Blathering and Dithering

So yeah, the first week of kicking ass and taking names, also known as dieting and working out, was pretty good, but since then nada, zip, zilch, zero progress. I think I'm still making up for the shit I ate (and guzzled) at that Memorial Day party, which only serves to piss me off further. But enough of the Fat Girl Diaries - I'm sick of me bitching about it, so let's move on, shall we?

The last two and half weeks of school are going at a snail's pace. I think there may be a cog stuck in the space/time continuum, because SURELY it should be June 10th by now. And could they, the ubiquitous, yet faceless THEY of public educational institutions, possibly refrain from asking for yet more money to fund yet another stupid travesty of time and funding wastage - ie: class parties where everything has to be store-bought and preservative laden, lame-ass 5th grade musical productions nobody even volunteered for, but they have to show up for and perform in after school hours are over, buying some piece of lawn furniture in the name of the 5th grade, like they're seniors in high school. Does this sound like Educational Retardation to anyone else? Excuse me, I have to scream primally for a moment-

I whipped through a re-read of the last two Harry Potter books this past week, and now I'm reading "Albion's Seed", by David Hackett Fischer. This book was published in 1989 by Oxford University Press, but I'd never run across it before. I would have loved to have this guy for a history professor, since most of mine were dripping bores. This has to be the most entertaining book of history I've ever read, but I know you're asking, "Yeah, okay, but what's it about?" Alright, let me backtrack.

We were in Barnes and Noble a couple of weeks ago, on one of those Girl's Night Out occasions. I picked up four books in five minutes and was trying to find some rationalization to not buy any of them, seeing as how the money would have come out of our grocery budget, and kids need to eat, even if grown ups don't. So I sat down, on the floor, because the Crabtree Valley B&N has NO DAMN CHAIRS (what the hell IS that?), winnowed out the TS Eliot "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats" (I did already have a copy, even if it's pages are falling out), and "The Annotated Brothers Grimm" (because I do have about 4 different variations of Grimm's already, although a Grimm's scholar can never have too many copies), "The Joseph Campbell Companion" (which I bought because I thought it might help me avoid sharp objects pointed at my throat - not so much, strangely) and started to read "Albion's Seed - Four British Folkways In America".

In my ongoing family history research it's not unusual to hit walls where the data banks out there have nothing to offer up. I've found that going to the history books and getting insight into what's going on during a specific period can often yield a way around those stumbling blocks. This books covers the colonization of America by four separate cultural groups from the British Isles, and how those distinctly individual groups shaped the regional cultures we have even today. The four groups are:

• East Anglia to Massachusetts: The Exodus of the English Puritans, 1629-1641
• The South of England to Virginia: Distressed Cavaliers and Indentured Servants, 1642-1675
• North Midlands to The Delaware: The Friends' Migration, 1675-1725
• Borderlands to the Backcountry: The Flight From North Britain, 1717-1775

Fischer says in his foreword that only about 20% of Americans can trace their ancestry back to any of these groups, but that their early influence set the tone for how this country has developed, and while later groups of immigrants do affect the culture in those areas, they are also subject to a certain amount of assimilation from the culture already present.

Someone asked me once, while we were vacationing in Wales, whether the United States actually has a culture of it's own, other than the omnipresent consumerism. I wish I'd had this book then, because while I knew that America does indeed have several regional mini-cultures, not all of which are British-based, it's hard to articulate that, especially to someone whose country would fit into the state of Texas. We are the size of several countries, and our culture reflects both that size as well as the mixing pot of ethnicities we come from.

But back to the book. I had to have this book, because three of the groups discussed in it are in my family tree, and I'm still trying to figure out where and when those ancestors got here, as well as tracking their migration in the early days of westward expansion.

