Summer 2012: Day 1

Day one was a success. Got up at 8:30 am, walked Olive, hit the elliptical, ate breakfast, showered, figured out how to submit an application for my Level II teaching certificate, booked two new photography gigs, went to the grocery store and lounged the afternoon away on the big brown couch watching Sex and the City 2. Never you mind that I've seen it already a handful of times. It's fun. And it's summer. And I've got not a care in the world!

I didn't start the reupholstering of the two wing back chairs I picked up a couple of months ago. Nope. Didn't get around to it. I'll start tomorrow.

And I didn't make it to Sam's Club to buy the second and third installments of 50 Shades of Grey. Finished book one yesterday and am considering reading the rest of the trilogy. These books are definitely not going to be canonized, and the writing is redundant. Let's face it, how many times can you write, "my breath hitched," before it loses something? Yeah, like I said, these works of fiction ain't going to be revered or taught in schools. Not even close.

I have no mighty plans for this installment of summer. Really just relaxing, reading, working out, trying out some new recipes and a couple of fun crafty projects. I hope that Big Red and I can get away for some short weekend stints, but if I'm around, you'll probably find me on the big brown couch.

Let Summer 2012 commence!

Tangents, Movie Quotes & Insight

In my last post, I said I was going to wait to see lil' miss Daisy Grace until my mom arrived. Well, I cheated. Sorry, Mom. T said she wouldn't mind the company in the morning, and I was all-about hanging out with a newborn and my friend. So that's what I did this rainy Tuesday morning. Unfortunately T lives sorta out in the cut. Not really, but kinda really. I guess it depends on your perspective. Big Red and I don't live in the city, the city proper that is, but query his family and they'll say we live in the city. I think we live in the suburbs. If we live in the suburbs, then T definitely lives in the cut (Oops on the tangent. WARNING: more ahead.)  Anyhow, I arrived at their charming abode around 9 and stayed until just after 12. Stinking dentist appointment was in the way of a leisurely day spent with two awesome chicks. Although, I'm sure at some point T would have wanted quiet time by herself with the little miss.

Daisy was the picture of perfection, making darling little newborn grunts and coos. T hit the baby jackpot as Daisy only cried when she was hungry. And pretty much, don't we all do about the same thing? I know Big Red turns into a BIG dragon if he doesn't eat. I get a wee bit cranky myself, more light-headed than anything else.You can hardly blame the gal for being a tad fussy.

We had a nice time, chatting about the little miss and life after a baby. T's totally rocking it. She's still the same woman, just with a baby on her lap and bottles in the sink. Okay, and a pack 'n play in the corner of the living room. I drilled her with questions and she was gracious enough to answer them all. I should have apologized in advance for the inquisition, but I didn't, so I'm apologizing now: Dear T, I'm sorry for the billion questions. Big Red calls it being nosy, I call it being inquisitive. I like to know about stuff, a lot of stuff, especially baby stuff. Consider yourself the lead now that you've got one, and me the understudy - hoping to get one. Mea culpa. Your friend. Ilene.

T fed me a brownie and some coffee (probably not the best idea pre-teeth cleaning), and I even left with a few parting gifts: two bambino books (one about getting knocked up, the other about what to do AFTER you've gotten knocked up), and one leftover ClearblueEasy pregnancy test. I won't be needing the pee stick for another year or so, and I did check the expiration date. I should (hope?) be covered.

While I was holding Daisy, my eyes fell upon tarot cards on T's bookshelf. I asked her for a reading. She handed me the deck and allowed me to shuffle and cut the cards. She laid them out and flipped each, one at a time, and we discussed the findings. Now I don't know how you feel about readings and psychics and such, but I find it all fascinating. I wouldn't bet my life on a reading, but I do think they can provide insight if you're in the right frame of mind. Essentially my reading revealed to us that the thing I want is peace and harmony. Peace of mind, peaceful life, a harmonious family that Big Red and I can build together. I need to relax about starting a family and worrying about whether or not it will all fall into place when I want it. I need to simply trust in our love and our life together and allow that to guide us into our harmonious "fall into place" space.

