We need to move, pronto.

So I was out in the backyard playing ball with Dog 1 and Dog 2. Penny, who has the attention span of, say, a mosquito, quickly lost interest in the numerous balls cluttering our backyard, and decided to start barking like a loon at the two foofy white dogs that live in the house behind us. The two foofy white dogs began to bark back, the three of them proceeded to have, what I'm sure was a really nice, albeit loud conversation.

I noticed a girl come outside with the two foofies, chasing them around the in-ground pool and yelling their names. I wondered how old this girl was. From her clothes and hair, she looked about the age of one of my students. 15 or 16, I thought, hahaha.

When Penny's barking got excessive, and even Rex was looking at me like "shut her up already". I went over to the fence to grab Penny, and I thought, geez that girl looks really familiar. But my eyes are not the greatest and I've never even met the people who live in that house. Then, just as I was about to pick up Penny, I hear, clear as day "Hi, Mrs. !! " Oh No! My heart sank. Shit.

"I thought you looked familiar", I said. Still thinking, WTF!!! "Do you live here?", I said. "No, my aunt and uncle do." WTF!!! Not only is one of my fourth graders spending vacation in Newington, she's spending it in my backyard!! Crap.

Then this morning, as it snowed, I was back in the yard with Dog 1 and Dog 2. And just as before I hear, "Hi Ms.!!" Is she watching me from the window? Is anything sacred for the rest of the week? I guess I'd better think twice about taking the dogs out while still in my pj's. Crap.

Kicker is, that house just sold about a year ago for 400 something thousand dollars. Which means, my fourth grader lives in ghettoville, while her mother or father's brother or sister live in an almost half million dollar house. Really? Spread the wealth people, and get her out of my backyard while you're at it.

Happy Holidays

I must really love you if I'm showing you this picture.

This is what I plan on doing for as much of my vacation as is absolutely possible. Laying in bed, dogs keeping me company and my laptop not far from reach. Its going to be a great week.

My absolute favorite movie of the holiday season is "Its a Wonderful Life". It has always been my mom's favorite and I could probably recite it word for word. In fact, when I was with the family on Christmas day when it was on TV, my mom started asking questions about it, trivia of sorts. I was impressed with how much I knew. This is one of my favorite quotes from the movie. It is so true.

I hope that all of my friends had a wonderful holiday. I am thankful, grateful for each one of you.

The one where I pat myself on the back

If you thought I was cool before (and you know you did), there should be no doubt after you see what I have done. Just when I thought I had done all that I could do (Turkey Cupcakes), just when I thought I had met my culinary match, I found "the decorated cookie"~ My new favorite blog. Here Meaghan Mountford (who apparently is famous) takes things that are premade and/or very simple to make and makes them fabulous! And as I searched her site for past entries, I found what just might be the greatest idea anyone ever had.

Sushi cookies.

I don't want to give away any secrets, but it couldn't have been any easier. Debilicious loved them, and I've got to say that I was quite proud of myself. What baking feat shall I try to conquer next? Only time will tell.

In the meantime I say in the words of Debilicious "Merry Chritmas to all, and to all a good night."

Btw, I am very tempted to scan and post pictures of Debilicious and I from our mall adventure last night. We did the photo booth and, well, the results were a bit risque... Let's just say my husband will never look at D or I the same way again...

That's me!

That's me! Conducting my concert! They did a really great job!

After my chorus sang, each grade sang a song and they were awesome too!

Then, on Friday, Santa came to school and each grade sang for Santa. It was a wicked long day, but I really loved it. Its tiring, but so fun to lead the school in a sing-along. Fun, fun.

The one where I air some dirty laundry

Did you ever have one of those days (or weeks, or months even) when you cry at the drop of a hat, for practically no reason at all? I've been having one of those days (weeks, really). I really thought that once the play was over at school and we got Penny (isn't she the cutest?) things would calm down for me. Instead, I feel more irritable than ever.

I'm back to feeling like no one likes me at work, feeling like everyone is talking about me. Feeling like I've done something wrong and I am going to get in trouble. And you know what the worst part is? I absolutely know that it isn't true! I can sit and rationalize that I've done nothing wrong, that its all in my head; and yet I still worry and get all worked up about it. For example, today is our Winter Concert. Long story short, today was the original date, then we had a snow day last week and the instrumental teacher who is only at our school once a week took it upon himself to make a new flier and change the date to tomorrow (Thursday), which is what we would have done in past years. However, Joe Cool instrumental teacher never consulted with the principal about this and therefore the principal was pissed that the date had been changed without his knowledge or consent. Now I emailed the principal the day we were out for snow and said "La la la, this is how we've done it in the past, is that okay, blah blah blah" Did the principal see that email? Of course not. So because Joe Cool instrumental teacher assumed (and we all know what that does) the principal was pissed. No where in there did I do anything wrong, and I know that. But I got all worked up that the principal would think that I had gone behind his back and that I am some good for nothing piece of crap. So I actually went up to the principal and explained this to him; that I would never do something like that without consulting with him, that I was sorry for the confusion, that it was my fault for not putting a snow date on the flier. He just nodded at me and I ended up feeling worse.