Example: I'm am at odds with some of my fellow researchers of the Toy family, as to the name origin, and the time frame of it's point of entry into America. Based on a very flawed and limited resource genealogy done in the 1950s, most researchers of the Toy family think the name was tagged onto a Swedish patronymic tradition when the English Quakers showed up in the 1680s to colonize what is now New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Looking a little further south towards Virginia and Jamestown, I found evidence of the name Toy there as early as 1642, and that group had ties to families of the same name in Bristol, England and Carmarthen, Wales, but they didn't stay in the Virginia colony for long; there are records of women with that last name marrying into other families, but very few men. Where did they go, and why did they leave that area? "Albion's Seed" actually answers that question - the elitist hierarchy that governed that area made it impossible for anyone of common rank to move up socially. Even if they had a large and successful plantation, they would have been shunned by the families of "Old Virginia", who were descended from the younger sons of English nobles, and maintained a feudal caste system in that area, keeping the poor uneducated and indentured as much as possible, and providing opportunity only for those of a certain social rank.

Reading the part on the Virginia Cavaliers was lurid, and horrifying. It's not hard to see why anyone of common stock would want to get the hell out of Dodge. Obviously, my roots are not in that tradition, because I was nauseated and incensed by the accounts. An indentured female servant was often casually raped by her master, so that she would have to work a longer indenture to "make up" for the time she spent being pregnant, and that was after she was stripped and whipped publicly. Rape was considered on the level of petty theft in this society, and there wasn't much concern for the rights of anyone who wasn't of the elite.

Right now I'm reading about the Quakers, thank god, which is like a drink of fresh water after the misery of the Virginians. It's interesting to note that while a large number of Quakers show up in the Delaware Valley in the year 1682, there were already settlements of Quakers in that area. The Quakers were prosecuted far more violently in both England and America than the Puritans ever were, and droves of them came to the New World to find religious freedom. Unlike the Puritans, who had zero tolerance for anyone not of their faith, the Quakers actually encouraged religious pluralism, and lived peaceably alongside neighbors of different faiths. Their governing laws lay the groundwork for our system of government, and their work ethic, firmly in the middle between the Idle as a Status Symbol Virginians, and the Work Till Ye Drop of the Puritans, is the basis of the middle class work ethic our parents grew up in. Even their Midlands dialect is the foundation of a large part of our common speech in this country.

I haven't gotten to the Puritans (okay, I skipped them, because they really are kind of a drag - blah, blah, God's Will, blah, blah) yet, but the Scotch-Irish are next, and I'm sure they're going to be a rowdy bunch. They're the other big influence on the American Way - those stubbornly independent, frontier-loving, don't-put-much-stock-in-larnin, man-I-hate-crowds-and-the-government folks. Maybe it's just me, but I love the backwoodsmen. Think of Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln; they are all either backwoodsmen or a product of the defiant spark of that culture.

And now that you've all gone to sleep, or drifted off to read something far more lively than me spouting off about history, I reckon it's time to call it a post.

And yes, there will be a pop-quiz later, just to see if you were paying attention.

Because I'm The Greatest

I think I must have left my brain in my other pants - I actually volunteered to help out for a three hour end of school celebration in 100 degree weather. Me, the polar bear. Seriously, I think I hocked up more than a lung last week - a chunk of my mind is obviously missing, because this ole stick of buttah is ready to go on the popcorn now, and I was just doing the face painting.

The other moms doing face painting were funny - they had this piece of paper with simple little doodle-like stuff the kids could choose from, and then I sat down and rocked the boat. I painted skull and crossbones going up in flames; I painted swords with serpents entwined about them; I painted the Loch Ness monster on one kid, a dolphin on another; butterflies and rosebuds; AC DC's logo, complete with lightning bolt, and I sang an appropriate ditty for each as I did them (okay I had to mumble parts of the AC DC song - "Highway to Hell" or "Hell's Bells" wasn't going to cut it with the 3rd grade crowd - even I know that).

Its not like any of it was hard, but what an ego boost to hear these kids: "She can paint anything!" "I'm waiting for her, she's the best." And I admit it, I sucked up every bit of it. At lunch, one of the Bohemian's classmates declared, "Mrs. Toy, you are the greatest!" I don't know how I got those kudos, but I'm not going to argue. and you know what? Those kids are the greatest too!

Well Look Who Just Crawled In

Darlings!

