Breaking Bad….or missing Walter White

I loved/hated the five seasons of Breaking Bad.  I couldn't stop watching, but, some of the time, I had a blanket over my head and fingers in my ears.

Walter White thought he was so, so smart.

I worry about people who always think they're right.  ALWAYS!  The rest of us are a bunch of fools in their eyes.  Where do you get a self-concept like that?

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Teaching and learning is a fluid field.  The knowledge base continually changes.  What we know about how people/children actually learn is increasing at a statistically significant rate.  I am more concerned about what a child learns than how the teacher teaches it….that's a fact, Jack.

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We've always done it this way doesn't cut it with me.

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Losers make excuses, winners make commitments.  This might be my personal mantra when things get tough.  No excuses.  Step up to the plate.  Swing for the home run.

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Walter was one heck of a chemistry teacher.  He was bright, he was student focused, his administration loved him--Walter was just going to make enough money to take care of his family.   But Walter got greedy.  He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it.  Walter liked the power.  Walter loved the power.  Walter thrived on the power.

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And the downfall began.

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I've been watching the Walter White's of this world.  Good overcomes evil….but justice sometimes rides a slow, slow horse.

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If this was a story in 9th grade English, your teacher would be asking you for the author's underlying theme.  So, boys and girls, is this really about Breaking Bad?

He wasn't a saint

I've been doing laundry today.  I'm back on half-time and I am not working in the office this week.  I wanted to get back to the garage, unpacking boxes, watching TLC, eating crackers and cheese for lunch…you know, vacation for a school person.

I've been doing lots of laundry….lots of towels.    AND laughing.

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Memories

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Our family has fun.  We laugh.  We play jokes.  We dress up pets.  We punked each other before punking was cool.  Nothing mean.  Nothing nasty.  Good clean fun.

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Late 1990's

I had finished taking a bath.  It had been a long day.  I had soaked my weary bones.  Washed my hair.  Used bubble bath.  And look--there were fluffy fresh towels that had been put out just waiting for me.  Oh, those towels looked nice.  I wrapped one around my wet hair and started drying off with the other one.

Then….. I smelled it.

Wet dog.  I was drying off with the towels that had been used to dry Doc, our sweet Brittany Spaniel….who had been bathed in the same tub where I was bathing….and I was using dog towels.  AND I SMELLED LIKE A WET DOG!

I smelled of "Ode de Wet Dog."  I yelled, "Mike Weaver!"  He was laughing like a wild man-- yep, he'd hung those towels ever so carefully so that I'd smell like dog.  A wet dog.  And old wet dog.   It was a grand prank.

Mike was still laughing after my second shower and second set of CLEAN towels.  And he started watching over his shoulder for what I was going to do in return….he knew it would be coming.  He just didn't know when.


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Three months later, Sally, the calico cat, gave birth to seven kittens in Mike's bed.  Under the covers.

Touche.

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p.s.  I always smell the towels before drying off.  Always.

Conversation with a Four Year Old

Mary Michael can be encouraged to be funny….and she has her Daddy's sense of timing and humor.

Today at lunch was no exception.

I told her that we needed to keep her shirt nice and white.

From the side of her mouth, like WC Fields she quietly quipped, "Like an old polar bear."

She knew it was funny because Uncle Dan and I were howling.

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I can't wait to hear the tales of Pre-K though her eyes.  AND I bet MM's teacher is going to hear lots about our family.  Here's to a great year for all of us!

Inking It- AND I'm not talking about getting tatted up!

Green Ink.

 IT'S Exotic!

Aunt Doris Malloy             &

Chris Kirby

There are some people that dare exotic….they use their ink to convey a message.  Aunt Doris always used green ink when she sent her Christmas cards to our family back in the 1950s…..

&

Chris Kirby always wrote notes and comments to me in the early 2000s in green ink when we worked at CHS.


It's funny how I remember and enjoy their individuality….just because of the color of ink they used.

Thank you both….Erin

If It Sparkles

I'm such a sucker for anything interesting….or shiny….or weird…..or unique.  I am easily distracted.

Really?

