Astonishing entomon

This has to be the most amazing and the largest moth that I've ever seen. (Photo taken with Olympus E-Volt 410 with FL-36 flash.)

Children provide solace during 5 days of illness

Wednesday evening, I began to feel feverish. I woke in the night with violent chills, shivering so fiercely that my clattering teeth frightened the dog. When I awoke in the morning, my sheets were sweat soaked and I was doubled over with abdominal pain. After a few trials and obstacles getting myself together, I made it to the drugstore for some Imodium, which provided absolutely no relief. My son later trekked to the drugstore for a second remedy, and that provided no ease to my extreme discomfort. Nausea had become my newest enemy, making it impossible to eat more than a crumb of bread or a baby-spoon of soy yogurt.

Saturday morning, I managed to get to the walk-in clinic right as it opened, only using their restroom three times. (The alternative the night before would have been the emergency room if I'd followed the advice of the MD on call. However, taking a dog and two teens along with me in an ambulance was simply not an option because I really couldn't drive at that point Friday night.) Only ibuprofen could keep the fever at bay, and that medicine did as much harm to my stomach as whatever bug was already after me. Still, it stabilized most of the cramps and chills and fever enough for me to drive the short distance to the clinic.

With three prescriptions to fight infection, nausea and cramps, I felt I might have a chance. My children proved to be troopers. Whilst I lay in bed, or was making one of hundreds of trips to the restroom, they managed not to bicker all day. They made a run to the grocery store to get juice and bread. They kept my glass filled with ice and water and juice. They brought me saltines with small amounts of jam or peanut butter. My son did his Food Network night and made broccoli with tomato and mozzarella over a Boca burger on toast. It actually smelled good after I'd been on meds all day. I didn't eat any, but he and his sister cleaned their plates. Finally, Monday morning, I had the strength to walk the dog, and I didn't have to panic about how long it would take to get back to the restroom.

His Dark Materials

I wish that I could just put down a book that didn't resonate with me. I plowed through the His Dark Materials* trilogy by Philip Pullman, and it wasn't worth it. The philosophy is weak: "I don't know if I am an intelligent designer, an evolutionist or an atheist."Dust is a pale and pathetic version of the ridiculous midi-chlorians that George Lucas seemed to pull out of his backside in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. I really couldn't tell you who borrowed what from whom. When you start talking about intelligent particles or micro-organisms enhancing human biology, God begins to make more sense.

Then there's the whole business of fate vs. free will. If you even have to have that discussion, then on some level you believe in "God"; whether that God is intelligent particles throughout the multiverse or whatever is academic. I was not enamored with the first book, but I read the whole trilogy: down to the last iota of deus ex machina and tripping over every possible plot hole along the way. The writing is poor, and the third book is little more than pulp and circumstance. Some chapters go on and on for no apparent reason with little plot development and futher flattening of the characters. I can't tell if Father Gomez† was thrown in just to give Balthamos a character resolution or vice versa. How disappointing!

Oh, and for not being particulary fond of Tolkien, Pullman's books have talking bears, witches, shamans, ghosts, spectres, cliff-ghasts, spur-heeled Gallivespians (read venomous Lilliputians), angels, dæmons, etc. He may not care for Tolkien's work, but Pullman's attempt at multiverse mythology is no less inspired by it.

Next, there is magic as science. It's the fantasy fiction of the 21st century, I guess. Pullman's not the first to try it. Anne Rice tried to explain vampires and witches that way. Why not? It's like string theory with a sprinkle of pixie dust. But that doesn't explain how you can make a knife out of steel with man-made smithing tools and then have it cut through layers of the multiverse because a kid can put his mind into an alpha state. I stick with the Doctor's TARDIS, thanks very much. Allons-y!

Lastly, I don't want my daughter to read it. My reason? Not because of the mixed messages about when it's good to lie or how sometimes killing people is all right if it's for a good cause. Instead, I don't want my daughter (or son) to read this book because of the message that Pullman puts forth that it's OK for a girl (Lyra Bellacqua) to be independent, intelligent and willful until she meets a boy because then she should become all goofy, foolish and subservient to him so that he can tell her what to do and run her life for her. Will I forbid my daughter to read it? Of course not. It's on the bookshelf where it's been since Christmas. She can read it whenever she likes. So far, she hasn't shown interest.

Frankly, the movie The Golden Compass has better story telling, better action and more believable magic as science. Right now, she's into Nancy Drew.

* The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, The Amber Spyglass
± angelic being serving as a virtually powerless guardian to Will, the central character in Book 2
† Magesterial (read Papal) assassin absolved in advance for a murder he would commit

feed address change

I'm making a few changes to the overall idea behind my website. When I started, I intended mostly to post artwork. However, those who read my site probably notice that my life takes up the biggest portion of the posts. Without further ado, welcome to art, life & poetry.

http://feeds.feedburner.com/artlifepoetry

Practice

Because I'll have who knows how many art classes this school year, I figured that I had better dust off my pencils and sketch book. With so much translating to do lately, most of my spare time has been devoted to reading and improving my French skills. My drawing has been ignored, and photography has been something I've enjoyed only once in a while. So yesterday, I trekked over to the Barnes & Noble to sit in the café, to have a latte and to sketch from a coffee table book. I found some beautiful 360° photos of places in France, and once my inspiration opened before me, I began to sketch. Here's my version of a sand dune in the South of France.

Dune, July 2008 (graphite on paper)

Little birds, HVAC repairs , water in the closet & a dead battery

To say that today has been interesting would be so much an understatement. It has been downright unusual.