My husband loves me very much. I know this. We have a great relationship and hardly ever fight. I know this. He works hard all day and then goes to the gym because it makes him feel good about himself. I know this. And when he gets home from work, he's tired. I know this. But, I'm tired too. I worked all day too. I get home and run around doing errands and make dinner and try to get the puppy to poop outside. This I also know. I know he loves me and I know he appreciates everything that I do, but sometimes I don't *feel* it. Instead I feel worn out, worn down and just plain tired. And then I get cranky, and it gets worse. Maybe he looks at me the wrong way, or says something in a way that triggers something in my head, or maybe he leaves crumbs on the counter (again), or maybe, just maybe, the puppy keeps jumping up on his lap to cuddle with him or snuggles in between his legs in the bed when she was suppose to be *my* lap dog. And I lose it. And I go in the bathroom and I cry. (My eyes are welling up as I reread this, by the way.)

For the last seven years I've been on an anti-depressant call Celexa. How ironic that seven years is how long I've worked here in The Black Hole. Coincidence? I think not. In our feeble attempt to get pregnant, Gordo and I decided that I would slowly come off of the medicine. Its not something I would ever want to be on for the rest of my life anyway and really, what better time than the present. So I slowly weened off. Gordo was never thrilled with my being on it to begin with. Natural remedies, he says. And now here I am, almost two weeks chemical free. And so the other night when I was teary and Gordo couldn't imagine what he could have done wrong, I said, "Don't forget I'm not taking that medicine anymore. There's a good chance I'll be more [and I searched for the right word] irritable and sensitive."

I certainly hope that my body readjusts and figures out that I don't want to be crying all the freakin time. Cause I don't, for the record.

The day we got him

So today's the day I've been waiting for all week. Saturday. Sat-ur-day!! And as I wait, with an anxiety induced stomach ache, for the moment to come when we leave the house to pick up the new addition to our family, I am thinking about the day when we got Rex. Two and a half years we've had this furry monster in our home, in our lives, in our hearts. I look at the pictures of the day we got him and can't believe he was ever that small. Hummm.. Do I sound like a mom? Thinking back to the days her child was an infant, as they now get ready to graduate kindergarten? *Sigh* I love my Rex.

This was his first picture. How could you not love that face?

I mean, seriously.

Seriously.

In a few hours you'll be a big brother, pup. I can't wait!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!!

First snow day!! Woot woot!!

You know what I hate about the winter? Dry skin. Every year I dream of soaking in a bath tub full of body lotion or body cream. (Oh how I love body cream!! So thick and creamy!!) I feel like I put lotion in places that really shouldn't even need to be lotioned. Every year I get bruises on my calves from constantly scratching at the same place over and over.

But you know what I love about winter? Snow days. While you know there's a storm coming (from both the forcasters and the way kids/dogs/adults behave) it is like an early holiday gift, waking up in the morning not knowing if you need to actually get out of bed or not. Oh how I love that little blue scroll at the bottom of the screen! I sit, wide eyed at 5:45am waiting for the W's to come up. (All those St.'s really piss me off) I feel like a little kid. The new NBC30 commercials are spot on. Kids sitting in front of the TV in their pj's, dramatic looks of anticipation on their faces (and in the music) and then~boom~ they jump up, they hug and rejoice! No school! No school!

I am loving this week. What a wonderful thing to be able to say, by the way. I feel like I haven't been loving very many weeks lately. Snow day today (did I mention how exciting this is?), tonight we are trying out a new sushi place, which is hopefully going to be as awesome, tomorrow is just regular and whatever, Friday is our 4th grade place which will finally (thank you!!) going to be over with. Imagine the stress of being asked by the principal to put on a holiday play along with your co-workers, but only two of us really do any of the work and preparation, but everyone will get credit. Grr. Just one of the many reasons I hate that F-ing place. But regardless, it will be performed on Friday and really I think they will do a decent job despite the stress of my partner in crime and I. Then Saturday! Oh Saturday how I am looking forward to you!

Saturday we are getting a new doggie!! She is coming to us via Tennessee and I couldn't be happier. I will certainly write more about this in the coming days, but basically the homeless animal situation in the South is devastating. Therefore, in many cases dogs (and cats I suppose) are brought up to the Northeast in mobile kennels to be adopted. In the South, dogs (and cats I suppose) are rarely spayed and neutered, and therefore run rampid. There isn't enough room in the shelters for all of these animals, so many are put to sleep within 72 hours. But wonderful, loving people will foster them and advertise them on sites such as Petfinder, where wonderful, loving people like Gordo and I will call and inquire, and adopt them. So while there are great pets to adopt here in Connecticut, the situation in the South is a dire one. Not to mention the fact that many of the dogs (and cats I suppose) that are here in the Northeast came from the South to begin with. Rex is actually from Tenn. originally too!