Forgive me for leaving you all hanging for over a week. I did indeed encounter the Senator at Ms. Q's this past weekend, and let me tell you - the air positively crackled with sexual tension!

In light of the recently discovered brain tumor, his time has become something rare and precious, but when two storms collide like we did, nothing can stop them. He swept me off my feet and into his arms. By Sunday night we were in his car and headed for Cape Cod for a few storm-tossed, star-crossed days of unbridled animal passion.

Umm...

...or at least that was the fantasy scenario in my head; maybe not so much the truth, but a girl can dream, can't she? Especially when that girl can't sleep at night, due to a certain precipitously acquired upper respiratory infection. Bronchitis may sound like a dinosaur, and I'm working hard on kicking its ass into extinction, but so far, its been kicking mine!

Yeah, we're some party animals, aren't we? Except when I say, "Party Animal", its more like a decrepit old elephant on his way to the graveyard, to mingle his nearly fleshless bones with those of his ancestors. Not exactly a scene from "Bachelor Party", but we didn't start off that way.

Saturday afternoon found us (Bea and myself) at the always effervescent Ms. Q's house, and we were all in one of those "Hakuna Matata" kind of moods; dancing around, eating bugs off of leaves and stuff, and singing; chile - we were some singing old broads. (Oh, What-Ever; you know you sing and dance around the house in your underwear too! And besides, we had to kill time while we waited for the Senator to show, and everyone knows he likes girls who uh, sing, uh, and dance, yeah, that's it!)

Check out that party nosh - and its all good for you too; well, except for the drinky-winkies.

At one point this Neil Diamond/Babs Streisand duet came on and we just HAD to sing along, paraphrasing the sappy lyrics, of course.

Ms. Q opened her presents
Later the Senator and his wife came over for cocktails - thats the official story, anyway - and we all made nice with the wife in a photo-op.

The Senator and his long-suffering wife
Later, the Senator snuck off to the computer to book us a room. Oops! Hello wifey!
Many apologies again, for taking so long to get back to post this - I'm still fighting the rising tide in my lungs with this horrid bronchitis, so sleep is a thing of the past, as is simple breathing. Unfortunately, as moms all over the world know, there is no sick leave for mothers, and with the end of school looming closer the demands on my time seem never ending. Have I mentioned I am so over school right now? Sheesh! I am so beyond ready to be done for a few months.

Addendum: I just heard that the real Senator Kennedy's brain surgery was very successful. I'm not only glad for him and his family, but it sure wouldn't be that funny to talk about MY senator, when the real one was kaput.

Also, Bea had to go and ask where all the pictures of her were from this past Hoop-de-do at Ms. Q's. Well Bea, here you go, in all your blurry glory. This is what happens when friends let friends drink and shoot photos. It isn't pretty, is it?

"And these children that you spit on;... they're quite aware of what they're going through."

My god, where is the time going? It was just the beginning of May yesterday (wasn't it?), and now we're almost halfway through. Time is whipping along and conversely, I feel like I'm slowing down. The kids have their EOGs (End Of Grade) tests in another week, and my little band of students I've been tutoring this year are down to the wire, trying to grasp concepts that will be on the tests.

This morning we went over some reading comprehension tactics, and then we hit the basics of Geometry. Luckily for them, it wasn't Algebra (hissssss), because I am a Stupe when it comes to math problems containing the alphabet. Mock me all you like - I'm used to it - but there it is. No, thankfully, Geometry is visual, and I'm all about the visual, don'tcha know?

Still, it was a struggle today. Part of the problem, I think, is the completely non-intuitive way math is taught. Figuring out the difference between area and perimeter is obvious to you and me, but to a kid, they're just words and without practical application, who wouldn't get them mixed up? With such a visual concept as Geometry, why use only paper and pencil to teach it? The third graders planted a garden this year, a perfect opportunity to discuss area and perimeter, but it went unavailed. They're doing mosaics in Art right now, but personally, I think Art and Music should teach theory/concepts that corresponds to the curriculum of the individual grade, further supplementing and cementing the concepts being taught in the regular classroom. Why not touch on perspective in Art while Geometry is being taught in the classroom? Wouldn't it render both subjects more readily absorbed?

