie in the bakery case

to eat here despite the to-go-bag.

In this place where I can relax amid words and music,

and after only a small deduction from my debit card!

I take pleasure in the moment's leisure

to peruse a few books,

check out a Blu-ray that my device won't play

'til prices one day come down.

So back to the books where my mind makes up the pictures

in mental high def.

All that's left in my paper cup, a swig or two,

and time is up!

The last of my pax arabica

before going home to resume

the pattern of commute and reboot,

of work and rest.

Marie's Flower: crayon, marker and graphite on 20 lb. paper

L'art baroque

Here is a presentation that I prepared last fall for my Visual Arts 1 class. Maybe others might find a mini lesson of their own in here. In 2008-09, I'll have at least two art classes. With a second run at this course, I can fine tune my projects, rework the failures and imagine some new options. Art for everyone, I say, more of it!

When's the absolute last day I can turn in...?

There's always at least one student who wants to know just when the proverbial hammer comes down. Apparently words like Final Exam and Last Day of School don't provide a clue to these special students. Yet I relent. I have more than a couple appointments for the first planning day so that repentant students can turn in late assignments. Am I foolishly compassionate or just foolish?

Magnolia blossom

Southern magnolia blossom on a springtime Sunday morning (Olympus E410)

Grease is the word

Saturday night, my children and I attended Northgate's spring musical, a rather good production of Grease. The standout performers were Kelsey Adams as Sandy and Libba Beaucham as Rizzo. The two girls handily belted melodies and hotly blazed as the stars they are. All the students in the cast and crew came together to put on a rockin' show full of humor, solid dancing, charming characters and more. Where vocals did lack tonality here and there, showmanship and spectacle kept the entertainment level high. Because the young performers were so engaged in the moment on stage, the audience willfully and easily suspended disbelief and enjoyed every moment of the show.

I felt so very pleased to witness the whole ensemble as they ushered Rydell High into Newnan, GA. For so long, the Northgate stage has been as dry as a Georgia drought with only a smattering of showers, momentarily lifting spirits only to set them back into despair. This latest production is far and away the torrential slaking of quality theater for which the Viking stage has thirsted. I can hardly wait for the next drink of refreshment from our Backstage Players.

Alarming phone calls

The usual ringtone couldn't prepare me
Because
I'd never heard my boyfriend cry
In fact rarely have I seen him angered or more than frustrated
His emotions run at cool temperatures
His heart pumps propylene glycol, not blood.

Instead of the regular calm collection
Of wits and temper
This time
His voice cracked
I could here his words break in two
His stifled sobs broke into our conversation.

Go to your dinner he said
I couldn't; I wouldn't
I called to cancel
Made excuses
Then followed that call
With another to him
For three hours maybe.

Though the time connected was nothing new
It was a new kind of conversation for us
He leaned on me
And for once it seemed I took the pressure
And didn't buckle beneath it.

When I heard it might be cancer
I stayed calm
Sent word for family and friends to say a few prayers.

Not a false alarm
More like a fire drill, a call to arms
Smoking has to stop
The inflammation causing pain in the chest and back
All a warning, a violently frightening alert
To a stubborn man who doesn't care often when he receives health advice
Smoking and drinking go hand in hand with eating, sleeping and bathing.

But maybe this time
It will take
This warning gets attention.

Doctors, X-rays and CT scans aren't just a Greek chorus of Cassandras
But instead
The Oracle at Delphi, a Papal decree
Telling a stubbornly calm man
To take heed, to listen, to be well and to take care
So that he can be there
When we need each other.

Sunday morning: fresh air, fresh coffee, sweetened sourdough

After walking my dog this morning in the rain scoured and wind freshened air, I returned to the apartment to brew coffee, wash dishes and to set out dough to rise. While my coffee brewed, I washed some blueberries and put them over soy yogurt. That I ate with some whole grain toast and a café au lait (de soja). Although I have stacks of papers to check, I'm wasting a bit of time updating this here blog. [[Grading papers sucks. If there were some way to teaching in truly a Socratic fashion, I'd be happy. No grades, no seemingly arbitrary curriculum, but pure discovery. That'd be an educational Utopia, for me anyway.]

