Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Water Games
I try very hard not to harbor any hatred in my heart. Really. I know life is short--sometimes painfully, unfairly so. Therefore, I try to let go and let god, the whole nine...but it would be disingenuous to simply write a little "I [love] it, I [love] it not" note about today's topic.
Because really, I hate the person who thought Marco Polo would be a fun pool game, and would love to have a few words, and maybe a few minutes alone, with him or her.
Marco!!
Polo!!
Really?
Marco!!
Polo!!
In a crowded pool?
Where not everyone is playing? But still needs to endure the shrill, repetitive shouts of Marco, Polo while worrying about colliding with less-than-proficient underwater swimmers who are unable to see (even plus-sized) standing pool waders because--unlike the person who is IT and SHOULD keep their eyes closed but invariably cheats--they swim underwater with their eyes closed.
Nothing says relaxing afternoon at the pool like the repetitive screams of Marco, Polo by ill-behaved, strangers' children coupled with a ten year old swimming right into your spandex clad crotch.
Good times.
Not.
Down with Marco Polo. And whoever thought of that game: I hate you. With every cell in my body that is trying to relax.
Because really, I hate the person who thought Marco Polo would be a fun pool game, and would love to have a few words, and maybe a few minutes alone, with him or her.
Marco!!
Polo!!
Really?
Marco!!
Polo!!
In a crowded pool?
Where not everyone is playing? But still needs to endure the shrill, repetitive shouts of Marco, Polo while worrying about colliding with less-than-proficient underwater swimmers who are unable to see (even plus-sized) standing pool waders because--unlike the person who is IT and SHOULD keep their eyes closed but invariably cheats--they swim underwater with their eyes closed.
Nothing says relaxing afternoon at the pool like the repetitive screams of Marco, Polo by ill-behaved, strangers' children coupled with a ten year old swimming right into your spandex clad crotch.
Good times.
Not.
Down with Marco Polo. And whoever thought of that game: I hate you. With every cell in my body that is trying to relax.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Linked
Amy just posted a link to my blog in a post about that Boston getaway I mentioned In my last post so I'm feeling like I should have a more recent, maybe more lengthy, post for her readers who might stop by. But, quite frankly, with no disrespect to A Couple in the Kitchen readers, this singleton is in the throes of housework--some that I have neglected, some preparations for Deanna's visit-- that I'd like to get done in time to go out this afternoon with Amy for Happy Hour.
You can understand my dilemma, no? Thanks for that.
And thank you, too, Amy.
PS As much as I love my iPad, it certainly has limitations--particularly in trying to blog on it. I couldn't get the link where I wanted it and I can't upload photos. Forgive me the oddly placed link to A Couple in the Kitchen and inability to post a photo.
You can understand my dilemma, no? Thanks for that.
And thank you, too, Amy.
PS As much as I love my iPad, it certainly has limitations--particularly in trying to blog on it. I couldn't get the link where I wanted it and I can't upload photos. Forgive me the oddly placed link to A Couple in the Kitchen and inability to post a photo.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Off and Running...and Relaxed
Wow. I thought I'd start writing more once vacation started but this is only my first post. In my defense, I've been doing things--fun things-- since it started. It is vacation after all. I've been to the beach both weekends (different beaches) and I've been to Boston with Amy. I've been poolside with good books and out to dinner with good friends. In between I have gotten started on some house projects before too much time gets away from me (and before Deanna arrives next week to stay for a few days). I have been staying up later than normal and sleeping in when I can.
Meanwhile, my left knee has stopped hurting. I haven't had a migraine, nor have I felt my blood pressure surge. Not once in 11 days--even when the concierge didn't answer the phone.
I [heart] vacation.
Meanwhile, my left knee has stopped hurting. I haven't had a migraine, nor have I felt my blood pressure surge. Not once in 11 days--even when the concierge didn't answer the phone.
I [heart] vacation.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Fifteen Years
When I drove away from school yesterday it turns out I did not screech my tires while blaring Led Zeppelin with my windows down. Instead, I drove away quietly with a "15 years of Teaching Service" stickpin in my purse.
After an early dinner out I came home and poured myself some cheap white wine and played iPad games. And even though I wanted to stay up later just because I could, I went to bed at 10, still thinking, Wow. Fifteen years.
A stickpin.
After an early dinner out I came home and poured myself some cheap white wine and played iPad games. And even though I wanted to stay up later just because I could, I went to bed at 10, still thinking, Wow. Fifteen years.
A stickpin.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Almost Done Whining for a While
I promise I'm almost done whining about school for a few months. Really. My last day with students was yesterday, but teachers have three more work days, so I'm feeling okay about one more post that tells it like it is and is therefore void of a whole lot of sunshine and sing-song.
A couple of weeks ago I hit that wall, when sleep was no longer restorative. I went to sleep tired; I woke up tired. I often woke up in the middle of the night and tossed and turned and worried about school things--finishing up curriculum, getting final exams ready, end-of-year evaluations. Weekends were no longer enough to refresh me for a few days. Amy and I started "going out" more often. The countdown seemed endless.
All the while (some) students continued to be a daily challenge, only now they were also distracted by prom and nice weather and wanting summer as much as the rest of us. Some days I felt like I did on the ill-planned occasion I was trying to walk from Kenmore Square back to Simmons when a Red Sox game let out and I was walking against swarm of people headed for the T.
That part is over now. The masses have gone. My finals are corrected and my grades have been submitted. Now the hard part will be the three professioanl develoment days we have left that will feel more like three days of teacher detention.
At 2:25 Wednesday afternoon I will do my best not to hoot and holler and screech my tires as I drive away...but I won't make any promises there.
A couple of weeks ago I hit that wall, when sleep was no longer restorative. I went to sleep tired; I woke up tired. I often woke up in the middle of the night and tossed and turned and worried about school things--finishing up curriculum, getting final exams ready, end-of-year evaluations. Weekends were no longer enough to refresh me for a few days. Amy and I started "going out" more often. The countdown seemed endless.
All the while (some) students continued to be a daily challenge, only now they were also distracted by prom and nice weather and wanting summer as much as the rest of us. Some days I felt like I did on the ill-planned occasion I was trying to walk from Kenmore Square back to Simmons when a Red Sox game let out and I was walking against swarm of people headed for the T.
That part is over now. The masses have gone. My finals are corrected and my grades have been submitted. Now the hard part will be the three professioanl develoment days we have left that will feel more like three days of teacher detention.
At 2:25 Wednesday afternoon I will do my best not to hoot and holler and screech my tires as I drive away...but I won't make any promises there.
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