But back to our new pup! She is a dachshund/terrier mix. She is 6 months old. She is about 15 pounds right now. She is cute as the day is long. Now, I know what you are thinking~ A substitute for what we have not been able to acquire in our lives. Honestly? Probably to certain extent. But truly, we've been talking about getting a second dog for quite a while. And maybe current personal circumstances have pushed us to do it a bit sooner than we may have planned. So what! I am so excited about this!! And I haven't been excited about anything in a really long time. Now we know I love my Rex. Love him, love him, love him. But Rex is not a lover. Rex is not a cuddler. Rex is a "I want to be in room with you and know that you are there for me, but please don't put your hands on me and I definitely don't want to lay on the couch and cuddle with you." Oh how I long for a dog who will cuddle with me. Let me lay my face into the crook of their fuzzy little neck. The foster mom said she was a cuddler and I was sold. And the little face! How could you not fall in love with a little dachshund/terrier mix face? I'm in love and I haven't even met her yet.

Oh, her current name is Bella, but we will try our damnedest to get her to respond to a new name (I won't tell yet!). My brother's bipolar Kujo/sweetheart of a Jack Russell is named Bella, and my partner in crime has a Pug named Bella. Too many Bellas.

Did I mention how much I love this week??

Excited!

Exciting things are happening here at the Gordo house!!

I don't want to say too much, but something, or someone, might be coming here. I don't want to give anything away, but it might be wicked cute, it might be furry and it might have a Southern accent.

I've said too much already.

I'm kind of a big deal

Turkey Lurkey

In a year where I feel like I have spent an endless amount of time complaining and wishing for what I don't have, I am so, so, so thankful for what I do have. As Sheryl Crow said, "Its not having what you want, its wanting what you've got." And I want what I've got and I love what I've got.

I am so thankful for my husband. I love my husband. I love that I know, with little uncertainty that he loves me. Does he always do the right thing? Say the right thing? No. But he loves me and he would go to the ends of the earth for me. Did you know Gordo is afraid of needles? Hates them, in fact. He went with me last weekend when I needed to get bloodwork done. I was nervous and he went with me, and while he didn't actually go in the room with me, he totally would have if I hadn't told him at the last minute that he didn't need to. Even though he's totally afraid of needles. Because he loves me. Gordo and I have been through so much together in the last year and a half. He has truly been my rock. Did you know that on one of our first dates, we were watching X-Men in the movie theatre and I look at him watching the movie and I thought to myself "I could look at this man for the rest of my life". Yup, I think I just might do that.

I am so thankful for my Rex. Nuf said, I love that stupid mutt.

While they drive me nuts, and half are nuts themselves, I am thankful for my family. And for Lee's. I am thankful that they are healthy, and that those who are ailing are finally able to get past whatever was holding them back and are on the right track. I am thankful for my mother and sister who are so much more than I ever gave them credit for. They have been more supportive to me in the past year than I ever could have imagined.

I am thankful for my own health. While things may not always go as planned, I know that I am healthy, and so is Gordo.

I am so grateful for music. I am grateful for singing at the top of my lungs in my car, and more than anything in the world, I am thankful for how that makes me feel. I am grateful for showtunes, even the bad ones. I am thankful for Sheryl Crow and Fiona Apple, Dave Matthews Band and Maroon 5, Beethoven and the Barber Violin Concerto. I am so thankful for these people who I will probably never meet, but who will forever hold the ability to make me smile, scream, laugh, cry.

I am thankful for my job. I am thankful that I have one, and I am thankful for the one I have, regardless of how much I hate it at times. The seven years I have spent at this job have, with out a doubt, helped to make me the person I am.

I have awesome friends. I am grateful for them, because that has not always been the case. I am grateful that someone would think about my feelings when something wonderful has happened to them, and would be so thoughtful in how to approach me with it. I am thankful that I could then call my other friend and just cry and talk and she could make me laugh. I am thankful for a good friend at work that I can trust. I am thankful to have girlfriends in my life that I love.

I'm thankful for Top Chef, Glee, Heroes and The Office.

I'm grateful that I decided to start playing clarinet again. I didn't realize how much I had missed it.

Oh, and I'm so, so grateful to still be able to eat sushi. And blue cheese. And drink a couple of beers.

Tick tick go away

I love dogs, but ones thing that scares the bejezus out of me is scary dogs. Dogs that snarl. Dogs that growl.

Rex is a dog that doesn't like to be fussed with. He likes his space. I am a person who needs space, so I am understanding of this. When Rex isn't feeling well or has something that hurts him he *really* doesn't like to be fussed with. Like, get your hands off me you stupid person.

As stated in a previous post, Rex has a fondness for walking through, peeing on, and lately, pooping in, big piles of leaves. This is nothing new from previous years. What is new though is the amount of ticks he has picked up this year. Maybe he is extra sweet and juicy this year. He doesn't like to be fussed with, and he will growl and snarl as the tick is being removed. Growl and snarl to the point where I have to leave the room and Gordo does this on his own. He sounds so awful. Not the dog I love and adore. He becomes *like an animal*. Finally we realized that if I stayed out of the room with my bad energy (thanks, Cesar Milan) Rex would be fine and Gordo could get the tick out.