This morning, there were four small birds flitting about my potted plants on the porch. One little budgie got in a pot that has only soil and gave himself a dust bath. They were all so cute, chirping at each other, but by the time I could get my camera to the window, they were growing bored. When I got my camera to the window, I must have tapped the glass and startled them. They all flew away.

After my Snow White moment, I donned my running gear and did a lap around the neighborhood. I don't know how far it is, but it took me about 25 minutes. Let's call it two miles, and I'll feel good for almost 40. All right, 12.5 minute mile with asthma and partly arthritic knees! Rock on!

Next I needed to run errands, so I went to the car. Raising the garage door, I saw that my left rear passenger door was ajar...and had been for nearly three days. The dead battery resulted in my walking to Big Lots to buy a charger. Considering that I do something like this about once every two to three years, and not just to my own car, I should already have had one of these in the garage. As the battery charged, I waited in the muggy apartment for the HVAC guy to come.

You see, the AC has been out for a few days, again. This time the apartment management called in their company HVAC specialist to fix it, rather than having the resident handyman do the job. The apartment is cool and comfortable again, and I don't have to lie svitzing in my briefs on the living room floor under the ceiling fan while I try to pretend I'm not melting. Beau feels better, too. That tongue is tucked back in his mouth now.

The never ending saga of the water leaking into Marie's closet continues. Apparently the flashing, where the vinyl siding meets the brick on the façade, has been damaged. Now when it rains, water drains inside the wall and then seeps into the carpet on the floor. About every two or three days, the carpet cleaners come vacuum out the water. In the meantime, roofers have inspected the flashing and are supposed to return "soon" to make repairs. After that, the old carpet gets removed when everything is dry again, repairs to the wall and finally new carpet in the closet. Poor Marie. I'm sure that she'll be thrilled to have all that resolved.

Saturday pool party

Yesterday, the management staff of my apartment complex put together a pool party for the residents.  My children and I donned our swimsuits and went to have a little fun for a couple of hours.  There were door prizes, which we didn't win.  There were snacks, and we had a few.  There was a DJ who played a very poor selection of party music.

When they got to the dance contest, I was really glad that there was no category for grownups.  However, I did note that the three teen girls couldn't bust a move until the DJ played a "song" (Soulja Boy Tell'em - Crank Dat [Soulja Boy], don't ask, I just can't go there), that had a canned "dance" to go with it, they just stood there, doing nothing, with no creativity, no spark, no interest in the music.  It was as if because the song had no recognized choreography, the music could not be interpreted for dance.  To my further dismay, the Crank Dat (Soulja Boy) dance lacks any imagination as much as the music lacks any music.  I never thought I'd say it, but I miss Thriller.  If you could learn all of that choreography, you were working.

After the third set of door prizes and no win for us, along with sunburned foreheads and shoulders, it was time to go.  In addition to the discomfort in my scorched shoulders, my left ankle really hurts.  I must have given it a bad turn while horsing around with Page and Marie in the pool.  Dang, I'm showing some wear.

A nice day out

Unexpectedly, my children were with me today.  I had thought they would be with their mother for another week, but there were some work conflicts for her, and I've got them with me for three extra days. :0)

So after I picked them up from their mother, we made a little day of it with lunch at the pizza parlor on the court square.  Afterward, we went to the Regal Georgian 14 to see Hancock and had a good time watching the film.  It wasn't anything that I expected, and we all found it quite entertaining.  I can't listen to critics too much, or I'd probably never go see a film.  Wil Smith looks great in a tight black and yellow body suit by the way.

Then we next went to Barnes & Noble to read and enjoy a snack.  After a stop at the grocery store for a few essentials, we came home.  It's nice to have them here with me.  I just wish it were all the time.

Another gull in my collection

Sea birds are beautiful. Somehow, the white of their wings seems so brilliant. I suppose it's all that sun, bleaching their feathers and making their wingtips scintillate. I managed to catch this one in flight with my Olympus. The pyramid point it forms with the lifeguard and the beach-goers is nice. This one sailed in the sea breeze at Cedar Beach, Babylon, Long Island, on 2 July 2008.

Patti Lupone, you Broadway diva!

For the past week or so, the kids and I have been in New York. We're staying with my boyfriend John who is working a power plant installation on Long Island. We've done some sightseeing in Manhattan, and I've decided that I could end up living there at just about any second. Contrary to the old adage: It's a nice place to live, but you wouldn't want to visit there! Seriously though, we've had a blast. There's so much to do and so little money.

Saturday, we did take in Gypsy with Patti Lupone. There was a moment of intense fear and dread when the disembodied voice of the house announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Pattie Lupone has injured her foot..." There was a collective gasp and then innumerable hands wrung and chests clutched. "...and will be wearing Isotoner slippers for the entire performance!" A tremendous roar of cheers and rumble of applause cycled through the audience. When Mama Rose first yelled "Sing out, Louise!", I began to cry. I was transported. I was embarrassingly giddy for the next three hours. My hands ached from clapping, and my cheeks cramped from smiling. Thank God you get to sit for the performance, or I'd have toppled into the orchestra seats from dizziness and emotional vertigo. However, I did manage only to lipsynch the entire show and not to belt out the libretto and lyrics. I mean after all, people paid to see the Tony winners, not to hear me from my 4th row mezzanine seat. People like me should not wait 39 years to get to see a Broadway show on Broadway. It could result in a stroke.

