Well that was a waste of time. New counselor who, when we get to the end of the session says that she don't know how to proceed with me. Could be because I said I didn't really like how the session went, we were off track the whole time describing different parts of my life, but nothing specific or important. I tend to get easily sidetracked and need someone to keep me focused. I can blab for hours about life, and I'm interesting, so people tend to listen.
Maybe if I hadn't said anything about being off track our next session would have been better. Perhaps after I'd gone through my whole life history she would have gotten around to figuring out what I need or how to proceed. I don't know. What I DO know is that I'll be looking around for someone who DOES know how to proceed and who can get past the introductory fluff. Someone who knows what she should be looking for within the discussion and who can repeat back to me the concerns that I have.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
What's at the Heart of It?
If you've been following my writing for the past few months I think you'd see the following trends:
First, I've become more and more negative towards myself and I've been trying to analyze WHY.
Second, I've been looking at making my life a bit more sustainable and friendly to the environment.
I started writing again because I believed, and still believe, that writing seems to be good for me, no matter what else is going on. What I've discovered over the past few months is that there are two sides to me (well, actually there are way more than two sides to me, but for practical purposes I'll discuss only two) that are striving to be heard.
There's the side of me that's desperately trying to live a normal life that aligns to my ideals and goals and there's the side of me that is insecure and self destructive. I hate to quote Paula Abdul, but it's like my life is two steps forward and one step back. There is progress I suppose, but I'm always looking at that one step back rather than the progress I've made.
I've found a new counselor who actually accepts my insurance that I'll see later today. I think I'm getting to the point where I'd be willing to try medications for a while. I've tried to eat well, exercise, involve myself in community, and do all the holistic things necessary to pull myself out of this spiral, but lately I've not even been trying to keep up with all things healthy. I don't know maybe something will click back into place and I'll be increasingly happy all of the sudden. Vitamins sure helped a lot.
I'd really like for this blog to be more about positive things, like me trying to build a solar oven next weekend, or a trip to New York (I had a great time over the weekend).
Every single woman in my family either is, or has been on, some sort of anti-depressant or anti-anxiety medicine. EVERY one of them. I've come to believe that I'm not just working against PTSD (although that's there too). I'm working against a genetic makeup that gives me a prevalence for depression.
If I'm going to live with this for the rest of my life something is going to have to change. It may just be my own attitude about it. I'm half convinced that my stress over my mental state is related to a belief in what is "proper" for me.
I certainly have other issues with "proper". That's why I get so mad at bad drivers in Boston (don't they know they can't make a left turn from the far right lane?). It's against the rules....
Despite my mother's effort to raise me "improper" somehow it didn't work. I still manage to judge myself against some invisible standard that I can never see or accurately measure myself against.
So somehow I need to redirect myself BACK to a place where I can talk about my daily life in a non-judgemental way that helps me process life's trails in a way that brings me closer to my own goals of a simple, sustainable, and loving life.
First, I've become more and more negative towards myself and I've been trying to analyze WHY.
Second, I've been looking at making my life a bit more sustainable and friendly to the environment.
I started writing again because I believed, and still believe, that writing seems to be good for me, no matter what else is going on. What I've discovered over the past few months is that there are two sides to me (well, actually there are way more than two sides to me, but for practical purposes I'll discuss only two) that are striving to be heard.
There's the side of me that's desperately trying to live a normal life that aligns to my ideals and goals and there's the side of me that is insecure and self destructive. I hate to quote Paula Abdul, but it's like my life is two steps forward and one step back. There is progress I suppose, but I'm always looking at that one step back rather than the progress I've made.
I've found a new counselor who actually accepts my insurance that I'll see later today. I think I'm getting to the point where I'd be willing to try medications for a while. I've tried to eat well, exercise, involve myself in community, and do all the holistic things necessary to pull myself out of this spiral, but lately I've not even been trying to keep up with all things healthy. I don't know maybe something will click back into place and I'll be increasingly happy all of the sudden. Vitamins sure helped a lot.
I'd really like for this blog to be more about positive things, like me trying to build a solar oven next weekend, or a trip to New York (I had a great time over the weekend).
Every single woman in my family either is, or has been on, some sort of anti-depressant or anti-anxiety medicine. EVERY one of them. I've come to believe that I'm not just working against PTSD (although that's there too). I'm working against a genetic makeup that gives me a prevalence for depression.
If I'm going to live with this for the rest of my life something is going to have to change. It may just be my own attitude about it. I'm half convinced that my stress over my mental state is related to a belief in what is "proper" for me.
I certainly have other issues with "proper". That's why I get so mad at bad drivers in Boston (don't they know they can't make a left turn from the far right lane?). It's against the rules....
Despite my mother's effort to raise me "improper" somehow it didn't work. I still manage to judge myself against some invisible standard that I can never see or accurately measure myself against.
So somehow I need to redirect myself BACK to a place where I can talk about my daily life in a non-judgemental way that helps me process life's trails in a way that brings me closer to my own goals of a simple, sustainable, and loving life.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Improper
In medieval dancing "improper" refers to the order of women and men within a set of dancers. In "proper" form women all line up on one side while in "improper" sets every other couple switches places...man, woman, man, woman, man woman, and so on.
I'm not entirely sure why it's improper, but I suppose it relates to the medieval sense of order and propriety.
But I've been wondering lately about the difference between proper and polite.
I was raised to be polite, but not necessarily proper. I don't think there's a proper bone in my mother's body. Raised on a farm, a Navy veteran and a lawyer, she never has attempted, or desired to fit into a "proper" role.