This morning Gordo found a tick on Rex's foot. The bottom of his foot. Did I mention that Rex doesn't like to be fussed with? Oh, and he doesn't like when you touch his feet. Bad combination. After what felt like forever, and Gordo getting his hand scratched and cut up, we did it. We went to Petco and bought a muzzle. He's such a good dog. Truly he is. Problem solved. No, problem not solved. He squirmed and growled and tried his damnedest to get that muzzle off. Dee and Bee said to sit on him, hold him down with our weight. Hard to do when he's already pissed and won't sit down, let alone lay down. The tick doesn't seem to bother him when he walks, he licks it a bit, but it doesn't seem bothersome. It is so hard to see my dear dog who I love so much growl and snarl and be so angry. I'm sorry Cesar Milan, I am not the pack leader. I am not the alpha dog.

You'll love this story

I strongly believe that the earlier people put up their Christmas decorations, the more ridiculous the decorations tend to be. For example~~ there's a cute little house up the street from us that has been on and off the market for over a year. Finally some people with New Jersey plates moved in a few weeks ago. Last weekend, Gordo and I noticed them putting poles in the ground in the front of their yard. Fence, we thought. The next morning, I left to go to work and there it was. Great. Big. Candy. Canes. And then I looked closer. Teeny. Tiny. Snowman. ON Candy Canes. And the tour de force~ Santa. A very lifelike scary Santa.

I was mesmerized by this monstrosity. So, I took Rex for a walk and brought along my camera. As I shot the Scary Santa photo, Mr. New Jersey came out to get his mail. I probably jumped three feet in the air. "We love your decorations!" I said through my embarrassment. (By 'we' he probably thought I meant Rex and I). "Very festive!" I said, digging myself deeper into my hole of shame. "Thank you very much" said Mr. New Jersey. "Not even halfway done." "Really?" I said, trying not to sound shocked. "Not even halfway" He said again. "Looking forward to it" As Rex and I walked away. I was, and am, embarrassed for myself for getting caught taking pictures of this man's gaudy lawn decorations, but equally embarrassed for his lawn and home that it has to endure this nonsense for the next several weeks. I mean, its not even Thanksgiving. *Let me be clear that this isn't a religion thing. I really do like tasteful Christmas decorations. I love ornaments and Christmas trees. I love me a good Christmas carol. In fact, I really love a good Christmas carol. Even a bad one, really. But Christmas decorations should be reserved for after Thanksgiving. And I'm not biased against bad decorations. Good ones should wait too. Good decorations just seem to understand that they need to wait.

By the way, these pictures would have been much better had I not been caught in the act.

Dear Rex

Dear Rex,

Your father and I love you very much, but we need to talk about a few things.

First, why is it, dear dog, that you are sound asleep at 6am during the week, but wide awake at 6am on the weekends? You wake up with your father at 5:45 to share oatmeal, and then you go back to sleep. During the week I *need* to leave the house by 7. You, my dear pup, stretch and yawn, and it seems to take all levels of effort to get you outside to pee and/or poop. You drag and look extra cute in your exhaustion. On the weekends though, dear dog who we love so much, you are beaming with life and energy at 6am. Barking, balls squeeking, paws pawing. Please explain, dear doggie, what the difference is between 6am Monday through Friday, and 6am on Saturday and Sunday.

Next, when your father and I are in bed and you are laying at the end of the bed, and we *accidently* kick you, forcing you off the bed, this is not a cue for you to jump back up, or bark, or paw at us. When we then close the door, this is not a cue for you scratch at the door, or cry outside of the door. While we know that you have never, and will never, know what sex is like, we on the other hand do, and therefore we pretend to kick you to get you off the bed and close the door on you. You'll get over it.

Why is it, my favorite dog in the world, that you can always *always* manage to get the ball stuck under the couch? Or the bed? Or anything it will go under rendering you unable to get at it?? Why can't you stick your paw under there and get it out, just the way I will with my arm? And when the ball gets stuck under said obstacle, why do you feel the need to bark at where the ball is? And bark and bark and bark. And bark. And then bark some more. Can we teach you to talk like a person? Things would be so much easier.

We love you very much, pup. When I say things like "I will end you" or "You smell", its all in love. Thanks for the talk. I feel much better now.

Love,

Mommy and Daddy

The World Series

I never would have thought I'd be married to a sports guy. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with sports guys, or sports people in general. But the thing is, there were no sports in our house growing up. I mean, I played basketball for a while (we never won a game) and my sister played softball for a bit, but no sports in the house really. My father wouldn't know baseball from basketball from golf. I don't think he has the patience for it. And because my dad wasn't into sports, my brother never got into it.

But now here I find myself, pretending to care about the World Series, when really I'm just pissed that "Glee" isn't on. Thankfully, Gordo isn't one of those people who's world stops just because of sports. I don't think I could handle someone who needs to be home for The Game. *I can't, The Game is on.* But never the less, he's a Yankee fan and therefore we sit here and watch. And much to my surprise, I do know almost all of the players' names, and not just the famous ones and I understand how it works (it really isn't that confusing). Maybe I actually like this baseball thing. Maybe I just like to look at Derek Jeter.

