Sunday, November 29, 2009
Photo update
It's wintertime, and I haven't posted any pictures since July. Here you have the three-season highlights: summer, fall, and winter. Without photos of teaching, I wasn't sure there'd be much left...but it turns out I have been playing a little in addition to the work. Enjoy.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Pantuflas
Yesterday morning, I was halfway to the bus stop when I realized I was still wearing my slippers. I froze for half a step, debating whether to sprint back to my house to put on real shoes, but I was late and knew I'd miss the bus if I did. So I went to work in my slippers, pulling my pants down as far as I could to hide them while I sat on the buses and walked along the streets, until I made it to school, where I keep teaching shoes in my closet for the days I bike. My classes got a little story and a big laugh at my expense, and they learned how to say slippers, one of my favorite words in Spanish: pantuflas.
Dios mío. It's definitely time for a vacation.
Dios mío. It's definitely time for a vacation.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Old Age
I turned a quarter of a century old today. Unbelievable. Or maybe not so much. It seems I've been alive for quite a long time (although, obviously, I don't have much to compare it to), and plenty has happened in the last 25 years. It's just that not so very long ago, I would've told you that people in their mid-twenties were mature, serious, grown up, boring. Old.
I was playing violin this morning, and for the first time in my life realized that I couldn't see the lines on the staff to read some of the notes. Failing eyesight? You've got to be kidding me.
My bedtime is 9:45 on school nights. My grandparents stay up later than that. Granted, I rarely make it on time. It's a testament to the imbalance of my work and social lives that on a normal week, the only nights I'm in bed by bedtime are Friday and Saturday. Pathetic, ¿no?
There's not much I can do about declining vision or that fact that I actually need my eight hours of sleep, I suppose, but I've certainly been putting forth my best efforts to guard against becoming too serious and boring. After spending the better part of this past Friday night studying for more teacher licensure tests and completing an online training course in school emergency response, I was all too aware of how easy it could be to fall into a dangerously dull adult lifestyle of overwork and underplay. Unacceptable, I say.
So I ventured outside in my slippers through the snow and into the back alley, where the plastic sliding board from our ex-treehouse had been laid to rest in the dumpster. I rescued it. Then, with the amused but skeptical help of my dear and trusty friend Kate, I proceeded to attach it to my bed so I could slide to the floor each morning. Wouldn't you just be itching for the alarm clock to go off if you knew you'd get to slide out of bed?
She told me that maybe once I turned 25, I'd outgrow this severe silliness. I'm watching the clock, and that slide's still in my bedroom. I think I win. But if I end up in the hospital tomorrow morning with a broken hip...well, you'll know what happened.
I was playing violin this morning, and for the first time in my life realized that I couldn't see the lines on the staff to read some of the notes. Failing eyesight? You've got to be kidding me.
My bedtime is 9:45 on school nights. My grandparents stay up later than that. Granted, I rarely make it on time. It's a testament to the imbalance of my work and social lives that on a normal week, the only nights I'm in bed by bedtime are Friday and Saturday. Pathetic, ¿no?
There's not much I can do about declining vision or that fact that I actually need my eight hours of sleep, I suppose, but I've certainly been putting forth my best efforts to guard against becoming too serious and boring. After spending the better part of this past Friday night studying for more teacher licensure tests and completing an online training course in school emergency response, I was all too aware of how easy it could be to fall into a dangerously dull adult lifestyle of overwork and underplay. Unacceptable, I say.
So I ventured outside in my slippers through the snow and into the back alley, where the plastic sliding board from our ex-treehouse had been laid to rest in the dumpster. I rescued it. Then, with the amused but skeptical help of my dear and trusty friend Kate, I proceeded to attach it to my bed so I could slide to the floor each morning. Wouldn't you just be itching for the alarm clock to go off if you knew you'd get to slide out of bed?
She told me that maybe once I turned 25, I'd outgrow this severe silliness. I'm watching the clock, and that slide's still in my bedroom. I think I win. But if I end up in the hospital tomorrow morning with a broken hip...well, you'll know what happened.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Shit happens
Well. What to say about this week? The string of luck began when our dead treehouse tree split in two and had to be cut down. Then our washing machine started making dirty water come up through the shower drains. Then our house was broken into, and we're down three laptops, three digital cameras, two gold rings, an mp3 player, several hundred in cash, a checkbook, and a pair of sunglasses. That same night I got pulled over for driving a borrowed car with one headlight out and couldn't find the insurance papers. Two run-ins with the police in the same day! Thought that was as bad as it could get. Then this morning when I ran the dishwasher, all manner of human excrement started bubbling up through all the toilets and showers. What can I say? Can't think of a more ironically appropriate ending to a shitty week.
OK, so to be perfectly honest, I found the whole poop-in-the-showers incident to be rather comical. Maybe I've spent too much time around elementary kids. Maybe if I hadn't laughed, I would've cried. In any case, everything that's happened has made me realize just how lucky I am that things weren't worse than they were. So much of what is valuable to me is worth nothing to anyone who would break into houses. I still have my journals, my photos, my letters. My housemates and I are safe, if not altogether sound. We have a truly amazing support system of people making sure we're OK. And I can still laugh and believe that next week can only get better. Knock on wood.
OK, so to be perfectly honest, I found the whole poop-in-the-showers incident to be rather comical. Maybe I've spent too much time around elementary kids. Maybe if I hadn't laughed, I would've cried. In any case, everything that's happened has made me realize just how lucky I am that things weren't worse than they were. So much of what is valuable to me is worth nothing to anyone who would break into houses. I still have my journals, my photos, my letters. My housemates and I are safe, if not altogether sound. We have a truly amazing support system of people making sure we're OK. And I can still laugh and believe that next week can only get better. Knock on wood.
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