the worst part about having insomnia

is knowing in your gut that the school secretary's going to call you by 6:00 in the morning asking you to sub.  You went to bed late after a strangely discordant evening spent watching Downton Abbey  (oh, Edith!) and the Golden Globes (WTF, Jodie?).  After a few hours you're wide awake.  You flop around in bed with your head full of all the things you must do.  Then you stagger out to the couch and read Cold Comfort Farm for a half hour.  Thinking you're tired enough, you return to bed to discover the blankets have been whisked away to the far side of the bed and now you're cold and trying to steal a few back without waking up your life partner.  An hour later you finally get comfortable enough to fall asleep.  Until the phone rings and the school secretary's on the line asking if you're free to cover 4-year-old preschool.

Thank goodness it's only a half day assignment.

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preparations

A big blizzard is due our way tonight--just in time to disrupt the last day of school before Christmas break.  I've wrapped and stashed everything because I'm certain I'll lose a day--I'll count it a blessing if I don't. 
I filled the bird feeder.
I emptied the compost into the bin outside.
I ran the last errands across town.
I put the snow shovel in a good spot.
I filled the Momvan with gas.
I began a shopping list that should carry us through:
* snacks for a sledding party on Friday
* the last of the Christmas baking
* the dish I'll bring to pass at bowling on Friday night
* a family gathering on Saturday night
* a party on Sunday night with friends (fireworks over the snow and a bonfire at Chez Green Girl!  do drop by, but be sure to bundle up.  We'll provide the beer, chili, hot dogs and s'mores.)
* Christmas Eve dinner
* Christmas morning breakfast
I imagine this will be a doozy of a grocery run.

We'll have a white Christmas, what a blessing.  And this year will be a quieter kind of Christmas it seems.  I'm already drawn to the more mellow songs on the radio and feel more reflective, less frantic.  Everything in the past week makes me want to light a candle, hunker down and pray a little more for peace.

But being around these goofballs keeps me from becoming TOO somber.

 Mr. B decorated 9 reindeer cookies to leave Santa's team on Christmas night.  Each one looks unique.

Mr. B went to the Bethlehem Bash at church last night dressed as a shepherd because I didn't have the patience to make him a star costume.  When I told him his bo staff from karate could be his staff, he was sold.

My arms are full, I know we are mighty blessed.  Recognizing all these blessings makes my heart break a little more in a bittersweet way.

Spill it, reader.  Are you prepared?

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today we detox

My weekend of being a party girl kicked off with bolwing Friday night and I had the most strikes of the season--finally found my mark!  I also got "hung" 3 times (which is when everyone on your team gets a strike in a frame except for you) and had to buy rounds of shots each time.  Normally a late night out wouldn't be a big deal, but we had to get up early Saturday for the boys' basketball tournaments.

Mr. D and I took Mr. G and Mr. T respectively to their games and nourished ourselves with concession stand popcorn.  Then my dear friend J had a birthday weekend, so after T's basketball tournament I hustled over to a little hole-in-the-wall bar to help celebrate.   This bar had one of my favorite beers on tap.  And there were more shots.  I'd just reached the point of acceptance that another night out would be a lot of fun (thinking I could let Mr. D drive ME home for a change, cowgirl up everybody!) when I suddenly remembered that I'd promised to babysit the neighbor kids!  That night!  What time was it?  Holy crap!  That thought sobers a girl right up (plus some eggs and toast) and I wound up the 2nd shift responsibly keeping watch over a small (and cute and cuddly) flock until midnight.

Sunday morning Mr. D took Mr. G back to finish dominating at a basketball tournament.  I took the balance of our tribe to church, then home to get ready for an evening at LAMBEAU with another couple.  Of course this meant heading to another little hole-in-the-wall bar in a snowstorm, more beer, more shots, a terribly greasy hamburger and deep-fried sides.  (Cowgirl up!  It's Packer Sunday!)  After a few hours of sweating indoors beneath jeans and thermal underwear, we added a couple more layers of clothes and made our way to the stadium to watch the Packers beat the Lions.  They didn't look too impressive last night, but at least Crosby got his mojo back.  And believe me, a winter night at Lambeau with the wind swirling flakes like a snowglobe is pretty darn magical, even if your team isn't playing their best game.  Plus Will Ferrell was there and came out to sing along during "Roll out the barrel."  Will Ferrell!