I also find myself loving football. In high school I was in marching band (of course) which meant football games every fall weekend. But I didn't watch the football. I knew "Flag on the play", but I had no idea what it meant (I still don't, really). Since meeting Gordo, the fall means football. Our tickets come in the mail in mid-August and we get so excited. Our group of friends all call each other and discuss seats and parking and everyone gets pumped. The first few games I went to, I sat, didn't know what was going on and didn't really want to know. And then something happened somewhere in there and I got interested. I got standing up in my seat clapping and yelling interested. The second year that I went to the games I got my blue and white fuzzy hat and this year I got a knitted Uconn hat. Gordo and I have our own tailgate tote this year with all the necessities, and I am learning the ropes of being a good tailgate planner and cook.

So I'm married to a sports guy. And it looks like we might be a sports couple.

And I hope the Yankees win.

I'm exhausted

I'm exhausted.

Tired of being so sensitive about *everything*.

Tired of tearing up over nothing.

Tired of crying over everything.

Tired of waiting.

Tired of counting days.

Tired of looking into my dog's eyes and wishing they were a child's eyes.

Tired of feeling like I've let down my husband.

Tired of feeling like I've let down myself.

Tired of driving my husband crazy.

Tired of feeling guilty that I have a wonderful life, but that I still want more.

Tired of feeling that this one disappointment is constantly effecting every other part of my life.

Tired of my very well intentioned, very loving friends and family asking how things are going, has it happened yet.

Tired of being tired.

I'm exhausted.

Happy Halloween

One of the things I love about Halloween is being able to wear these tights. They are so soft and comfy. And cute!

This year we got a grand total of 10 groups of kids at our house. This surpasses last year by 4. Depressing, however it leaves us with all the left over candy. (We are sure to give away all the yucky candy, like Whoppers, to the kids and keep the good stuff, like Butterfinger and Reese's for ourselves.) Rex sat at the door all night and watched for kids. We didn't even need the doorbell, he let us know the kids were there.


I carved a total of 4 pumpkins this year. With the exception of the last one they all were from stencils. I think the attention to detail nurtured my inner OCD. I found it to be really calming and relaxing.
October 13, 2009

October 24, 2009

October 27, 2009

October 30, 2009

Neediness

One of the things I love about teaching elementary school is the little ones. If I could find a (local) school that was K-3, I would be in heaven. I would love that. I love the neediness of the little ones. I love their eagerness. I love that they aren't afraid to tell you that you are important. Don't get me wrong, there are things that I love about my 4th and 5th graders to. You can talk to them and have an *actual conversation*. But they've lost that neediness, the eagerness, the innocence. Or, perhaps they still have those things, but too wrapped up in wanting to fit in and going through puberty and everything else to show it. The older kids are cool in a different way, but I just eat up that neediness of the little ones. I love the "Can you tie my shoe? Can you zip my jacket? Can I give you a hug?" I love feeling needed. But I suppose, who doesn't?
The other day, a first grader named Tatiana came up to me in the school yard, straight off the bus and embraced me around the legs. I hugged her back, because I always would, and because I so desperately needed that hug. She looked up at me with a big, huge smile and said "I squeezed you tight and you squeezed me tight back." I sure did, I said.
There's a boy in second grade named Anthony. He is always smiling. Always. The kind of smile that makes his eyes squint. On top of which, he's missing 3 or 4 teeth on the top and in their place is a retainer, so he smiles this big Jack o'Lantern grin with a little bit of bling on top of it. I told him that I loved to see him smile and that I was going to call him Smiley. That made him smile even bigger.
There's a couple of girls in kindergarten who have the same sneakers that I have. Black sneakers from Payless. When these girls realized this, they went ape-shit. Every time they see that we are wearing the same sneaks, they tell me and show me and giggle. And they always tell me that they know they are the same because they have a red stripe on the bottom.

Huskies and hot dogs

On Saturday, Gordo and I went to the Pet Show at the CT Expo center. I was in heaven. HEAVEN. I could have stayed there all day. Big dogs, small dogs and dog lovers all around. HEAVEN. *Let it be known that I spent only about $30, not including the ticket and parking. Gordo was proud and shocked by this.*


The woman at the CT Dachshund Rescue let me hold her pup! My next dog will be either a rescued dachshund or a rescued greyhound.


Our very own Jonathan the Husky. He's so handsome in his new bandana. It was handmade by a woman who owns an internet company. I think I may be buying from her again.

How I know its Fall

**Going forward I am going to refer to my friends and family by using cute nicknames and not initials. Any concerns can be directed to managment**

How many times a year can you scrape ice of your windshield at 7am, and have it be 57 degrees at 4pm?? The leaves are so beautiful. The smells are so beautiful. The food is so tasty. Football is awesome and I love fall.


