Final image for the year

Have a great, safe New Year!
Time to get FREAKY tonight!

Non-Binding Non-Resolutions

Resolutions are a silly thing to manage. Why does the pressure have to be on just in time for my birthday (January 24th, for those in a celebratory mood)? Here's a few things I've already started to do for myself and hope to continue into 2006.

1. Get to Curves at least two times a week, although three is the goal. Use that Carmen Electra DVD the rest of the time so Pros can also enjoy my exercise regiment. BTW, for those who are against Curves due to their stance against abortion rights, check out the individual center. The one I attend is an independent franchise that does not give to Operation Rescue. The fundraising they do goes towards breast cancer and heart disease research. It's also a great place to gossip.
2. Make appointments with a new dentist / OB-GYN / dermatologist. Obviously not the same doctor for all issues, but it's time to use the health insurance now that we have it. Time to take better care of my insides now that my outsides are starting to firm up!
3. Attempt to cook at least one dinner a week. Time to get over my kitchen phobia so Pros doesn't have to do all the cooking. Conversely, I won't have to do all the dishes. At the very least, there's that crock pot cookbook that might turn out some good stuff.
4. Keep all the stupid wedding crap in perspective. The relationship Pros and I have is more important than whether the flowers are perfect on this one day. People get married all the time (at this place, we had to go for the evening slot because there's two weddings a day there), so it isn't going to make or break society as we know it if it isn't perfect. Getting this through my father's head, on the other hand, isn't as easy...
5. Start the application process for my Master's program. That includes that stupid refingerprinting that seems to have been lost by the FBI.
   

Seasoned Greetings!

Okay, it's officially Soltice, which is the beginning of the holiday season, at least for my pagan friends. Enjoy the Santa Eddie and have a hilarious day!

Severe catching up to do!

1. My grandmother is doing surprisingly well in her new surroundings! She's getting much more stimulation with her activities than she was sitting in a chair all day with a Boston Terrier perched on her lap. She's even reading a little again and taking an interest in her old passion for flowers (she used to be an amazing florist, particularly with orchids). She'll never regain her ability to remember who her family is, but I'm happy enough that she's not on the brink of totally fading away for the time being.
2. Thanksgiving with Pros' father was a warm, lovely event. He lives with his new wife (more than ten years isn't so new, but you get the point) in an amazing place in Virginia. I don't remember the last time I was so relaxed, which says a lot about how much I'm looking forward to being part of this family.
3. Got to spend some time with Cats this past month! This made my year, since we live so far apart and see each other so rarely. She's been having the worst kind of pain watching her son suffer with development delays that may or may not have been caused by lead poisoning. I don't pray often these days, but for her Silent Prince and her Princess Kitten of a daughter, I do.
4. Teaching prospects for next year are looking rather thin. From what I have heard, the market is already saturated, and now Columbus City Schools are looking to lay off teachers and close schools. I'm heavily considering talking to a couple of school districts about whether they would sponsor me for an emergency certificate in Special Education if they would hire me full time. My father talked me out of this line of education before, but he doesn't live nearby and doesn't pay our bills. It's time to figure out how I'm going to help with my share of the work.
5. Wedding countdown!!! We're entering the six month stretch, and I'm getting a little frazzled on the stupid details. Still need to find a band (which Pros says he'll do since he's the former jazz trumpeter), florist, baker, and place to stay for the weekend. Pros' family has also handed over rehearsal dinner decisions to me, which is something I hadn't planned on doing, but we have a tentative reservation anyway. Am I the only bride who hates planning the wedding and just wants to be married already?
   

Grandmother update

Briefly put, it's been a rough week. My grandmother is moving into a nursing home on Friday. She'll have specialized care for Alzheimer patients, and it's across the street from where she is currently living, so she'll have a little familiarity. Grampa is taking this hard, but he knows that he just can't take care of her anymore.

As I was initially writing the first paragraph, I've found that Pros is in an even worse boat. His grandmother has just passed away in hospice care. The funeral is most likely this weekend in West Virginia. This puts me in a major bind, as I had planned to be in Philadelphia to support my family while my Gram goes into her new home. Pros says he would understand if I needed to go there, but I know he needs me to be with him. We're trying to find out if, somehow, we can still swing both family visits.

Needless to say, sleep is not coming to me very well...

Memories and Possessions

Even though I moved here in May, I'm still dealing with a few boxes and things that haven't been touched, mostly because I knew they were mostly full of winter clothes. This morning, I tackled a box in our office, mostly because Pros begged me to clean up in there. Sure enough, there were plenty of skirts and tops for cooler weather, unfortunately mixed in with summer clothing I hadn't been able to find. I shook out the cat hair and dust as I arranged them into piles for hanging, storage and donation to the Salvation Army truck.