I know the teachers do their very best, and I know they don't get nearly enough support from either the school system or the parents of their students. The kids who are struggling are usually the kids whose parents can't be bothered to lend a teaching hand, even for the benefit of their own child. It breaks my heart to see those kids struggle and finally, disengage from learning anything, all because no one could take the time to teach them, one on one. For some kids, one on one is the only way for them to get some of those trickier concepts, the only way to keep them interested and learning.

I've been thinking that next year I might not volunteer in so many classes. It takes a big chunk out of my week to do it - time that I could be pursuing my own interests. Then I go to school and work with kids who have never had fun learning and see the wonderment in their eyes when they really get something, and I think: "How can I abandon them? How can I think of just me when they may never get another chance to see how much fun it is to question and learn?" I can't do it. For whatever reason; maybe because I was one of those kids who was disengaged, maybe because I see what kind of misery lies in wait for the lost youth, I feel like even if I only reach one kid, that's at least one more kid who isn't slipping through the cracks.

If you feel like you'ld like to do some kind of volunteer work, but you're not sure what you would be good at, consider giving your time to tutoring or mentoring a kid. What better way to invest in the future of our world, than to try and save a mind, and maybe, a life?

Ah, hump day, how I love thee! I can see the weekend from here!

I'm off to school today to foster rebellion, and maybe help a few kids read while I'm there. you know, like camouflage for teaching them the Diarrhea rhyme.

People think its funny
but its really brown and runny,
diarrhea,(insert noise here) diarrhea.

There's the one from the film Parenthood too, but that one requires singing and that could spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

I'll have a real post for you tomorrow.

Its a Monday, all day, dammit.

Its also the last day of our Spring Break, that tantalizing week of almost Summer Vacation. Tantalizing because it lulls you into that lazy summer routine, but after a seductive week of being on our own schedule, now its time to be owned by the public school system again. Have I mentioned how much I hate school? Really? I've never said how much I loathe the system? Curious...But I did tell you about how we like to blare Another Brick in the Wall when we pull up in carpool, right? No? Wow, I just don't tell you guys shit, do I?

Yeah, tomorrow we return to the prison schedule for another two months. Its very depressing; the packing of lunches, the papers that have to be signed, the incessant nagging required to get two not-so little boys ready and out of the house on time, and the ever repressive carpool/carpooze/carpoop, where not only do I have to queue up with retards but the kids have to undergo prison training (sit still, with your head down on the table and no talking) before they're released for the day. I hate how mindless the regimentation is; the need to control and stifle these poor kids who have had to be stifled all day, and the little boys who have high energy and kinetic needs that aren't recognized as such. No, little healthy, energetic boys aren't needing more physical activity, they're trouble makers - what? You didn't know that? Oh yeah, chile, public school is ALL about supressing your inner free spirit.

Thats why I go and volunteer - to stir up the underground resistance. I run in the halls, and crack jokes in class. I taught the 1st graders how to stick out your tongue without anyone seeing it (Bea taught me!), and occasionally, I like to do a Pete Townshend guitar jump, just to keep things lively. I'm lucky that the teachers I work with are much nicer than many of them, and understand that their kids need to be kids, even if its just once in awhile. I personally never learned doodly when I was sitting up straight, bored out of my mind. I think learning, especially in elementary school, ought to be fun. These are the pivotal years when a kid learns their study habits and is either turned on or turned off to learning - wouldn't it seem a no-brainer that it should be as fun as possible, in an effort to keep as many kids as possible engaged?

You would think, but "it ain't necessarily so."

School Daze

Today is my first day back with the first and second graders, after taking the month of January off. I woke up feeling kind of reluctant; I'd just gotten into the groove of having my days to myself, but I know once I get in there, my fellow cohorts (the kids!!) will make it worthwhile.