I love these F-ing things. The peanut butter to chocolate ratio on these is amazing. So creamy. So yummy. Luckily for my weight, you can only get these a few times a year, Halloween being one of those times. I heart them.


Newington does this thing where if you rake your leaves down to the curb and put them in a big pile, the will come around once or twice during the season to vacuum them up. An excellent idea, although I have no idea where the leaves end up going. I don't know what it is about those leaves, but something draws my Rex to them. Without fail, he pees on every pile of leaves. Every. Single. Pile. He does it every year. Nutcase.


My Rex is putting on his Winter Blubber, as Gordo calls it. We think he may have actually hit the 80 pound mark. He's become a bit of, well, a horse. This is the time of year when the grass is perpetually wet and muddy and Rex will inevidably track paw prints all over our cream colored carpeting. It also means that when you have something he wants he will do whatever he needs to, to get hold of his possesions, thusly leaving paw marks all over you. In this case I was holding his two favorites, red ball and squirrely.

In other news...

We got Rex a new harness yesterday. When I told the Debinator that it has a fleecyness on the inside, she laughed and told me I was cute. But seriously, the old harness rubbed on his side and his hair was beginning to chafe. Chafe I tell you! There is no way on this earth I will let my pup get a bald spot on his side. As added incentive, in the summer it would rub his "arm pits" and he would get like a rope burn. Listen, until we are blessed with human children, Rex will be treated as the spoiled child. And not for nothing, I think the new harness is quite stylish.

L

Three years ago today L asked me to marry him, just a short six months after we met.
He's still pretty alright. I'll try and keep him around.

Woman vs Man vs Food

I'm sure this is shocking, but L and I love food shows. On the Travel Channel is a show called Man vs Food. The man, Adam Richman, travels around the country trying to break food records set in various restaurants. The 4 pound blueberry pancake is one of my favorites (he didn't finish it) and the cheeseburger the size of a frisbee is memorable as well. Usually he'll find some local schmoe to challenge him and see which of them can eat this ridiculous amount of food. So, L read somewhere that they were going to be taping the show at a hot dog joint called Woody's in downtown Hartford this past Friday, and he was going to have lunch there to check it out. Then Friday morning he saw on Hartfordcourant.com that they would actually be shooting at Doogie's in Newington, also a hot dog joint and much closer to our house. Adam Richman was set to be there between 4:30 and 5:30, so L went to the gym early and he and I met there at 5. Neither of us had been to this place before, and when I say the place is tiny it is an understatement. So we stood in line, outside in the 40 degree weather, for about 40 minutes and waited to get into Doogie's. We finally get in and its about 5:30 and we find out that Adam's not even there yet. People are packed in. PACKED in. So we order our hot dogs, L's with grilled onions, mine with cheese. L got sweet potato fries, I got onion rings. We get our food and we stand there, because there's only about 5 tables and people were just sitting there. So finally some woman comes out and says that unless you are eating, you need to leave because it is a fire hazard. But these people had one little bite of their hot dog sitting there and claimed they were still eating even though that one bite had been sitting there for 30 minutes. Then, because no one got up and different woman came out and said that everyone needed to get out. Unless you were in line, you needed to leave and they would pick people at random to come back in. So L and I once again stood in the cold, this time eating our hot dogs, sweet potato fries and onion rings. Not so enjoyable. Finally, finally, finally, Adam shows up. In a grimy gray van, laying down in the back seat as if he was Brad Pitt. They pull in the parking lot and he lays in the back for a while and then finally, finally, finally gets out. He waves and smiles and says thank you for coming out and watching the show. It turns out he wasn't doing a food challenge at all... he was just there to.. I don't even know, eat a hot dog and maybe talk about the restaurant a bit on his show. Very disappointing, especially since L was all reved up to challenge Adam to a hot dog eating contest of some sort since he had just come from the gym and was set to eat.
So to recap, we spent an hour and a half at Doogie's on the Berlin Turnpike, majority of which was out in the cold. We each ate a cold hot dog and sides. We saw Adam Richman of Man vs Food and he didn't even eat anything. And to top it off he looked a bit like my high school band director. An interesting Friday night.

Paranoia

Years ago I was consumed by feelings of worry. Worried that people didn't like me. Worried that I wasn't smart enough. Worried that I wasn't good enough. Worried. Call it paranoia, call it anxiety, call it a case of the crazies, call it what you want, but what an awful way to go through the day. Whether real or not, I really felt like these fears were based in truth. As time passed and various components came in and out of my life, these feelings subsided and I became a whole person again.
Now here I find myself, again, in this state of worry. However, this time is a bit different. I am X-many years older, which means I am (theoretically) X-many years wiser. I have stressors all over the place right now. Trying to make a baby is more anxiety and depression and stress creating than I could have ever imagined. It brings out feelings of inadequacy that I haven't felt in years. Very trying on yourself, your marriage, your work life. My job is, as previously discussed, not the place I wish it was. It also is not the place that it once was. I used to love school. It was the only place I wanted to be. As the years passed and I gained wonderful things in other areas of my life, school became more of "a job". This year, more than ever before, I feel like I don't belong there. I feel like I don't fit in. Those things are based in truth; it is how I feel. But I also feel like people don't like me anymore. Which sounds childish, but it is how I feel. More than ever before, I feel like I am "just the music teacher". I feel very much that I don't matter. Not from administration, but from co workers. I feel like I walk down the hallway and people don't look at me, let alone talk to me. Are those things based in truth? Maybe, maybe not. But I feel it, and it affects me. I worry about my brother and his health, both mental and physical. But even more than him, I worry about how his health affects my father, and subsequently his own mental health. I worry about my husband, and how his basket-case of a wife affects him. I worry that he doesn't know how much I appreciate and love him. I worry that he doesn't know that he keeps me on my feet.
I worry.