In this box were also two petit-pointe (like embroidery) angel wall hangings that had been given to me by my grandmother as well as two sweatshirts she had decorated with my sorority letters when I had first pledged. I had to laugh when I saw the sweatshirts. The letters were far larger than the standard ones worn, and I had initially been very peeved at their appearance. I wore the hot pink sweatshirt with the too-tall letters for our first Bid Day and stood out even more than I would have if I'd kept my bright purple hair, but I don't think I wore them again. Because they have the letters of my sorority, I couldn't throw them in the pile for donation.

Then I thought of how I'd also been upset when I had received the wall hangings. Two angels, in the act of carrying children to Heaven, wouldn't normally be something I would have wanted. They had been in my bedroom when I briefly lived with my grandparents, and I had been told they were made by my grandmother's grandmother. I had asked for them as a wedding gift. Instead, she gave them to me when I graduated from college. At that time, my unmarried state was a source of tension between us. My older cousin had married young and already had two sons, and I was not meant to settle down for another decade. To me, this early gifting was her way of telling me that I'd be a spinster. It took time before I placed these beautiful pieces of art on my wall.

My grandmother is still alive, but she isn't really with us anymore. Right before my 30th birthday, she asked me if my party was also an engagement party. Between our long-standing tension about my marital state and the unwillingness of my then boyfriend to commit, I had exploded and almost uninvited her to the gathering. That was when I found out that she wasn't being cruel, but that she was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease. Within another year, she admitted that she knew I was a familiar face, but that she could not fathom that I was the adult daughter of her younger son. This week, my grandfather was faced with the painful prospect of placing her in a facility that can care for her now that he cannot.

Alice was a beautiful, vivacious redheaded woman. She was an expert with flowers, especially orchids, and could name any bloom placed before her. Her sense of humor was one that didn't surface often, but would strike out at the most perfectly timed moment. Her light blue eyes would sparkle over family dinners and bridge matches with her friends. She taught me that to truly love someone, "you must hold them with an open hand", even if you're terrified you might lose them.

Gramma, my hands are open, and I know you are slipping away. You'll never know what a wonderful husband-to-be I have found. With luck, he'll understand why I must hang my angels before today is done.

Anti-Bridezilla (I hope)

This weekend, I'm meeting my mother in the town where Pros and I are getting married in June. We're sitting down with the owner of the hall and getting tips on where to start looking for the little details (like a cake). This may be a painful experience, but at least Saturday night is at my favorite B&B I've experienced.

I also know my dear college roomate Cats is going to officiate, which makes everyone involved happy, which makes me incredibly relieved. Having a friend who can perform a wedding while still keeping your wild weekend secrets is a wonderful thing.

Once this weekend is over, it's back to my Work in Progress. I've made several changes to make Jess a middle school teacher, which makes sense now that I'm back in the classroom. It also makes the writing flow a little more smoothly now that I can use time with students as a segue into further plot. Let me know if you want a sneak peek!

Tagged again!

My college roommate cats has tagged me once more!

Here's what i was told to do:
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the 5th sentence (or close to it.)
4. Post that, along with these rules, in your blog.
5. Tag 5 people.

However, cats changed the rules to look at your 5th post (her 23rd was a sermon she preached, most likely very well). Therefore, I checked my 5th post as well. The fourth and fifth sentences are impossible to disconnect from one another:

"Someone needs to protect / guide the class nerds and outcasts. Who better than someone who was driven to a nervous breakdown in 10th grade and then bounced back?"

I had jokingly listed that among my reasons for wanting to be a teacher, but it truly continues to be one of the most serious goals I have in the front of the classroom. Last week, I saw three girls who were straight out of "Mean Girls", right down to the coordinated outfits, torturing each other and the less popular girls in the class. They were in shock when I leaned on them and demanded they sit in different parts of the room until the end of class, so they could do less damage. So what if they were the cheerleaders? Bullying is bullying, and that's what they were doing.

Let's face it, folks, if more teachers and parents put down their collective feet, more students could concentrate on being actual students. The only reason that verbal abuse is so rampant among teens is because those in authority let it continue. This same high school had two physical altercations earlier that week, and everyone from the teacher's aides to three police officers were in there within seconds.

Not that I'm the police, of course. I'm just a former nerd girl who is now in a position to see the signs of "female relational aggression", as sociologists call it (I might post my Linguistics paper on the subject later). Even better, I can act upon what I see and hear in a way that may help these kids avoid permanent damage.

Who better than someone who was driven to a nervous breakdown in 10th grade and then bounced back?

Work in Progress Part V

The shrill digital chirp of my phone returned me to the present with a rattle. It was too late for any further telemarketers, so I grabbed the receiver on the first ring and mumbled something in the way of a greeting.

“Hello Jessica, I’m assuming you got the invitation?”

I grinned. “Hi, Mom. Yes, it’s here.” Once I had gotten a normal hairstyle and attempted to wear an occasional color other than black, she and I became much more relaxed around one another. “I’m looking at it now. Very… purple, isn’t it?”