For the past several months, I've been experimenting with home grown sour dough starter. Until I conducted a small amount of research on the toile mondiale, I thought it was some great secret known only to chuck wagon cooks and San Franciscan artisan bread bakers. Hah! It's a delightful accident of nature. One cup of flour (whole grain, baby, whole grain!) and one cup of filtered water mixed well and left to stand from 1 to 24 hours, and then you've got sourdough starter. Wow. So, for about six months now, I've had a continuously cultured batch of starter, separating and feeding it about every 7 to 10 days, using about 1/3 to make more starter, the rest in a loaf of bread. Here's my recipe for the dough that's rising now.

• 2/3 cup sourdough starter
• 1 cup rolled oats
• 3 cups whole grain AP flour
• 2/3 cup water
• 1 Tbsp honey
• 3 Tbsp soy margarine
• 100% whole wheat flour for dusting

I just threw it all in my trusty KitchenAid and let the machine work until the dough became a smooth, fat ball. I put the ball into a greased, tightly lidded plastic container to chill in the refrigerator over night. I took the container out of the refrigerator this morning, and I'm going to allow it to rise as long as needed until it has doubled and bulk. Natural yeasts can take quite a long time to rise bread, but it's all so worth it! Then I plan to form it into two baguettes, then allow those to rise a bit longer. Then I'll bake them until they are deeply golden brown and have that lovely hollow thump when tapped. I'm the only one home, and these generally don't last more than three days. They're wonderful with breakfast, with lunch, with dinner, or with a snack. Okay, I'm addicted to bread. My midsection is a witness to that.

The rest of my papers await this Mother's day for my pen to score points and then this little computer demands that I update the grade records so that I can distribute progress reports to my students. [See notes above about Socratic methods.]

Tranlsation madness

Of late, I've been a translating fiend. IHG has had loads of work because of the reconfiguration of their job application portal. It still amazes me that I get this work. Pinch me; it must be a dream. I'm sure that I can put the money to good use, what with my upcoming EdS classes. Settling on a top notch computer to put me through my classes is enticing, but just paying off some credit card debt would be a better choice. Probably, putting translation earnings and the money from George Bush into the bank would serve me the best. Getting a bit more out of debt may not do for the economy what the President might hope, but it helps my personal economy closer to debt free and have a bit more disposable income on hand. Gas prices are about to leave me homebound! Maybe I can conserve during my summer break by staying home and walking to places nearby whenever possible. We'll see.

Testing the waters before taking the plunge

Based on my dad's positive experience working on his PhD through Capella University online, I've decided to test those waters myself. I won't go quite into the deep end, instead I've initiated an application to do an EdS in Curriculum and Instruction. It will probably mean working my ass off for the next two years--teaching, studying and the occasional translation to pay for the studying. Two and a half years of work to create few more career options down the road.

They forget they love you when they get their grades

After five hours spent Thursday grading projects for my French 2 class, I was physically and mentally exhausted. This week was scheduled for our state end of course testing. Although my subject doesn't have one, it can be a difficult time for my students. Because of material to check in all my courses, I had got a bit behind in checking some projects, so I used my extended planning period on one of the testing days as well as some time during a long club function to shorten the stack in my proverbial inbox. The vast majority of students accepted that my evaluation of their work was fair. I had provided a well delineated rubric at the start, explained those details and stuck to the list as I checked off criteria and added points. The few who failed had egregious shortcomings. I had to remind those with slightly more vociferous complaints that if I graded everyone's work based on my like or dislike of them, they'd all fail. There are students who make my blood boil that still get an A, and there are those for whom I'd sacrifice home and hearth that get an F. Either you're speaking and writing French and you're following directions, or your not.

It's been a bit of time since my last entry. School is hectic, and suddenly InterContinental Hotels needs a lot of translation of materials for their employment web portal as it receives updates for French. Je suis actuellement très recherché ! So finding time to post has been a challenge all on its own.

My weekend in Long Island with John was good but short. John and I managed to find two really good local restaurants. First there was the Rainbow Cookie Café on Route 112 in Medford, NY. I can't find a website, but I'm sending them a coffee mug. It's a delightful diner with charming owners and a folksy clientèle. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of the delicious breakfasts served to us. As for Manhattan, I don't know yet, but Suffolk County seems to harbor a nice bunch of people. Next there we found The Good Steer. The food was home cooking and the atmosphere of the third-generation family run business was wonderful. Don't forget the "7-Layer Chocolate Cake".