My boys.

This was taken in August at the West Hartford Reservoir, one of our favorite places to walk. Just over 3 miles, the hike goes around the entire reservoir. It is shaded in spots, sunny in others. Flat in some spots, hilly in others. We've seen turtles, snakes, birds, chipmunks. Its a beautiful walk. I love this picture.

The Black Hole

School. The place where I work. The place where I go to make money. Because dog biscuits don't grow on trees, you know.

After an especially long and tiring week, I realized that there hadn't been a blog post devoted to my place of employment, other wise known as, The Black Hole. I also realized, after taking a nap at 4pm almost everyday this week, that hating your job is exhausting. While I would love to show visual proof of every reason I hate my job, I don't think most of my colleagues would like to have their picture taken for my sadistic pleasure. On top of which, their caddy, unprofessional, disrespectful personalities really wouldn't come through in a photo. Visually they really look like ok people.
Being the music teacher definitely comes with perks. No testing is a big one. Standardized tests are the worst thing ever for a child's self esteem. Not to mention the piles and piles of paperwork from continuous testing throughout the year. However, it also has its down sides. Not being considered a Real Teacher is a big one for me. "Why do you have to go to Open House? You're not a Real Teacher." "What do you mean you have a certification? You're not a Real Teacher." Yes, those are real quotes from Real Teachers. I aspire to be a Real Teacher someday. Oh, someday.. Then there's the not being acknowledged factor. Also huge for me. I feel like I could dance on my head and it would A) not be noticed B) someone would look and say condescendingly, "How nice." or C) I would get reprimanded for not dancing on my head correctly. I'm not someone who particularly likes walking down the hall and being ignored, or having a class or kids dropped off at my room and the teacher doesn't even acknowledge my presence. Maybe its me. Maybe I've got the problem?
And then there's My Room. Ah, yes, My Room gets capital letters because it is just that awe inspiring. Let's set the stage. My Room is next to a boy's bathroom used primarily by boys between the ages of 5 and 8. There is no ventilation in said bathroom, so it tends to smell like a combination of mold and piss. An especially nice smell in mid June. My Room is technically not a classroom at all, it is really a basement storage area that was converted into a "classroom" many years ago when the neighborhood population decided to not use birth control, like, ever. A picture is worth a thousand words, so here it is. My Room.

This is the wall of Patriotic songs. Because I actually teach them about our country! Holy Shit!


This is my desk and computer. These are important. It took my 4 years to get an actual desk. Prior to that I had a falling apart table with construction paper on top to cover the rust. It took me 7 years to get the computer. Yep, you did the math right, I just got it this year. Oh to be a Real Teacher...


These are the posters of concerts and performances we've done that I'm proud of. While few people notice, I have accomplished quite a bit in my time in The Black Hole.


This is my door. On the door I have created a collage of pictures of dogs that I have collected from various dog magazines. It makes me smile and it makes me happy. It also is a great thing to use when a kid is getting on my nerves, but not too too out of control. "Why don't you go over and count how many dogs are on my door." They actually do it.


This is the wall that's falling apart. As you can see, the craftmanship is really high quality, so why it would be falling apart I'm not sure. Nevertheless, the kids sit and pick at the paint and cement, which in turn makes a huge mess on the floor that the custodian always seems to forget about. Once, a kid actually pulled a rock off there. A rock a little smaller than a tennis ball. Yes, seriously.


This is the mold that lives behind my stereo. Isn't it pretty? Going forward, I think I will call it Goldie Moldy.


This is what keeps me sane, despite The Black Hole and My Room. (I say "sane", of course, very loosely)


And this too, of course.

He's a Jew

All he needs now is a Bar Mitzvah.

For Deb

Why I blog.
I knew there were a few reasons that I decided to start a blog, but when I actually sat down and thought about it, there was actually a bunch. So, here goes.

*E* I think the blog blossomed from my friend E. She started a blog a while back. She would comment on things going on in pop culture and in the world. It was cool to hear her take on things. Then she started sending emails to her close group of friends sharing things of a much more personal nature. I loved that. (I miss those emails. What happened to them??) As a response to those emails, I started emailing E telling her about things going on in my life. Even just small things, like a snake we saw on a hike. It was not only fun, but inspiring to think back on the day and all of the beauty (and sometimes sadness) it entailed. Writing it down (typing, really) made it somehow seem more real.