That does not mean she is impolite. I was taught that thank you letters and Christmas cards and nice conversation with the grocery store checkout clerk are all things that our family does because we are a devote Christian family who values the ideals of Bible and Church.
But I think there's some overlap between polite and proper.
For instance, is a Christmas card polite or proper? We send cards because it's what people do. If it's what people do, isn't that proper? I could easily NOT send cards and still be polite to my friends and family. But without showing everyone that I'm thinking of them during the holidays aren't I being a bit impolite as well?
My step-sister never misses a birthday, a holiday, or a thank you note. I wish I could be so organized and devoted. I *sometimes* remember Christmas cards and thank you letters (although I usually at least make a thank you phone call) and I'm terrible about birthdays.
I guess I'm concerned when I forget cards or presents or birthdays that I'm not living up to some standard I expect of myself. To which I say, do I really care about being proper? I guess I care more than I thought I did.
And I wonder, if I have children, what I would teach my children about "proper". I would hate to limit my children, which to some degree I think of with "proper", but I would also want my children to be polite (in society's eyes as well as my own). Fortunately I have some time to think about it all.
I'm not entirely sure why it's improper, but I suppose it relates to the medieval sense of order and propriety.
But I've been wondering lately about the difference between proper and polite.
I was raised to be polite, but not necessarily proper. I don't think there's a proper bone in my mother's body. Raised on a farm, a Navy veteran and a lawyer, she never has attempted, or desired to fit into a "proper" role.
That does not mean she is impolite. I was taught that thank you letters and Christmas cards and nice conversation with the grocery store checkout clerk are all things that our family does because we are a devote Christian family who values the ideals of Bible and Church.
But I think there's some overlap between polite and proper.
For instance, is a Christmas card polite or proper? We send cards because it's what people do. If it's what people do, isn't that proper? I could easily NOT send cards and still be polite to my friends and family. But without showing everyone that I'm thinking of them during the holidays aren't I being a bit impolite as well?
My step-sister never misses a birthday, a holiday, or a thank you note. I wish I could be so organized and devoted. I *sometimes* remember Christmas cards and thank you letters (although I usually at least make a thank you phone call) and I'm terrible about birthdays.
I guess I'm concerned when I forget cards or presents or birthdays that I'm not living up to some standard I expect of myself. To which I say, do I really care about being proper? I guess I care more than I thought I did.
And I wonder, if I have children, what I would teach my children about "proper". I would hate to limit my children, which to some degree I think of with "proper", but I would also want my children to be polite (in society's eyes as well as my own). Fortunately I have some time to think about it all.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Bar Shampoo Review
In my continued effort to reduce, reuse, and recycle I've turned to bar shampoo.
Shampoo that comes in bar form has the advantage of smaller packaging and, generalizing here, the ingredients are more e-co friendly. They don't need additional chemicals to keep it in liquid form, so there are less ingredients than other gel forms.
I was a bit skeptical at first because I imagined taking a bar of Dial to my head and scrubbing. Fortunately, that's not the way it works. My favorite shampoo is Blondie by Lush. It almost melts in your hands, in fact I keep it in a small tupperware container to prevent shower water from using it all up. You choose how much you want by how much you lather onto your hands, same as a normal shampoo.
The only reason I switched to JR Liggett's was because I was out of Blondie and Lush products are international while JR Liggett is produced in New Hampshire. The ingredients of both products are pretty global, I suppose there's no real way around that yet (even the early colonists had to import soap or lye for soap), but I wish I could find something made from top to bottom within the U.S.
Liggetts isn't quite as nice as Blondie. It's harder to work the bar into a lather, and after shampooing it feels like my hair is almost too clean. It definately feels like it strips everything off of my hair. The advertisment says that most people don't need conditioner. I don't know who they think they're fooling, I need twice the conditioner just to get a comb through my hair. Of course, I have very fine hair that tangles easily. I do have to admit that after conditioner my hair looks pretty good though.
I still think I'll go with Blondie next time. It may be international, but so is JR Liggett if you discuss the ingredients, and I can choose exactly how much I want (they cut a bar for you in the store). Packaging is even more minimal since I can choose to not have it wrapped and bring my tupperware along. I'm not sure I'll ever go back to liquid shampoo.
http://www.lushusa.com/shop/products/hair/solid-shampoos
http://www.jrliggett.com/
Shampoo that comes in bar form has the advantage of smaller packaging and, generalizing here, the ingredients are more e-co friendly. They don't need additional chemicals to keep it in liquid form, so there are less ingredients than other gel forms.
I was a bit skeptical at first because I imagined taking a bar of Dial to my head and scrubbing. Fortunately, that's not the way it works. My favorite shampoo is Blondie by Lush. It almost melts in your hands, in fact I keep it in a small tupperware container to prevent shower water from using it all up. You choose how much you want by how much you lather onto your hands, same as a normal shampoo.
The only reason I switched to JR Liggett's was because I was out of Blondie and Lush products are international while JR Liggett is produced in New Hampshire. The ingredients of both products are pretty global, I suppose there's no real way around that yet (even the early colonists had to import soap or lye for soap), but I wish I could find something made from top to bottom within the U.S.
Liggetts isn't quite as nice as Blondie. It's harder to work the bar into a lather, and after shampooing it feels like my hair is almost too clean. It definately feels like it strips everything off of my hair. The advertisment says that most people don't need conditioner. I don't know who they think they're fooling, I need twice the conditioner just to get a comb through my hair. Of course, I have very fine hair that tangles easily. I do have to admit that after conditioner my hair looks pretty good though.
