IUD PITA!

A week ago, I had an appointment to have an IUD put in. I was a bit nervous about it, as the last time I tried to do this my body had an "acute rejection" of it - it was the most pain I've ever experienced in my life, and it wasn't something I was looking forward to trying again. This time, however, my doctors were going to give me lots of drugs and such to help my body accept it and alleviate my anxiety. I made Bear come with me to hold my hand, since I knew I was going to cry. He was a real trooper, going even though he didn't want to, even though it was way more info about my girly bits than he ever wanted to know.

As far as the procedure is concerned, I guess it was a success. I have not rejected this one like I did with the last one. I had no idea, however, that I would be in so much pain for so long. Everything I read about the procedure dealt with the long term side effects and what to expect over the next ten years. Nothing I read prepared me for the four days following insertion. I couldn't tell if I was dying or if the agony I was experiencing was "normal". Its taken me a week to feel well enough to stop taking pain meds. I am not someone who ever takes medicine. To take two ibuprofen means I'm in serious pain. I was taking three every four hours just to take the edge off.

In short, it sucked.

I am finally beginning to feel better; I am able to spend several hours at a time without any pain at all. I'm not sorry I had this done, but I wish I had known what I was getting myself into when I decided to do it. One other thing I didn't know about? I can't "resume normal activities" for THREE WEEKS. This, more than anything, would have made me think twice before getting an IUD.

Two more weeks to go. Le sigh.

Dear Daddy,

I've never made it much of a secret that you're my favorite. It was pretty clear, even with my first word ("da-da") that I was always going to be your little girl. Growing up I always wanted to be on your team at the family baseball games, wanted to ride with you in the big truck, wanted to cuddle with you during football games, wanted to learn to shoot and hunt in order to spend more time with you. You were, quite simply, my hero. It was many years before I began to learn what made you so heroic. Your endless patience, your love of simple things, your sense of duty, your soft heart - all of these things became part of you because of what you'd lived through, of the choices you made and the things that happened long before I was born.

When I was a freshman in high school, I went with the marching band on a trip to Washington D.C. While there we played on the steps of the Capital, toured the Washington Monument and visited the Vietnam War Memorial. Of all places, the last one touched me most. I knew vaguely that you'd been in Vietnam, and I knew it was a bad enough experience that you didn't talk about it, ever. When I returned home, Mom asked me if I'd gotten a rubbing of Georgie Bailey's name.
"Who's he?" I asked.
Mom was clearly pissed. "He was your father's cousin who died in the war. You should have gotten a rubbing!"
I felt terrible. I didn't even know you'd had a cousin Georgie, or that he had served in the Vietnam war. I didn't really know anything about your time over there, and since you hadn't chosen to share those details with me, I didn't want to ask. I've always been sorry that I didn't get that rubbing for you.

After that, though, I began to listen when you spoke with my brothers. They had all enlisted in different branches of the military, I think because they saw the quiet dignity of your character and wanted that for themselves. You raised us all to be grateful and to do what's right. As each brother came home from deployment, they spoke with you about the military. About war. And as I listened, I learned a bit about what you'd been through.

I learned that you were part of a team that recovered disabled tanks. I learned that you had some near-misses (the story about the bullet hole in the Maine flag that was flying a few feet from your head gave me nightmares). I learned that Georgie, your cousin and friend, was killed not far from where you were. I learned that you had to bring his body home. I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to look at your grieving aunt and uncle knowing that you'd survived and their own son hadn't. I learned that the Government was going to send you back to Vietnam, even though you only had six months left of service. I learned that you threatened to call "Aunt Maggie" (Margaret Chase Smith) if they forced you to go back. I was floored to learn that it wasn't that you were scared to go back, but that you knew that getting on a plane to return to the war would destroy your own mother. But that's you, Daddy - always thinking of other people before yourself.

I learned other things, too. That you still have days where the horrors of that time overwhelm you. That you aren't bitter about what happened, even though an injury sustained there permanently affected your ability to hear. That you got through Vietnam the same way you get through life - one day at a time, making the best of things, being thankful for what you have and not dwelling on what you don't.

It's because of all of these things that on this Veteran's Day I think of you. It's because of all of these things I'm thankful that you did survive. That you did come home and become my Daddy. There are so many things about that time that I'd like to know. I'd like to record it all somehow so that when your grandchildren are older, they can learn what a great man you are.

That's something I already know.

Happy Veteran's Day, Daddy. I love you.

Your Daughter,
Heather

An amazing meal I INVENTED!!

