Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Trash to Treasure?

My next project is this primitive pie safe that has been waiting for me in my parent's basement.

I have been looking for something to display my Lu-ray dishes, McCoy vases and some other old bowls and things I have acquired over the years. 

I like it. Tony isn't so sure. I can tell by the quick intake of breath followed by a just as quick 'Nevermind'. 
His acceptance of my love for things with 'hidden potential' is one way I know he loves me so I just pretend not to notice. 

 The drawer is original but the shelves have been replaced at some point.  Even so, they were pretty dirty.  This picture was taken after I washed them off in the kitchen sink.  My motto has always been: Why work outside in the weather when you can work inside?  With a nice t.v. show in the background.
I love the remnants of screen left clinging to the doors and the way the latch has worn a groove in the wood.  I'm not going to replace the screen and I won't repaint it a shiny white. At the most I may give it a wash of blue. I like it just the way it is now.

This is the last thing my mother gave me. My mom was always generous and loved giving. We shared a fascination for all things old and she loved to tell me the history of the treasures she came across.

I grew up surrounded by antique furniture and as a result I find it difficult to purchase something that doesn't have a story.
Each piece of furniture from my childhood had a name...Mamaw's dresser, Nan's spool chest, Uncle So and So's whatchamacallit...I didn't have time to hear the story of this old pie safe.  Mom was already sick when she gave it to me.

I guess it will known as Grandmother's pie safe from the basement.

I miss her so.

Just sayin'.................

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Get a Job!

Today I confiscated a mangled paper clip from one of my students.

As I dramatically implored the precious angels to refrain from twisting all of my paper clips completely out of shape and to place them unharmed on my desk one of my little sweeties said,
“Yeah, cuz they costes alot of money and you don’t have any money!”

They may have heard that very comment some other time.
Possibly uttered by an adult.
Maybe in reference to the excessive use of glue.

Anyway, the others around her nodded with concerned looks on their faces and one little girl piped up with,
“My mama says she doesn’t have enough money.”
I nodded my head and solemnly added,
“I don’t have enough money either.”

We all gazed sadly at each other contemplating our mutually, pitiful financial state and the possibility of life without paperclips.

From the back (where the trouble makers tend to be) came a little voice…..
a little impatient voice.

”Then get a job!”

After I finished laughing I told the students that I DID indeed have a job.

Same location.
Same kid.
Same slightly irritated voice asked
"Then what is it?"

This is the second time this year my students have been shocked to learn that my JOB is to be with them all day!

Earlier this year as we walked out to recess one day I remarked that I just hadn’t wanted to get up out of bed to come to work that day!

You could have heard a pin drop and the entire line came to a halt. They ALL stared at me with confused expressions on their faces and finally one little girl said,

“You have a job?!?!?  What is it?"

I don’t get no respect at all…..

Just sayin

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Normal? Not me.

I have come to the conclusion that no one is 'normal'. 
I know I'm just a little to the side of normal
and you?
You definitely are off the beaten path.

I'm not Kidding.

I freely admit that I must be somewhere on the spectrum of something.

And I'm pretty sure you'll agree.

The following is a list of reasons why I know I need some kind of diagnosis.

I can't abide anything touching my face.
Anything at all.
my hair.

I think everyone at the fabulous Awaken Aveda Spa and Salon knows that my hair is not allowed to touch my face.
they even remind each other of that fact with a straight face. (Such solicitious attention to detail is why you all should grab your phone immediately and call for an appointment. These people are seriously AWESOME which is why people drive from all over the state for an appointment!!!)I'm sure that owner and miracle worker, Cade, knew he was in trouble soon after he introduced himself to me.
It probably became clear to him the minute he asked what I had in mind and I whipped out a picture of......
wait for it......
Yes, I've heard of people bringing in pictures of celebrities....
eh, whatever.  I really liked that haircut.

How about this little nugget...

Both bottom and top sheet must be wrinkle free in order for me to sleep. Nightgowns wrap around my legs and trap me so t-shirts and tank tops are all I can sleep in. I will apologize for waking you up when I get out of bed to straighten sheets but I.will.straighten.them.

Most tags must be removed from my clothing and I have been known to remove a tag while still wearing the offending article of clothing! Many a blouse has been ruined due to itchy tags and impatience.
I like to think that my skin is just a bit more delicate than most.

This next little hinky dink (that's an official educational term I'll have you know) is unfortunate for someone in my profession.