Of course we've done much of the other obligatory tourist stops in NYC. We've been to the UN, the Empire State Building, the American Museum of Natural History, Times Square, The Museum of Television & Radio, Rockefeller Center & Radio City Music Hall. Next stop in the All American Tourist Roadtrip will be Coney Island in Brooklyn. I don't know if we'll get to the Statue of Liberty or not, as I'm just about penniless at this point. Who knows?

Family road trips rule! And yeah, just like last year, the dog is with us again. This time, however, we're using my Hyundai Elantra that gets far better gas mileage compared to John's Kia Sportage. My dog Beau was just as happy as could be sitting in the back seat with his little harness buckled to the seat belt strap. Gas prices are high, but the cost of the trip has still been less than if I'd had to pay for hotels and air fare. We were going to drive to Montreal as well, but my limited funds postponed that trip for another time. In this way, I can save a little money for the trip to France next summer. No driving for that one, and I'll have to start the bargain hunting for that trip right now. Wish me luck.

[parts snipped from an e-mail to my friend Liz]

Old man one day (unfinished)

Within the yellow warmth of incandescent glow,
The mustached professor sat by window as snow
Fell gently on French countryside, garden and wood.
At his desk he sipped single malt before he could
Take a moment to sigh and wonder where his pen
Could have gone--not on the blotter nor in his vest.
Then instead his weary mind sought distraction lest
He not remember at all where he had set down
His faithful stylus. So notebook he seeks, a frown
And a furrowed brow upon his face. His journal
Where memories, ideas, pleasant or infernal
Could be let loose without affront or offense
On cream colored pages, his cursive letters so dense.
With Moleskine in hand, he still sought that pen to write
Thoughts that coalesced in shadowed mind on winter night.
Confessions, obsessions, anecdotes, text sublime
To write in shaky meter and unstable rhyme.
Papery fragile fingers rustled scraps and notes,
Pictures of now grown children upon whom he dotes.
He forgets the pen, for the moment anyway.
Photos and notebooks mental cobwebs swept away.
...

Cross-post from 'A Beautiful Card'

The Moleskine: Mini-Memories A-Go-Go

060708

With tickets gifted from the kids' grandparents in hand, we trekked into Atlanta. With the aid of online navigation over the phone form my boyfriend John in New York, we found the Green Lot for parking at Turner Field. We went to the ballpark. We rooted for the home team. I bought peanuts. We didn't win. But it wasn't a (cryin') shame because the kids and I had a good time. On TV, Major League Baseball bores me to tears, but live, with all the fan fun and with diaper bags faded memories of the past, we had a great time. I think it made for an all-American night at the ballgame. Even though, as I remarked to the Phillies fans behind us, it seemed as if we'd traveled to the past, an 80's night when the Braves habitually lost. Did they do it just to reminisce on the good times? You know, for a team that's over 100 years old, the fact they can even make it onto the field is impressive. ;0)















(Photo © 2008 Atlanta Braves and MLB)

Talk about an expensive night! But to quote my man John: "It's only money; they print it every day!" Here's the tab:

• Souvenir T-shirt, foam finger, and foam Tomahawk -- $42
• Pizza, hot dog, peanuts, French fries -- $34
• 2 ice creams and a smoothie -- $15
• 5 Cokes and a beer -- $25
• Gasoline to get home -- $48 (ouch!)
• That goofy grin on my daughter's face -- Priceless (Oh, like you couldn't see that coming!)

Chipper Jones knocked a homer, and the crowd went crazy. The kids and I danced at our seats; we helped get a wave around the stadium twice; we booed bad calls from the umpire; we mocked the Phillies' catcher and pitcher who looked like lovebirds with all the time they spent together on the mound. And when a drunken rowdy fan stooped to deriding one of his companions for ordering a Pepsi at Turner Field in Atlanta the Coca Cola capital city, I agreed with those Phillies fans behind me that baseball fandom had reached a new low when soft drink preference was fodder for insults, and whatever happened to slurs about a body's mother or sexual orientation?

Marie, Page and I had a bit of fun guessing what some of the crazy abbreviations meant on the scoreboard. Honestly, I think they just make them up on the fly. But in the bottom of the ninth when the Braves were down by 5, I knew that it was time to beat some of the crowd, and potential drunk drivers, to the parking lot.

The drive home kept us talking from Turner Field to our suburban Interstate exit, and we knew it had been a great night for the three of us. After showers to wash away ballpark stink and sweat, I tucked in two tired teens, and I was asleep fairly soon myself.

Thanks, Atlanta Braves!

Two new photos (151 posts!)

Here are two recent photos. I love using my Olympus E-410. Thank you, John My Sweet Man!

The first is entitled Bathroom Reading and the second is Turtle at My Terrace.

Weekend work

At the eighth hour of a Sunday morn'
instead of in my bed a-snorin'
I sit at the table in my den
to see if a bit of work can then
be done.

However, as I search the 'Net,
finding the right resource is met
with frustration and consternation I read
that the linguistic resources which I need
are hard to locate and aren't too many
and what there is costs a pretty penny
at least.

It seems though now my sear is now thwarted
my trip to Montreal will leave me rewarded
with new materials, dictionaries and books
to get my jobs done quickly looks
possible.

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.