I texted my husband this afternoon and asked him what he wanted for dinner. I was going to cook and wanted to know what he wanted before I stopped at the grocery store. "Just surprise me," the reply said.

Here's what I came up with.

Open-faced turkey & asiago paninis

breast of turkey, shredded
italian bread, sliced
wedge asiago cheese (you can get this shredded, but it's more expensive)
red, green, and yellow peppers
onion
garlic butter/garlic spread
olive oil

Using a brush, spread olive oil in the slices of bread (both sides). Place on cookie sheet and bake @ 400 degrees for a few minutes until lightly browned. You may have to flip the pieces over half way through, depending on the quality of your cookie sheet.

While bread is cooking, pour a tablespoon of olive oil in a frying pan and add small diced pieces of all three peppers (use about 1/4 of each pepper). Once that's cooking, chop up the onion (about 1/4 of a medium onion) to pieces the same size and add those to the pan. Cook until soft.

Cube the asiago cheese wedge into small pieces. Set aside.

Take bread out of oven and cool for a few minutes. Spread garlic butter on bread, add shredded turkey. On top of that place a spoonful of the pepper/onion combo, and top with asiago cheese. Place back into the oven for about five minutes until everything is all warm and melty.

Eat!

Please - if you try this, leave a comment telling me how it is! I'd love to hear your opinion.

Insurance companies suck

I blogged a few weeks ago about the accident my husband had, how he fell on a freshly-washed floor and momentarily dislocated his knee. This caused him a lot of pain, especially where he already has arthritis and other wearing-down problems in his knees. He actually went to the doctor, which for him is a big deal. The doctor ordered an x-ray but didn't think there was much wrong with him.

Yeah, right.

When the x-ray results were read, they discovered that there was some laxing in the tendons and signs of other issues (the nurse said "the knee cap is 'technically' in place"), and ordered an MRI. A complete MRI, with contrast, so the doc could see clearly what is fully wrong with Bear's knee.

The insurance company said no.

When I asked, "what do you mean, 'no'?" we were told that there wasn't enough info to warrant an MRI. The doc asked instead for a regular MRI, the kind without the contrast.

The insurance company said no again.

I'm frustrated, Bear is frustrated, the doctor is pissed... and yet we are helpless to do anything about it. Bear's doc has been great about trying to find ways around this and his newest plan is to send Bear to a specialist - an orthopedist - for the knee.

I'm really hoping the specialist orders an MRI, and that the insurance company has to pay for the specialist AND the MRI that Bear should have had over a week ago.

Friday Fragments

*I am surprised by how well my new fiber shop is doing. I've had four sales in three days! I'm waiting to hear how people like their purchases once they receive them. I'm already feeling the pressure to dye more fiber, to begin the next collection. I feel so fulfilled to be doing this! I don't know why I waited so long.

*I might have a t-shirt made up with the Highland Handmades logo on it, and then "Owner" underneath. Maybe one that says "staff" for Bear. That makes me giggle!

*I've giggled a lot this week. Especially once I started calling myself a "fiberista" and insisting Bear call me that, too. Is it too soon to call myself that?

*Friday Jeans Day is the best day of the week here at school. I love wearing jeans. They are the most comfortable pieces of my wardrobe, and that's saying something when the bulk of my clothing consists of sweaters, flannel, pajama pants and duck slippers. Seriously.

*I'm really ready to be done working my second job. Even though I know I can't afford to. Even though I know they need me there, at a minimum for several more months. Even though most days I enjoy the work. I am just so ready to be home during evenings and weekends. I've been there more than two years. When do I get to quit?

*It snowed last night - the thick, wet snow that sticks to every single branch and blade of grass and coats everything in a pristine layer of white. I know it won't last the day, but it was a beautiful drive in to work this morning.

*My grandmother made moose meat stew the other day at part of her physical therapy at the rehabilitation center she's at. There's something incredibly awesome about a place that encourages my gram to do what she loves as a way to heal her body. It may have been that they wanted to eat the stew, but so what? I'm thrilled they are healing my gram, body *and* soul.

*I have GOT to send my brother a package soon. I haven't mailed him, his wife or his son their Christmas presents from last year OR their birthday presents from this year. I'm a bad sister/sister-in-law/auntie. I will strive to do better.

*I'm having a long-term form of birth control procedure the week after next. It's not the permanent solution I want, but until I attempt to do this I can't get what I truly want. I don't know if I want this method to succeed or not. If it does (the last time I tried it, my body rejected it in a spectacularly painful fashion), then I don't have to worry for ten years or so. If it doesn't, then I can attempt to convince the insurance company to pay for the procedure I want (essure).