I still think I'll go with Blondie next time. It may be international, but so is JR Liggett if you discuss the ingredients, and I can choose exactly how much I want (they cut a bar for you in the store). Packaging is even more minimal since I can choose to not have it wrapped and bring my tupperware along. I'm not sure I'll ever go back to liquid shampoo.
http://www.lushusa.com/shop/products/hair/solid-shampoos
http://www.jrliggett.com/
Thursday, June 25, 2009
I like the guy
I like the governor who skipped town and cheated on his wife, not I'm not supporting cheating on your wife. He has such an element of humanity about him. Married 20 years, four kids, stressful job, it seems to me like he needs a hand, like he was struggling to get by.
Everyone flipped out when he didn't contact the world for 4 days. If he HAD been hiking in the Appalachians, I think that's admirable. Since he wasn't, it's not quite as likable, but also not a crisis. The legislative session is out, he's got a staff of workers, isn't the guy allowed a vacation? I will admit he should have told someone he was leaving. To me it's more evidence that he was cracking up.
We, as a country, are so interested in staying in contact, minute to minute. Unless there was some state or national emergency (which I presume he was looking into daily since he returned after reports of his disappearance surfaced) would anything really matter enough for him to address RIGHT THEN?
This guy is not a womanizer. He's "in love" with two women (if he really knows what love is). My guess is that he really was crushed when his wife didn't say" her or me" and instead made the choice for him. Otherwise I think he would have told people he was going on vacation and made sure to cover up his actions.
I hope he figures out that he really does love his wife, because I'm guessing he does. AND I hope he doesn't resign his position. Too often we focus on personal mistakes rather than on job strengths when we look at U.S. government officials. It sounds like he was doing a good job before all of this. If France's president can divorce his wife and remarry while maintaining the duties of the presidency, surely the governor can do his job too?
I'd rather have a dedicated public servant whose love life is a mess than a spotless politician who focuses primarily on keeping his reputation clean.
Everyone flipped out when he didn't contact the world for 4 days. If he HAD been hiking in the Appalachians, I think that's admirable. Since he wasn't, it's not quite as likable, but also not a crisis. The legislative session is out, he's got a staff of workers, isn't the guy allowed a vacation? I will admit he should have told someone he was leaving. To me it's more evidence that he was cracking up.
We, as a country, are so interested in staying in contact, minute to minute. Unless there was some state or national emergency (which I presume he was looking into daily since he returned after reports of his disappearance surfaced) would anything really matter enough for him to address RIGHT THEN?
This guy is not a womanizer. He's "in love" with two women (if he really knows what love is). My guess is that he really was crushed when his wife didn't say" her or me" and instead made the choice for him. Otherwise I think he would have told people he was going on vacation and made sure to cover up his actions.
I hope he figures out that he really does love his wife, because I'm guessing he does. AND I hope he doesn't resign his position. Too often we focus on personal mistakes rather than on job strengths when we look at U.S. government officials. It sounds like he was doing a good job before all of this. If France's president can divorce his wife and remarry while maintaining the duties of the presidency, surely the governor can do his job too?
I'd rather have a dedicated public servant whose love life is a mess than a spotless politician who focuses primarily on keeping his reputation clean.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Health Care
Our health care system is rotten.
I went to my annual doctor's appointment in November of last year and the poor office hasn't been paid yet. First the insurance company claimed that the visit was for a preexisting condition (yes I've been a female all my life) and then, after a few phone calls from me and the doctor's office, CIGNA wanted me to provide a certificate of credible coverage that demonstrated that I'd been covered at least 5 months previous the date of my coverage with their company. No problem, I did so, but the issue wasn't resolved.
I then went to my counselor, which I figured would be a good idea since I have PTSD that really needs to be dealt with regularly. Same issue, still unresolved.
It turns out that some employee at CIGNA stapled my certificate of credible coverage to one individual claim and failed to update the entire plan coverage information, so every claim I make remains unpaid because they have no proof that I was covered before being insured by these clowns. To which I say, why the hell do they even need to know I was covered 6 months ago? They try to weasle out of paying claims and delay the process as long as possible.
Can I resolve this, absolutely. But the more I deal with this the more I believe we need to do SOMETHING about our health care industry.
Why don't we pay for doctor's educational loans, limit malpractice to realistic values and then make "insurance" coverage a NON-PROFIT organization. Isn't there something inherantly wrong about people making money off of your health?
I went to my annual doctor's appointment in November of last year and the poor office hasn't been paid yet. First the insurance company claimed that the visit was for a preexisting condition (yes I've been a female all my life) and then, after a few phone calls from me and the doctor's office, CIGNA wanted me to provide a certificate of credible coverage that demonstrated that I'd been covered at least 5 months previous the date of my coverage with their company. No problem, I did so, but the issue wasn't resolved.
I then went to my counselor, which I figured would be a good idea since I have PTSD that really needs to be dealt with regularly. Same issue, still unresolved.
It turns out that some employee at CIGNA stapled my certificate of credible coverage to one individual claim and failed to update the entire plan coverage information, so every claim I make remains unpaid because they have no proof that I was covered before being insured by these clowns. To which I say, why the hell do they even need to know I was covered 6 months ago? They try to weasle out of paying claims and delay the process as long as possible.
Can I resolve this, absolutely. But the more I deal with this the more I believe we need to do SOMETHING about our health care industry.
Why don't we pay for doctor's educational loans, limit malpractice to realistic values and then make "insurance" coverage a NON-PROFIT organization. Isn't there something inherantly wrong about people making money off of your health?