After returning home with super sparkling clean teeth, I opened up the "getting knocked up" read. Much of the information was stuff I'd already heard or read about. Hey, I like to do my homework - don't judge. It's probably still good to have on hand as a reference should I feel the need to go to it. Now the tricky part: let Big Red see my new acquisitions, or not? Kind of a toughie. I'm going to gamble and let him see the loot. What's the sense in hiding these things? He knows BABY is on the radar, and he also knows it's not happening tomorrow (huge EXHALE on his part). What's the harm? I'll let you know how it goes...besides, if the poo hits the fan, I can blame it on T. Ha!

The letting go business, is another story. It will be a challenge as I am such a planner. When I think about having a family I think about what the optimal time would be to do this, given that I'm a teacher, and thus when I'd need/want to get pregnant. While I don't believe it's a crime to plan ahead, I'm well-aware of the trap that planning creates: a fixed now or never mentality. And if it doesn't happen, then stress can ensue thereby creating further obstacles for getting pregnant. So here's my newest goal: learn to let go...ahem, not totally though. I'm not a, "fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal, you know moment to moment..." That's Vivian, not me. And Big Red is definitely not Edward. Although I wouldn't mind the stretch limo and the bouquet of roses, just without having to be a hooker. I mean, what would my principal say? What I can do is my very best to prepare myself for this adventure. Focus on what I can control because "Control is an illusion...Nobody knows what's going to happen next..." I can make healthy choices, exercise, love Big Red, love Olive, and love the home and life we've created.

And until I've got my own, and so long as T allows it, I'll get my baby fix through the little miss:

Movie Quotes:
#1: Pretty Woman
#2: Days of Thunder

summer: day 30

I don't have much to write about these days. Perhaps it is my woman of leisure status, but honestly there ain't much to scribble out. It's been humid in a way that I haven't experienced in a long while. When I step outside to let Olive relive herself at 8 am, it already feels as though mother nature herself has gotten a bee up her bonnet about nesting and has unnecessarily (and cruelly) bundled the world with a sopping wet wool blanket. Poor Olive. After she relieves herself she wants little to do with investigating the leaves and branches in the yard. She promptly returns to my side as if to beg with those melt your heart eyes: Can we please go back inside where there's air conditioning? And that is what we do. Return to some semblance of breath-ability and comfort. 

I have been reading and finished my second summer book, Half Broke Horses, by Jeannette Walls. She also wrote the very popular memoir, The Glass Castle. Read that one too. Super good read. Her second book, a novel by technicality because it is written in first person, is at heart, her grandmother's memoir. It had me from the very first page until the very last. Once again, I have read a book that leaves me wishing I wish I could have written that! But a novel? I don't know if I have the patience for all that detail and all the in-between that belongs to a novel. I am a poet by nature. I like the concise nature of its form. I can pack a punch in ten or twenty lines without having to give readers all the filler. Although...I will say that I am attempting to branch out a little more. This blog, for instance, is an example of that growth. I want to hone my skills as writer of creative nonfiction. I'm dipping my toe in the Gilbert - Sedaris - Didion pool. Whether or not I'll be able to perform an effortless butterfly in said waters remains to be seen. I'd like to believe I have the chops to give it a worthwhile attempt. One of my first attempts is the essay, "B&B." 

I am also trying to get through my first issue of The New Yorker. I bought a subscription as a gift to myself for completing seven years of teaching. It is definitely a magazine of superior writing quality, but - not all the articles are of interest to me. There are a couple I'm going to scan or simply skip. Is that wrong? Can I not call myself a reader of The New Yorker if I commit such atrocities? Is it really an atrocity to skip articles in a magazine? I also subscribe to People (goes along with my quality TV watching lineup). I read every single article in People. Yeah, I know - it appears I still have a long way to go. Working on it.