Early birthday cake

Tuesday, my son will have completed 14 years on this Earth. He asked for a chocolate cake with chocolate icing for the party we had today to celebrate while he is with me this weekend. I was happy to oblige. At least when it comes to sweets, he and I are often on the same page. The recipe was very much like the one I posted for the chocoberry cupcakes except for the following substitutions:

• 1 ½ cups white cake flour
• 1 ½ cups whole grain all-purpose flour
• 4 tablespoons of black cocoa
• 6 ounces vanilla soy yogurt
• 8 ounces total of cold black coffee and plain soy milk
• 1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

To get the height I wanted, I used three 8" round dark cake pans that I first greased with shortening and then lined with rounds of baking parchment. I baked the cakes all at once at 350°F for 23 minutes. Luck was with me, as they were perfect. After about 15 minutes of cooling in the pans on wire racks, I turned them out, removed parchment and allowed them to cool completely, several hours actually.

For the icing, I used ½ cup kosher margarine, ¼ cup shortening, 1 ½ lbs. 10X confectioner's sugar, 3 squares unsweetened Baker's chocolate (melted), and several tablespoons of soy "cream" blended on medium-low speed until very creamy and spreadable.

The three layers stay positioned nicely if you insert three toothpicks each time you stack a layer while icing. They hold the cake in place easily, but do warn those about to enjoy so that no one injures his or her mouth (see the photo). Finishing off my son's wish for total chocolate enjoyment, I topped it with chocolate jimmies. Serving it with vanilla ice cream cuts some of the rich flavor for those with less of a sweet tooth (John and I had soy ice cream, but the kids had Breyer's All Natural).

For a little fun, I positioned my son's 14 candles à la romaine: XIV. He got a kick out of it. Unfortunately, he has a bit of a cold, so I had to blow out the candles for him. He should still get his wish!

A light dusting

This morning at 6:30 as I took Beau for his morning walk, it began to snow here in Newnan, GA. Now three hours later, there's a thin accumulation among the trees, but grass and concrete seem to stay free of any snow. It's cold and beautiful. Tall thin pines sway outside my window. I'll warm the apartment in a few minutes with the heat of the oven to bake a chocolate cake for my son's birthday celebration later today. Snow and chocolate cake--I think that's a perfect combination!

Finally, the prodigal homo returns

He arrived Tuesday night, and it was such a wonderful treat for him to have come home. Eight months of separation, and I was near to bonkers. After little more than 24 hours with him, and I shan't go into detail, I felt so much better about getting out of bed, going to work, teaching students, having a department meeting, grading papers, etc., etc., etc. My students even inquired as to what had come over me and to why I was in such a good mood. With nothing more than an impish broad smile, I went on with my lesson.

He'll have a few days at home before moving on the the next job. With hope, he'll soon hear something from Siemens, and that could translate into a much more convenient work schedule with better benefits and more time home. John should know more after a phone call tomorrow. All I can do is pray, I suppose.

Beau is one ecstatic puppy. The man who rescued him from the pound has returned. John is the embodiment of goodness for that dog. I, however, am nothing more than the food, bath, vet and poop guy, I guess. At least my man is more grateful that the dog!

Saturday

Today has been a busy day. Awake at 7, I showered and then walked the dog. By 8, I was en route in my little Hyundai to the service station for an oil change with only a short stop at Starbucks for coffee and a croissant. While waiting, I worked on a translation for IHG, a set of data sheets to examine hiring practices in their Quebec hotels. Once back home, I set again to the translation, tweaking my brain, dictionaries and Internet resources trying to find a good translation for kitchen steward or barback. [Note: The challenge of a translation is to end up with language that actually makes sense and fits the idiom of the target reader. Sooner or later I have to find a good hotel/restaurant dictionary that isn't OUT OF PRINT! Whenever I have a little cash to buy one, I can't seem to find one. In the meantime, my business dictionary and unabridged dictionary seem to serve me well.]

Late in the morning, my children arrived from a night spent with their grandparents and a church pancake breakfast--Bisquick according to my kids with "blech!" after that. The dog was practically rabid with joy for them, leaping and barking crazily as he drooled and slobbered greetings to them. When finally Beau settled enough to get a leash on his collar, they escorted him outside to relieve himself before he could pee on the floor. As I continued my linguistic labors, the kids and dog sat on my bed and watched "Singin' in the Rain" on TCM. Although we've all seen the movie before, we enjoyed seeing the clever dance numbers with Donald O'Connor, Gene Kelly's brilliant and lovely solo, and the humorous irony of Debbie Reynolds' careful lip movements to the dubbed love song.

By 5 PM I had the first fill draft of the translation completed. I followed that with a bath for Beau which he pretends to hate, but afterward, he prances about the apartment, glossy and shining. For dinner I crafted an Italian-Asian fusion stir fry that tasted better than I might even have intended and satisfied cravings for comfort and Chinese. In place of dessert, we played a round of Clue. My daughter always seems to suggest rooms, weapons and suspects over and over without making any deductions toward victory. My son prematurely accuses, and then he loses. Even while I was distracted by the sounds of Miley Cyrus coming from iTunes, I managed a win. The evening came to a close with our watching "For Your Consideration" on of the premium movie channels. It was funny and poignant, especially the "It's French!" part considering this year's Oscar ceremony.

Now the children and dog sleep. I await a call from my traveling man while I watch "300" (for the abs if not the acting). Good night!

8

8 days
8 weeks
8 months
----
Time is a greedy bitch!

Cracked watch crystal

Chipped over the 2,
directly,
right on the 2nd wide line.
Time unchecked
keeps slipping
away.
The watch, a gift
from the friend of my heart,
marks the time
we are apart
and very little together
as 2.
Usually
2 ones
and not
one 2.
As the 2nd hand clicks past
the crack,
I wonder if
when
how
he will
come back to me.
Fragile crystal,
transparent
and fissured,
yet it never obscures
the 2nds
that move
from present
to past,
keeping the future
always a moment
at bay.