We got home around midnight again and I woke up today vowing to eat salad and drink lots of water and stay home at night for at least a week.  My cheeks are chapped from cold, my throat is dry from salty food and my head is tired from not enough sleep.  We sure had fun, but now I'm good for a while.  This cowgirl needs a break.

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put down the paintbrush

I've got so many questions today. 

Where does paint go?  I mean, I bought a GALLON of paint (in "Baby Buttercup" for those of you who care) for the hallway and the first layer got SUCKED into the wall like I was painting a dry sponge.  We had the walls painted when we built this house...is there some sort of drywall absorption that I don't know about?  Does paint flake off over time and get swept away?  Does paint evaporate?  Did we have bad painters who skimped on the work first time around?

That gallon almost didn't make it through both coats.  I was down to scraping the bottom of the can.

Why do I think painting a room will be no big deal and then it ends up being a TOTAL big deal?  I've spent a day on this and I'm still not done cleaning up and "resetting" the room.  I've got pictures to hang up, a floor to clean and nasty bits of painters tape to scrape off.  And my shoulders hurt.  (Yeah, I totally typed that while using my whiny inner voice--should I have used italics?)  Hu-urt.   That's better.

Where were Opie's kids last night?  And his mother?  That seemed like an uncharacteristic lapse in the flawless continuity I've come to expect from Kurt Sutter.  Ashley Tisdale's guest role makes me applaud her agent.  Brilliant crossover role from Disney, isn't it?  Drama teen queen/fashionista on Disney TV to prostitute on Sons of Anarchy. I do so like Jimmy Smits as Nero.

My manuscript project got rejected.  I've come to expect that, sadly.  And I'm sitting on a really good novel, but I can't get anyone, not even my literary agent, take a look at it.  All this rejection makes it even less appealing to sit down and grind out revisions on my current manuscript.  Writing is desolate stuff, I tell you.

But I'm having another good hair day, I've got leftovers in the fridge so I can skip making dinner tonight and it's kind of nice outside, despite the fog.

Spill it, reader.  What questions do you have? 

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under there, back there, around here

Only a couple small-ish mold colonies were destroyed in yesterday's biannual Cleansing of the Fridge.  What always stymies me, however, is how on earth BENEATH the fridge gets so gross.  I mean, it's a giant, heavy appliance that never moves.  We have radiant heat, no indoor pets and a central vac system.  Our house is about as dust-free as outer space.  Yet when I roll the fridge back from its spot (surrounded on 3 sides by walls and cupboards), there are spills, stains and huge piles of dust and hair and dirt and crumbs.  Also Lego pieces, broken glass, coffee beans and a screw.  I know for a fact the floor beneath that fridge was spotless less then 6 months ago when I had the kitchen painted.  It's so dang weird how it gets so filthy under there.

We're down to ONE shovel at Chez Green Girl.  It's currently residing in a trailer on the Back Forty.  I'm at a stalemate in my yard work until I hike back there to get it.  We used to have at least THREE shovels once upon a time.  TB broke one this summer, I suspect Team Testosterone lost/destroyed the other one. 

Mr. T had his third cross country meet last night.  He ran a better time yet again (1.75 miles in 13:02 minutes), this time in a downpour.  Made us all very proud.

Mr. G took two baths last night.  He explained to us that "I'll get double-clean, that way I don't have to take another bath for at least a week."  I can think of about 20 situations where I'd like to apply his logic.

The Team was wicked late for the bus this morning, and at least 5 cars waited behind the school bus while they ran down the driveway.  I felt bad for those drivers.  I kind of wish they'd have started honking, just to drive it home and embarrass those dang kids.  I shouted at them for at least 15 minutes to MOVE IT!  YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!   If I were stuck behind a school bus watching 3 kids fly down the driveway towards it, would I honk?  Probably not. 

Happy weekend, reader.  May it be free of gross smells and unwelcome guests.  I'm off to the woods.