I continue to exercise, walking Olive first and then either going for a run myself or hitting the elliptical. Although the scale says nothing is happening, I feel so much better than I did in June. I'm eating healthy, attempting to keep my cuisine simple and enjoyable. Occasionally I'll indulge in a summer treat here and there. I've also decided something. I'm done with counting calories. I'm done with doing "diets." I don't mind the occasional fast or cleanse, but I'm done with all the other crazy fads and whatnot. I know what to eat. I know how much of it to eat. I'm going to listen to my body and how I feel. The scale will always be there, I haven't been able to throw it out, but I'm not going to live and die by it anymore. You can hold me accountable on that one.

Today is day 30 of my beloved summer. I'm not panicking just yet, but I do feel a sense of the passage of summer time. I've got a few fun things lined up for August: Lunch with MJ, a trip to The Fake Beach (read: Lake Erie), T will be giving birth to Miss Daisy, and Mom is on a hunt to find cheap tickets so that she can come out for a visit. 

Summer is NOT OVER yet.

Not no way, not no how. 

Guess I did have a few things to write about.

book club.

Last night turned out quite enjoyable. And yes, there was wine. And yes, there was a nicely decorated dining room with a table we all sat around. As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I wasn't sure what to expect from this ladies only book club. This month's meeting was held in lovely house in a lovely neighborhood. It's just one neighborhood over from mine, but up a couple of rungs higher on the ladder. The community is tucked away and unless you were going there purposefully, you might never find it. Soon after we arrived, the rest of the women arrived as well. There was a lot of chatter about daily lives and catching up - no mention of the book. The host made some incredibly delicious pizza, and when we inquired about her culinary mastery, she clued us in on her use of Trader Joe's pizza dough. I made a mental note to pick some up on my next trip.

At some point, maybe a few hours in and several bites of food into the evening, we began to discuss the book. It was good conversation and everyone was sincere about listening to the ideas of others. There was a curious moment in our discussion when one of the women made a remark about how irritated she was with the husband in the story.

Quick background: the author, Gretchen Rubin, decides that in her quest to find more happiness, she resolves to tackle a new resolution each month. Rubin is a self-described neurotic, picky, nagging wife. She chronicles her journey for a year, sharing with readers her successes and failures, and what she ultimately learns about happiness, a sort of Wizard of Oz kind of realization - it was always there. 

This woman's observation of the husband caused the rest of us at the table, 3 (the other two were in the kitchen talking about OkCupid, a free dating website), to react pretty strongly. We three had read it the other way around. We thought the husband in the story was a saint for putting up with the author's crazy ways. The book club woman reiterated how annoyed she was when she read that the husband just lay on the bed while the couple's child ran amok. This thread of conversation lead into a discussion about relationships and our expectations.

I once heard someone say of relationships, don't expect, accept. I think there's tremendous value in that kind of recognition when you're involved with someone. Let's face it, few people really ever change. Some may change initially because they're head over heals in love and don't care to rock what yacht they believe they're cruising. Eventually true colors shine through and the genuine man behind the curtain is revealed. The book club woman mentioned that she expects her husband to do certain things, and he complains that her expectations are just too high. We prodded a little further for examples. She cited her husband's inability to recognize a mess and take it upon himself to clean it up. We then asked her - if you asks him, does he then chip in and help? She responded by saying she felt that she shouldn't have to ask. While we agreed with her that this would be nice, it wasn't realistic. Clearly he wasn't as fastidious when it came to tidiness. Another woman, a super cute pregnant woman - you know the kind that looks pulled together and has just a basketball belly? yeah, that kind of cute - chimed in with a great observation: This need for clean was the woman's and she alone needed to own it as hers. By owning this, she had a couple of choices: 1. Just take care of it herself. 2. Be okay with asking him to help. In my book, this observation hit the mark. I also believe there is a line in the sand where this sort of acceptance doesn't work. If Big Red were a heroin addict, there's no way in hell I would casually accept this.

This tangential conversation that was sparked by the book made me realize once again that a story does not exist without readers, that every reader comes to the table with a buffet of life experiences and those experiences invariably color perspective.