*The internet has introduced me to some of the most amazing, funny, intelligent, dedicated, moral, nurturing, and fantastic women in the world. I'd really love to get us all together at some point and have a huge party (complete with sleepover). I know it would be nearly impossible to get everyone there, but could you imagine the hilarity and fun that would ensue?

Happiness

I've been pretty quiet on the blogosphere lately, which I'm sure some of you may have noticed. It's been a combination of being very busy and that old saying, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." At last I can both show you what I've been busy doing and describe my utter happiness.

What have I been doing? Going into business for myself, that's what. I have opened an online shop that sells handdyed fibers and yarns. I have spent the last two weeks creating inventory, getting the necessary licenses and forms filled out, and photographing things in order to list them. Last night I listed seven of the first ten items I have ready to sell. I call it the Proverbs Collection - ten items that have been inspired by common proverbs. I'm still teaching and still working at Rite Aid, which has slowed me down, but with the help and support of my husband, I am official. I'm working with a student here at the high school who is developing my business graphics and hope to have that part up and running soon. There are a few other things that still need to be done, but for now I'm on my way.

My utter happiness is because within five minutes, I had two sales. Two people liked my fiber enough to pay money for them. I'm officially a fiberista! (okay, a made up word, but I'm totally using it.) I will be heading to the post office shortly to mail the packages out. The two ladies who purchased from me are women I know through the magic of the internet, and are both lovely ladies with impeccable taste. One is a handdyer of yarn herself and has quite a following. I consider this very high praise! I know that I won't always be this lucky, but today I am so happy nothing and no one can touch me. It has been months since I smiled on my way to work. Months. I'm finally allowing myself to believe that someday I may be able to have the yarn and fiber shop I so desperately want.

Please, if you would, click on the hyperlink and visit my shop. You don't have to buy anything, or create a profile on Etsy or anything like that. Just come back here and tell me what you think. Please?

Seriously?

I am not a person who usually feels the effects of a stress-filled life. I do not have trouble sleeping, I don't get ulcers ... in fact, there's usually only one way I know that I am feeling stress:

My eyelids twitch.

I know this sounds like no big deal, but my eyelids don't twitch like ordinary people's do. I don't get one or two tiny flutters that are more entertaining than annoying. MY eyelids twitch at about 80 tpm (twitches per minute), each "twitch" lasting a couple of seconds. This happens several times a minute and has currently been going on for FOUR DAYS. I wear contact lenses, so three or four times a minute my vision in my right eye goes wonky, because the twitch is upsetting the delicate location of the lens on my cornea.

I hate, hate, hate it when my eyelids twitch.

This happens every time I am experiencing stress or am spreading myself too thin. Since I hate my jobs and am broke all the time and am dealing with stupid family drama as well as an ailing grammie, I am apparently feeling the effects. And for the forseeable future there is no change in sight.

And so I twitch.

Friday Fragments a bit late

• I know Friday Fragments are supposed to be posted on Friday, but I didn't blog then so I'm posting them today.
  
• My grammie is out of the hospital and is now at a residential rehabilitation center. I have no idea when she will be able to come home, but her doctors seem to think she will be able to. I'm hoping by Thanksgiving, but if she needs to stay there, I want them to keep her - I don't want her to come home before she is healed and stronger. She is still in a lot of pain, but they are trying to manage it as best they can.
• My husband had an accident yesterday. He washed a huge load of dishes and washed the floor, which I was thrilled about. As he was sliding lunch into the oven, some of the clean dishes started to fall to the floor. As he raced out to catch them, he slipped on the wet floor and fell. His knee popped out of joint and then back in, and his back locked up completely. He was in so much pain yesterday he could barely move. He's moving a tiny bit better today, but not much. I can't blame him if he decides never to clean again.
• My fingers are sore from knitting. My index fingers, which I use to push the needles where I need them are covered in tiny red dots - some of which are broken skin. I'm moisturizing like crazy because I have ten and a half more Christmas projects to knit and only two months left before Christmas. I hope to finish at least two this week.
• My commute is often the best part of my day (at least until snow flies). Just this morning I saw a wild turkey, a bull moose, and a spotted owl. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a gathering of six moose - that does not happen often. No one I've spoken to has ever seen that many together at once. It was beautiful. I love to see owls in the morning. I've only seen three or four in all of my commutes but they are so lovely. It's like a gift the road gives me once in a while. I will miss this drive when I change jobs.
  