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hoo boy, do I owe you pictures

of that vigorously blooming prairie, baseball players, wetland restoration projects and other fun stuff.  But I'm busy with Olympic viewing, 3 busy boys, the grand finale of the baseball season and keeping the pantry stocked.  Life is overwhelmingly full right now, but here are some highlights:

*  Watching Mr. G crush a triple during his baseball tournament AND snag a fly ball in the outfield.  I'm totally bragging here, but I can't help it.  My boy can play.
*  Running with Mr. T, who is a natural.  He pushes me now.  I've no hope of keeping up with his stride.
*  The neighbor lady bringing back "extras" from the baking she entered in the county fair.
*  A pool full of kids, a yard full of kids, a house full of kids.
*  A party with the other baseball families from Mr. G's tournament team--just a great group of people, we're awfully lucky to count them as friends.  They're great sports, full of good humor, generous, kind, thoughtful and cheer everybody on.
*  Just the best group of coaches--for all the boys this summer.  Each one of them taught my sons something, each one of them was encouraging, supportive and taught good sportsmanship.  And Mr. G was particularly blessed with all of his coaches having a great sense of FUN during practices and games.
*  All the extra ways people pitch in to make a parish festival run well--from grooming diamonds to painting faces to selling 50/50 tickets.  Don't tell the Republicans, but community organizing is healthy in Happyland, Wisconsin!  They got volunteers out in force on many fronts for the weekend.
*  Oh!  Those Olympics!
*  3 boys wanting to know how to do "those strokes" and practicing together in the pool.
*  The first tomato from our garden.
*  Rain.

Spill it, reader--share the goodness in your life.

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revealing

Well, the only person to say a word to me about the election results was Mr. D.  And I didn't even hole up at home all day.  It pleased me that civility rules the day up in this part of Wisconsin.

We're moving a compost pile because snakes are inclined to live in the current location and our neighbor lady is terrified of snakes.  Digging out the compost revealed a few interesting things:
1.  We have a TON of worms, busily digesting all of our waste and they do great work.
2.  We have a LOT of really nice compost.  Thanks, worms.
3.  Mr. G really loves worms--he made sure they all got transplanted safe and sound to their new compost pile spot.
4.  Mr. B really hates to work too hard.  He mostly wandered around while his brothers and I put our backs into this project.
5.  Someone threw out a kitchen spoon.  I'd suspected we were short a couple spoons for a while now, so it was nice to find one in the pile.
6.  Those "biodegradable" compost bags?  Are. Not. Biodegradable.  Not by my definition of the word, anyway.

We also moved the sandbox out of the back yard.  Team Testosterone refused to pull out the weeds, so I pulled out the sand and now I have a nice frame filled in with those extra pumpkin seedlings I enthusiastically planted.

Standing in the grocery store the other day with Mr. B I learned that all my "eco-awesomeness" isn't all that effective: 
GG:  Buddy, what are you hungry for this week?  Whatever you want for dinner or lunch, let's grab it.

Mr. B: No, they don't have anything I like to eat here.

GG:  What do you mean?

Mr. B:  I like gas station food.

GG:  Gas station food?

Mr. B:  Yeah.  The stuff you can buy at gas stations.

GG: Dude!  That's like all sugar and chemicals.  That's not FOOD.

Mr. B: Well, I can put it in my mouth and chew it, so it IS food.

GG: All right, then I'm feeding you grass for dinner.  You can put that in your mouth and chew it. 


T-4 days until I leave for Baltimore for the 2012 Screw Iowa Writers Workshop. 