I have to admit, it kind of feels like being a rock star, to be the guest mom for the day. All the kids wave at me and yell, "Hey! It's Mrs. Toy!" Look at this bunch of hamasauri posing for the camera! I've worked with this teacher for 3 and a half years because I really like the way she does things and we've developed our stride working together (I think that translates into we have a lot of fun!).
Sorry for the lack of substance today, but as I only have 45 minutes to compose this before dashing off, I'm sure you'll understand.

OH! OMFG Update-on the creek-kill situation of last week: I thought it might be the public utilities who had contaminated the water and it would appear I'm right. They've been working on replacing the water lines around here for several weeks now.

I was packing lunches yesterday, after school, and went to fill the water dish for the cats. I noticed the water was very bubbly and shortly after that, I was overwhelmed by the extreme chlorine smell of the tapwater. I ran a little in a glass and sipped it cautiously (FYI - NOT SMART). Oh My God - it burned my mouth! There was more chlorine in that glass than you would even find in a swimming pool, I kid you not. I spit it out and rinsed my mouth out with bottled water. Then I called the utilities to let them know something was up with our water. Of course, it being my lucky day, I got some lady with a snotty attitude who told me that "we don't know if there IS a problem yet", when I asked what might be going on to cause this. Nice, huh?

They did send a guy out, pronto, thank god, and when he checked the water he got very concerned and had to check in with his boss, to figure out what to do. Then his boss showed up, looking very grim, and tried to downplay the situation while he tried to figure out how to get this crap out of here. They ended up having to flush the lines of several houses and of course, they opened the hydrants and let it flush into the creek (Damn It), so if there was anything that had survived before, it got the boot this time. And these are the guys we trust to deliver us clean drinking water?

I still have a gallon of the tainted water. I was going to send it down the boy's toilet (what better place for extreme bleach?), but thought it might behoove me to hang on to it, in case I needed to get it tested as evidence. I'm not looking to harass the utilities company, but it does seem that they haven't been particularly careful, and maybe some whistle-blowing is in order.

I'll keep you posted.

The Furry Herd

Today I'm off to school to shake up the new third grade teacher. The really incredible teacher we had at the beginning of the year had to leave abruptly (something terrible had to have happened - she wasn't the kind to skip out.) and the Bohemian's class was adrift for about a month, with substitutes, until they hired the new teacher, who started right before Christmas vacation.

I usually take January off from volunteering; after doing the whole Christmas holidays shuffle that little moms do (I'm mean really- if I wasn't here, Christmas would suck outloud. The husband, lovely man that he is, just doesn't understand how to make magic happen. That is my speciality - making magic.), I'm usually pretty shot and not really wanting to go rub elbows with all the sick little tykes in the worst cold and flu month (tempting,...but, Hell No!). Considering I volunteer in three different classes, every week, during the rest of the school year, I think I can take one month off. But with this third grade class, I just don't have the heart to abandon them for that month.

They have been so adrift, so disjointed for that last month of school before Christmas, that the kids with learning, or focusing issues were frying right before my eyes, and it didn't seem like there was anyone who understood what these kids had been going through. So in an effort to maintain some semblence of continuity for them, I'm still coming every Thursday during January to help out in class.

I'm not so sure the new teacher is really that happy about it. I'm sure its hard to come into a class in the middle of the year, but is that a reason to extinguish all semblence of humor in life? I'm deeply afraid, that in their frantic scraping of the teacher barrel, mid-year, they came up with an old-school, grump of a teacher. She about had a conniption last week, when the kids and I put glitter on our heads (just a teensy bit, mind you - nothing to the amount that was on the floor, and it wasn't my idea to use loose glitter to create a snow look on a picture - I'm all about the kind suspended in glue). We had to make these Snow-ems; snow poems, that frankly, weren't poetry at all, (which vexed me greatly) and then decorate it with the insanity of loose glitter. So we did - and put a bit in our hair, to get the feel and look of snow; you know, for inspiration. Evidently it was perilously close to mutiny, because she lectured them about it after I left. (I'm thinking of a name that starts with B - can you guess it?)

It's no big news to me that creativity is a dead language in public school - but it's why I go and volunteer. If I can inspire one kid in a class to think outside of the box, to get excited about learning, then its worth the grumpy teacher looks.