• Bear and I have decided that in order to reach our financial goals, we must combine checking accounts. I'm much better about paying bills on time, but he is much better about limiting miscellaneous spending than I am. So each week as we get paid I will pay the bills that need paying and he will be in charge of eating out, picking up whatever sundries we need, and all entertainment costs. I've already curtailed a lot of my spending, so for at least the first week, it's working. We will be setting up the monthly budget tonight. I love that we can communicate well about money, and that although the lack of funds is a stressor for us, it isn't a stressor between us. We are united in our financial plans. I read somewhere that money is the number one thing couples fight about. I'm glad that we aren't part of that statistic!

Grammie

1. Friday morning, just before I left the high school to go to the elementary school, I checked my email and found this:

mother has fallen possible broken arm possible broken back debbie call gus

This is from my dad to Mom and I about my 94-year old grandmother. I was, of course, very upset. I hate hate hate how my parents email me shit like this instead of calling like normal human beings. I immediately called my mother to get more information. Gram is frail as it is, much of which stems from breaking her back ten years ago. She has very bad osteoporosis and so her bones don't heal. I was in tears, trying to hold myself together, and thinking rapidly about my work shedule for the weekend. Could I go home if I had to? How soon could I be there?

Mom didn't know much when I called, and told me to finish my work day and call her at 2pm when I got out of work. I helped my first graders learn about spiders and smiled, trying to ignore the silence of my phone. At 2:00 I rushed outside and called Mom again. Of all of the people in my family, my grandmother and father are the only two that are not allowed to get hurt or die. They must live forever, because their deaths would crush me. The same goes with injury - they must not ever be in pain. I cannot deal with the thought of them lying in a hospital bed, their care depending on strangers who do not know them like I do. Who do not understand how awesome they are. Grammie especially. Where most people see frail old lady, I see the strong, resourceful woman who taught me how to be a good person. Who taught me the meaning of hard work, determination, courage, and grace. She was my first and very best teacher. I love her endlessly, and the thought of her hurt - well, I wasn't taking it very well. As for Gram's state of mind? She was just worried about bothering people, and keeping my dad and uncle from the moose hunt they have scheduled for this week (both of them went).

It's been back and forth since then. Mom said they were waiting on an Ortho specialist to see if Gram needed to have surgery. She fractured her shoulder and a bone in her hip. I found out just this morning that she won't need surgery, but will be removed to a rehabilitation center to convalesce. I'm glad she doesn't need surgery, but I can't help but wonder if she'll be able to come back home. Grammie is not a woman who accepts her limitations (which is probably why she fell to begin with). Can she return to the home she's lived in for more than 40 years? How will her spirit continue on, untrammeled, if she cannot be where her heart is?

I'm being overly dramatic, but if you knew my Gram you'd know how important her health and happiness are. Please, if you're of a religious mind, pray for my Grammie to heal quickly and with a minimum of stress. Even if you aren't, please think good thoughts for her, as I am each moment.

Nesting

There's something about the crisp air, shortening days, and cooler weather that makes me want to bake. As soon as Bear and I bring back our bagful of apples (we only picked 23 pounds of apples this year! That's good for us - the first year, we picked 40), I get into the kitchen and start baking the "Flavors of Fall" as I like to call them. First is apple pie, followed by apple bread, apple crisp, and this year, applesauce. Pink cinnamon applesauce (I put red hots in it. It's delicious. I swear!). I also foray into the pumpkin arena. This is newish territory to me, as before Bear I had no use for pumpkin. His mother made him pumpkin chocolate chip cookies when he was a child, though, and he loves them. Since I'm in a baking mood I bake him some of those, too. I have his mother's recipe, and I've copied it here for all of you to share. It's quick and easy, and it makes a LOT of cookies. Enjoy!

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies
2 eggs, beaten
1 large can pumpkin
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups sugar
4 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
4 tsp baking powder
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp salt
2 tsp milk
2 tsp vanilla
1 bag chocolate chips or chocolate chunks

Mix ingredients together. Drop by rounded teaspoon unto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake @ 375 degrees until done. Yield: approx. 6 dozen.

Happy baking!

Update (for Hallie)

I am sorry to have left that last post up, unupdated, for so long. You see, less than 24 hours after uploading my resume, they called me and wanted an interview.

They hadn't even received my letters of recommendation or transcripts yet.

I was excited, and was very hopeful about the interview. I had been offered a position there years ago, and turned them down to go to Lincoln (that was a mistake, it turns out).