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true

*  I'll have a teenager by the end of the week.  Good grief.
*  Mr. G told me the other day he knows where he wants to go for his birthday dinner.  (this kid plans ahead for his birthday all year)  He wants to go to Golden Corral.  He saw the ad on TV and is all jazzed up for the chocolate fountain and strawberries.  So it'll be me, 3 kids and a few busloads of senior citizens en route to the casino at Golden Corral come July...
*  SO irritated by our pool.  Total first world problem that I'm almost embarrassed to have.
*  Our evening schedule is imploding all week with games, practices and other fun stuff.  I'm beginning to think I need a hired driver instead of a hired cook.
*  Trying to kill weeds with vinegar--suspect I have a super-genetically-altered breed of weeds growing in my garden...
*  Of course when I'm in the throes of spring chores and editing manuscripts for my writing group I'm getting the best ideas for my own work.  I should be writing this stuff down, right? 
*  We have a baby oak growing in one of our gardens--where is it from?  Obviously I know the answer, but how did an acorn get beneath a pine tree?  I never, ever see squirrels around here...
*  I found a pair of high heeled sandals and I cannot find them online so I'll take a photo of them tomorrow because now I have to go to Farm Services to sign off on our annual Crop Report.

Spill it, reader.  Do you have a teenager?  Is it great?

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all done

All the window screens are on, all the windows are washed.
All the tree seedlings are planted.
All the mulch is spread.
All the curtains are bought and installed.
All the boys sports schedules are copied onto the calendar.
The first coat of stain is on the porch floor and I'm waiting to finish.

Seems like the perfect time to take a nap.

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running late--frazzled contest

I used to run late--chronically. This character flaw has actually gotten better over time, which seems statistically impossible after adding 3 kids, a dog and Mr. D to the mix, but there you have it. For about four weeks when we're still in school and in the clutches of baseball/softball/karate/soccer schedules, every second counts. And the more I'm crunched for time, the more I struggle to be on time.

And when I'm running late I can count on certain things happening to make me more late:
* sneezing a second after I've applied mascara
* the phone ringing just when I'm about to leave (and it's almost never anyone I want or need to talk to...)
* Team Testosterone suddenly cannot find Something Essential (pick a winner: shoes, baseball glove, winter coat, backpack, swimsuit, clean clothes...)
* I'll be two miles down the highway and realize I've left behind something important (money, shopping list, phone, directions, a package to mail...)
* hunger pains
* realize I've forgotten to feed/water Jax
* stormy weather is coming and the windows are open

Naturally, running late makes me feel stressed out and like a bit of a failure. This is one of the reasons I enjoyed Nicola James, the heroine in Alyssa Goodnight's novel Austentatious. As Nic slowly lets go of her control issues, she suddenly finds herself running late all the time. It's a comfort to read a book where the characters have the same daily struggles, like running late. Perfect characters grate on my last nerve, one of the enjoyable aspects of Austentatious was how no character was 100% perfect--even the hero had his flaw.



This book is the running theme all week here at Chez Green Girl. I'm giving away a copy of
Austentatious to one lucky winner. Entering my Frazzled Contest is easy--each comment in the comment box is an entry to win. That's all. I'll pick a lucky winner Monday and mail them a copy of Austentatious. It's that easy and that awesome.

Spill it, reader. What can you count on to make you run even later when you're frazzled and running late?

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3 not-so-great things about spring

Daffodils bloomed yesterday. It's ridiculous here, really. I shall post photos tomorrow of all the loveliness in our world.

But springtime isn't all sunshine and lollipops. Three things are troublesome:

1. I have to shave my legs or wear long pants. Shaving is a b*tch. But stubble on pale skin looks awful and it's hot out--I don't want to wear long pants. Neither do I want to shave. Ugh.

2. Flies. They've hatched out and are everywhere, but especially on our screen porch. I've hatched a plan of my own to contend with them because I want to enjoy our nice porch soon. And by "soon," I mean "this weekend." It's where Mr. D and I like to take our morning coffee and enjoy the view.

3. Oh! My! Aching! Back! Perhaps it's a result of age, but I prefer to believe it's the result of repetitious motion. Regardless, my back is hurting from all the raking, pulling, hauling, cutting, dragging.

Not the worst trouble in the world, but these three things plague me. Spill it, reader. What plagues you in spring? Allergies? Flies? Back pain? Taxes?

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would you rather fight lice or zombies?

Yesterday Team Testosterone came barging through the door shouting "We don't have school tomorrow!" Gleefully they began stripping off their winter coats and backpacks and I helpfully corrected their assumption, "Maybe you won't have school tomorrow. We don't know for sure--the snow might miss us." (See: Winter Storm System Rolling Thru Midwest) They insisted, "No, Mom! Really we won't! Because of the lice!"