Monday, June 22, 2009
Not a word
Today was my last day at school. Not a word of goodbye or farewell was said from the department. Not a wish you well or good luck.
It's over now. I can't worry about that place anymore. Whatever will be will be.
It's over now. I can't worry about that place anymore. Whatever will be will be.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Failure
When I moved to Indiana my former school's curriculum didn't match up with the new school's educational plan. I'd been enrolled in Algebra in 8th grade, which wasn't an option at my new middle school. (Now that I'm a teacher I now know that Arizona was operating in a Jr. High setting and Indiana operated in a Middle School model and both have different ideas of the educational process)
Indiana's answer was to stick me in the accelerated math class. Little did the school counselor know that I'd struggled with the idea of negative numbers and it was only through an explanation of the negative number fairy that magically made numbers change value was I able to get through pre-algebra in 7th grade. Of course, the material we were covering I'd done before, so I succeeded without too much effort, and I continued into High School in accelerated Algebra.
HSE (my high school, although now known as HSHS) designed accelerated math around Freshman and Sophomore years. You would take Algebra 1 and half of Geography in 9th grade and Algebra II and the other half of Geography in 10th grade. I'd had half of Algebra before, so my Freshman year math class, while not exactly easy, was possible for me.
Sophomore year was another story. Ms. Wong, who had her students dress up as Pathagoris or other mathmaticians, was a different ball of wax entirely. I struggled from the beginning, most likely because she began with liquid conversions, which I have still never managed to conquer. I kid you not, that is/was the worst sort of problem for me. They're logic, plus formula, plus word problem, plus visual, and somewhere in there I get lost.
After a few weeks of low grades, unlike anything I'd experienced before, she called a summit to move me to regular math. I tried to convince her it was just the unit, but she wasn't convinced. Looking back, she was probably right. I was just going to struggle along, failing, when I could be getting high grades in a regular classroom. I was not an accelerated math kind of girl.
But I wondered then, and I wonder today, what would have happened if I stuck it out. Could I have made it? I really do have trouble with math.
But even in Accelerated English I was at the bottom of the advanced curve. I didn't get straight A's and I probably could have in a regular classroom. I think I advanced further than I would have had I been top of my class in a less challenging environment. So would I rather have struggled to get a C in math and stayed in the regular classroom, or moved to the regular classroom? Would I have ended up failing Ms. Wong's class? Again, I don't know.
I don't fail well. I know that's somewhat silly, because nobody likes to fail, but some people are better at failing than others. I've become harder and harder on myself as I've aged. I don't know why, but I can't tolerate mistakes that I make in myself that I can tolerate in other people.
I can't accept myself for who I am, because it's not good enough.
One of the teachers on the interview committee at Bedfored(yes the one who didn't hire me) once said to me that reflection on teaching practice is good, but that someone who beats themselves up is not long to the teaching profession. I think that's not true. I think someone who beats themselves up is not long to ANY profession.
I keep hoping that I can learn from my past. It was difficult to fail at math and to be moved out of "the smart group" but I eventually moved on. Of course I took the minimal amount of math required for college graduation because I knew I was "not good at math". So I essentially avoided finding out if I could hack a harder match class.
Sometimes (especially now) I feel like a failure at teaching. It's challenging, and at times I feel like I'm not up to snuff. I ask myself if I should find a profession that is less challenging, one that I can excel at, or should I stay with it? I may have been on the lower cusp of advanced classes in high school, but I turned out pretty good (with the exception of my ability to spell). When do I know if I should cut bait or see it through? And how will I know if I'm just avoiding the question?
Indiana's answer was to stick me in the accelerated math class. Little did the school counselor know that I'd struggled with the idea of negative numbers and it was only through an explanation of the negative number fairy that magically made numbers change value was I able to get through pre-algebra in 7th grade. Of course, the material we were covering I'd done before, so I succeeded without too much effort, and I continued into High School in accelerated Algebra.
HSE (my high school, although now known as HSHS) designed accelerated math around Freshman and Sophomore years. You would take Algebra 1 and half of Geography in 9th grade and Algebra II and the other half of Geography in 10th grade. I'd had half of Algebra before, so my Freshman year math class, while not exactly easy, was possible for me.
Sophomore year was another story. Ms. Wong, who had her students dress up as Pathagoris or other mathmaticians, was a different ball of wax entirely. I struggled from the beginning, most likely because she began with liquid conversions, which I have still never managed to conquer. I kid you not, that is/was the worst sort of problem for me. They're logic, plus formula, plus word problem, plus visual, and somewhere in there I get lost.
After a few weeks of low grades, unlike anything I'd experienced before, she called a summit to move me to regular math. I tried to convince her it was just the unit, but she wasn't convinced. Looking back, she was probably right. I was just going to struggle along, failing, when I could be getting high grades in a regular classroom. I was not an accelerated math kind of girl.
But I wondered then, and I wonder today, what would have happened if I stuck it out. Could I have made it? I really do have trouble with math.
But even in Accelerated English I was at the bottom of the advanced curve. I didn't get straight A's and I probably could have in a regular classroom. I think I advanced further than I would have had I been top of my class in a less challenging environment. So would I rather have struggled to get a C in math and stayed in the regular classroom, or moved to the regular classroom? Would I have ended up failing Ms. Wong's class? Again, I don't know.
I don't fail well. I know that's somewhat silly, because nobody likes to fail, but some people are better at failing than others. I've become harder and harder on myself as I've aged. I don't know why, but I can't tolerate mistakes that I make in myself that I can tolerate in other people.
I can't accept myself for who I am, because it's not good enough.
