Back to School

This has been the longest week of my life; at least it feels like that. Why is it that I first set foot in that room in early August - more that 3 weeks ago - and I’ve been working my *## off for the last week to get it finished?  I must admit that I’ve worked harder at getting ready for the beginning of this school year more  than I have for any other year in a long time.  I had become complacent and almost stagnant just doing what we had done the year before because that’s what “they” do.  I knew the routines and the curriculum; I knew the 5th graders well enough to anticipate their next move and keep ahead of them (most of the time) and, if all else fails, I’ve spent enough time on stage and can ad lib ‘til lunch. 

But this is different: these kids are ... well, kids.  They are still sweet.  They haven’t turned to the dark side yet.  I still have a chance with them - I’ve pulled out all my puppets and hats, stuffed animals have been strategically placed around the room, kid-friendly Disco music is on the CD, and my personalized Garfield posters are on the door. All is good! What could go wrong?

Don’t answer that.

Leave My Relatives Out of This!

I believe it was Albert Einstein that said “All time...is relative.” What the heck was he talking about? With very few exceptions, no one in my family has good timing. In fact, I would have to say that time management is a major issue with me both genetically and thru marriage. Now when it comes to getting somewhere on time, I can do that, but try and get something done...well, that’s another story. Like the old sign used to say, “ Procrastinators meeting postponed.”  Here it is, the end of the summer, with school starting up in only a week, and I’m nowhere near ready. I have no clue as to what I doing, I don’t know where anything goes, I have nothing on the walls, I have no copies made, no lesson plans, Arrrgggggh!!!!!................sorry - I lost it there for a moment. I’m okay now. It’s all good.  Everything’s going to be fine once I get a chance to meet with the rest of my team. (Breathe in, breathe out.)

I don’t know why I should be surprised by this turn of events. I have found myself in situations like this for most of my life. When I did theatre for a living, one of our sayings around the shop was, “you can have it two of three ways: cheap, fast, good - choose.” Most of the people I worked with wanted it fast and good, and had the money to pay for it, so everything got done at the last minute. You get used to that. Even in college, when there was a paper or project due ... yep, you guessed it - I was one of those who waited until the very last minute to do anything. That’s how I can tell when my students do the same thing.

So here I am, half a century later, still trying to figure out a way to get something done without actually putting out any effort on my part. If only I could live the day the way I see it in my mind when I wake up each morning. You know what I mean? When you run the day’s plan through your head and put in all the good well balanced meals, exercise, housework, quality family time, and still to bed by 10pm. You know those mornings - I’m sure we make those kinds of ‟this will be a perfect day” plans, only to have them struck down by the crippling forces of reality.

My reality said, “Wake up, Butt-Head! You’ve got less that a week to get your act together.  You can do this! Turn the music up, stop messing around and just do something. If it’s not perfect, fix it.” It’s that simple.

--note for anyone looking for misspellings : Theatre - used for stage productions
                                                              Theater - used for movies

Baggy Pants

Yesterday, I pulled my sewing machine out of the closet and found all the pieces.  It still works! Even more amazing, I remembered how to fill the bobbin and thread the machine. The joke here is that I hate to sew or, more accurately, sewing hates me. In graduate school, if I walked in the costume shop, someone just took what ever I had and did it for me. I had a reputation for “killing” sewing machines. It wasn’t pretty. 

So if I don’t really like to sew,  why do I have a sewing machine and why does it matter that it works, you might ask?  Good question. I’m glad you asked. It’s simple, really. I’ve lost just enough weight that none of my clothes look good on me. My pants are so baggy that I can pull them off without unzipping them. I can’t really afford to buy a new wardrobe, so I needed to fix the one I had. Ta-Daaaaaa ... Oh Brother.  (Get it? I own a Brother sewing machine. I know - lame joke. Sorry.) 

I’m amazed at how quickly all that trivia about sewing and patterning came back to me when I started this little project.  I even found myself looking online at some cute holiday stuff and thinking, “I could sew that!” That’s scary - I just wanted my pants to fit.

My Son's Day

I spent the whole day out shopping with my teenage son.  We had a great time, lots of laughter and joking around. Of course, we were shopping for him, and we started with video games.  Still, it was a good day. This was one of those days where I didn’t worry about me and just focused on him.

You know how it is - every day there is something that slaps me in the face and demands some piece of me. Sometimes it’s my job; sometimes it’s my husband; and most of the time it’s food. It’s times like that when I get so wrapped up in my own life and my own problems that I forget that there are other people living around me.

So that was the way it was today. We drove all over town in search of the evasive collectibles, dropped in for a short visit with family, saw lots of slug bugs, indulged in fast food, and purchased the oddest-looking pair of shoes I’ve ever seen. All the while we talked - not like mom talking to son, but person talking to person. It was cool. I like my son. He’s a cool guy. I would like him even if he wasn’t my son.

I done gooood!!!

He's Dead Jim

I walk out of the waiting room quietly. A few tears began to fall as I drove away. When did the world become so heartless?  Where did the humanity go?

I thought back to the stories I use to read as a kid about the English country veterinarian James Herriot in the books All Creatures Great and Small. I think it’s only natural for a kid to dream about becoming a veterinarian someday - I know I did. I wanted to live in the country and have lots of land with horses, sheep, cows, dogs and, of course, a lot of cats. I would be surrounded each day by puppies and kittens. There would be lots of other people with plenty of other animals and life would be like a strange cross between a Disney film and a BBC 70's Sitcom. What could be more rewarding and wonderful right? Right. If only.    

No, sorry folks, Herriot’s dead and so are his ideals. "If you decide to become a veterinary surgeon you will never grow rich, but you will have a life of endless interest and variety." (Chapter 19, page 120., Herriot, All Creatures Great and Small) His words, not mine. This message he wrote about is no longer valid. Oh, the rhetoric might be there, but it’s all for show - the compassion is absent. Today, the heart of our veterinarians are not on our innocent pets, but on the dollars and cents in our bank accounts.

By now you may have figured out what has set me down this road. For awhile, through no fault of her own, my older cat has been showing signs of illness and I’ve been trying to treat her as best I can. She’s quite stubborn and has turned up her nose at almost every attempt. Seeing as it already is a struggle to keep things going from day to day, there is very little extra cash to pay a vet bill. Nevertheless, today I went to talk to the vet, hoping that I could work something out. After all, I have been with them for almost 10 years now and have always paid my bills....You guessed it. ‟I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for you, or even suggest that you should try (it’s that liability thing, you know). It looks like your cat will just have to die a slow painful death, and your only option is to stand there and watch. Have a nice day.”