Who, I ask you, WHO makes a movie like Bad Teacher, right now, in this political climate?
WHO?!
What with the whole thing in Wisconsin between the teachers, the administration and the state and then here Tarzan was issued a pink slip in March, apparently there isn't enough money to keep funding the libraries so just let the kids check out the books to themselves - and back in again, HA! - and even though some of these librarians have 20+ years with the school district let's kick them out because they aren't 'relevant' because they haven't been in a classroom and for kicks let's have them removed to a smelly, leaky, basement somewhere so they can beg for their jobs from some lawyer who's making $500 an hour to mock them and say high school is easy. Then, when the humiliation is over the state realizes they have "miscalculated" the expected income for next year and maybe they won't fire them all after all.
Into this hoo-hah let's release a movie about a sub-par teacher who - in the trailer's own words here - is "a foul-mouthed, junior high teacher who, after being dumped by her sugar daddy, begins to woo a colleague -- a move that pits her against a well-loved teacher."
This is me and Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Batman?
Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
One Of Those Days
I try to be efficient, I do.
What with being suddenly back in the workforce - post about THAT to come soon - my time is not as flexible as it had been - even when I was helping my parents out every week and that's still going really well - and I like to get as much done in one trip as I can. Makes me feel good to leave the house and come back with half a dozen things off my To-Do list.
I got home a little later than usual today from the Cannery where I volunteer and needed to do a few things before dinner. Get gas in my car, visit the post office, the bank, the store, the usual stuff.
So, I headed out the door with the reusable grocery bags, because I love the environment; my book, because the lines are way long at the stores in our neighborhood; a movie to return, the grocery list, my purse and my car keys. First stop was for gas, and in the resulting exhilaration of paying less than $4.00 a gallon, I mailed the grocery list along with the Netflix envelope.
This is me and days like this happen all too frequently.
What with being suddenly back in the workforce - post about THAT to come soon - my time is not as flexible as it had been - even when I was helping my parents out every week and that's still going really well - and I like to get as much done in one trip as I can. Makes me feel good to leave the house and come back with half a dozen things off my To-Do list.
I got home a little later than usual today from the Cannery where I volunteer and needed to do a few things before dinner. Get gas in my car, visit the post office, the bank, the store, the usual stuff.
So, I headed out the door with the reusable grocery bags, because I love the environment; my book, because the lines are way long at the stores in our neighborhood; a movie to return, the grocery list, my purse and my car keys. First stop was for gas, and in the resulting exhilaration of paying less than $4.00 a gallon, I mailed the grocery list along with the Netflix envelope.
This is me and days like this happen all too frequently.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Teething
Not that I remember the last time I had a tooth come in but I would swear that's what's going on in my mouth right now. It started all of a sudden and it really hurts. I can't chew on the right side and the left is getting very tired.
This is me and I will see the dentist on Saturday.
This is me and I will see the dentist on Saturday.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
One Year Old
Here you are, the first intallment of a series I have entitled: Posts I Am So Late In Getting Up People Will Forget That They Even Cared.
Catchy yes?
So, about the kittens, you remember the kittens don't you? Chubbs and Spike:
The kittens were born in May, May the 4th and their first few weeks of life were chronicled here, here and here.
And that, ladies and germs, is when I totally dropped the ball.
I meant to post about Week Four. I even started an entry in which I whined thusly - "Instinct schminstinct.
I would like to know who decided kittens will "instinctively" dig in the litter when they have to poo or lap at the bowl with warm food in it. It's not instinctive at all. They don't want to lick my finger or the bowl to get the food they can get much easier from the bottle - which they now recognize and will claw my hand to reach.
They don't want to dig in litter and get it between their toes if I will clean them instead.":
But I never published it. That was the weekend we went North to see my brother. There was sleep deprivation involved, Week Four ran into Week Five in which I was driving people around town amid random errands and emergencies. They did of course learn to feed themselves:
And use the litter box, which was fortunate because then came Week Six and holy sha-moleys people.
Remember when I mentioned there might be a third kitten we thought we heard under the house? We assumed it must have died because we didn't see the mother and the mewing stopped. You know what they say about assumptions...This is as far as I got with the post after a grey striped kitten wandered up onto the back porch looking for food - "Well she's now ensconced in our bathroom along with the other two."