Before I staggered back too far clutching at my heart, one of the boys thrust a note into my hand that explained how the school would, in fact, be closed for intensive cleaning after several cases of head lice have been reported. It took about 3 seconds to scan the note and make executive decisions. (See: Reasons Why Green Girl Would Rock as President)

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" I commanded.

They froze.

"Strip naked--leave everything in the laundry room and then go upstairs and change into play clothes." They complied, and raced barefoot and bare-assed up the stairs to the safety of their rooms.

I shoved the first load of everything--boxers, khakis, shirts, sweatshirts, winter coats, hats, snowpants--into the washing machine and dialed the setting to Hot/Cold. For safety's sake, backpacks and the entire stash of mittens/hats/scarves went onto the "WASH" pile and I grabbed my coat and keys.

Instructing the boys to stay at the kitchen table no matter what and do not move until I get home--and eat a snack and finish their homework, I ran out to the Momvan.

We got the first note last Friday and I'd diligently pawed through the boys' hair, searching for nits and signs of lice. I'd peered closely at their scalps every day since, but now I was taking no chances. I shuddered when I thought of all those winter jackets and snow pants crammed closely together on classroom hooks--and the blithe way lice could climb and crawl from one head to the next. Can lice crawl from winter boot to winter boot? Maybe I should run all of their shoes through the wash. Suddenly my scalp began to itch.

Forty-eight minutes I returned home, a razor kit in hand. One at a time, I perched the boys on a stool in the middle of the driveway and began shearing their heads. I knew we didn't have lice, but I figure keeping them "high and tight" couldn't hurt.

Three loads of wash and three buzz cuts later, I feel confident we've kept the lousy parasites at bay ... for now. Others I know have experienced this terror. I realize this is only the tip of the lousy iceberg. Even so, that leftover book club wine is looking pretty tempting--since Sunday I've fixed a leaking dishwasher, dealt with a water heater on the fritz and sniffed out carbon monoxide in our basement.

My sons have offered encouragement during this ordeal. They assured me that lice like clean hair more than dirty hair, so they should be pretty safe. (See: Boys, Hygiene, Personal Care Is for Wusses) We've seen no trace of lice thus far and I believe my Buzz Cut/Laundry Attack is enough of a preemptive strike to negate any critical risk. And this has been a "Teachable Moment" as the boys wonder what eats lice, how lice have babies and who would win in a lice vs. army ant showdown.

I'm keeping the faith even though the back of my head feels itchy while I type this.

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she'd talk your ear off if you let her

It's Monday and if we were sitting on the rug in Kindergarten this morning having sharing time, I would totally monopolize the conversation.

"I finally watched Bridesmaids this weekend! SO funny!"
"We grilled steaks and drank beer on the patio, it was so warm!"
"Tuesday is the primary election! I think it will be so weird to vote for myself, don't you?"
"We went to the PS auction night and I talked to Bill Jartz and Mr. D finally won a football helmet--after bidding himself up on it."
"My friend Alice is exactly like the Dowager Countess on Downton Abbey. I can totally picture her saying the same lines--like when Sir Richard bids her farewell and says 'We'll never see each other again' and she replies, 'You promise?' Mr. Bates broke my heart, I predict next season will be ALL ABOUT Edith and Daisy--who's with me? I liked the storybook ending for Matthew and Mary, but I fear the writers wrap up too much too quickly and they'll pace themselves into dumb plot lines at this rate. And I shall ever more quote Lady Crawley by saying 'I'll be part of the bucking up bridgade.' Oh--and Daisy and William's dad--who else was deeply touched by those scenes?"
"I finally settled on what to serve for Bumble Book Club on Thursday night--inspired by Mardi Gras, I'm kicking it Cajun-style."
"It's President's Day, but we don't have the day off of school here. I've been thinking about Presidents--you know how everyone's ga-ga over Lincoln? Yeah, not me. He's great, not like JFK who I think was overrated because he was young and martyred, but he's no Washington who, let's face it, was a rock star. FDR strikes me as one of the better ones, much like Clinton in terms of getting stuff done for the people, only he kept his cigars chomped firmly between his teeth--amIright? I'm intrigued by John Adams, LBJ strikes me as exceedingly capable, Hayes was a man of integrity and Wilson deserves a nod. But my personal favorite is Thomas Jefferson. I think it's the whole intellectual appeal--he accomplished SO MUCH in terms of establishing America as a powerhouse nation--he literally DOUBLED our nation's land holdings, really embraced expansion, had so many interests, scientific, political and so forth. He was about people's individual RIGHTS, which is still so very relevant. I wonder what he'd say and write about America in light of that today. Yep, my vote's for Jefferson as most impressive and accomplished president."
"When left to their own devices, Team Testosterone voluntarily shut off the TV and Wii this weekend and actually went outside to start a bonfire and play basketball and shoot Nerf guns at each other. I think we did the right thing not setting up any play dates."

