I hate dresses...

So last night Buckwalter was kind enough to look at dresses for my ushering gig. We checked out Marshall Fields, where everything was on sale. And it was fun, until some old biddy got up in his businaaaass. After that, it wasn't fun anymore.
But I must complain about trying to buy a formal black dress. If you have hundreds of dollars to spend, then you are good to go. But if you have not-so hundreds of dollars, the stakes are tightened, and suddenly you must throw yourself head first into a wasteland of size 3 and size 26 dresses, with few and far between. Then, since you are a woman buying dresses, you may not simply look for just one size. You have to grab dresses within a 6 size radius, for example, size 8 to size 14. Any of these dresses may or may not fit you. A size 8 in one will be much to small in the halter top dress, while a size 8 of the strapless dress will be much too big. It makes no sense. I don't think it's too much to ask for a little reasonability here on the part of the dress makers. We can't just all have the same size? Why would that be so terrible? Hm?
Anyway, I'm going to probably continue my quest on the solo front tonight. Poor Buckwalter has no patience for swimming in taffeta and trying on 15 different sizes in the same style, just to see if one will maybe make the cut. And who can blame him? Certainly not me. Wish me luck and safety at sea!

Words, words everywhere, but not a drop to read.

I'm currently reading The Egyptologist by Arthur Phillips. It's an enjoyable book, and it's been a long time since I've read a book that's all epistilary (written in letter form).
But here's the biggest problem with this manner of creating a novel. There are two characters writing in this book -- 9oe, a retired detective who has dragged up a missing persons case and is unraveling his findings throughout the novel and two, the missing person himself, personal letters of his as well as notes on his findings in Egypt.
The detective's letters are awesome and very exciting. The missing person...he's a crazy fop and not terribly interesting. Unfortunately for me, the missing person has oodles more included in the story than the detective. So I end up reading very quickly through his letters in order to get back to the detective, already!
Therein lies the problem. Not a large problem, I know, but a problem nonetheless.
I hate to bail on books, but I have considered it a couple times for this novel. But I shall not fail. I'm going to make it to the end. It's not like the entire book is boring, after all -- just the parts of Ralph Trilipush. Who would have thought that a character with such an exciting surname could "write" such blah-zay letters. Even to his finacee.
Sigh.

See -- it wasn't all just talk...

I'm actually doing better! Having only a one day respite in between posts isn't so bad. Certainly not as irresponsible as 10 days. Sorry about that, dear Readers.
This morning I'd just like to comment on one of my many short comings. Every day I come down here to Olaf, and this summer's weather is really getting the better of me. It's hot and raining. Now this spells D-E-A-T-H for a UB summer. We have about 75 high school students here, sleeping in Kildahl and taking classes in varied campus buildings, most without air conditioning. It's more than you can really expect them to take. There's lots of complaining, and rightly so, because the weather blows some pretty big goats. But -- back to my short comings...
Everyday I drive down here in my lovely little Janet the MINI and we park in the not-so-shady crappy "Students who commute" parking lot at the bottom of the hill. Janet doesn't like this parking space, so today we tried something a little different. We found a little lot right next to ours that should be okay to park in with a little bit of shade.
Although (and I promise, I'm getting to the short coming ofthe day) I don't think Janet will be needing much shade today because it is DARK here in Northfield. Dark. And this finally brings me to my point. I left my umbrella in the car. This will be the 6th day it has rained here and I have reminded myself every morning when I wake up that I should really carry my umbrella up to Holland with me. But every one of those days, I somehow forget how important that little hot-pink umbrella could have been. Oh dear. Not so happy about that one.
That was a lot of build up for what (thankfully) is a small short coming.
Now, Buckwalter, I would like to check this out. It's the Austin Lounge Lizards CD that contains the song I keep hearing on the radio and smiling to. The song is called "Old Blevins." I think you can hear a little bit of the song.
Ta ta!

I swear I'll do better...

Okay, so it's been a long time. So what? It's not like I haven't been doing stuff all along...although, I know, dear blog, I could have written. Please don't feel too betrayed -- I'll mend my ways.
New info...hm. Not much. Bucky and I have set the date to move -- August 2, we head down 35 with all our things in tow, including little Lyra. We took her on a practice car ride last night. On the way down the elevator, she was completely silent, and Bucky and I assumed that that meant she had forgotten the horror of being abandoned by her previous owners. But as soon she felt the air outside she began to howl, causing Buckwalter to tear up and me to laugh nervously. All the way to Baker's Square in the car, "Mmmmmaaaarrrooooooowwwwwwwwwww!" It was very sad. But then she and I sat in the car while Buckwalter procured some lovely pie pieces and then she was pretty okay the rest of hte time. We plan to do these "car drills" several times before we leave, with the idea that she'll get used to car rides and not think they only end in the vet or being left behind. That's the idea, anyway. If it doesn't work, I can see that it's going to be a LONG car ride to Vegas with the poor kitty yowling the whole way. Yikes.
So let's hope for the best on that one. Indeed.