Tuesday morning I put on my best interview outfit (including the pearl necklace and earrings I received as a wedding gift), and off I went.

I had a good interview - I made them laugh a couple of times, I answered articulately, and even re-connected with a fellow grad student I hadn't seen in a few years. The principal thanked me for coming and said she'd let me know either way within a couple of days.


That afternoon I received a phone call. The caller ID showed it to be the principal. Heart pounding with excitement, I answered the phone.

"Yes, Heather? I just wanted to call you and let you know that we offered the position to another candidate, and he accepted. Thank you for applying and have a nice day."

I mumbled some kind of platitude and hung up, sort of stunned. I really thought I'd be offered the position. To say I was bummed was putting it mildly. Working in Newport would have been the final piece in the puzzle of Bear and I moving to Bangor next summer. I knew I'd have to return to my current school for at least the remainder of the school year, and the thought depressed me.

I know now more than an ever how much I do not want to be here. I don't think I realized how much until I had the possibility of something more. Something better.

I am going to keep searching and keep trying, but this still stings a bit.

Seek and Sometimes, Ye Find

I've made no secret about the fact that I am unhappy at my current teaching placement. I've been wronged by administration here several times and now am having to adjust to being in the first grade half of each day. I am not ashamed to admit that I am struggling. Some days it's not so bad; others I'm near tears.

After the fabulous weekend I had with Bear recently, I did not want to go back to school. My body was almost physically resisting having to go back. Whenever I thought about the approaching Monday, my muscles would lock. Monday night Bear asked me how my day was. I just looked at him, replying, "It went. It's over now. That's all I can ask right now." I could tell he was unhappy with my answer, but I wasn't going to sugar coat and I'm not known for keeping things inside. As a consolation, I said, "Newport posted a HS English position this week. That's pretty unheard of, to post during the school year. I wonder what happened."
He raised an eyebrow. "You should apply," he advised.
"You think?" I asked. I hadn't considered that before. Changing a teaching job during the school year is almost unheard of. It simply isn't done, although legally it can be. I'm pretty sure that I'd have to give a 30 day notice before I could leave my current position, but would have to look through my contract (it isn't something I'm well-versed in).
Bear convinced me that I had nothing to lose: I was obviously unhappy where I was and the worst that could happen is that I wouldn't hear from Newport at all.

So I did. I filled out the electronic application and attached my resume, and yesterday mailed them my letters of recommendation and transcripts. I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I'm conflicted. Although I have heard very good things about Newport, it won't be easy starting over after the school year has begun, and there's such a risk in exchanging the devil I know for the one I don't. But I know I'm unhappy here. Ugh! It's difficult to see this situation at all clearly. So last night I crawled into bed and opened my current book for a little escapism before falling asleep.

And there it was, on the last page of the chapter I was reading:

"It's a hard thing to risk what you know and are sure of, just for the possibility of something better. Even when it's a pretty strong possibility and something that's a whole lot better."

I'm trying to take it as a sign.

Bar Harbor Band & Trust 1/2 Marathon and 5K (Sept. 19, 2009)

You have to look for it, but you can see my name (Heather Kinne) and my time (after Brownville Junction) in the pics. The third one is me crossing the finish line. Yes, I am still running. I didn't do quite as well as I'd hoped (35:45), but considering I had to walk some of it (two weeks of resting my shins did nothing for my cardiovascular abilities), it wasn't terrible. All in all, I was glad I'd done it, happy I finished, and thrilled that Bear was there. I did find it ironic that of all people I should be the one to come in 69th place. Those of you who know me in real life are shaking your head in understanding right now. I know. I'd like to do this race again next year and see how I do. Maybe I can make it into the top 50?

Friday Fragments

• This weekend, Bear and I are going to spend time in one of our favorite places in Maine - Bar Harbor. I'll be participating in a 5k race Saturday morning, but the rest of the time will be spent relaxing, reconnecting, and enjoying each other. On our way home Sunday we'll stop at our favorite orchard to go apple picking. I can't wait. We have so much fun together.
  
• I've been cleared by my doctor to race, despite my shin splints. I developed shin splints when I bought new running sneakers. Apparently money can't buy you comfort.
• $130 sneakers should NOT cause shin splints.
  