There was the flutter of paper on the other side of the phone. “At least it isn’t the awful shade of blue as the last time around. It looks like the reception is in a better location, too. They lucked out by getting Valentine’s Day on a weekend.” She paused for a moment. “Yes, Jessica, you are going. No, Jessica, you cannot bring the cat.”

The grin went to groan. Get out of my head, Mom. “Thanks. I was aware of that moral imperative, but you don’t have to remind me. Thinking about bringing a date makes my brain hurt. Face it, I should show up solo. And do NOT say anything about meeting someone there, I met Kevin’s friends last Labor Day and was completely underwhelmed.”

She chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of saying that, Sweetcheeks.” I rolled my eyes at the childhood nickname. “You know your tastes in men, bad as they may be sometimes. You know I’m kidding about that last part, Jess.”

“Uh-huh.” I did know, but I also knew she tended to be right.

Work in Progress Part IV

It had been fairly evident for some time that my eldest cousin was getting remarried. Her left shoulder had been rendered slightly lower than the other due to her hand being weighed down by the diamond boulder attached to it with very strong platinum. Fortunately, she had her hand in the grasp of so many of our admiring relatives that permanent damage may have been averted. This was the husband of which they approved.

Not that they didn’t shell out plenty for the first wedding, but it is now set aside as “that incident years ago” or something like that. It wasn’t exactly a wedding for the ages, but the hairdos were definitely from the 80s era. The march down the aisle had been rather hilarious in itself. It was a parade of mullets, hairspray and bright screaming royal blue cummerbunds goose-stepping to the altar, with George leading up the rear. Even my father commented that it resembled a funeral procession with his bachelorhood as the corpse. Screaming royal blue gowns followed, topped by faces that were nothing particularly special, so their uniforms did their job in shielding the identities of the bridesmaids.

Rachel had gained about 25 pounds between her initial dress fitting and the ceremony. Her intended made sure to let several people know it, although nobody had to tell the pastor as he kept looking down into the dangerously overfilled bodice of Rachel’s gown. Her cleavage later served as a final resting place for the piece of strawberry cake smashed into her face, creating a contrast to the lines of mascara quickly pooling from down her cheeks and neck.

I had been glad that I had gone with my initial instinct and worn black despite my mother’s protests that it was inappropriate for an afternoon wedding. It had gone with my mood and my purple hair, although I had been talked into wearing the latter down instead of the Mohawk I had so desperately wanted to sport. My parents had distanced themselves slightly, reminding everyone I was in college and going through a period of self-exploration. Everything would be fine as long as I kept bringing home nice and temporary boys but not girls, temporary or otherwise.

Ah, but THIS fiancé was different. Kevin was definitely the one, in the opinion of the family. He was the right religion so we wouldn’t be stuck squirming through an interfaith church service. Right background so he could afford to keep Rachel in the way she deserved to be kept. Much less likely to make passes at other members of his future wife’s family was the unspoken thought. Only Rachel’s sister Melissa was less surprised than I was when George was caught with his pants around his ankles and his dental assistant on his desk. That was because Melissa was his office manager, and she had avoided his advances by threatening him with a drawer filled with dangerous looking hooks and picks.

My personal hurricane relief

I've been worried about an old friend of mine. He and his wife are both rabbis, and they moved to New Orleans to head the Conservative synogogue there. After Katrina hit, I didn't hear from him, which is unusual. When they narrowly missed being at Hebrew Union College when it was targeted for violence, he made sure to send out a mass email. Not this time.

However, I just heard on NPR that he is well and in Houston with the majority of his congregation. I also found this open letter online:

A huge thank you to all of you who have called, and emailed in support and with offers of help for my family and my community. It's great to know how much everyone cares about hesed. My synagogue has opened up a "Shir Chadash Katrina Fund" For those interested in contributing, I will pass on the address to mail checks to when I have it. I apologize if I cannot thank all of you for your support individually, but know that my kehillah and I truly appreciate it.

Luckily, it seems that the roof of Shir Chadash is intact and there were only a few inches of water taken in. No doubt there will be many expenses, but thank God our building is quite reparable. Many of my congregants have lost their homes. Our home sustained maybe a foot of water and undoubtedly a lot is damaged, but we are still luckier than many.

Thanks and Shabbat Shalom

Shir Chadash Katrina Fund
c/o Bank One
2800 Post Oak Blvd.
Houston, TX 77056

Work in Progress Part III

Miss Jessica Bronstein and Guest.

“Which do you think one is worse,” I asked Dinah, “the ‘Miss’ part or that I don’t have a designated guest with a name?” Dinah half opened her eyes and then went back to sleep. I turned over the envelope to look at the embossed return address. “Oh, no. Please let this turn into a bar mitzvah invitation...”