Huzzah!

Status change for the Madame. My file is currently in review at the Las Vegas School District, which means the calls should be coming soon. Bucky and I are well on our way to a town that suits our life together, our ideas for our future, and our need for a steady income. Huzzah indeed!
My absence from the blogologue has been two-fold.
One -- the ending of the school year. It was grand. I saw Star Wars with the entire 8th grade, then walked to Dairy Queen with a 9th grade team. What fun! Then I had my end of the year evaluation, where I found out that I have indeed been doing a good job. And then I packed up and left, never to return. What bliss! What joy!
Two -- however, in the midst of this bliss and joy, a deadly virus was waiting for the right moment to strike, the moment when I could finally shout, "I'm free!" And strike it did, leaving me comatose and on bedrest for the entire weekend, when I should have been galavanting and playing accompaniment at my cousin's wedding. Oh dear. But I am better now, much better, as Buckwalter can attest. Huzzah once again.
However, there is another horrible realization to come....
Target, purveyor of all things necessary and needed, does not carry what I need. I looked high. I looked low. I searched and quested for nigh on 15 minutes, but not one bathtub hair trap did I find. It looks as though Buckwalter and I will need to make a late night trip to Walgreens and try our luck in their aisles.
Anyway, this week is my last week at Lehmann Center, which has become quite sad for me. With all my troubles in the ton of Farming, I began to really look forward to my nights in Uptown, helping people learn English gooder. After awhile, it really felt like the kind of teaching I'd rather be doing. The diversity was much more suited to my teaching style than Farmington's whiteout classes. The students were attentive, and if off task at times, easily pulled back again. (Don't worry -- I don't hope to ever find this with my middle school children -- it would take most of the fun and the challenge away). And it was closer than Drama to what I actually saw myself teaching. So I will miss Lehmann Center and its lovely students and staff.
On that note, I must close to rejuvenate. It turns out I am not completely well, after a strenuous day of helping my mom clean out her classroom (she's retiring after 31 years of teaching) and then teaching myself at Lehmann. I have become totally exhausted today by my little trips to Arby's, Target, and Byerlys. And Buckwalter, a bomb waits for you in the freezer. Don't worry -- it's the good kind!
I shall return perhaps later in the day to add more two cents 'o' mine to the AEM discussion.

Ahh, Children.

Well, I am no longer teaching any more drama classes here in the Ton of Farming. I am currently finishing up my last Speech Class -- spent wonderfully by watching "What About Bob?" What a great way to spend the last day of classes. Watching a movie that has nothing to do with the class I'm teaching. Ahh, I love the last week of school.
Tomorrow is my last day period. I am so excited to be out of this place and on my way to new horizons. But before I may part with these children, I must add just a clarification of my previous postings.

There are two kinds of expectations I'm talking about here. There are academic expectations and there are overall lifestyle expectations. Let me break it down.
Academically speaking, America has absolutely no expectations at all. Our schools suck -- that's the bottom line. We don't expect any kind of actual learning to occur in our young people, but rather we just expect them to keep pushing the right buttons, keep spitting out the correct answers that have already been programmed into them. We don't teach critical thinking, we don't teach students to have any opinions, nada. In fact, we don't even teach them how to spell. I have had several students write in my own little yearbook this week, and EVERY SINGLE STUDENT, 8th or 9th grade, cannot figure out that "you are" should be spelled "you're" and not "your." It's pathetic. And these kids should know.
Overall lifestyle expectations. This is where our school system has decided to throw all of our time. We have respect retreats, we have advisory periods, we have all of this time in school which is put towards character building curriculum. Academics -- no longer important. This is where all the pressure is put on our students, in my opinion. They have to be in several extracurriculars each season, accelerated classes (which I think we all know are not truly challenging unless you end up with a gem of a teacher) as much as possible, volunteer time is a must, and things of this nature. That's the responsibility pressure that I am referring to.
I have more to say, but sadly it is now passing time. No more speech! Hooray!