Okay reader, your turn to share.

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3 things

I subbed for 3rd grade today.
I came home and slammed down a cup of coffee before pouring myself a glass of Road Slush.
Then one of my boys asked what a "Brazilian Wax" was--I'm not saying who.

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if you give a green girl a paint chip

She'll decide to paint her living room walls.

The point where two colors meet is where a giant shark bares its teeth.

Which will in turn make the kitchen walls look shabby. So she'll get those painted, too. And she'll add in new hardware, rugs and a picture.

New rug on super-clean floor. She might eat off of that floor later.

Then she'll notice how grungy her floors look against the freshly painted walls, so she'll begin scrubbing the grout (on her hands and knees like a scullery maid from Downton Abbey) with a bucket of soapy water and a brush. Her shoulders will ache but her heart will swell with pride as her efforts make the floor look brand new once more. But now the bathroom tiles look grungy, so the Green Girl feels compelled to scrub that grout as well.

Damn, that's some clean grout. Damn, do her shoulders ache.

Does it stop here?

No, it does not.

The door of her freshly painted kitchen leads to the laundry room. Now the Green Girl realizes that her laundry room looks dismal--it needs another coat of paint, the edge by the ceiling was never done properly, really the whole room should get emptied out and re-set.

She ran out of paint and quit mid-project about 2 years ago. The shame of it.

She'll need more hooks.

Estimated Dust Bunny Population: 4,243

And maybe a bench with storage.

All she thinks is "What a mess" every time she walks through this room.

Some of this stuff needs to disappear. She wonders if there's a hitman service for clutter--some kind of mafia that could come in and clean house--eliminate this for a fee so she doesn't have to get her hands dirty.

The grout and the rugs are crying out for soap and water.

And she wonders, if she finishes the laundry room, where will it lead her next?
Spill it, reader. What project did you start only to find it never seemed to end?

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tales of a fifth grade surprise

You know that little substitute teaching gig I agreed to? I've logged 16 hours this week alone--silly me! I totally thought it would be a once a week thing TOPS. As of this morning I've worked with grades 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7 and 8 (and, consequently, all 3 of my own children). I've taught division with two digits, conjunctive adverbs (with a bonus lesson on semicolons!), the "dropping rule" in phonics (involving that pesky silent "e"), a couple chapters out of The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe, passive voice, diagramming compound sentences and supervised book report compositions in the computer lab. (Yes, I know I totally needed semicolons in that last sentence.)

Whew!

Surprisingly, 5th grade has been a real treat. When I was in college, I deliberately did NOT get certified to teach 6-12 grade English. I feared/dreaded/loathed the very IDEA of middle school kids--what with all their weird hormonal issues and emotions and icky smells. I hated middle school as a middle school kid, I was positive I had no love for them once I grew up. If a teacher got certified to teach a grade level or subject area, a district can assign the to teach it--whether they want to teach it or not, so by only obtaining certification to teach English 9-12, I was guaranteed only high school jobs. I feared a middle school assignment more than I feared not getting a job--and that's saying something.

It was with some hesitation that I agreed to sub in the Parochial School, but I figured with grades PK-8 represented, I had a greater shot at hanging out in grades PK-4.

I've spent the bulk of my time in middle school. And you know what I've discovered? It's a lot of fun.