Somewhere in the childish make-believe part of my mind, I clung to the hope that if I stared at the letter long enough it would magically transform into that bar mitzvah invitation after all. Those could be entertaining events if you kept score for things like how often the kid’s voice cracks, the price spent on that perfect Mother of the Bar Mitzvah boy dress, and how many underage guests got caught sneaking alcohol from the open bar. However, even the most overbearing mother would have been in big trouble with her son if she sent invitations in purple envelopes with lace trim.

I opened the envelope. The contents remained what I knew they would be all along.

How beautiful is the day that is touched by love.
Mr. and Mrs. William Schwartz request the honor of your presence
At the marriage of their daughter Rachel Deborah to Kevin …

“Rats!” I groaned loudly enough that Dinah’s ears perked up and she raced over to the chair where I was slumped. She may have been trying to distract me, offer consolation, or just get attention while I was seated was up in the air, but she managed all three as her face shoved under the card and she stared up at me with big green eyes. What a shame about Rachel’s allergy to Dinah, or I could bring her as my guest and be left alone as The Crazy Cat Lady.

School daze

Teaching season has finally begun for me! I'm currently substituting in three school districts, which is a fantastic way to get to see the range of schools around here. Each district has their own distinct characteristics.

One of them is extremely focused on optimum academic achievement. They rotate class periods in the middle school so that students don't get one subject at their worst time of the day all the time. It's an interesting concept.

Another district is so strapped for space that students attend in three shifts. The taxpayers refuse to vote for a bond issue that would pay for new buildings, so these poor kids may get stuck in school until 6:30 at night. The worst part is that the late session of students is treated like they are less worthy than the others, so they act accordingly. It's a shame.

Still getting a feel for the third district, but I'll be there more this upcoming week. So far they're the most like where I was a student teacher, and I was very comfortable. I'll be working with 9th grade English students on Monday, which will be a treat!

It's wonderful to be back in a classroom, but disorienting to be in so many!

Work in Progress Part II

I turned the radio to the local news and remembered to breathe. The rest of the trip home was uneventful reports of murder, war, and the occasional warning of ice on the roads that was causing tractor-trailers to flip over. At least those problems were on the radio and not in my own head. I refocused my Reality Binoculars. I was comfortable avoiding the chance to strut down an aisle like a white satin Mummer on New Years Day. Actually, considering how gaudy some of those wedding gowns can get, the parallel between the two wasn’t a bad one.

*****

My driveway, for once, was clear of any cars parked illegally for the bar across the street. I let myself relax as I pulled into my beloved designated spot behind my building. The wooden steps to the second floor had iced over again but it was too late at night to hack a safe path with the heel of my boot, not without chancing waking my neighbor or her German Shepherd. I held my breath and both handrails as I slowly made my way up to my back door and fumbled with the key in my gloved hand.

Finally inside, I received the usual rebuke and glare from my roommate for being out too late. Fortunately for me Dinah is a roommate with four feet, whiskers and an attitude easily appeased with catnip or skim milk. I didn’t take the abuse personally. She performed a perfect figure eight around my feet without seriously tripping me, a feat that took many years and many dropped microwave dinners to manage.

Two messages on my answering machine blinked at me. One was someone trying to sell me a time-share in Disneyworld. It was a tempting offer considering the cold snap over the Northeast, but I erased the message for my own good. The next voice was my high school pal out in Michigan, bored out of his skull and calling everyone programmed into his cell phone. I knew this because my name came after Jen and before Lenny in Rick’s phone list, and if he had been drinking he tended to lose track and call me by one or the other name.

“BEEP…Jess? Hello, Jess? Damn, I was hoping you were just screening your calls again. Are you there and screening your calls? Jess? Damn.” Click, BEEP.

Lenny? Hello, Lenny? Damn again! I could almost hear Rick’s next call as I wandered down the front steps to check for my mail. Dinah knew better than to do more than to stick part of her head out the front door to make sure I was coming back. One whisker-to-whisker meeting with Countess in the downstairs apartment was enough to keep her out of the dark stairwell.

I sorted through the envelopes, tossing the coupons and fliers onto the coffee table. On top was a telephone bill, a rather large one going by weight. Set that one aside with a wince. Electric bill, not so bad thanks to my love of thick wooly socks and an afghan knitted by my cousin Melissa during a very confining pregnancy. The four credit card applications were placed in another pile for a fateful meeting with my document shredder. A frilly and bright lavender designer envelope with my name written in perfect calligraphy…

Well, we ALL knew this...

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You're living proof that chicks can rock You're inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas And when you rock, you rock hard (Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

Work in Progress Part I

It was icy driving conditions on the drive home. I made a mental note to myself to never again listen to New Age music in the car. It made me introspective, then usually depressed. Much safer to listen to some rock station or the news, anything with words that were not my own. I replayed the conversation one more time so I could fully enjoy the feeling in the pit of my stomach. A glass of mediocre Merlot, definitely not worth the $7.50 with tip, had loosened my tongue a bit. Another mental note, either stay away from the bar or learn to be a quiet drinker when you’re with coworkers.