We talked about so many things, and the women even inquired about my own life. The didn't recoil at my candor, nor did they at my vernacular. Score. They were all very friendly and quite open, we laughed a ton and didn't leave until 10 pm. I don't know yet what the next book is going to be, there was some talk about it being a "good novel." I hope it's a good one, and I look forward to next month's meeting. Good reads and good conversation = good times.

summer: day 9

I don't know what's going on but round these parts, the weather has been lovely. Is this our reward for enduring what seemed like end-of-days kind of rain? I'll take it. There's a great breeze and I'm sure the temperature is somewhere in the 70s. The sun is out and blue in the sky can be seen.

Is it wrong to eat a mango and half an avocado for breakfast? I hope not cause it was delicious, and the bright orange flesh of the mango against the green of the avocado was as pretty as it was yummy. Aren't we told to eat the colors of the rainbow in our fruits and veggies? Accomplished. Olive and I got a late start on our walk this morning. I caught up with a couple of friends on the phone, then a couple of TV shows on the DVR: Million Dollar Decorators, and 16 & Pregnant. Yes, I know - you don't have to say it, my taste in entertainment is above par. We only watch quality in this house. After nudging me several times, Olive and I  headed outside for the morning tour and then returned back home for a lunch of honey wheat pretzel sticks, broccoli salad, and iced tea.

On tap for the rest of the day is time with Tina Fey's memoir, Bossypants, and then later this evening I'll take part in a book club. I've never been in one before, and my only frame of reference is what I've seen on Oprah. A handful of people sit around a perfectly staged dining room or living room, glasses of wine or coffee in hand, and they discus the significance of why an author chose to set the story in the fall rather than the spring. Sounds a bit like English class to me. Yep, we drink wine in my classes. My students love me. I'm looking forward to the book club. We're discussing The Happiness Project. I'll let you know how it goes.

I'm almost done with one of my summer projects - transforming the office into my writing/craft room. I finished the curtains this past weekend and organized the bookshelf. I think all I have left to do is find a frame for one more item, and then at some point get to IKEA for the glass top that will cover the fabric slipcover I made to hide the older desk. With the glass in place, I'll have a nice crafting work station. Oh and there's that Macbook Pro that will look amazing on my desk. Yeah, I haven't gotten that yet. Can't seem to find Macbook Pro money. Maybe someday. Pics of the room to come soon.

I've rejoined Facebook. I'm not sure how I feel about it just yet. I'm leery. I'm hesitant. But, it is summer. What better time to try it out again?

a dime's worth

As I write this, there are just 10 academic school days left.  Translation: 10 more days I have to wade through the steaming pile of garbage that is my students’ laziness, undeserved self-entitlement and indignation. 

I returned to my classroom on this fine Tuesday after a fabulous Memorial Day weekend spent with my friend Z, stellar shopping, and grilling with my husband, only to be faced with lemon-soured teenagers. They walked into the classroom complaining about the quiz saying that they “didn’t bother reading because [they] had better things to do.”  They barely passed the quiz, most of them through guessing on multiple choice answers.  When the quiz was finished I opened up the room for a discussion, asking them what parts of chapters 1-5 they found worthy of further inquiry. The conversation that ensued was between me and ONE other student.  Yes, you read that correctly: one. Why just one?  Well darlings, that’s what happens when no ONE reads!

And there you have it, the English teacher’s conundrum.  How does the teacher lead a class when the students have not read?  If no reading of the novel has occurred, no proper discussion can be had, thereby rendering the class period virtually useless.  Useless, because I refuse to carry on the discussion with just one student while the others ride on that student’s coattails, gleaning bits and pieces of information that they’re bound to confuse anyhow because they simply did not read.

10 days. Why does English as a course even exist?  If students aren’t planning on going to college, then why does such a heavily involved course that requires brain sweat, independent thinking, struggle and work—exist?  The more I teach English, the more jaded I become.  The more questions arise for which the answers do not follow.