Maybe it's because it's a Parochial School and the kids wear uniforms (khaki bottoms, blue polo shirts) and the class sizes are small (20 tops) and respect is totally drilled into these kids--but they were quite delightful. Especially 5th grade.

And you know what else? They smelled just fine.

They're energetic, funny, curious, talkative, hard-working and interesting. They help each other. They remind each other. They forget to follow instructions. They're easily distracted. They read a lot. They are happy to try new things. They admire their older classmates and look out for the younger classmates at the school. They love a corny joke and they look sideways at me but don't say a word when I don't make the sign of the cross at prayer time. They accept others with very open hearts.

There's one girl with gorgeous shiny blonde curly hair and hipster glasses who always always always had her nose in a book, oblivious to the world. She's polite and cooperative, but the moment she has a chance, she's got the pages open again. There's another girl with freckles and a huge grin, quick to lavish complements on her peers. I don't sense the back-biting and bullying typical in most middle schools. There's a boy who races through his work so he can have free time--and then when I ask him what he plans to do (instead of distracting his friends with his chatter), he volunteers to help a classmate finish a missed assignment.

I really like helping these kids with their work and easing the lives of teachers who are stressed out with having to miss class--I remember well what a huge blessing a competent sub was when I had to miss school. And because I taught school for 10 years, I inherently know stuff, like classroom management skills and where to look for the vocabulary lists and how to efficiently transition from one activity to the next. It's kind of a bonus that I get paid.

Spill it, reader. What have you tried lately that surprised you?

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of giants

I felt like one all day yesterday--the PS called me in to cover 3rd grade and I was the tallest person in the room--looming over the students. I've never taught 3rd grade before. About 15 minutes into it, I'd had it up to my neck (what is that? about 4'8" off the ground?) with the tattling. Good golly they like to narc each other out. I live with all boys and they don't tell on each other very often. So I laid out the Law of Ms. W #1: Unless there is blood or police involvement, don't tell me about it.

All told, they were a funny bunch of goobers, more energy than a case of Red Bull and sincerely concerned about every detail of the day. (Mrs. X doesn't do it like that!) I'm convinced that 3rd grade alone keeps most of the pencil eraser industry afloat. They erase often in their commitment to precision.

Those other Giants won--wasn't that nice? The game action started out good, lagged a bit toward the middle, but a satisfying ending for everyone at Chez Green Girl. And now we lay to rest the NFL season until the end of August.

We also rented Real Steel over the weekend. Boxing, robots, Hugh Jackman, the redemption of a father/son relationship--what's not to love? And what kid would NOT want a remote-controlled boxing robot? I knew the gang would enjoy it, I got a huge whiff of sweat, mud and testosterone when I opened the DVD case and extracted the disc.

All this movie needed was a chase scene with monster trucks and it would have been epic. It was rated PG-13, which kind of confused me--clearly this movie is marketed towards boys younger than 13. I found very little in the film disturbing enough to merit that rating. Perhaps the language in a few scenes and the violence of the robots boxing--I don't see why the filmmakers couldn't have toned it down to get that PG rating.

But if the PG-13 rating gives you pause, I need to steer you towards my family's favorite giant movie of all-time:

The Iron Giant.
Written and directed by Brad Bird of Pixar fame (in the days before he made it HUGE with movies like The Incredibles and Up, this movie is layered, charming and lovely. It's a smart movie, not the brain-dead crap served up by Cartoon Network. The characters get fleshed out, the setting is during the Cold War, and the story is engrossing. A boy find a giant robot from outer space and they become best friends. A government agent wants to destroy the "alien life form" and the boy and robot team up to protect each other and their town.

Plus, the ending totally makes me tear up--I full-on cried the first time we watched it.

Haven't seen it yet? Get thee to a video store and rent it. Or "Netflix it." Or whatever the cool kids are doing these days.