One of the teachers on the interview committee at Bedfored(yes the one who didn't hire me) once said to me that reflection on teaching practice is good, but that someone who beats themselves up is not long to the teaching profession. I think that's not true. I think someone who beats themselves up is not long to ANY profession.
I keep hoping that I can learn from my past. It was difficult to fail at math and to be moved out of "the smart group" but I eventually moved on. Of course I took the minimal amount of math required for college graduation because I knew I was "not good at math". So I essentially avoided finding out if I could hack a harder match class.
Sometimes (especially now) I feel like a failure at teaching. It's challenging, and at times I feel like I'm not up to snuff. I ask myself if I should find a profession that is less challenging, one that I can excel at, or should I stay with it? I may have been on the lower cusp of advanced classes in high school, but I turned out pretty good (with the exception of my ability to spell). When do I know if I should cut bait or see it through? And how will I know if I'm just avoiding the question?
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Rain, Rain, go Away.
We're supposed to have a barbecue this weekend. Funny thing is, every time we plan something outdoors, it rains. What is WITH this weather. It's something like 60 degrees outside and it's JUNE. Should I start buying my extreme cold weather gear now in preparation for the upcoming ice age?
Monday, June 15, 2009
Worms
Apparently they're normal. I bought some wild cod a couple of days ago at Whole Foods and just got around to cooking it today. When I laid out the fillet to spice I noticed two weird stringy things sticking out. I plucked them out and they didn't move, so I originally thought it might be guts or something. It was definitely something. Gerd looked the fish over and found a third stringy thingy, but this one was moving. That's about when I decided against fish for dinner.
Gerd, however, was unconcerned. He went to the internet to look up worms in cod and came up with a US and UK site explaining how it's completely normal. Normally fish mongers place fish up against a bright light and pull out any worms before they package the meat for market, although they may miss one or two.
In this case they missed about 7. Gerd cooked his own fish while I ate rice and asparagus. I almost didn't get even that down thinking about living critters in my food. As Gerd continued to eat his fish he found more worms. No, they weren't moving, which is very, very good. The internet search he'd read said that as long as a fish is well cooked the worms are harmless, but if they manage to live they'll EVENTUALLY die in your stomach, but first cause a bunch of pain. No thank you.
I recently decided to sign up for our local CSF (community supported fishery). I think it's a great idea and I like the idea of sustainably fished in season fish. I didn't get my application in on time, and now I'm wondering if that's not a terrible thing after all. I really don't want to dig worms out of my food regularly. Frankly, it grosses me out.
Gerd, however, was unconcerned. He went to the internet to look up worms in cod and came up with a US and UK site explaining how it's completely normal. Normally fish mongers place fish up against a bright light and pull out any worms before they package the meat for market, although they may miss one or two.
In this case they missed about 7. Gerd cooked his own fish while I ate rice and asparagus. I almost didn't get even that down thinking about living critters in my food. As Gerd continued to eat his fish he found more worms. No, they weren't moving, which is very, very good. The internet search he'd read said that as long as a fish is well cooked the worms are harmless, but if they manage to live they'll EVENTUALLY die in your stomach, but first cause a bunch of pain. No thank you.
I recently decided to sign up for our local CSF (community supported fishery). I think it's a great idea and I like the idea of sustainably fished in season fish. I didn't get my application in on time, and now I'm wondering if that's not a terrible thing after all. I really don't want to dig worms out of my food regularly. Frankly, it grosses me out.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Slow Food
I haven't officially joined the Slow Food movement, but I've been trying to make my own movement into the slow food idea.
Today we made homemade butter. Last week we tried to make butter while I made homemade noodles and homemade cheese. None of our experiments came out that great last week, but it was the first try. We didn't know before then that milk from the store, even whole milk, won't make butter. You have to either get raw milk or whipping cream. While many say raw milk is fine, I chose the whipping cream. I'm not even sure where I'd find raw milk anyway, although I'm sure it's available somewhere in Boston.
Our butter came out great. It's just about as good as the organic local butter we've been buying, and for about half the cost. AND, an unexpected bonus, at the end we got a full glass of milk. Gerd was expecting buttermilk, but it really did taste like regular milk. It actually makes me wonder what butter manufacturers do with their excess. We plan to drink ours.
I figure that if I really wanted to go self sufficient I could ALMOST do it. I'd need to buy milk (preferably straight from the cow) sugar, flour (although I'd like to do more experimenting with chickpea flour), lemons (it seems like everything I cook needs lemon juice), eggs (but really if I were on my own I'd buy chickens) oil, salt, and pepper (I think I could grow most other herbs). Meat of course would have to be purchased, but if I were going "self sufficient" I think I'd end up going vegetarian.
I'm probably missing something, and it's likely completely unreasonable, but somehow knowing that I wouldn't be completely helpless if I couldn't buy stuff at the grocery store is comforting.
Today we made homemade butter. Last week we tried to make butter while I made homemade noodles and homemade cheese. None of our experiments came out that great last week, but it was the first try. We didn't know before then that milk from the store, even whole milk, won't make butter. You have to either get raw milk or whipping cream. While many say raw milk is fine, I chose the whipping cream. I'm not even sure where I'd find raw milk anyway, although I'm sure it's available somewhere in Boston.
Our butter came out great. It's just about as good as the organic local butter we've been buying, and for about half the cost. AND, an unexpected bonus, at the end we got a full glass of milk. Gerd was expecting buttermilk, but it really did taste like regular milk. It actually makes me wonder what butter manufacturers do with their excess. We plan to drink ours.