• And they shouldn't be available only in Portland, which means I have to go back there to return them. Ugh.
• Sometime soon I'll be taking the next step in the ongoing birth control dilemma (I'm saving details for another post). I'm excited about it.
• I don't have to go to the first grade today. I'm very excited about it. Not that I don't enjoy the little ones, but I peg an 8 on my stress meter at least twice each day. I'm still adjusting.
• I am the most forgetful person I know. I don't mean to, but most days I forget at least one important thing and usually I forget more than that. It does no good to make lists, because I often can't remember what I did with the list once I finished it! This is frustrating to people who know me. They have no idea how much it frustrates me.

Okay, that's all I have to frag about today. I hope you all have great weekends! I will post pics from this weekend once I get back. I owe you guys some pics I think. It's been a while!

5 Minute Writing Exercise

Courtesy of Jenny from Roughly Speaking.

Writing prompt: What is not obvious about you?


Looking at my life from the outside, you'd never guess my deepest desire. Looking at me, you'd see that I'm an ordinary high school English teacher who works part time at a local pharmacy. I don't smoke or do drugs, I consume alcohol about once a month (and usually only one or two drinks in an evening), and I follow the rules. I wear my seatbelt. I use my blinker. I don't steal, cheat, or do anything I shouldn't.

But deep inside, I yearn to be different.

I want to be a kickass bitch who doesn't care about others, who does what feels good and fuck the consequences. I want danger to ooze from me, for people to pick up on it and make way for me on the sidewalk. I want to be dangerous.

I want to be badass.

My husband laughs at my pathetic attempts to become badass while still following rules - I'll wear my Korn t-shirt, but only under a high-necked sweater. I listen to rock music in my car, but still follow all traffic regulations. He loves me dearly, but doen't think I'll ever earn the badass label.

And maybe he's right. Because no matter how badly I want to be Gemma from "Sons of Anarchy" (the new show I am absolutely addicted to), I can't stop following rules long enough to accomplish it. I had very strict parents who would punish mercilessly any infraction. I learned from a young age that following rules kept one from punishment. It sounds as though I blame my parents for my inability to flout the law and those that uphold it, but the truth is that I like rules. I like knowing what I am and am not supposed to do. It gives structure to my life that otherwise I'd be lacking. It comforts me when I know that I'm not at risk for punishment.

I wonder sometimes what it would take for me to change.


Your turn: What is not obvious about you? Take 5 minutes and write it on your blog (or in the comments) and I'll be sure to read it. Thanks jenny for making me think this morning!

Good and Bad

Good: Bear and I had a fabulous Labor Day weekend, which included a trip to Portland to get lots of things for us. Well really for me. I got a new pair of running sneakers, running pants, a pink running t-shirt, 5 new pairs of undies from Victoria's Secret, and some other stuff I can't remember right now. We bought birthday gifts for Mark and Tara (their birthdays were the 3rd and 8th, respectively), which was a lot of fun because we had the money to spend on them and they are fairly easy to shop for. My dad's birthday is the 15th, and I have no idea what to get him.

Bad: After running a hills course on Monday, I think I have shin splints. I tried running yesterday and only got a single mile before I had to stop and walk. I was in tears not only because it hurt, but because I'm worried that now I won't be able to run in the 5k race I've been training for. The race is the 19th.

Good: I received in the mail the $500 Visa gift card I won on the blog Suburban Turmoil a couple of weeks ago. We celebrated by going to Bangor last night and eating at Pizza Hut.

Bad: I'm lactose intolerant, and pizza has a *lot* of cheese on it.

I'm tired today, but am trying to find the energy I need to work with the little ones today and work at Rite Aid tonight.

How are you doing?

As the Dust Settles...

... things are falling into place.

I've been back at school since Tuesday. The first two days were inservice; all of the beginning-of-the-year stuff we need to know about, as well as getting my classroom ready for a new year's worth of kids. Wednesday I spent the morning at the elementary school, hoping that they had figured out what it was I was supposed to be doing there every afternoon. They hadn't yet, and told me to come back Thursday and maybe they'd have figured it out.

Thursday was the first day of school for kindergarten through ninth grade. My morning was spent doing paperwork and such (since I don't teach freshmen). I ate lunch, and at 11:00 I arrived at the elementary school.

Oh. My. God.

Let me begin by saying that I don't dislike children. I really don't. I just don't know how to deal with them. I've never been around little kids, so I never learned the appropriate ways to deal with them. It never was a problem, because when was I ever going to be around little kids? I'm only certified to teach grades 7-12, and since I won't be having children of my own, this was never a problem. Until yesterday.