Getting out to find the mom & pop shops makes for a real introduction to the community. I'm looking forward to more trips to New York and becoming more familiar with part of the Northeast of these United States.

11 Months to Go

This weekend marks a month that John has been away, off in New York, electrifying Long Island. I miss him so. During the last 48 hours, he's also setup (partially) the one-bedroom diggs he found in Selden about 20 minutes from his jobsite. His commute will be short, and he won't have to spend too much time on the LIE. In New York, express doesn't mean quick anymore than it does in Georgia or California, I suppose. One day, he'll find a job like this one within commuting distance from home, and then he'll probably dump me. Maybe the constant separation has been what has kept us together. Who can say?

Only 5 Mondays to go!

Spring break has ended, and the sprint to the end of the school year has begun. The seniors in my class itch to wear their caps & gowns for more than mugging in the mirror. Juniors long for the day they become seniors. The rest, I suppose, is trickle-down.

In the last six weeks, I want to cram in two units of instruction in every level along with two projects and a final exam for each class as well. Whew! Outlining goals made nearly every student groan. Oh well. Such is life. What's odd, is that at first my students all love the projects. That's mostly because they think somehow I will grade more easily and more people will pass, but then the writing gets longer and longer and harder and harder. Tee-hee. It's fun, and despite their trepidation, they learn.

If only my father and mother hadn't been right

or Spring break hastens parental decline

The role of the adolescent human being is to do nothing more basic than drive its parent insane to the brink of infanticide; this task is best and most easily accomplished with the assistance of at least one sibling.

Today my children made the journey to their bedrooms in bouts of teen angst and sibling rivalry no less than four times a piece. Perhaps if I hadn't been translating e-mail templates for a hotel client, I might not have lost my cool so much. But when I debate whether I need a subjunctive clause or if I can make do with an infinitive phrase, my patience begins to wear very thin, very fast.

My son must act the clown and tease his sister. My daughter must whine, complain and nit-pick.

Breakfast I think had set the tone for the day. I woke early first to walk the dog and then to make an early morning trek to my neighborhood Publix, where shopping is a pleasure, to retrieve a few essential groceries. Upon my return, my smiling angels greeted me and, after very little cajoling on my part, helped put away foodstuffs. I then prepared a tasty morning meal of chocolate waffles and blackberries. [Aside: Don't ask for the recipe; I'm just not in the mood.] Before I could take even two minutes to eat my own portion, I found myself alone at the table with no hint of thanks, my daughter at the sink griping to her brother about how he'd stacked his cup and plate in the sink. À vos chambres, allez-y tous les deux pour que votre père puisse prendre son petit déjeuner en paix!

Now as I write this mémoire du jour, I look back on the overcast daylight hours as a kind of sine wave tracking their behavior, almost perfect in its regularity of amplitude, frequency and wavelength. There were wonderful but short moments of peace--oddly, they agreed on a television show, even sat together in a chair at Barnes & Noble quietly reading books. [Aside: Here I must give them credit for having learned early in life to be polite and well comported in public, and for the greatest majority of time, they are.]

Home again there were arguments over ketchup and homemade fries. They made snide comments to each other while playing our customized -OPOLY game, then later sat quietly through an episode of House, asking questions intelligently about plot, character, science and verisimilitude. And then the moment bedtime is announced, I would have thought they'd reverted to preschool lamentations of thirst and headaches, lack of fatigue and desire for prolonged late night reading. I longed for the midday calm that had reigned while my son had played video games and my daughter had watched Food Network, occasionally exchanging pleasantries. At that time I had been able to put up a few new items in my Zazzle boutique and finish off a bit of translating without worry.

It's all to be expected, I know. I think that if I had more time with them, I'd worry less about the stressful moments. There's this Martha Stewart perfection I would love to see rule, but then I realize it's the messy moments that make family beautiful. In the end, even when they're aren't sleeping like cherubim, they are beautiful.