8 weeks starting Wednesday

Well, John never was able to get out of Idaho like he and I hoped. Tuesday the 26th marks his departure from the Potato State. He can't get home fast enough. I don't begrudge him the time that he'll spend with his mom and then his dad on his way home to me, but I am so jealous that they'll get four days that I won't. These 8 months of his absence with intermittent weekends and a couple of holidays have been difficult emotionally. Whereas I want him to be happy and successful in his career, I want him here with me all the same. Too many adverse factors come together in this situation. If he's completely out, it's unlikely that he'd get the kind of work he does now. It's not like there aren't gay construction workers, but unless he decides to start his own business, he'll face all sorts of prejudice in the workplace. Even as an independent entrepreneur, he'd have a hard time outside of certain markets. At the same time, I cannot leave my situation because of my responsibilities to my own children prior to their becoming adults. For at least 6 & 1/2 more years, this may be the way we lead our lives. Far from perfect, it still makes me happier than I ever was in a traditional marital relationship. However, were this a more forward thinking nation, many more people would be happy, myself included.

Chocoberry cupcakes with Blunilla icing!

Just say it over and over again. You know it sounds good. Here's the recipe.

Yes, they’re vegan, but no one will notice and no one will care.

Ingredients for Chocoberry Cupcakes:

¼ C vegetable shortening
½ stick (¼ C) kosher or other dairy free margarine
1 ½ C granulated white sugar
6 Tbs unsweetened applesauce
2 C white cake flour
1 C whole grain all purpose flour
3 Tbs black cocoa
1 Tbs baking powder
¾ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
6 oz blueberry soy yogurt
4 oz vanilla soy milk
1 tsp vanilla extract

• Preheat oven to 350ºF. Line cupcake pans with paper cupcake liners. Batter yields enough for about 18 cupcakes.
• Cream the shortening, margarine and sugar at medium low speed in a standing mixer with the flat, wide daft. Once those ingredients are very fluffy, add the apple sauce, 2 Tbs at a time on low speed until incorporated but without losing air.
• In a separate bowl, combine the remaining dry ingredients and set aside.
• In a measuring cup, mix the soy yogurt, soy milk and vanilla.
• With the mixer set at its lowest speed, alternately add the flour mixture and the liquids about ¼ of each at a time. The mixture needs to be smooth. Be sure to pause and scrape the sides to make sure all is well mixed and that there are no streaks of unmixed batter.
• Spoon the batter into the cupcake pans to fill each well about ¾ full. Bake for about 20 minutes. Test with toothpick,. Cool completely before icing.

Ingredients for Blunilla Icing:

¼ C or (½ stick) kosher or other dairy-free margarine
¼ C vegetable shortening
1 LB 10x powdered confectioners sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 to 3 tsp vanilla soy milk
Royal blue gel food color

• Cream the "butter" and sugar in the mixer at medium speed until well blended. Add vanilla and allow it to incorporate completely.
• Add about two or three dots or more of gel color to icing to get the color you want. A little goes a long way with gel color.
• Then add the soy milk, just a little at a time, until the icing comes to a good, spreadable consistency.
• Pause the mixer frequently to scrape the sides to make sure all the sugar and "butter" are well mixed and very smooth.
• Frost cooled cupcakes.

Get yourself a cup of hot spiced tea and enjoy it with a Chocoberry Cupcake with Blunilla Icing.

Mia Doi Todd - Mixed reviews

Gea Mia Doi Todd Release Date: February 19, 2008 Genre: Alternative ℗ 2008 City Zen

Last night while John and I were talking, he sent me this new album from Mia Doi Todd as a gift through iTunes. I clicked the link in my e-mail and redeemed the album. Although I transferred it immediately to my iPod, I didn't listen to it until this morning when I walked Beau.

Upon my first listen, I might call it contemplatively boring. Individually, the songs are pretty and pleasant, but in a way that is ignorable and that lets you focus more on the world around you. During a long walk or a weekend drive (if you can afford the gas!), this music lets the senses do what they will without interruption. The coherence of the album comes from its repetitiveness, but if you're looking for upbeat pop or rock, it's not here. Mostly the singer and her guitar, there is little harmonic invention, and an ear hoping for teases and tricks will find none.

Work out music it isn't, unless the work out is slow yoga, and then this album might be perfect. I've no familiarity with any of the rest of Ms. Todd's opera, so I make comment only on Gea. The sound isn't original because there are many other artists that fit this genre of plaintive singer/songwriter on the verge of clinical depression (Nick Drake for example), and some might do it better (Nick Drake for example, except he's dead because he went past the verge into suicidal depression). But there is a place for Ms. Todd somewhere in my music collection, and I'm glad to add her to my almost-chock-full-of-music iPod. (I'm running out of space for my favorite podcasts! Help!) She may very well accompany my next yoga routine. Sometimes icy and scalding are extremes that cannot exist if there is no lukewarm, and Ms. Todd's lukewarm folksy-pop might provide better perspective of the soundscape around her.

My own criticism aside, reading the reviews on iTunes is its own comic relief. No one has anything musical to write about the album. The 33 reviews listed at the time of this writing are nothing more than a restaurant wait list of lovers and haters and a few feeling apathy with an attempt at a favorable review. Even the NY Times review that a fan copied & pasted to iTunes wasn't especially clever or helpful. The first review was little more than a moronic "yeah, I'm first". The haters are more than likely too video-game-quick-click-attention-span to be able to listen to the entire album or perhaps to read an entire novel of more than a couple hundred pages in order to give a substantive review. The lovers are mostly in love with their own fawning text. The rest gave middle-ground ratings and could provide little detail as to why. In the end, with all the audience and performers that exist, there's a match for everyone, I'm sure.