I had been watching my former boyfriend walk away after an awkward conversation when I turned to Linda. “You know we broke up in December.”

“No, you’re KIDDING!” She had put on a surprised and comforting face almost in time to hide the excitement from getting fresh gossip. “You two were together for so long!”

“It was two years plus a few months. It was… amicable. Things were just never going to happen between us.” I had taken another sip and muttered into my wine glass, “Besides, I probably would have been a terrible wife for him.”

I wished I could have seen Linda’s particular expression, but the edge of the glass had obscured the view. “Well, I think he would have been a perfect husband for you! What a shame.”

Thanks. The words kept zinging between my ears as I continued my drive. At the time of that conversation, I had actually nodded and agreed wholeheartedly at the time I had heard Linda’s words. Even if they weren’t true, they were close enough to nip at me. There had more than a few times I had heard something along those lines, even from people I liked much more than Linda.

Maybe Linda’s more right than she realized. Maybe I would be a horrid wife to anyone. Maybe there’s an obvious reason I’m still unmarried at this point of my life. Maybe...

New friends make things better

Yesterday evening was one of those times that almost made me regret moving. Just handling something as simple as covering the opening where my window was smashed was made difficult because I had no idea where the duct tape was in this house (after several attempts, I was able to call Pros for the location). Then, when I was able to relax for a second, I found our cable had been shut off because our bill has consistently been forwarded to Pros' old apartment.

Thankfully, I had previously made arrangements to meet a new aquaintence at a neighborhood bar within walking distance. "Wendy" is a bartender at another local watering hole, but this is where she goes to drink, so I decided to give it a shot. What a great place! Two pinball games, cheap as all hell drinks, and incredibly friendly regulars. Wendy and I sat out back and yapped until I was much calmer about living in Columbus, then kept drinking until she could barely keep her eyes open. A good time was had by all, and now I have a haven where I can have a vodka tonic while beating the crap out of a pinball.

Oh, the cable is back on and my car window is being repaired this afternoon. Things are looking a bit better.

Violated

Some schmuck broke into my car this afternoon. Nothing was taken as far as I can tell, not even my stereo, but the right passenger window was smashed in. Okay, my supply of quarters was taken, but not the nickles. What the heck? Most likely the thief or thieves either were scared off by heavy traffic or just couldn't find anything because my car was such a mess.This happened while Pros is still on his geology field trip and I'm trying to get ready to start substitute teaching.

Still can't believe nothing was stolen but I'm going to be out a couple hundred dollars replacing the window. It's going to force me to start taking the bus to and from work (something Pros wanted me to do anyway), but now I'll feel unsafe doing that as well.

As someone said to me a couple of months ago, welcome to the big city! Ugh...

Plea to alma mater

This is from a letter sent to the PR Veep of my undergrad college regarding his response to the ongoing fight to save the radio station from a takeover by the local PBS affiliate:

Mike Bruckner, a Muhlenberg spokesman, said that while the college is always interested in exploring any new opportunities it can offer its students, he is not sure how a merger between WLVT and WMUH-FM 91.7 would occur.
''As far as I know, ours isn't for sale,'' Bruckner said. ''We're always interested in partnerships, but we're all for focusing the station on students.''


Mr. Bruckner,

I wanted to write privately to thank you for taking this public stance, even if your word is not the bound oath of the college. As one of the "rabblerousers", I can be honest that we are anxious to hear any news other than the usual neutral stance. The conversation on My Muhlenberg is one of alumni who are very passionate about making sure this part of our shared history has another generation.

Since I've graduated, things have definitely changed. Several of my favorite professors have left, while others were granted the tenure they worked so hard to earn. My home from my junior year was leveled to make way for the C.A. expansion and my sorority (I am a founding sister of Phi Mu) struggles to stay alive. WMUH and Phi Mu are the two places left where I can still find my fingerprints, and it is vital to me personally that both are there for my future students to enjoy.

Another thing that has happened was the sudden death of my friend and mentor Mark Klee, known on the air as Mr. Mark. As you joined the campus before his 2001 passing, you may have had the pleasure of listening to his off the wall commentary on the Lehigh Valley and beyond. If not, Joe Swanson would probably be happy to loan you a copy of the finest DJ Allentown ever had. There is a room in the studios that has quietly been dedicated to his memory, and it is a place that I love to visit when I visit campus. To lose the free-form concept of the station in favor of full NPR programming would be to lose what made Mark's gift possible, not to mention to lose the chance that another equally talented but totally different DJ will appear on Muhlenberg's airwaves.