Yeah:
And we were out the door again for PhatFiddle's wedding. (Which will be installment #2 of Posts I Am So Late In Getting Up People Will Forget That They Even Cared.) That encompassed Week Seven.
Week Eight started like this "As you may have heard, we missed our connection coming home from that adventure, church was early the next morning and so it wasn't until we got home from THAT that we noticed what looked like Spike running around outside with Drool. But wait, it gets better. Not Spike - we checked - but a FOURTH kitten who looks exactly like Spike:
Yes, Drool, had four kittens, kept two for herself and shared the other two with me. Sweet, I know."
We took a short trip out to my parents house one weekend to give them the two "new" kittens, christened Bruno (grey stripes) and Boots (Spike's twin).
By that time I was so far behind in the weekly posts it was just silly:
More weeks became months and here we are at one year old already.But in case you cared then, now or ever, these are the kittens at one year old. Spike:
Who - at nine pounds - is still smaller than Chubbs. She might even have a different father for the way they are growing. She is mostly an indoor cat. On occasion she goes out but cars, birds or a passing breeze usually have her back at the door trying to come in.Chubbs is huge - he's eleven pounds and those two pounds sure make a difference:
He loves the outdoors and as soon as I get up in the morning he's at the back door crying to go out. I'm not sure what the others think of him or he of them. They chase each other whether in fun or not I can't tell. There are eight others outside though so they deal. Chubbs does come back - nearly of his own accord - every evening. They are both good eaters but we have to watch them because since they think they're people they figure they can eat people food:
They are both a little less cuddly than they were but they still come when I call and still try to sleep with us at night. It usually ends with them in a long black line of kitty on my outside edge and me wedged between them and Tarzan. And Tarzan is still alternately charmed and annoyed by them both.
They were both at the vet this morning getting medicine for tapeworms and ATL thought I should make my Facebook status "The cats have worms and the prosecution didn't want me."
This is me, Happy Birthday Spike and Chubbs!
Catchy yes?
So, about the kittens, you remember the kittens don't you? Chubbs and Spike:
The kittens were born in May, May the 4th and their first few weeks of life were chronicled here, here and here.And that, ladies and germs, is when I totally dropped the ball.
I meant to post about Week Four. I even started an entry in which I whined thusly - "Instinct schminstinct.
I would like to know who decided kittens will "instinctively" dig in the litter when they have to poo or lap at the bowl with warm food in it. It's not instinctive at all. They don't want to lick my finger or the bowl to get the food they can get much easier from the bottle - which they now recognize and will claw my hand to reach.
They don't want to dig in litter and get it between their toes if I will clean them instead.":
But I never published it. That was the weekend we went North to see my brother. There was sleep deprivation involved, Week Four ran into Week Five in which I was driving people around town amid random errands and emergencies. They did of course learn to feed themselves:And use the litter box, which was fortunate because then came Week Six and holy sha-moleys people.Remember when I mentioned there might be a third kitten we thought we heard under the house? We assumed it must have died because we didn't see the mother and the mewing stopped. You know what they say about assumptions...This is as far as I got with the post after a grey striped kitten wandered up onto the back porch looking for food - "Well she's now ensconced in our bathroom along with the other two."
Yeah:
And we were out the door again for PhatFiddle's wedding. (Which will be installment #2 of Posts I Am So Late In Getting Up People Will Forget That They Even Cared.) That encompassed Week Seven.Week Eight started like this "As you may have heard, we missed our connection coming home from that adventure, church was early the next morning and so it wasn't until we got home from THAT that we noticed what looked like Spike running around outside with Drool. But wait, it gets better. Not Spike - we checked - but a FOURTH kitten who looks exactly like Spike:
Yes, Drool, had four kittens, kept two for herself and shared the other two with me. Sweet, I know."We took a short trip out to my parents house one weekend to give them the two "new" kittens, christened Bruno (grey stripes) and Boots (Spike's twin).