10 days.  I just need to get through these last ten days and then I’ll never have to teach English again. Next year I begin teaching a creative writing course of my own design, a lovely little nine week elective. The rest of my schedule gets filled with a course titled Post Secondary Prep 1 & 2.  PSP (1 & 2) is a class designed to help fill in the gaps between high school and college, not to mention help students get into college. It’s real life kind of stuff like balancing checkbooks, keeping a budget, filling out applications, taking a closer look at career paths, getting ready for the SAT, and discussing current social topics.  I think these two new classes are better suited for me as a teacher.  While I’ve always enjoyed English, I don’t love it the way I think a true English teacher should love their subject.  And I’ve always said that I’m the least “Englishy” English teacher you’ll ever meet.  I enjoy writing, but I love creative writing.  I enjoy having class discussions on characters and plot twists, but I love getting students to think about life outside these walls.

10 days.

On a brighter note, I’ve started reading a new book called, The Happiness Project.  I’ve been invited to join a book club and this was the selection for the month of June.  Maybe I’ll have to start my own happiness project—one that involves no students.  Oh wait. I’ve already got one on deck. Yeah, it’s called summer vacation.

summer lovin'

There are just 31 physical days left between me and the sweet toe stretch of summer.  Of those 31, just 17 require me to be an active teacher.  Every year, around this particular time of year, I begin to create lists of things I want to get accomplished during the summer.  Goals, if you will.  My fear is always that the summer will pass and I’ll have nothing to show for it.  Last summer was all about Olive and pure indulgent laziness—although I did do a fitness boot camp.  Long hours spent lounging and watching the entire Sex and the City television series.  While it was genuinely wonderful to while away the hours, I’d like to be just a tad more productive this time around.

So, in keeping with my Type-A nature, and my need to make lists and cross items off, here is my “To Do” list for the summer:

• Take Olive on many, many leisurely walks.
• Do yoga!  This is a new one for me.  I bought a pass off of the ingenious Groupon website for unlimited use of a yoga studio.  I can take as many or as few classes as my little heart desires in the month of my choice.  My choice is July.
• Finish my writing/craft room.
• Pretty up the laundry area.  The cinder block walls are an ugly pale green.  I have visions of purple, and I’d even like to go as far as painting the outside of the utility sink.  Maybe add some flowers and butterflies...
• Eat well. Now, before you go an exhale with an eye roll, I’d like to make the case that it’s never to late to get back on the healthy train.  I had a relapse this last month, but have gotten it back together. I want to use the summer and all the yummy fruits available to me to get myself square and plumb when it comes to food.
• Enjoy my elliptical machine.  That’s an easy one!
• Seek out and try new recipes.
• Seek out new music.
•  Listen to more This American Life podcasts…or better yet, catch it live!
•  Take one trip.  It doesn't have to be big, and it probably won’t be.  I’m thinking something along the lines of Amish country. Maybe a couple of nights at an Amish run B&B.  I’d love to find an Amish made rocking chair that can be used, someday, in a nursery...
• Read, read, read, and read some more.  I believe there are roughly 12-15 books I have purchased over the course of the school year that are patiently waiting my devouring eyes.
• Rethink and revise my wardrobe.  The recent lbs. I have shed and the ones I’m planning on shedding will allow me to perk up my clothes. Don’t need nuthin' fancy, but I definitely would like to inject a little more femininity and cuteness into my choices. 
• Watch movies. I’m such a movie watcher. Thank god for Netflix.
• Write.  I’m going to attempt to make it a point to write every single day.  Be it for five minutes or fifty.

For as much as my job can frustrate the living hell out of me, I am grateful for this imminent time off to reconnect with myself and catch my proverbial teacher breath.  The more years I teach (this is the end of year no. 7), I realize how important summer is in the life of an educator.  For 10 months we’re expected to be ON.  What most people can’t grasp is that teaching is not all about just teaching.  If it were, then maybe summer might not be so critically necessary.  But teaching, real teaching, is just one small tiny component of our daily lives. We are master jugglers tending to ten million issues at once.  The respite summer brings, really and truly, is necessary.  We are systems overloaded by June, and when we leave our classrooms for the peace and quiet of July and August, that is our shutdown and quiet time, the rebooting necessary to come back in September, bright-eyed and willing to jump into the trenches once again.