(album artwork for Gea and color layout as distributed through iTunes)

Tulips for Valentine's Day

John sent me a stunning bouquet of tulips for Valentine's Day. Because it wasn't the more commonplace dozen roses, I was a bit surprised but very pleased. Their beauty as the blooms have opened full has made me reconsider this flower which in the past I'd taken little time to appreciate. The tulip is truly a beautiful flower, and when once I do finally have my garden, it may join the lily as one favored in my landscape. Thank you, John.

(Sorry, but the links to some of the pictures don't seem to be working properly.)

Yet again, the proverbial hare takes a nap!

For reference see the article "Schools drop one mandatory foreign language course" by Megan Almon from the Valentine's Day 2008 edition of The Times-Herald of Newnan.

Not only does Georgia want to safeguard the state's status in the lowest tier of the Union for educational rankings (see page two of this GBPI publication), but the county where I teach apparently aspires to descend its rank to the least successful of 159 counties for its high school students. Four years of progress made through an effective middle school program articulated through a required third level of study in high school are erased as readily as a misplaced jot or tittle. My disdain and disgust are potentially limitless. Ms. Almon's "thanks to" captures the local mentality and attitude with regard to participation in the world at large better than I could ever describe.

While in the short term I may see a sudden increase in art classes supplementing my teaching schedule, my own advocacy of language study will not waiver. As my father might say, "keep pluggin'." When I came to my school, there were not three full classes of French, and my schedule was replete with such academic equivocations as Freshman Focus and SAT Prep. This year, there are EIGHT sections of French with levels I, II, III, IV & V. I gained a colleague in "my department" and was able to extend my experience into visual arts. This may be only a temporary trend toward linguistic decline, but as long as I breathe (which is sometimes its own challenge), there will be French in Coweta!

Just why does language matter to me? Read this article at the University of Tennessee Martin. It summarizes already and more effectively what I might write on the subject of language education and provides links to related research and bibliographies.

Hé, l'Amérique, le plus grand des lièvres, réveillez-vous alors!

Que le monde entier soit plurilingue!

Hillary

These latest primaries in the Potomac region lave chiseled away at her lead enough to put Obama ahead. I don't know. "Change" is a platitude that doesn't impress me. I like Hillary's platform, and I don't care for anything the Republicans have to say. Obama doesn't seem to say enough in the press for me to "buy in", but then maybe I'm just too "old" now to be caught up in the movement a man 8 years older than me seems to inspire in the young. I guess I'll keep reading and watching and listening.

Who knows when?

John is due home... soon... -ish. It's been five and a half weeks since he was home. With any luck he might get home before the end of my mid-winter break next week. If you read this, my man, I love you.

Florida gull

Here is a gull in flight at Coco Beach, FL. I shot it with an Olympus E-410 digital SLR at f/10 with 1/320 sec. exposure time. I had the photo up as my desktop wallpaper, and I realized that I really like it, and I hope others will, too.

Front page even when I don't win

This past Thursday marked the 11th annual CLICK Spelling/Trivia Bee. Originally, it was a spelling competition among local business to support an adult literacy charity that helps the nearly 1/3 of my counties population that does not have a high school diploma. The team from my high school gets sponsorship from the Times Herald, the Newnan newspaper. I've participated in the competition five or six times, and it's definitely a worthwhile cause. My team and I have won once or twice in the original spelling bee, and last year we won the first trivia bee. This year we made 3rd place, but considering the rules kept changing about every five minutes, that's not so bad. Making the front page while the winners made 2A was just a bonus, i guess. I did learn some new tidbits:

• Holocene - the current geologic epoch
• North American hibernating bird - whippoorwill
• Hitch your wagon to a star - R.W. Emerson
• Plantagenêt - England's longest ruling dynasty (1152 - 1399)
  
• Barney Clark - first artificial heart recipient (I could only remember Dr. Jarvik but mostly from the Lipitor commercials.)
  
• DeWitt Clinton - New York governor who built the Erie Canal

I did a little fact checking and it's not actually the whippoorwill that hibernates, but the common poorwill. Another irritation, Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon were not the original Odd Couple no matter what that trivia contest insisted (though I put down that answer knowing that their source would be thinking Hollywood and not Broadway). Walter Matthau and Art Carney were the original Odd Couple (now played by Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick in the revival).

By the end of the evening, all had a good time (me included) and $21K will go to helping people learn to read, to do math and to earn a high school diploma or GED.

2nd sleep musings on high school econ

At around 3 AM, I awoke with this idea bubbling in my brain. After an hour of tossing and turning, mulling and musing, I decided to get up, don my monogrammed bathrobe and power up my computer to let it out of my weary noggin.