By that time I was so far behind in the weekly posts it was just silly:
More weeks became months and here we are at one year old already.But in case you cared then, now or ever, these are the kittens at one year old. Spike:Who - at nine pounds - is still smaller than Chubbs. She might even have a different father for the way they are growing. She is mostly an indoor cat. On occasion she goes out but cars, birds or a passing breeze usually have her back at the door trying to come in.Chubbs is huge - he's eleven pounds and those two pounds sure make a difference:He loves the outdoors and as soon as I get up in the morning he's at the back door crying to go out. I'm not sure what the others think of him or he of them. They chase each other whether in fun or not I can't tell. There are eight others outside though so they deal. Chubbs does come back - nearly of his own accord - every evening. They are both good eaters but we have to watch them because since they think they're people they figure they can eat people food:They are both a little less cuddly than they were but they still come when I call and still try to sleep with us at night. It usually ends with them in a long black line of kitty on my outside edge and me wedged between them and Tarzan. And Tarzan is still alternately charmed and annoyed by them both.They were both at the vet this morning getting medicine for tapeworms and ATL thought I should make my Facebook status "The cats have worms and the prosecution didn't want me."
This is me, Happy Birthday Spike and Chubbs!
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Reverse Decision
Many of you know that I am one of twelve people in this country who don't start making up excuses when the jury summons comes in the mail. Maybe because of that I get called to serve with amazing regularity.
And it was my turn again on this April.
But this was the weirdest turn at the courthouse I have ever had.
I showed up the first day, just like usual and we got the lame orientation speech, complete with jokes no one laughs at, as usual. They called the first panel and I was on it, as usual.
Then it became not usual.
We met one of the courthouse employees in the hallway where we were given a piece of paper with our instructions to return for the jury selection process.
In two weeks.
So I waited two weeks, through Tarzan's spring break, trips to my parents' house and came on the 24th as instructed. That was a Monday. The judge - in a manner that was WAY too chipper - told us it was a murder case we were being selected for and, AND! the death penalty was a possible outcome. We were given a thirty 30! page questionnaire to fill out, mostly about our stance on capitol punishment and then we were told to come back on Friday of that week. We were to learn later that there were two panels of 75 people each they were pulling from - and the judge had other cases she was hearing - so we were only getting 35% of her attention.
My situation is such that these weird schedulings were only inconvenient but there were others in the group who were getting a lot of flak from their bosses - who were paying for their jury service - and it made for irritable jurors in the hallway. Especially when buses were late or broken and we had to wait over an hour for people to arrive. People who didn't call to explain to the judge why they weren't coming. Which made the bailiff - who was adorable and I may have developed a slight crush on - exasperated as he had to try and find these latecomers. (The rule is we can't start anything in court unless everyone is there.)
On top of that, on Friday, first the judge and then the lawyers for both sides got a crack at us, individually and as a group and the whiplash from the defense attorney's jokes, quips and attempts to be all nicey-nicey and friendly to the District Attorney who was anything but, left me feeling very tired and anxious, something I have never been before when jury duty was involved. The day's events left me with a distinct icky feeling towards the defense attorneys and genuine respect for the People's lawyers which surprised me. The judge dismissed us early that day - apparently she was tired and cranky too.
We were to come back on Tuesday, which was today.
Now, I didn't want to be a juror for this case. It wasn't quick or easy - as other cases had been - and the descriptions of the evidence was not making me want to become involved. The D.A., though I respected him for his approach to the possible outcome of the case, made me take a closer look at my own views on capitol punishment - I had always been in favor of it, I'm big on justice - and it's a lot more complicated and a much harder decision than I had thought it would be. I wasn't sure I could do it.
With all the discussion and questions we had had earlier it wasn't supposed to take long to select the twelve jurors and two alternates and when they called me to sit in the jury box I figured that was it. Never have I been called to sit in one of the twelve seats and then been dismissed. If I sit there, I am on the panel, so I resigned myself to four weeks of testimony and evidence and then a long and possibly hard decision in the deliberation room.
And then the prosecution said I was thanked and excused.
I don't think it's vanity to say I was a little stunned. I thought the prosecution like me. It never occurred to me to lie when an attorney asked a question and I think I answered them all firmly and with resolution. I could understand that the defense wouldn't have wanted me to stay. The man - a white man - was accused of killing his wife - a white woman - for financial gain. But the prosecution should have wanted me to stay.