*Friends* Friends are something I've never been very good at. No, let me rephrase that. GIRLfriends are something I've never been good at. Actually, let me try one more time. I've never been good at picking good girlfriends. Yes, I think that's accurate. I think I'm a good friend. Actually, I'd venture to say that I'm a great friend. However, that fact tended to bite me in the ass in years past. Looking back to high school, I'm fairly certain those girls were only friends with me because I had a car. Same held true for college too. Girls who wanted me to drop everything to be at their beck and call were my forte, really. Mostly because 99.99% of the time, I would drop everything. I guess because I didn't want them to not be my "friend". Awful really. So in the last year or so, I have come to realize that I now, at 31 years old, have a group of girlfriends who I really believe are my friend, not because of what I can do for them, but for what we can do for each other. Having come to this realization is huge for me. And I want these girls (you know who you are) to get to know me better, cause I'm not always the best at sharing.

*Free Therapy* I'm not ashamed to say it, I went to therapy for a bit before and after college. There are some really, really crappy therapists out there, but if you find the right one, I think it is so, so wonderful. Sometimes it is just really nice to talk to someone who is uninvolved. However therapy is one darn expensive conversation. One of the things I learned in therapy is that a lot of times it is easier to get things out by writing them down, rather than saying it. It is very cathartic to get things off your mind, off your chest. And sometimes it is even more freeing to write things down, even if, or especially, if it isn't intended for anyone to read. It is such a wonderful feeling to write down the story of something that just happened, and sit back and let out a deep breath. Like the anger has left you for a moment. *Ahh*

*Babies* Everyone who reads this blog knows that L and I are trying to make a baby. Everyone knows we haven't had good luck thus far. Everyone knows that I am stressed out just a bit. Once we are pregnant, I will use this blog to chronical the pregnancy. And of course afterwards to show off pictures of Baby Gordon. :o)

So that's why I blog.

Amazing

I saw the video tonight on another blog that I follow, Orcinus Orca Collective. I found it so amazing and touching that I was actually pointing at the computer screen saying "L, you've got to see this!" and "Oh my God!" and "Look! look!". While they are mostly known for Sea World and doing fancy tricks, Orcas are actually one of the greatest predators in the ocean, second only to the Great White Shark. Orcas feed on seals and penguins and other animals about the size of dogs. L and I were just fearful that the dog would eventually jump into the water. I'm actually amazed that he didn't.

Julia Child would be proud

My first quiche! Where did all this cooking and baking come from you ask? I haven't the slightest idea. I've always liked to cook and bake, but it wasn't something I loved and it certainly was never something I researched on the internet. But here we are, many baked goods and one quiche later. I think I put a bit too much broccoli, but other than that, it was quite tasty! L liked it because A) I used Egg Beaters instead of real eggs, B) it contained bacon and C) I was able to convince him that it was at least slightly healthy. He told me to put the knife next to it in the picture so that people would understand its size. Excellent idea.

Attempt # 13

Beginning of the school year brings lots of firsts. First day of school. First full week of school. First long weekend. First time I meet the new kindergarteners. First time meeting the new principal. First set of lesson plans. First paycheck.

September is bringing lots of continuations this year as well. Starting my seventh year of teaching, in this same, lovely school and trying to make the most of it. Continuing to try at lots of things. Continuing to try and be optimistic about all aspects of life, love my husband and dog, family and friends. Continuing to try and love what I have, and not waste time wishing and stressing over what we do not. Continuing to try.

I love fall and the crispness in the air. I love seeing the leaves change and I love football season. I love this time of the year, when it is too cold for shorts, but you can still wear flip flops. Its too cold for short sleeves, but you don't need a coat. I love puffy vests and colorful winter hats that look like they were knitted by someone's grandmother. I love apple picking and pumpkin patches and the smell of those things baking in the oven.

I have found a new fondness for baking and I have no idea where it came from. Luckily for L and I, I have friends to taste these baked goods, as more sweets in the house is not what either of us need. In honor of First Paycheck of the Year I made Kit Kat Bars, a Paula Deen recipe I found on the Heidi Bakes site. My friends at school were impressed. D~ I never did get your review, is it a keeper?

Hot fudge and husbands

My husband came home tonight and from the stairway said to me, "What's wrong with the bookcase?" Huh? "What happened to the bookcase downstairs?" Thinking that Rex had finally decided that marking his territory indoors is a good idea, I told my father, who was on the phone, that I would call him back and ran to see what was up. And there on the bookcase was not only a sunflower bouquet, but also a hot fudge sundae from Stew's. Finally my (not so) subtle cues for spontaneity and little gestures finally paid off. I love my husband. :o) (And no, I don't think he's just trying to get on my good side...)

By the way, if you have not tried the hot fudge sundae at Stew Leonard's, you are totally missing out. Real hot fudge, not the syrup stuff and real, homemade (store made) whip cream. So worth it. I'd show you a picture, but it lasted all of about 30 seconds.