Most of the teachers we've had have been wonderfully balanced between disciplined work and making work seem like play, and I knew our luck was going to run out eventually. Well, eventually was this year, evidently.

But enough grousing...I have digressed completely from where I was headed. (Such a change for me - NOT!)

For today's visual appeal, I have put up a few pictures of some of the Furry Herd, as we like to call them. If you didn't know, we run the local chapter of the Temple of Bast - also known as a cat haven - rescuing strays and living in a perpetual fluffdom of fur.

Let me introduce you to them:

This is Princess Feathertail, Feather for short. We like to call her our Norwegian Forest Cat, because she fits the description to a T in the cat book. She showed up a few years ago, a matted fur-covered bag of bones. We took her in, and the next year she gave us a litter of kittens, which was a shock, as we had thought she was spayed, based on her behavior prior to getting knocked up. She is very scraggly in the summer, but in the winter, she gets gloriously fluffy. She is very sweet to her people, and her children, but she's a bit of a diva with the other girl cats (they call it something else, I'm sure - the B word again, perchance?)
This is Rikki, one of the sons of Feather. He is the alpha male, and yes, he is neutered. He is also the cat who fractured his jaw this past fall, but he is mended and doing fine. He has the longest tail I've ever seen on a cat, but he knows he's hot - it's such a turn-off!
My particular favorite is Jezebel , whose proper name is Jezebel Maya Jungle Cat. I actually paid money for this one, which is rare, but I was supposed to be getting a lynx point siamese - yeah, I know - not so much. She's more like a torby-siamese, but Bea calls it Fudge Ripple. Regardless, she is my baby. And she isn't really cross-eyed; she just makes that face (so shut up Bea!).

This is Pooh Bear, aka Poodle, another of the Sons of Feather (it sounds like a horror movie, and sometimes, it even seems like one!). He is not an alpha male, and he's nuttier than peanut butter, to boot. He is currently chewing all the hair off of his tail, so his fine plumey tail is in a pretty sad state. He can be affectionate, but it usually entails trying to trip you in the hallway, in the dark. There are others, but they weren't around to have their pictures taken. With winter upon us, and the camellias blooming, it shouldn't be long before Miss Puff begins her flower-hunting season. Now if only I can catch her at it, that would be a great picture! I also left out Jasper, though she was featured with the Bohemian just a few days ago, and Squeak (it was supposed to be a Color Purple reference), and the ever-needy Scrawny Joe McAllister (maybe you've heard of him? He jumped off the Tallascratchy Bridge? They wrote a song about it!) But fear not - they are all hamasauri and love to pose for the camera, so they're bound to show up in here at some point.

So now you have something to look forward to, kinda, maybe,...ok, not really, but run with me here.

Ciao-a-bunga doodles!

Discomfuckulated Wednesday

Ah, Hell Day has arrived! I do my utmost to never over-schedule because it tends to make me grind my teeth, and since they don't fit in my mouth right anyway, that makes me bite the inside of my mouth, which if you've ever eaten an entire bag of caramels, and chomped on your inner mouth instead of the wad of caramelly goodness (or Evil-ness, depending on how you look at it- I dare not even entertain the question of how many points there are in a bag of caramels - roughly the same as a Big Mac?) (Whew, was that a long-winded tangent! Where was I? Oh yeah...the wad of caramelly goodness.) you will know whereof I speak.

So yeah, to sum it up... over-scheduling - BAD. But in order to have the heating and cooling people come to my house and bring a new system with them; actually SET it up, I'm gonna have to go do a little tapdance for the bank folks. I WILL keep my clothes on, in case you're wondering - Bank People aren't known to be particularly receptive to nekkid tapdancing - at least not while they're on the clock.

I will also be at school today, hard at work, undermining authority whenever possible. Needless to say, the first and second graders love me - I think they're pretty RAD as well. the stomach-clenching conference with the Fourth Grade Bitch,... uh, Teacher, isn't until NEXT week, even though I requested today ages ago, but Please, I beg you, don't get me started on THAT woman.