Repetitive noises, especially those favored by the six and under age group, make.me.want.to.be.violent! I have a rule in my classroom.
It's called
No weird noises.
It covers humming one note for hours, tapping, clicking your tongue, kicking the table leg that rattles, nonsensical sounds or fake mechanical noises.

Most little kids are nice about it.

My husband finds it ridiculous. He can pop his gum louder than the sonic booms caused by the aircraft in our area and if I so much as flinch he gives me the...
'you are so dumb' look.
And continues.

It makes me want to lock him in a small room and blast rap music or songs with repetitive lyrics at him.

Much like Sheldon, a character of one of my favorite sitcoms, The Big Bang Theory, I like to sit in one spot.
Surrounded by my stuff.
In my big chair.
Unlike Sheldon, I will not make you get up and move.
But I will wish that you would anyway.

I constantly rock, sway, wiggle and jiggle.
I like to say that I am fidgety.
The rocking started after I became a mother and discovered the joy of rocking small people.
I just haven't been able to stop.
My children won't allow me to rock them anymore so I blame them.

I can't eat anything slimy or anything I perceive as slimy like raw oysters or boiled okra.
Yes, southerners really do boil that stuff and eat it.
On purpose. (Great big shudder)
My mom tried all of my childhood to make me love the stuff.
All I can say is Thank God for big brothers who can be really sneaky.
Also if you live on Fairmont Rd in Greenville, SC there might be a really great compost heap in your side yard just beyond the driveway.
Just sayin......

Also, my socks have to reach all the way to my knees and must not wrinkle in my shoes. As I prepare to put on a new pair of sock I tell them that I am not afraid to throw them away.
It seems to help. 

One of my earliest memories is of nearly pushing my father (who is not a violent man) to commence beating me because he refused to tell me which frilly white church sock went on the right foot and which one was for the left foot. To this day, I know there is
WAS a difference.
Just sayin......

I refuse to take any liquid medication.
I twirl my hair.
I overuse nasal spray because if I can't breathe through my nose I'm convinced I'm probably near death.
I need white noise to sleep.
I don't like the sound dogs make when they lick themselves.
Someone reading over my shoulder makes me a little more crazy.
I love, love, love Star Wars, and fantasy novels.

Don't let my underwear crawl.

Just sayin....................

PS-Feel free to confess your own personal hinky dinks in the comments. I shouldn't be out here alone.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Dear Judy

I do not pretend to understand why you
have suffered so.

So much of life on this earth
is a mystery.

Thank you for such a brilliant
example of quiet

Watching you love the hardest of
all to love taught me to look for
the good in all children.

It taught me that a soft answer
speaks louder than the scolding
voice I too often use.

Judy, for ever more, when I hear
the words grace, genteel or lady
it is your face, your smile and
your example that will come
to mind.

You have fought a beast we
all fear and loathe.

You have fought hard and well
with a courage that has bolstered
those around you.

On behalf of all the children and
parents you have blessed and the family,
friends and co-workers you have loved....

Thank you and we love you, Judy!

We will keep praying for you.
We will pray for peace
and for a miracle.

Just sayin'........................

Monday, November 1, 2010

A Letter to the Crud

Dear Russell Elementary Virus Crud,

You are not welcome here. Please go away!
I shouldn't even be talking to you now.
I am immune to any puny little
grade school virus.

I really don't know how you snuck past
my ninja like immune system.
I find it rude and inconsiderate.
I should have know this morning would end badly
when my sweet faced student told me that she was sick with

'the phlegm'

but she came to school anyway.

The headache you have given me is
And I know headaches!

Last night the throbbing woke me up.
That was totally unnecessary.
I could have been sleeping but NOOOOOO
I had to run through all of my self-diagnosis
procedures to be sure that I hadn't suddenly
developed a brain tumor. 

Like any good teacher I tried to work.
I really did. Remember I like those little people
who spend their days with me. I tell my colleagues that
school will go on just fine without them and that
the kids will survive a day or two without us.
But none of us really believe that. We know society as
we know it could easily fall apart if we take a day off.

However, when I realized I  was seriously considering
teaching from a prone position on the floor
I thought I'd better consider
alternative plans.

I hate you Crud.
I mean it.

You see, worst of all you attacked the husband.
Now we have to share the sick bed.
And it makes me feel guilty when he
manages to get some stuff done around here 
while I just lay around and moan.

Well, not really.

He was in the military. I'm pretty sure they got
some special training for times like this.
I'll bet he has special forces training in
combatting 'the pleghm'.

Just sayin'...............