Everything started out great. My assignment, which they gave me yesterday when I entered the building, is to help with first grade math and writer's workshop. Since it will be several days before they begin those routines, for now I'm just supposed to help out where I can. The kids trooped in from lunch and sat down on the carpet while I sat in the back of the room. They're cute little buggers (including one that is a tiny peanut with a mohawk!), but wow, they were full of energy. None could sit still, even when the teacher called for their attention.

The first part of the afternoon I didn't have to do much. They had share time, then went to music class. Terrific. I had a bit of a breather and spoke with both first grade teachers about what I will be doing, who I will be helping, and what that will be like. I am going to have to learn to be very, very flexible as things change in the elementary classroom way more than they do at the high school. High energy has never been something my high school students suffer from.

After music, Ms. P had the kids start an art project to bring home to their parents. Two red school houses that they had to cut out and glue together with glue sticks, and some other embellishments to add. Sounds simple, right?

"Mrs. Kinne, I can't cut this part. It's too tricky."
"Can you help me?"
"Did I cut this right?"
"How do I fold this?"
"What do I do next?"
"Uh-oh, I ripped it!"

Seventeen first graders were suddenly all clamoring for my attention. All at once, right on top of each other. My poor high school brain was almost immediately overwhelmed. I wanted to have a meltdown right there, but kept it together as best as I could. We got through that okay, and as the end of the day approached, Ms. P asked kids if they had to go to the bathroom. Several did. One little boy came back and looked at me with big eyes. "I can't get my zipper. Can you help me?"

Seriously. I had to zip up a boy's pants. I have NEVER done that before in my life. EVER. I felt like Arnold Schwartzenneger in Kindergarten Cop. Suddenly I knew what that kind of get-me-out-of-here desperation felt like. And yes, I zipped his zipper. My face was probably flaming with embarassment, but I did it.

After that was story time - kids could pick a book and read it on the rug while they waited to be dismissed. No less than four kids wanted to be read to, and others wanted "help." I tried to get them started and leave them, but they kept coming back, like waves, each one more insistent than the one before.

When they were dismissed at 2:05, I was exhausted and sweaty. I'd had two kids on my lap at different times (I don't even know the rules about that!) and left feeling more overwhelmed than ever. I have no idea what I am doing there. None.


And at 11:00 today ... I have to go back.

Friday Fragments (a la Alice and Hallie)

Alice and Hallie both do Friday Fragments, so I thought Id give it a whirl.

*I do not now, nor will I ever, forgive Michael Vick. People seem to think that because he went to jail, because he said he was sorry, he should be forgiven and we should forget about the dogs he tortured and killed and get back to watching him play football. In his interview with James Brown, Vick said he felt sick about the things he "allowed to happen." He didn't allow them to happen; he did them. I am disgusted that he got another NFL contract, even though I am unsurprised by it. I'm starting to wonder if there needs to be a change in the NFL. Maybe convicted felons should lose all contracts, monies, endorsement deals, and any chance at the Hall of Fame. There are thousands of talented athletes out there that don't break the law, that don't electrocute and kill harmless animals. That aren't assholes. Why don't we let them play and boot the criminals out of the league?

*My husband never ceases to inspire, humble, and impress me. Last weekend, we went to the Maine Highland Games. He has Scottish ancestry, and we went to see if we could figure out which major clan he belongs to. While taking a break from the heat and sun, we watched some of the actual athletic events. They are terrific, really, in their simplicity. Throw a rock as far as you can. Throw a weight as high as you can. Toss a sack over a bar. I thoroughly enjoyed them. I had the stray thought that my husband would be marvelous at these events. He must have had the same thought or read my mind, because he has registered as an amateur as a Highland Games Competitor. He will compete next year at the games, and has already begun training. I am awed by his drive and desire; by his courage in going after what he wants. He blogged about his decision on his blog. I hope you'll go over and give him some encouragement!

*I am running a 5k race in September, on the 19th. I wasn't going to race this year, since back in March I couldn't find any events. Bear came through for me and even paid my entrance fee. He is always encouraging me to run, and knew I needed a kick in the pants. Two more days and I'll be at 30 minutes of run time again, something I was nowhere near two weeks ago.

*The sun makes me itchy. No really! Anytime I spend time in the sun, my face reacts, gets all puffy and thick, and itches fit to drive me crazy. Can one be allergic to the sun? Or am I just a baby?

*I'm thinking of entering a yarn I made into the arts and crafts section of the local fair. Im not sure how much of a dork that makes me, but I'm in love with the yarn and really want to show it off. Is that wrong?