I figure that if I really wanted to go self sufficient I could ALMOST do it. I'd need to buy milk (preferably straight from the cow) sugar, flour (although I'd like to do more experimenting with chickpea flour), lemons (it seems like everything I cook needs lemon juice), eggs (but really if I were on my own I'd buy chickens) oil, salt, and pepper (I think I could grow most other herbs). Meat of course would have to be purchased, but if I were going "self sufficient" I think I'd end up going vegetarian.
I'm probably missing something, and it's likely completely unreasonable, but somehow knowing that I wouldn't be completely helpless if I couldn't buy stuff at the grocery store is comforting.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Oatmeal Bath
My significant other (I really balk at the word fiance for some reason) has terrible eczema. One of the reasons he wants to move back to Ireland is that he believes it makes his skin better. I'm not really sure about that, considering I've seen him come back from Ireland with rough patches and then get better while in the states. I think he likes Ireland and when he's happy his skin is better.
Right now his skin is NOT good. Although he doesn't talk much about being stressed, I'm guessing the stress over where I'll be for the next year, and my own stress about everything is spilling over into his skin. He just wants me to be happy, and he's unhappy when I'm worried...which seems to be a permanent condition.
Right now he's upstairs taking an oatmeal bath. When he's willing to take advice about his skin, I know it's bad. I wish I could be less stressed so I can help him unwind too.
Right now his skin is NOT good. Although he doesn't talk much about being stressed, I'm guessing the stress over where I'll be for the next year, and my own stress about everything is spilling over into his skin. He just wants me to be happy, and he's unhappy when I'm worried...which seems to be a permanent condition.
Right now he's upstairs taking an oatmeal bath. When he's willing to take advice about his skin, I know it's bad. I wish I could be less stressed so I can help him unwind too.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Not going to Grandpas
My grandfather is sick. He already has pulmonary fibrosis which is worse than it should be because he wasn't taking his medicine. My grandmother didn't directly tell him not to take it, but he took her meaning.
Last weekend he nearly died. He's got a chest cold, and without any elasticity in his lungs, he was loosing the ability to breathe. Fortunately the family whisked him off to the hospital and they gave his a strong dose of something that includes steroids, and he appears to be getting better.
My first reaction was to rush off and visit him. I still wish I was there now. But I've been told not to come. My mother called and told me that they're both not up for company. I guess I can understand it, especially with concern that they could pick up another bug (I do work in a school).
But all I want to do is go see my Grandpa.
Last weekend he nearly died. He's got a chest cold, and without any elasticity in his lungs, he was loosing the ability to breathe. Fortunately the family whisked him off to the hospital and they gave his a strong dose of something that includes steroids, and he appears to be getting better.
My first reaction was to rush off and visit him. I still wish I was there now. But I've been told not to come. My mother called and told me that they're both not up for company. I guess I can understand it, especially with concern that they could pick up another bug (I do work in a school).
But all I want to do is go see my Grandpa.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Missing Purse
When I was in middle school, right before our family's big move to Indiana, I found a role of old negatives in my grandmother's sewing room. That was a wonderful room. There were odd things everywhere and you never knew what you'd find if you looked in a closet or opened a drawer.
When I found the negatives, my aunt was visiting, and I think we must have been on some mission to tidy up the room (which, by the way, would have been a lost cause anyway). I opened them and asked Marilyn (my aunt) who the people were. I recognized my dad, he was the same skinny guy with big ears in all the other old pictures, but I didn't recognize the woman beside him. And whoever she was, she was wearing a wedding dress.
Marilyn called my grandmother in and showed her the pictures too. This was all done pretty much without any talking. Or rather, nobody else talking but me. I kept asking the same questions, "who is that woman?" "when was this taken" "where's my mom?". I'm sure I must have been incredibly annoying, as only a middle schooler who smells blood can be.
Grandma told Marilyn to throw them away. I think she said something like "trash belongs in the garbage", which, for MY grandmother was as close to swearing as I'd ever heard her get. Of course when nobody was looking I pulled the role out of the trash and slipped it into my denim purse. Strange how I can still remember what it looked like.
After a few hours of nagging I finally got my aunt to tell me who was in the picture. It was Carol. Now, my mother's name is Carol, which confused me, because this woman was short and had long hair. My mother had long hair once, while in college, and I've heard the story about her hippie days and how she'd never wear her hair like that ever again.
Carol, it turned out, was my father's first wife. First. Wife. Up until that time I'd always believed my mother was my father's first wife. It's not like they married super late in life, he was only 28 when they wed, and their wedding pictures are all smiles, shock, and love. Like they couldn't believe they'd been so lucky to find each other. Well, we all know how that turned out. But they did seem happy in the photos.
I'd planned on taking the photos to a photo shop as soon as I could figure out how to do so without arousing any suspicion. I didn't want my mother to know because I didn't know if SHE knew she was a second wife, and I didn't want my grandmother to know because she'd been adamant that the pictures find their way (and stay) in the trash bin. I was in 7th grade, however, which means I couldn't just hop in the car and head down to Walgreens, so they stayed in my purse, in a little black cannister jiggling around among the foil wrapped wads of chewing gum and spare quarters (what else would I keep in my purse, I was 13?).
And meanwhile I began to dream. I made up loads of stories about how I wasn't really my mother's daughter (everyone told us we looked identical, but I never saw the similarity) or how I was born out of wedlock. I pictured my dad forced to wed a pregnant Mom despite giving up the love of his life. I imagined that I was adopted and my real mother was a beautiful dark haired woman. Perhaps she'd died and my mother raised me in her place.