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of subs

Oh, you are all so sweet to worry about me, but I'm fine. No spitballs in my hair. No sore throat from yelling. No new wrinkles, grey hairs or nervous break downs. My subbing gig is in a small town parochial school--with a correspondingly tiny staff I'll probably only get called a few times a month. I know all the students from serving in the cafeteria, I know many of their parents. As a former teacher I don't want to be their new best friend nor do I feel the need to enter the room as a rigid authoritarian, ready to write up and dress down any kid who drops a pencil. I come in striking that good balance of "let's get your work done" mixed in with a few lame jokes because I never met a pun I didn't like. Subbing at the PS is a cherry gig--almost as sweet as my BFF's son's babysitting job--except he gets paid the same as me to play video games during his shift.

One of my informal references for this gig turned out to be a former student of mine whose kids attend this school. I don't believe they even called the people I listed on the job application. The paperwork has been more overwhelming than the actual subbing job--you'd think in the land of the free a girl could just work, but I have to prove my citizenship, fill out tax forms, establish my criminal record is nonexistent and all other manner of frittery. It's more work to WORK than to actually work, you know?

The whole filling out paperwork made me think of back when I applied to graduate school. I loathe red tape. One of the many forms I had to fill out was one establishing residency. I could either establish my residency based on where my parents lived or based on where my husband lived back in the day. Yep, those were the only two options on the form. I remember being so annoyed that I couldn't just establish my own damn residency, why did I have to adhere to the patriarchal rules dictated by a husband or a father? What was this--1708? I hope things have changed since then. I have no plans to return to graduate school, but I hope women can establish their residency based on their own merit.

Now, for my fellow Downton Abbey Fans, I leave you with this link.

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signed, sealed (by a notary public), delivered

True story: until about 8 years ago I thought "notary public" was a "note republic," which made sense in my mind since it involved stamping written documents, i.e. "notes" and we do live in a "republic" of sorts, according to my son's social studies textbook. If you ask me, "notary public" is a dumb looking phrase anyway. But I'm also someone who sung the lyrics to "Blinded by the Light" in a douche-y kind of way, so there you go.

What did I get stamped/sealed/authorized by a notary public? My paperwork making me an official candidate for school board. I'm making a run for public office this spring. I've put my money where my big mouth is. Well, actually I haven't put down any money. In fact, I left the form about campaign finance blank because will not accept any PAC contributions (unless Mr. Colbert wants to spring for some 7-course meals for my supporters). I won't be the candidate who sells out to special interests. I plan to run a clean campaign, no smearing the opposition, no mudslinging, just plain old stating my position on the issues so people know I'm really the best person for the job. (Actually, I barely know the 2 guys running for the seat, so I'd be hard pressed to say ANYTHING about them at all, other than one seems nice and helps coach...)

"All in," that's my motto for 2012. No more fretting and sweating on the sidelines (except at baseball games--I have no business rushing out on the field OR into the dugout. They can hear me fine from my spot in the bleachers). I'm not going to wish and kvetch this year, I'm going to push up my sleeves and twist back my hair and GET THINGS DONE. Our school district needs a little (okay, A LOT) of redirection. I'll get a seat on the board so I can spread around my awesome ideas.

That new motto also means my kitchen is about to get a makeover. It's blah and depressing. Not by the end of this month though! Stay tuned for a BIG REVEAL at the end of January.

I've got books to edit, a garden to fence, trees to plant, children to nurture and recipes to try. "All in" means less thinking and more doing. This means I'll need lot of energy to live up to 2012's motto, so I'm ramping up my cardio and spending more time praying. And I might start drinking more coffee, too.

"All in." Spill it, reader. What's 2012 going to look like for you?

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sorting

School's back in session and I'm sorting and filing and tidying and folding. I kept thinking I should make some goals for 2012, but three kids plus buddies made things so loud hectic around here that I didn't get around to anything requiring thought or reflection. The past week was mostly reflexive effort--feeding, refereeing, shoveling paths so I could walk through Chez Green Girl without crippling myself on Lego pieces.

Today the carpet cleaner is here to remove the remnants of Mr. G's stomach flu. I filled the pantry, washed the dishes, caught up with the laundry and emptied a full inbox thanks to yesterday's Eco Women post getting Fresh Pressed. I've still got a karate school newsletter to finish, dinner to plan and A Very Important Errand to Run.

Tomorrow I will make goals. That's a noble goal. Today I'll sort myself out so I can think with a clear head.

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