Rambo Shop

I admit it. I used to Rambo Shop.

Do not confuse this with Commando shop. Trying on clothes with no underpants is just NASTY!

Ewww.

But I did Rambo shop. Especially when I was with my mother and sister. We would set off at some AM time and travel a half hour to an hour away because everybody knows that it is hard to find clothes in Mac town. Anyway... we would set off on a LIS/SIS operation. (long inseam/short inseam) Pants were the goal and we were going to do anything that it took to get them.

Upon arrival we would relieve ourselves of the soda that we had consumed in transit. That my friends is the last time we would see a bathroom for the next 8-10 hours.

The next 3 hours would be spent following my little sister around trying on sizes that I couldn't get my left calf into.

All by itself.

Alone.

Then she would find sweet success in a store for tiny people with short legs, and the search for the 36" inseam pants would begin. After several strike outs I would wind up with something akin to capri's and resign myself to what would would become the 6 1/2 year search for khaki pants. (Seriously... from my junior year of high school to my first year of teaching I searched for khaki pants. Gap On Line $19.99 my saving grace.)

After the Three to Four hour search for long pants my mother would walk into Christopher and Banks, and at this point my sister and I would set up a fox whole in the dressing room next door to hers and would randomly comment on the nasty leftover fast food we found under the bench in the dressing room. Food that could only be seen when laying on the bench with legs up in the air resting on the wall.

I will have you know that my legs were up in the air in order to drain the blood that had collected in my swollen feet back to my head.

27 tops and 15 pants try ons later one of us declares mission accomplished, and we all decide that our throbbing heads must mean that our blood sugar levels have hit rock bottom along with our spirits. We would then head to a restaurant where we would go straight to the bathroom and then to our booth. Food would then be consumed in glorious quantities and we would travel home exhausted and victorious.

Victorious we would show dad our purchases in all of their glory and he would say his usual "Well, that's neat." and "I like that's" or my sister's personal favorite, "That's interesting... are you going to wear something over/under that?"

Rambo women we certainly were. Refusing to support our physical well being all in the Blessed name of Shopping.

Oooooo I'm mad

So,
Last year I wrote a grant for $2,500 and I actually got it. I have been anxiously awaiting my instruments arrival. I have also been calling and e-mailing the company to see why I don't have them yet.

They haven't contacted me to let me know why I don't have them.

I found out today it is because they lost the purchase order, and now I have to wrangle the SEF to send another purchase order.

I swear never to order from this company again. Grrrrrr. If I buy from them it will be in person. IN PERSON!!!

THE END

No words

Ok,
You know when you meet a kid and at first you think, Hm... cute kid but a little dense. Then after a while you think, Hm.... this kid is still cute but a few fries short of a happy meal. Then after an entire year of interaction something happens that seals the deal. This kid is cute... but seriously... Nothing capital N is happening upstairs. Nada.

Zip.

Ok, Mrs. Music is teaching first grade. We are watching a clip of Louis Armstrong because he is our composer of August. Anyway this little guy leans over and whispers,

"Teacher, (because he can't remember my name, not even my unmarried name)Why do you like music?"

"I Don't know, (I reply) But I love it. I really do love music."

"Oh," (he says his eyes lighting as if he has grasped a new level of knowledge)
"That is why they call you the music teacher~!"

Wow.

After a year and a month of me teaching him music he figures out that they call me the music teacher because I like music.

Wow.

Don't you hate it

Don't you hate it when you get a good idea for a blog, and then your life gets so busy that you can't remember your good idea a all?

Me Too.

Not only is it a good idea, but it also has an awesome catchy title which is sure to make all Internets who are not regular readers stop and glance after hitting the random "next blog" button.

Really stinks.

Just like my classroom.

"Like School Corn."

As in "Mrs. Music, Why does your classroom smell like school corn?"

Indeed, I do not know.

School Daze

You know that old song "School Days?"

Well, I don't either.

But I do know that I wouldn't have named it "School Days" I would have named it "School Daze." Because it does seem like the beginning of school is a daze.

I am using my shorter than short lunch break to type this (10 minutes to scarf down food, and 10 minutes to communicate with the 10 Internets out there who read this blog.)

So far I have had an excellent fifth grade beginning.
A par for the course second grade start.
A troubling third grade kick off.
And in kindergarten town little Susie Sunshine announced that,

"This is boring"

I wanted to say, "Duh, of course it is boring. We are learning how to make a circle because average child IQ has dropped an approximately 50 percent and you my dear are the only student in class whose parents both played with her which put you in the top 90 percent in class and did not teach her common manners."

Instead I said, "Why little Susie Sunshine, that is not a very kind thing to say, and we will move on to more fun things in just a moment." (in the happiest fake voice you ever did hear."

All in all not a bad day, especially since this year the kindergartners actually made a circle on their second try!

Astounding