I never got to see a good picture of this false mother however, because as I plotted to get the negatives developed someone stole my purse. I'm not sure if it was in gym class or in choir, but I suppose it didn't really matter. Both the purse and the negatives were gone. Years later I found out that Carol (not my mother) had cheated on my father with my dad's best friend. My grandmother purged the house of any pictures. I'm sure one exists somewhere in the world today, but not in that house.
It took me years to get over it. I never knew much about my father's life. He wasn't really around to tell the stories. I heard about his childhood and an underground fort he built in his backyard, and I heard about the Navy, but I never heard anything in between. It's funny how we can know someone and really not know much about them.
When I found the negatives, my aunt was visiting, and I think we must have been on some mission to tidy up the room (which, by the way, would have been a lost cause anyway). I opened them and asked Marilyn (my aunt) who the people were. I recognized my dad, he was the same skinny guy with big ears in all the other old pictures, but I didn't recognize the woman beside him. And whoever she was, she was wearing a wedding dress.
Marilyn called my grandmother in and showed her the pictures too. This was all done pretty much without any talking. Or rather, nobody else talking but me. I kept asking the same questions, "who is that woman?" "when was this taken" "where's my mom?". I'm sure I must have been incredibly annoying, as only a middle schooler who smells blood can be.
Grandma told Marilyn to throw them away. I think she said something like "trash belongs in the garbage", which, for MY grandmother was as close to swearing as I'd ever heard her get. Of course when nobody was looking I pulled the role out of the trash and slipped it into my denim purse. Strange how I can still remember what it looked like.
After a few hours of nagging I finally got my aunt to tell me who was in the picture. It was Carol. Now, my mother's name is Carol, which confused me, because this woman was short and had long hair. My mother had long hair once, while in college, and I've heard the story about her hippie days and how she'd never wear her hair like that ever again.
Carol, it turned out, was my father's first wife. First. Wife. Up until that time I'd always believed my mother was my father's first wife. It's not like they married super late in life, he was only 28 when they wed, and their wedding pictures are all smiles, shock, and love. Like they couldn't believe they'd been so lucky to find each other. Well, we all know how that turned out. But they did seem happy in the photos.
I'd planned on taking the photos to a photo shop as soon as I could figure out how to do so without arousing any suspicion. I didn't want my mother to know because I didn't know if SHE knew she was a second wife, and I didn't want my grandmother to know because she'd been adamant that the pictures find their way (and stay) in the trash bin. I was in 7th grade, however, which means I couldn't just hop in the car and head down to Walgreens, so they stayed in my purse, in a little black cannister jiggling around among the foil wrapped wads of chewing gum and spare quarters (what else would I keep in my purse, I was 13?).
And meanwhile I began to dream. I made up loads of stories about how I wasn't really my mother's daughter (everyone told us we looked identical, but I never saw the similarity) or how I was born out of wedlock. I pictured my dad forced to wed a pregnant Mom despite giving up the love of his life. I imagined that I was adopted and my real mother was a beautiful dark haired woman. Perhaps she'd died and my mother raised me in her place.
I never got to see a good picture of this false mother however, because as I plotted to get the negatives developed someone stole my purse. I'm not sure if it was in gym class or in choir, but I suppose it didn't really matter. Both the purse and the negatives were gone. Years later I found out that Carol (not my mother) had cheated on my father with my dad's best friend. My grandmother purged the house of any pictures. I'm sure one exists somewhere in the world today, but not in that house.
It took me years to get over it. I never knew much about my father's life. He wasn't really around to tell the stories. I heard about his childhood and an underground fort he built in his backyard, and I heard about the Navy, but I never heard anything in between. It's funny how we can know someone and really not know much about them.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Schools in the U.S.
I was listening to NPR on my way to work this morning and they had an article (is that what you'd call it on the radio?) on school closures in Chicago. The Department of Education decided that the worst schools would need to be shut down, all staff replaced, and then re-opened.
Now, when I left New Mexico my school district was in the first year of restructuring. They were going to have us all re-interview for our jobs and basically start over for the upcoming year. It was a way to get the worst teachers out of the school since tenure prevents schools from firing bad teachers unless the principal can gather an unholy amount of documentation on them, which can take even up to 3 years to gather. That's 3 years of bad teaching, which kids can't afford to loose. I'm not convinced, however, that even the worst of the worst teachers were hopeless cases.
Has anyone thought to ask why the teachers are bad? You don't generally go into teaching to be a bad teacher. I suppose some stay even though they're not the best, but I haven't really met a teacher who isn't interested in improving their classroom. Many could improve their practice if given the opportunity, but most feel there's no way to improve. Plus most teachers are really not BAD bad, they're just overwhelmed, exhausted, or untrained.
Right now I have a wonderful schedule and I work for a fabulous school. I only teach 100 students in 5 different classes (and one of those is actually done now because the seniors already graduated). I have a 70 minute prep time every day with an additional 70 minutes once a week and one more 70 minute study hall period in which I can speak with students who need help or do additional work when the students are quietly working.
I'm about to go back to New Mexico, it's all but final. When I go back I'll teach 6 periods of students, which adds up to 150 students and I'll only get 48 minutes of prep time each day. I'm loosing 4 hours of preparation time a week, adding 50 students and all the work that accompanies more students, AND I have a longer work day.
The schedule we have now allows students to take 7 classes in 70 minute blocks. Students have A,B, AB, C, D, CD, and E block classes that are on a 6 day schedule that rotates weekly. It's genius. To explain further it goes like this:
Mon: AB, B, C, CD, E
Tues: A, B, CD, D, X
Wed: A, AB, C, D, E
Thur: AB, B, C, CD, E
Fri: A, B, CD, D, X
Mon: A, AB, C, D, E
and so on... Two on, one off each class, which means students have one class 3 to 4 times a week.