I have put a picture of Jezebel, my favorite warm and fuzzy thing, as a beacon to guide me through the day ahead. Hi 'Be-Bell! After all the crap is past today, I can go home and hunker down with my fuzzy little purr-machine.

Life is Still Good.

Drive-By Shooter Gets Out

I was so tickled with the way my last drive-by shots came out, that I felt I needed to do a few more. The old tobacco barns that were once so vital to this area's economic growth, are now mostly defunct and crumbling. What was once a major weighing station for tobacco leaf is now a burgeoning suburb of the capital city, and its rural roots are rapidly being swept away.

Even though I'm no fan of tobacco, its still sad to see a rural area stripped almost completely of its cultural and historical heritage, and rolled over with concrete and asphalt.

I shot this barn from across the street, from a grove of old oak trees. There must have been an old house here at one time, but all that remains is the protective ring of ancient trees that once surrounded it.

I believe that the field behind the oaks is still being plowed and sowed - there were sweet potatoes runts left behind last fall, after the harvest, that some of the poor but thrifty went out and collected. Not exactly like Ruth and Naomi, gleaning wheat in the Old Testament, but it still had a certain timelessness to it (and lest you think I stand upon some wealthy and remote pedestal, let me assure you that I ate a few of those gleaned sweet potatoes - my brother knows where to go for all the leftover field pickings, and usually has plenty to share.)

I had to go back and get out of the car to take this one, but its such a cool old building, that I felt it needed to be revisited properly. Coming around to the front and shooting the side angle put it in a different light and made it look like a completely different place.

Can I just say how much I love to take pictures with a digital camera? The immediacy of the results helps me to learn what I'm doing wrong and fix it, instead of taking the 15 rolls I've accrued over the year in to be developed, and then not knowing what I did to make everything look so blurry, and dark, but hating that I've spent hundreds of dollars on crappy pictures.

I love this house! It overlooks the pond I took a picture of last week and is just a beautiful house. I actually did get out of the car and climbed up the hill to get a better shot - luckily they don't shoot trespassers - at least they didn't shoot me, but maybe no one was home, so I got off lucky.

I have been told by my favorite house historian (Hi George!) that this house is a classic example of Georgian architecture. In his words, "oh my God that's Georgian; yeah, those chimneys, the hip roof and oooooooh the symmetry!....yeah that's Georgian...ooooh I love it!....you see how that roof goes flat and the chimney's on the corners....ooooh-ahhhhhh....!"When I asked him how old he thought it was he said "no way it was built in the 1880s - 1780's maybe but not 1880's..."

Aren't the steps going up to the front so cool? If I lived here, I would have to play dress-up a lot. "War, war, war! Fiddley Dee! If I hear the word War one more time, I'm going to go right in the house." (Oh shush! You know you would be playing Scarlett O'Hara too if you lived in this house!)

Okay, so now you should have a better idea of why I hate to see the 'burbs come creeping and infiltrating, and ruining my beautiful little town. I have focused on showing you this, rather than bore you with the details of my defunct heating/cooling system, and the hoops we will be jumping through to obtain a new system, or the even more stressful (if you can believe it) situation of absolutley HATING my son's fourth grade teacher, at the same time we're trying not to make his life any more hellish than it is already, by going all Outraged Parent on her.

Why not get all up in her Kool-aid, you might ask? Well, its because my own mother did that kind of thing, presumably to help me, but it made life much harder, because then my teacher punished me for the crap my mom pulled. We have our first conference with her (the fourth grade teacher, not my mom!) this week (Wednesday), and we're trying to go into it as serenely as possible. Depending on how it goes, I may be having a "Come To Jesus" meeting with the principal later (Please bear in mind that in five years of school I have never asked for a conference with the principal, so if I have to go there, I obviously think things are pretty bad) (Gack! it makes my stomach hurt just think of having to deal with this..."person" - I won't smudge up my blog, calling her what I WANT to call her, but you can play along with me; just go through the alphabet and think of something nasty to call someone for every possible letter! Ready, Set, Go!