I am writing to you from my heart and asking that you act as an advocate for the voices you have been hearing, if at all possible. We do not write and call because we enjoy pestering our alma mater. We are weighing in at the court of public opinion because we are desperate to keep WMUH as it is. Again, I thank you for taking your public stance. Please let me know if there is any information or background I can give you as you and President Helm (whom I had the pleasure of meeting at my class reunion last year) continue the process of researching your options.

Aging

Last night I came home from dinner with some of Pros' gal pals from the University. They were a ball! One of them was amazing with wine tasting even though she claimed she didn't like a lot of what she tasted. Her palate was one I envied. We talked about food and dating and all the things most discuss on a girls' night out. Only once did I mention the fact that I had at about a decade of years on them. There is a definite difference between 20somethings and 30somethings, but it isn't something that usually would come up over a silly night of pasta and porto.

When I was getting ready for bed that night, I thought of something funny said that evening and grinned in the mirror. The image staring back at me had crow's feet I had never seen on my own face, and the smile quickly vanished. The lines didn't seem to stop at my eyes but ran down the length of my face, rows of tiny wrinkles that hadn't been there only weeks before. For someone who loves passing for seven years younger than my age, this alarmed me. Yes, it's a horrid kind of vanity, but it's also a tremble of mortality that left me marked.

One thing is for sure. I will continue to smile. I'm a happy person, damnit!

Solitude Sitting Around

Pros is out of town for over a week, and I've suddenly realized how isolated I am in this new place. Tried calling the two people I know who don't have kids or whatnot. One is working and the other never answers the phone anyway. It's unnerving to feel this alone in such a big place. It was nice for about a day, but now I'm starting to wonder when and if I'm going to find a group of friends who would just say, "Yeah, we're just making pasta, but feel free to come over."

This was one of the risks I took when I moved out here. What I didn't count on was that Pros isn't the most social man I've been with, so I've turned down a lot of invites out in the past because he wanted to watch a DVD instead. So now I'm able to get out on my own but have nowhere to go. Well, I could always go to the coffee shop and write / people watch, but that isn't quite the same.

Maybe I'll just go make some pasta for myself and catch a showing of "Broken Flowers" over at the local artsy theater. Maybe I'll stay in and catch the results from "Rockstar, INXS". Maybe I'll go exercise at the place I quit after two days of work. Maybe I'll play yet another round of "Civilization III".

Who knows? I'm DEFINITELY going out tomorrow night!

Bypass FEMA!

Here's an address in Baton Rouge for direct donations of goods:

The Downtown Churches Distribution Center for Refugee Needs
St. James Episcopal Manship Ministries Center
P.O. Box 3011, Baton Rouge, LA 70821

They need clothing (baby clothes, children's clothes, adult clothing: comfortable ones like shorts and T-shirts), bed linens, blankets, towels, toiletries, etc. Mark what you're sending on the box so it can be sorted more easily. Personally, I'm planning on getting a bunch of new underwear and sending that. I have a feeling the Salvation Army doesn't have a lot of undergarments.

Dear Mur,

You popped up in one of my dreams again, so I'm assuming there was something you wanted to tell me. It's so rare I remember my dreams, but the ones with you are fairly vivid, with you wanting to take me away for a talk. The problem is that I can never fully recollect the conversations once I'm awake and remember again that you died in 1997.

Did you want to make sure I haven't forgotten you? That's impossible, my dear one. Too much of the my life was wrapped up in yours, and to be honest, sometimes it's been difficult to move forward. However, I think you're happy that I have with someone as wonderful as Pros. You really would have loved him. He's as astute with wines as your father was without having that addiction. He loves me without having to battle a love of substances as you did. He's the only other person besides you that I'd consider as a husband, and since you're gone, it's a good thing he wants me as his wife!

Missing you is an odd thing after all these years. Just reread "The Lovely Bones" and I wonder how much you really do keep an eye on us from your life. Hopefully not too often now that there's so much else in the universe to explore. It's also a sad world to view from the outside, I'm sure. Your family is trying to move forward, but they have different ways of doing so. Hopefully they will manage to coordinate someday. I haven't seen or heard from your brother in years, and I miss that contact because he was becoming an amazing adult. He knew you even better than I did, and your death almost killed him, but he seems determined to live. He'll be okay in the long run once his body heals from his addictions.

You are not forgotten, and are lovingly captured in memories and dreams.

--Love, Moi
(little in joke there, if you remember)

If you read this and can help...

Even if you can only organize or make phone calls, check out http://informationisgolden.blogspot.com/ for how you can pinpoint need for cities within 100 miles of New Orleans. People are still there and are in dire straits. My friend ICEKNIFE is trying to unite bloggers in aiding Louisiana residents. Do what you can!

Changes, changes, changes

My, I let things go for a week or so and so many things happen! This is why I've always had trouble keeping a diary. Let's see how I can manage to catch things up...