New Mexico's schedule is more traditional. Students take 7 classes that last 48 minutes each every day. The minutes spent on each class adds up to the same number by the end of the year.
I calculated the schedule I have now, even working with 6 classes instead of 5 I would still gain about 2 hours of prep time each week. If we want schools to work, how about looking for time for teachers to prepare first. The more time you have to get ready, the better the classes will be, the happier the teachers will be, and the more relaxed the students will be.
That AND fire teachers if they're terrible. Even a teacher with many years of experience hires on with a new contract at schools here. There's no guarantee that they'll be rehired after the first or second year, and many teachers don't make it past the second year. If I really, really sucked, I'd want to be fired. Well, maybe I wouldn't WANT it, but I would believe it would be better in the long run. I wouldn't want to work somewhere that my employer didn't believe I was doing a good job anyway.
Now, when I left New Mexico my school district was in the first year of restructuring. They were going to have us all re-interview for our jobs and basically start over for the upcoming year. It was a way to get the worst teachers out of the school since tenure prevents schools from firing bad teachers unless the principal can gather an unholy amount of documentation on them, which can take even up to 3 years to gather. That's 3 years of bad teaching, which kids can't afford to loose. I'm not convinced, however, that even the worst of the worst teachers were hopeless cases.
Has anyone thought to ask why the teachers are bad? You don't generally go into teaching to be a bad teacher. I suppose some stay even though they're not the best, but I haven't really met a teacher who isn't interested in improving their classroom. Many could improve their practice if given the opportunity, but most feel there's no way to improve. Plus most teachers are really not BAD bad, they're just overwhelmed, exhausted, or untrained.
Right now I have a wonderful schedule and I work for a fabulous school. I only teach 100 students in 5 different classes (and one of those is actually done now because the seniors already graduated). I have a 70 minute prep time every day with an additional 70 minutes once a week and one more 70 minute study hall period in which I can speak with students who need help or do additional work when the students are quietly working.
I'm about to go back to New Mexico, it's all but final. When I go back I'll teach 6 periods of students, which adds up to 150 students and I'll only get 48 minutes of prep time each day. I'm loosing 4 hours of preparation time a week, adding 50 students and all the work that accompanies more students, AND I have a longer work day.
The schedule we have now allows students to take 7 classes in 70 minute blocks. Students have A,B, AB, C, D, CD, and E block classes that are on a 6 day schedule that rotates weekly. It's genius. To explain further it goes like this:
Mon: AB, B, C, CD, E
Tues: A, B, CD, D, X
Wed: A, AB, C, D, E
Thur: AB, B, C, CD, E
Fri: A, B, CD, D, X
Mon: A, AB, C, D, E
and so on... Two on, one off each class, which means students have one class 3 to 4 times a week.
New Mexico's schedule is more traditional. Students take 7 classes that last 48 minutes each every day. The minutes spent on each class adds up to the same number by the end of the year.
I calculated the schedule I have now, even working with 6 classes instead of 5 I would still gain about 2 hours of prep time each week. If we want schools to work, how about looking for time for teachers to prepare first. The more time you have to get ready, the better the classes will be, the happier the teachers will be, and the more relaxed the students will be.
That AND fire teachers if they're terrible. Even a teacher with many years of experience hires on with a new contract at schools here. There's no guarantee that they'll be rehired after the first or second year, and many teachers don't make it past the second year. If I really, really sucked, I'd want to be fired. Well, maybe I wouldn't WANT it, but I would believe it would be better in the long run. I wouldn't want to work somewhere that my employer didn't believe I was doing a good job anyway.
Monday, June 1, 2009
End of the Year
For most people there are still 6 more months before New Years, but for teachers, this is the end of the year.
I stopped buying normal calendars a while back. You can get academic calendars that begin in August and end in July. I think that, even if I left teaching, the summer would still feel like the end of the year. It's when you plan your trips, relax, go at a slower pace, and then in August or September everything picks up again. I wonder if I should create my New Year's Resolutions in August?
This end of the year crept up pretty fast for me. I realized yesterday that I have only 6 more classes with my students, and 3 of those days are already accounted for, one for a final quiz on the material and two for review days for the final exam. That makes 3 days of teaching, but one of those days must be self paced. Students are MCAS testing on Thursday and Friday, and since standardized tests aren't timed, students may be late. (If you're wondering why one day of self-paced for two days of testing, I don't see my students every day, this school has a FABULOUS schedule, best I've ever seen). So I have to pretty much pull the end of the year together in the next two days.
I am in no way ready for the end of the year.
I stopped buying normal calendars a while back. You can get academic calendars that begin in August and end in July. I think that, even if I left teaching, the summer would still feel like the end of the year. It's when you plan your trips, relax, go at a slower pace, and then in August or September everything picks up again. I wonder if I should create my New Year's Resolutions in August?
This end of the year crept up pretty fast for me. I realized yesterday that I have only 6 more classes with my students, and 3 of those days are already accounted for, one for a final quiz on the material and two for review days for the final exam. That makes 3 days of teaching, but one of those days must be self paced. Students are MCAS testing on Thursday and Friday, and since standardized tests aren't timed, students may be late. (If you're wondering why one day of self-paced for two days of testing, I don't see my students every day, this school has a FABULOUS schedule, best I've ever seen). So I have to pretty much pull the end of the year together in the next two days.
I am in no way ready for the end of the year.
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