Pollen silently assaults sinuses

April 1st brought its own little joke for me: pine pollen. The gentle dusting of yellow powder that covers everything in Georgia marks, along with the dogwood blossoms, the return of spring to our part of the Southeast. Walking my dog Beau, I see the fine dust collect on his black coat. Light puffs woosh up from the pavement and mulch as my shoes stomps the ground beneath. Daily were predictions of rain, but not until Friday did droplets to begin to wash away the wicked ochre-tint from autos and sidewalks. My parade of anti-allergy pills, puffs on inhalers, waves of tissues--it all did little to stem the pollen tide, and even with the rain, my recovery has been slow. Thankfully, HEPA filters in the ventilation and localized air cleaners inside my apartment have given me a little respite. Of course, now it just means that I must purchase new filters to accommodate the accumulation of allergens and pollutants over the past year or more. Alas.

ALLERGIES

SHMALLERGIES

One more week

Spring Break is just around the corner. This semester is usually easier than the fall one because of the frequency of breaks: 6 weeks on, 1 week off, 6 weeks on, 1 week off, 6 weeks on, summer vacation. The fall is 6 weeks to Labor day, then the Thanksgiving stretch, then the short sprint to Christmas. It's very stressful in the fall. Oddly enough, I get more accomplished with my students in the fall. It's not the frequent breaks in the spring that are the problem, it's the interruptions with standardized testing and registration that screw up the flow of content in my courses. It's hard to keep pace the way I'd like when one member of a group or another is missing from class. Oh well.

4th Monday @ Barnes & Noble

Yesterday evening made my third appearance at the local Barnes & Noble poetry "slam." There were only four or five people to read. I fell from second place scores to penultimate disgrace. Here are my two "morceaux":

Comestible conversation

Flecks of indignation pepper speech.
Kernels of sarcasm direct conversation waste.
The thrown away spoken word becomes moldering vegetable peel.

Words need growth and time to age and ripen, to reach maturity, to arrive on point, to be apropos or not at all.

Much like beer, wine, cheese or chocolate, words require proper preparation and degustation.

When carefully handcrafted, the well chosen "bon mot" has savor, balance, delicacy and weight.

The empty calories of slander and vulgarity and the saucy satisfaction of the quick retort sate only temporarily but are the fast food followed by guilt and more hunger, leaving the unpalatable aftertaste of wanted wit and questionable character.

Plagiarism becomes the store-bought pie that "tastes just like mom's" but its obvious occlusion of source and recipe disgruntles the guest and makes the dish indigestible.

Relax to dine slowly on words to take pleasure in succulent syllables that in a perfect moment give compliment to comestible conversation.


Indefinite articles

a toothbrush with blue and white bristles dropped beside a speed bump

a napkin from Arby's coated in decomposing grease turning it translucent

a losing lottery ticket from a scratch game, instant fun discarded beneath an azalea

a gold-tipped cigarette butt with maybe 30 seconds of tobacco left to smoke

a brown beer bottle, glass shards blending into pine straw

a plastic blue cap from a long lost bottle of spring water

a rubber ball for playing catch, soft molded to resemble a Major League hardball

a Coke can suspended in a shrub like a forgotten Christmas ornament dangling in early spring evergreen

a jumbo paper clip unfolded like a key or tool tossed to the ground after momentary use

a flattened watch battery deceptively reflective like an abandoned nickel

a silver label from a bottle of vodka, crushed on the pavement in an empty parking space

Photo browsing

Sometimes I click through my hard drive and stumble across photos I took some time before, uploaded but not examined. This one of the Boise River near where John was staying while working in Mountain Home is one of those that I think is just pretty. The brown river stones, green-black water, reflected sunlight, wispy clouds, blue-streaked sky, the last green fading from trees--all of it pointed to the fast approaching high desert autumn. It was early October 2007, and I had gone to see John for a weekend visit. While he worked Saturday, I strolled the river walk and took photos throughout the time. It is beautiful country there. Who knows; he might get another run there if they expand the power plant at Mountain Home again. (BTW: it looks like Siemens is going to take on John through one of their primary outsourcing firms for a year-long job in Long Island, NY. At least we'll be in the same time zone, and AirTran is more affordable from to New York than to Idaho.)

Sedentary behaviors no help to belly

Oh the humanity! Just when you think you've made it past Valentine's Day there's yet another holiday candy explosion: a year with an early Easter! Add your son's birthday cake, and too many late nights to bed coupled with yoga-less mornings, and well, the belly doth expand. YIKES! There is no one to blame but myself, however. I will self-motivate before I need a crane and reinforced packing straps to move. More walks, routine yoga, weights and ab work... slowly but sure, I can get my body a little bit more fit.