I'm not supposed to speculate as to why they didn't keep me on the jury but I did feel slightly let down as I waited for the elevator back to the jury assembly room. Which is weird because I didn't want to serve at all and then when I couldn't I wanted to.
Like I said, a very different jury service process this time around.
This is me, oddly regretful.
And it was my turn again on this April.
But this was the weirdest turn at the courthouse I have ever had.
I showed up the first day, just like usual and we got the lame orientation speech, complete with jokes no one laughs at, as usual. They called the first panel and I was on it, as usual.
Then it became not usual.
We met one of the courthouse employees in the hallway where we were given a piece of paper with our instructions to return for the jury selection process.
In two weeks.
So I waited two weeks, through Tarzan's spring break, trips to my parents' house and came on the 24th as instructed. That was a Monday. The judge - in a manner that was WAY too chipper - told us it was a murder case we were being selected for and, AND! the death penalty was a possible outcome. We were given a thirty 30! page questionnaire to fill out, mostly about our stance on capitol punishment and then we were told to come back on Friday of that week. We were to learn later that there were two panels of 75 people each they were pulling from - and the judge had other cases she was hearing - so we were only getting 35% of her attention.
My situation is such that these weird schedulings were only inconvenient but there were others in the group who were getting a lot of flak from their bosses - who were paying for their jury service - and it made for irritable jurors in the hallway. Especially when buses were late or broken and we had to wait over an hour for people to arrive. People who didn't call to explain to the judge why they weren't coming. Which made the bailiff - who was adorable and I may have developed a slight crush on - exasperated as he had to try and find these latecomers. (The rule is we can't start anything in court unless everyone is there.)
On top of that, on Friday, first the judge and then the lawyers for both sides got a crack at us, individually and as a group and the whiplash from the defense attorney's jokes, quips and attempts to be all nicey-nicey and friendly to the District Attorney who was anything but, left me feeling very tired and anxious, something I have never been before when jury duty was involved. The day's events left me with a distinct icky feeling towards the defense attorneys and genuine respect for the People's lawyers which surprised me. The judge dismissed us early that day - apparently she was tired and cranky too.
We were to come back on Tuesday, which was today.
Now, I didn't want to be a juror for this case. It wasn't quick or easy - as other cases had been - and the descriptions of the evidence was not making me want to become involved. The D.A., though I respected him for his approach to the possible outcome of the case, made me take a closer look at my own views on capitol punishment - I had always been in favor of it, I'm big on justice - and it's a lot more complicated and a much harder decision than I had thought it would be. I wasn't sure I could do it.
With all the discussion and questions we had had earlier it wasn't supposed to take long to select the twelve jurors and two alternates and when they called me to sit in the jury box I figured that was it. Never have I been called to sit in one of the twelve seats and then been dismissed. If I sit there, I am on the panel, so I resigned myself to four weeks of testimony and evidence and then a long and possibly hard decision in the deliberation room.
And then the prosecution said I was thanked and excused.
I don't think it's vanity to say I was a little stunned. I thought the prosecution like me. It never occurred to me to lie when an attorney asked a question and I think I answered them all firmly and with resolution. I could understand that the defense wouldn't have wanted me to stay. The man - a white man - was accused of killing his wife - a white woman - for financial gain. But the prosecution should have wanted me to stay.
I'm not supposed to speculate as to why they didn't keep me on the jury but I did feel slightly let down as I waited for the elevator back to the jury assembly room. Which is weird because I didn't want to serve at all and then when I couldn't I wanted to.
Like I said, a very different jury service process this time around.
This is me, oddly regretful.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Berry Miracle
It looks as if one of the replacement vines Tarzan and I got from his grandfather's house - a replacement for the ones that were inadvertantly cut down a few weeks ago - the replacement vines we planted, fenced and have been dilligently keeping the cats from sleeping on - has blossoms! Two really, big blossoms:
It's a berry vine miracle! (Or a really good growing year. All that sun and water.)
This is me and I might get an actual berry or two this year after all.
It's a berry vine miracle! (Or a really good growing year. All that sun and water.)This is me and I might get an actual berry or two this year after all.
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