• Visit from my parents was wonderful! I had been worried that they might be critical of how I still have some boxes around and none of our artwork is on the walls, but they were just impressed that the house was neat and clean (we have to keep it that way due to Pros' horrible allergies to Pandora the Wonder Kitty). We took them to a few of the best restaurants in town and gave a driving tour of the local college campus. Unfortunately, my mother's health kept us from doing too much walking, but she seemed to enjoy everything she could see. Saturday night dinner with our friends was the best night. Dad was almost in performance mode, he was so charming! Considering we had a six year old and two bottles of wine at the table, there were no disasters. They also realized that we need no housewarming gifts because we're drowning in possessions, so we got $200 to help make ends meet.
• Speaking of cash, I've just taken a second part-time job, once again at a place that will benefit me in ways other than just financially. I'll be at Curves, which is a workout center for women only (the guys just wouldn't enjoy the stuff, so it isn't exactly discriminatory). At first, I was a little worried about working at a place that is known for having a Xtian agenda, but the owner is much more about health issues than picketing Planned Parenthood. With luck, this will allow me to leave the wine shop when it starts to get dangerous to walk to my car at night at the end of the night.
• There's a mess going on at my college radio station. I'm going to get much more into detail about it on my group blog (Dandelionfiles), but the jist of it is that a local PBS station is trying to take over this frequency and shove the students off the air in favor of an NPR format. To make it worse, there's already an NPR station in town (started by WMUH alum) that would be shafted if this went through. I'm currently helping with the rabblerousing to keep the college from killing one of the best hands-on communications programs they have.

Whew! This is what I get for waiting so long to update!

One of those quiz thingys

1. IF YOU COULD BUILD A SECOND HOUSE ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD IT BE? Somewhere in the mountains. I'm not picky about which mountain, but I want an A-frame house in the mountains.
2. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ARTICLE OF CLOTHING? My blue and black scarf / sarong. Why can't I wear it more often in public?
3. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE MALE SINGER? Rufus Wainwright. The man has pipes and a songwriting ability to match.
4. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FEMALE SINGER? Kate Bush. Anyone else in the universe trails in second.
4. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE BAND? I would say Vent Silence (my brother's band at http://www.ventsilence.com/ ), but they will most likely split by next spring. Damn shame!
4. WHAT TIME DO YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? 7:30 or so, although that will change once I start subbing!
5. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE KITCHEN APPLIANCE? The rice cooker, although I'm trying to avoid it for a few months.
6. FAVORITE KIND OF MUSIC? Female vocalists from most genres. Goes back to my radio show days.
7. FAVORITE COLOR: Blue, although I tend to wear a lot of black.
8. FAVORITE CHILDREN'S BOOK? It's a tie between D'Aulaire's Mythology and The Phantom Tollbooth. It depends on if I want to look at gorgeous pictures while I read or if I want to just have my brain expanded.
9. FAVORITE SEASON: Autumn, as long as I can have Sudafed.
10. IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE? Time Control.
11. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE DAY? Thursday. I'm all about the anticipation of the weekend, since the weekend itself rarely lives up to it.
12. WHICH DO YOU PREFER, CHINESE OR MEXICAN FOOD? Mexican, due to my passion for sour cream.
13. FROM THE PEOPLE YOU WILL EMAIL THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND
FIRST? Hmmm, maybe Laurali, if her email is working.
14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MEAL? Ostrich with wilted spinach from Marco Polo. Damn, I miss that place!
15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER? Carnations, although I prefer seeing flowers when they are unpicked.
16. FAVORITE THING TO DO WITH SPARE TIME? Watch bad television with that special someone... although I can't seem to get the cat to understand the concept behind Most Extreme Challenge. KIDDING!

Official engaggment photo

I know, I know, two photos in a row with very little to say. We'll get to all the news soon enough. Besides, my parents are coming out here in a few days, so there will be PLENTY of material!

Clever cartoon answers modern mess

I've always loved Dangermouse and Penfold. This just says volumes in a much funnier way than I can manage.

Since last I blogged...

Well, on this blog, anyway. I'm also on Dandelionfiles, but that's more of a group piece than the solo kvetching I do here.

At any rate, a couple of things have happened about the money situation. First, my dad realized he cost me a nice chunk of my deposit from my last apartment when he broke the handle off the back door. He also launched my monitor across the back porch, which would have been comical if I could now turn the damn thing on and off. The point is that he just sent me a check to cover the cost of the door as well as covering my flat tire, which I didn't have a way of covering other than my overused credit card. Second, my doctor / gal pal just faxed my resume to one of her other doctor pals. This should hopefully get me out of the wine shop soon.

Wine shop, actually, is losing jobslack rapidly. I'm tired of arguements with the owner of work schedules, and I'm REALLY tired of the lack of income. I'll delay subbing for a few months if I can have a job that pays enough we don't have to worry so much about the bills. Anything to keep Pros and I happy!