Turn the -opoly games that are so prevalent into a market segment analysis and study project for a high school economics class. Have students form small groups to research the last 10 years of a particular market segment of their choosing, e.g., wireless communication, housing & mortgage financing, home & business personal computing, musing & recording industries, etc. As students conduct their research, they should evaluate trends, market influences, market explosions and bubble bursts, both stabilizing and destabilizing factors, IPO's, private industries, corporate giants and influential but small-share players. Once students have established a body of research, they begin creating their games. Using soft drinks as a model, they might start off with recognized corporations like Coke & Pepsi then structure the board to include recent trends like energy drinks, health drinks, flavored & enhanced waters, bottled coffees & teas, retail outlets like Starbucks, partnerships with fastfood & restaurant corporations. The list in my head goes on and on. Other market factors that seem on the surface to be unrelated will have effects on consumer spending: war, recession, market drops, trade with China, consumer confidence ratings, Super Bowl commercials, unsuccessful product deliveries (New Coke, yikes!). I've had similar scenarios partially developed in my head for wireless communication: AT&T Wireless is spun off Cingular. BellSouth Mobility buys Cingular but keeps the Cingular name, AT&T buys BellSouth and thus reacquires Cingular and puts everything under the AT&T umbrella. Once you consider branding, FCC rules, bandwidth auctions, proprietary phones and networks, phone number portability, and more, the possibilities for Community Chest and Chance cards start to get a little crazy. That's one strand anyway of a vast web weaving in my little cobb-webby mind at now 4:50 AM. There's still computer & operating system wars: Windows, Mac and the -Nix niche, not to neglect PDA's and other mobile computing options as well as Web-based computing (Google, Yahoo!). Allowing students to dig into market history and to explore current trends along with upcoming market events (iPod vs. Zune, SP1 for Vista and Leopard for OS X) and third party heavy hitters like Logitech, Symantec, Adobe, Intel, AMD. Any one segment is like a great tree with thousands of miles of tendrils, roots, shoots and branches all interwoven to create quite a complex system. I think students would quickly begin to understand better the interdependence of free-market economy. Then as they condense what they learn to the confines of a Monopoly styled board game, they can start to see just how all these factors affect consumers through choice in the market place, the meaning of "multi-billion dollar industry" and the reality of the butterfly effect on global economics.

And now that the alarm clock is about to begin is matinal buzzing, I will dam this stream of consciousness and leave it for some one else to ponder. Maybe I can take a nap today during my planning period.

I'm a Georgia Voter!

Finally, the day arrived. I got up at 5:15 AM to walk the dog. Yoga went by the wayside as I scurried to the shower. Breakfast was a mere swig of orange juice and a few spoonfuls of soy yogurt. Off to the polls at 6:40, just a trip around the corner, and I was there. Fifth person in line. At 7:00 AM promptly, Pam, Ann & Sandy welcomed into the elementary school gym (Carpeted! Can you believe it?) that served as the poling place. By 7:07 I had cast my electronic ballot and was on my way to work. It's a pleasure to find that voting can go smoothly.

However, upon my arrival to school I had to post progress report grades only to discover to my dismay that 45% of my advanced French class (levels 3, 4 & 5; all together, YIKES!) was failing. Mardi Gras was a big fat flop! I had been discouraged by the general lack of enthusiasm or of a real work ethic among some students, but this was a nightmare. I expressed my disappointment and nausea at their lack of drive and bluntly told them to kick into high gear. I also said that I wanted real signatures from living parents on the progress reports. Many looked at me in dismay with the "how did he know?" wonderment. Please!

What's more? My French Club students really dropped the ball this year. Despite all the calendar marking and multiple promises, none of them did what was needed for planning. So no King's Cake, no beads, no masques, no music, no fun was there in French Club. I'm so upset. We'll meet next week and setup a "Lenten" event for the last Tuesday in February. It won't be the same, but it will be something.

Contributing editor

Today I posted an entry to my step-mother Susan's stamping and craft blog called A Beautiful Card. She has a home based business reselling craft supplies from Stampin'Up! Susan also gives demonstrator lessons in various craft making projects largely centered around card making. This past Thanksgiving, she did a great job applying those skills to some scrapbook pages that my children and I were making from souvenirs from our ROAD TRIP AROUND AMERICA this past summer. (See entries from June & July 2007.) Her site has potential and could, I think, boost some revenues from her work with Stampin'Up! Frankly it's amazing all that you can make with some paper, tape, stamps & markers. When teaching and its ancillary late night paperwork leave me a spare minute, I will endeavor to contribute more to that site. In the meantime, make something beautiful!

Making decisions makes me ill

I don't mean the big ones like what to name a baby or whether to wear boxers or briefs.

Instead I mean little choices like what kind of candy to get at the movies or Cherry Coke or Classic Coke.

Choosing a book at the newsstand 45 minutes before departure from Gate 33B can make me miss the flight.

Blue or black ink is tougher for me than deciding on Windows or Mac.

Selecting storage boxes for card stock and art papers makes my head spin and my stomach turn.

Google, Ask, Yahoo!, MSN--I don't know how to decide even to search!

Funny bits that I overheard

At Publix, a young girl inquires of her mother: "So chickpeas aren't chick poop?"

From a balcony two floors up, a man laments to an unheard audience: "I'm not the one who sneaked out to Wal-Marts at the wee mornins!"

Away from home and feeling ill

For three days my man John has been at his apartment in Boise attempting to recover from what he believes might be food poisoning. Apparently there may have been some questionable meat at a company luncheon this past Thursday. Getting him to see a doctor has been its own challenge, though finally he may give in to my requests. He has researched 24/7 walk-in clinics in Boise and says that he will go to one today. I love you, John, and I want you to be well.

Why I will most likely vote for Hillary Clinton

No where in the Constitution does it indicate that a citizen must defend his vote.