*I need to get off the computer and get cleaning/working/doing stuff. I spend *way* too much time here!

*I saw a dead racoon on the side of the road the other day and realized that my cat is as big as it was, and nearly the same color. My mind wandered for several minutes onto the paths of parallel evolution and survival of the fittest. Then I shifted tracks and thought about red hot dogs. My mind works in mysterious ways!

*Okay, I really really need to go do some chores. Later!

Shit.

I got an email from my principal today, and it's official - I'll be spending three hours each afternoon working in the elementary school's resource room.

Damnit.

Let's do the math, shall we?

A three dollar an hour paycut x 3 hours a day x 10 days in a pay period = $90 less a paycheck. If I cut out both unions fees by dropping the unions (what good are they doing me anyway?) I'll save $25 a paycheck. So I'll still be losing $65 a paycheck at school.

At Rite Aid, I make $8 an hour. In order to make up the difference, I will have to work an extra 4 hours a week, x the 2 weeks in the pay period.

That moves me from 20 to 24 hours a week. That's 65 hours away from the house a week.

If I work both Sunday and Saturday (8 hours each), I'll have to work 2 nights a week. If I have one of those days off, I'll have to work 4 nights that week. I can't work on Tuesday because I have staff meetings.

This is rapidly approaching ridiculous.

To save money, I can take the car to work instead of the truck. Even though I love my truck. Even though the truck is safer if I hit a moose.

I can work on selling handdyed fiber and handspun yarn. If I work diligently at this, I could potentially work one less shift a week. But when would I do it?

I can say goodbye to learning to make blueberry wine, giving fabulous gifts at Christmas, getting new running sneakers, and buying anything on my Amazon wishlist.

I can join my bank account and Bear's and only spend money on bills; he will be in charge of any and all money left over, since I would just spend it anyway.

I can apply for another forbearance on my school loans. If I have any left, that would give us a six month window of fewer bills to worry about.

This is all so much to think about. I'm not sure how we'll make it this year, honestly. But at least the loan is paid off. That will hopefully make a difference.

How do you all do it? Is money this tight for anyone else?

Summer's End

It's begun. As summer nears its end and the start of a new school year begins its slow approach, the ceaseless round of questions begin.
"When do you go back to school?"
"Will you be teaching at the same place?"
"Are you ready to go back?"
"You looking forward to a new year?"

The answers are August 25th, sort of, I guess so, and not at all.
*I return to school with two days of inservice on August 25th, a Tuesday. The first freshman day will be Thursday of that week, and upper classmen on the Friday. It is asinine to have students start a school year on a Friday. Why even come?
*The teaching half of my job is secure. I was un-laid off, if that makes sense, so my teaching position will be there. However, no one seems to know about the ed tech half of my job. The last three years I was a Title 1 Literacy Ed Tech Three, teaching two freshman classes and making about $18 an hour for three hours a day. At the end of the school year I was told that due to budget cuts and seniority issues I may have to give that position up to anther woman and take an Ed Tech Two position at the elementary school, in theresource room. Making $11 an hour. This is absolutely unacceptable to me. I LOATHE little kids - especially those that bite and pee on you. I have never taught at the elementary level, let alone at the special ed level. I am absolutely unqualified for that job. It frankly terrifies me. I asked my principal last week if he knew what was going on with that, and he doesn't. I probably won't be told what I'll be doing until I get there on the 25th. Ugh.
*As for being ready to go back... I guess so. I know who most of my students will be, I know what I'll be teaching, I know what specific bullshit I'll be asked to do and deal with... so in that respect I'm ready.
*Am I looking forward to it? Not at all. Usually I am excited to start a new year; I love the possibilities that come with starting fresh. This year I am more aware than ever that it doesn't matter what I teach them, because the way grades are reported suck and hurt kids. That no one cares what life lessons my students learn; they only care about what can be measured. It's disheartening to say the least.

I applied for a new job over the summer, but there weren't many available and the ones that were exist too far away to make working there feasible. When I got the call that I was un-laid off, I told my husband that I would return to my school for one more year. But I also told him that this will be my last year. I am too unhappy where I'm at to stay any longer. I'm tired of being bullshitted, dicked around, and lied to. I'm tired of the sneakiness, the underhandedness, and the drama that goes on. It isn't good for me. He agreed, and we have a tentative plan to stay where we are for one more year and next summer to get new jobs, move away, and start a new and better life. We are going to sell the house and move completely out of Brownville Junction. He will quit his job at the mill and attend college classes for the first time.

I can't wait.