Dog days of flat broke summer

It's getting terribly tight here financially. When I originally agreed to move here, it was with the understanding that I'd have a summer job waiting for me that I could keep part time. It fell through about a month before my arrival, far too late for me to put my moving plans on hold. I'd forgotten how frightening it is to be underemployed! I'm only working about 20 hours a week for $10 an hour. Granted, the cost of living here is low, but I'm in the uncomfortable position of deciding what bills I can afford to pay. Pros is working a summer internship, but he's been sick on and off and is now only working four days a week so he can concentrate on the beginning research for his thesis.

My greatest source of relief is remembering that my substitute teaching orientation is a week from tomorrow. I don't know how long I can handle such a small amount of take-home pay, especially when Pros will have a major gap between his final pay from his internship and his first stipend check from the University. May have to figure out a way to put next month's rent on a credit card or something.

Ah well, these are the times that make or break couples starting out a new life together. Marriage isn't always going to be smooth, so this cohabitational tightness is good practice.

I'm going to stop typing for a while and go downstairs to spend some time with the person who makes this all worthwhile.

Alternate answers

Why DO I want to be a teacher, anyway?

• It beats the hell out of Barnes & Noble, the final resting place for underemployed English majors.
• The health benefits are usually amazing compared to most jobs I've had. Most places don't cover anti-allergy drugs because we can get Claritin over the counter. FUCK Claritin! It's barely more effective than a placebo, and most work places (including classrooms) are a pit of mold that kills my allergies.
• Someone needs to protect / guide the class nerds and outcasts. Who better than someone who was driven to a nervous breakdown in 10th grade and then bounced back?
• June, July, August. Ah, three months of dreading the first day back in the classroom.
• Finally, a reason to show off my memorization of the opening of Canterbury Tales in Middle English other than to mess with the heads of drunks at parties.
• Finally, a reason to declare my collection of Simpsons DVDs as a tax writeoff. Show The Raven or Streetcar Named Desire just once, collect my return later.
• I'm genetically programmed to suck at everything else.
  

Photos, photos everywhere...

Will the real Jacklyn Hyde PLEASE explain the other photos?

Small, Medium or Large?

Columbus is a medium sized city. This is something I have to keep in mind while dealing with other people and with situations. Twice this week I've talked to someone, in both cases fellow transplants to the area, who referred to this place as "the Big City" with such reverence that I thought we had landed in Oz.

"Folks, I came here from Philly... yes, the place with the steaks. Yes, I do know how to order correctly from Pat's, but my point is that this really isn't THAT big of a metropolis. If I was able to find a parking spot within two blocks of where I had to go, this isn't a big city."

On the other hand, I did just move here from a very small town outside of Philadelphia. Jenkintown has a gazebo in Town Square where they have ice cream socials and free concerts. There were a few arrests in the area, but most of them were for drunken driving or unruly behavior. Yes, the Big City entered on occasion, like the time an escaped prisoner was pinned down at gunpoint under my window, but for the main part the only noise was the Irish folk dancing classes across the street. MAN, those people can stomp!

That was the town I missed this weekend when I found out my left rear tire had been punctured with either an ice pick or a screwdriver. Jenkintown doesn't have good and bad neighborhoods because it's too small. Columbus has bad neighborhoods, and I laughed at the idea that they could be worse than North Philly. They aren't, but the kids here are just as bored as they are there.

Welcome to life in the City, I suppose!

REAP Question #1

What are your three (3) most important reasons for wanting to be a teacher?

1) When I was fifteen years old, an adult with whom I was close charged me to "save the world one person at a time." This thought has been with me for years. To date, working with students at the age I was at that time is the best way I can fathom fulfilling this charge.

2) My parents have provided the perfect examples of why education is the most fulfilling career imaginable. Both of them teach at my former high school, and they seem happiest when in the classroom. They have supported me in every way in my work to join their ranks.

3) After more than ten years out of college and in the private sector, there was no perfect match. After three months of student teaching, I now know there is no place that I will find a greater match for my skills. There is no other place where I am more at home than looking into the faces of my students.

Happy Monthiversary!

Here we go...

Today is two months since I packed up my apartment in suburban Philadelphia and began the move out to Columbus, Ohio. I'd been working on this move for what seems like years, since Pros and I first decided that our relationship needed to be more than a long-distance occasional fling. I wish I could say it's always been easy. I'm finding myself in the terrifying position of being almost totally reliant on one person for everything from shelter to daily contact. Pros is the person I'm supposed to be with, and I'm so glad I'm here, but BOY, is this transition a bitch!

Luckily, Lynx (one of my pre-existing Ohio friends) has been good enough to bring me into the Blogger Circle. It makes me feel a lot better that I have someone to talk to, even if it's a group of anonymous readers. Please be patient with me if you stumble into my words. I'll try to make the story more distinct as I put it into better perspective while moving forward in my new life here in Ohio.

Hope the journey is fun for all!