Cop out aside, my vote is my vote. I've been listening to debates, pundits, analyses, speeches and more. Maybe in the end I agree that it will take another Clinton to clean up after a Bush. However, I cannot abide another Republican White House. An ideal candidate does not exist to satisfy every American, so discussion doesn't matter at this point. Finally, the results of Super Tuesday will do much to determine the Fall 2008 Presidential ticket, but I will vote for Hilary because I will.

Poetry Slam @ Barnes and Noble

Tonight I presented Starbucks at the first poetry slam at the Newnan Barnes & Noble. There were audience judges, and my presentation earned 27 out of 30 possible points. A 93-year old local author & poet named Mary won the night. Her poems were inspirational and lovely the way only someone who is fast approaching a century of life can make them be. Truly, youth is wasted on the young.

For once, I performed in a way that wasn't tied to school, was solo, was my own creation and people received it with applause. It makes me glad and helps me to overcome a little social anxiety.

The old Sony Walkman has died

Alas, 'tis true. The old yellow and black cassette player with AM/FM Radio and TV & weather bands has died....sort of. The radio still works, but the cassette motor has ground to a halt. Actually, this one was about the fourth I had of its type before I switched to CD players then finally to an iPod.

It served me well. I used it the entire time I was walking then running off the pounds from 250 down to 180! Two years ago, the little diva helped me convert my 80's cassettes to MP3 so I make get my audiothèque as digital as possible and fully enter the 21st century.

Today, it gave up the ghost. I was converting some AP French language study cassettes to MP3 to make easier to use CD's for my one student using the accompanying workbook. After the first successful conversion, the motor in the 10-year old Walkman died. Poor thing. I haven't the heart to get rid of it. Whatever shall I do?

3PM Barnes and Noble - Newnan, GA

Sitting in the café, commercial wonderland of books and coffee that it is, I see people around me, and I wonder about their lives.

The three students examine children's literature intently, consulting each other about publishers, authors, illustrators and content.

Spouses browse books. The wife is either oblivious or in denial a out her husband's status as a flaming queen. Really, she has to know; don't they all?

An old man flips the pages of a monthly on woodworking, glossy photos and drawings for next weekend's backyard or tool shed project.

Me? I stop writing long enough to read a few paragraphs of Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Why exactly does Edmond Dantès need 1500 pages to exact his exquisite revenge on those who betrayed him?

At tables and in upholstered chairs, portable PC's plugged into wall sockets send data packets through WinSockets across WiFi connections freely offered by the bookstore.

The librairie is busy, and I imagine that there must be a reader for every one of the thousands of titles shelved for sale. But there isn't. The store could not accommodate as many, and so few people read books cover to cover any more.

Even these students--of education, of writing, of literature, who knows?--don't read the books piled before them. Pages flip. PowerPoint slides compile. Presentations materialize, but no one seems to enjoy the wealth and power of knowledge and experience in written word and artful images.

A long weekend

Three days to rest & relax
With too many hours at video games,
Glazed eyes reflect the LCD.
Alarm clock's disabled so there's only
The gentle lift of café au lait
To soothe & revive me.
The quiet of late winter snow
Melts too quickly.
The brilliant white blanket
Disintegrates,
Erased from view but not from memory.
Photographic bytes & bits
Pointed & clicked into sepia warmth
Capture an excited dog's antics
Pixelated by 10 million
Turning the day into a White Christmas,
An unexpected gift to be cherished
God-sent on the tiniest fluttering angelic wings.
The purity of new fallen snow
Hides the sins of apartment dwellers
For one morning
All is an illuminated Eden.
Under the smoothed rubber sole of a Gortex lined boot,
There's first the gentle crunch and then the easy slosh.
Everything is temporary,
And in Georgia
Le temps des neiges s'enfuit trop vite.

Chez moi sous la neige

Saturday brings snow to the South!  I do wish it had happened during the school week, but 3day weekend snow is just as lovely!  Beau was hysterical; in fact he still is.  He's been barking at flakes outside the window off and on all day.

Today's winter weather comfort food recipe:

In a 8×8 baking pan, drizzle enough extra virgin olive oil to coat the bottom.  Next, lay down finger-sized slices of homemade or bakery fresh bread.  Cover this layer with ingredients you like on a pizza (I used vegan pepperoni, pitted Kalamata olives & artichoke hearts).  Grind some pepper over this layer to your liking.  I like a lot of pepper!  If you want, you can layer some cheese here too, like parmesan or romano.  For vegans like me, Toffuti Better than Cream Cheese works well as a substitute for ricotta.  Now, use a spoon to break up the contents of a large can of whole stewed tomatoes.  Spoon these all over the top of the dish.  If you want more cheese, you can put that on now.  Lastly, cover with foil & bake at 350° F for about 75 minutes.  For the last 15 minutes, remove the foil so the cheese can brown a little.  Let it stand until it stops bubbling when removed from oven.  Oh, this comes out good and there's no need to bother with boiling noodles in advance.

Finally, some relief

After more than a week battling the evil, horrible monster that is asthma, I've started breathing better. My dog Beau was pleased today when we resumed our walk around the entire apartment complex instead of just out to the pet stand and back to the apartment. I was glad too that when we returned, I wasn't completely out of breath. Additionally, there's a day off from school Monday, so I can get a little extra needed rest this weekend. Teaching this past week, though only three days because I took two from sick leave, was very difficult. I huffed and puffed like a big bad wolf just to be able to lead a few verb conjugations and simple dialogue activities. I'll have three days at home to recuperate a bit. One advantage of being alone so much is that I don't have to talk to anyone, and I can let my lungs and voice rest. The dog just wants me to pet him, and he doesn't mind if I'm quiet.