I was cleaning my side of the garage when Bill caught me reading an old, old Macon Telegraph.  Clara Eschmann (the food editor) had a story in the Wednesday food section about noodles.  I love a cold noodle salad.  She had written a great article on all the types of noodle salads that the home cook could make.  Okay, I was sitting in the garage in a comfortable chair, listening to NPR, drinking a tumbler of ice cold water….and I had transported myself to Tokyo Alley in Macon where I was vicariously eating Orange Chicken with double noodle salad and no rice.   I know why I kept that article.  Now, I need to put that newspaper some place special so I can use the recipe.

Cleaning and compromising….do I keep the food section?  Yep.

This led me to the memories of Clara.  Clara was a wonderfully creative force who brought Jello Shots to a Telegraph luncheon….she was 80ish and thought the young (anyone under 60) people would enjoy them.  They did.   (I would never tell on her, but she's been dead for 12 years and I admire her spunk.  It is probably not a good idea to bring liquor to work.)

She sparkled.  Clara had, as Mary Richards would put it, spunk.  I love spunk.  Clara saw the good and enjoyed the present.  She passed away in 2002 years but I find myself thinking of the all characters of the Macon Telegraph and the Macon News with increasing frequency.  Many people sparkled and a few of them actually sparked.  But, that's a story for a different blog.

Oh, No. The Toe! (short poem)

Getting out of the swimming pool today, I knocked my middle toe on my right foot funny.  No, I'm not sure how I did it.  I just kind of stubbed my toe really, really hard.

My toe is the purple of lilac bushes in the spring.  

My toe hurts like a son of a gun.  

My toe is swollen like a Hostess Twinkie.  

I think I can say, with complete candor, that I have "toe-li-o."

A Taste of Summer

Yum.  I like summer foods.  Tell me you don't like a fresh tomato from someone's garden.

I got to eat one of the best salads I've ever had…..EVER this past Tuesday!


Linda's Super Salad

Fresh tomatoes--
Red, yellow, heirloom purple….chopped in bite sized chunks

Fresh cucumbers……peeled, chunked

Feta cheese……crumbled over the top

Homemade vinaigrette…..balsamic vinger, olive oil, salt, pepper

Mix with love.  Serve to family and friends.

Add bowl of gazpacho (garnished with Greek yogurt and fresh cilantro) plus fresh corn on the cob with a pat of butter -- this meal is fit for a King (or a Prince….like in "King and Prince!")

YUM!

I Am Going To Hold On

From the lady on the Plane Train speaking in her soothing monotone , "Please hold on as our train leaves the station" to country music crooning to me that  "I Hold On," I've been thinking that this is really profound advice.  It's like the Army's "Few Good Men" or Nike's "Do it", "Hold On" might be my personal theme this summer.

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"Please hold on as our train leaves the station."

Bodies go flying….everytime.

MARTA newcomers are initiated the first time the train pulls out of a concourse stop.  There's always at least one person who falls over.  "I'm cool," they're thinking…."I've got great balance"  Through the air they go!  The Plane Train takes no prisioners.  I then watch the victims carefully, they always hold on tight when the conductor tells them to after their first free fall.

Last week two goofuses tumbled in front of me.  The man squished his own kid and the little girl almost landed in my lap.  As a veteran Plane Train rider, I sit on the bench that says seniors and handicapped.  No way do I want to fall victim to the acceleration whims of the train…I hold on.

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"Hold on" is what most of us do for a living.  I wish I could say that I'm ahead of the game.  I wish I could say I know where I'm going.  (Folks, I 'm lucky if I can tell you where I've been yesterday!) Frankly, I am ready to draw social security and I'm still thinking about my future career(s).  No, I'm not sure what I want to do next.  But, I'll hold on.

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Dierks Bentley sings about his old truck and that "it's the miles that make the man".   We all need to Hold On-- but maybe with just one hand.  The other hand can be used to reach for the stars.  As Dr. Wally Askew always wrote, "Whatdoyouthink?"

Stormy Weather

Life is most definitely a cabaret this time of year in Central Georgia.  Our late afternoon thunderstorms move through the pines and the rain comes in buckets.  I like the rolling thunder….I still don't like the loud crashes though.  I don't like lightening at all….it's not in my make-up.  I wish I could say, "I really enjoy a good thunderstorm."  However, that would be a big lie.

Bill's on the front porch right now-- he loves a thunderstorm.  We talked this afternoon about memories from our childhoods….he thinks of his parents and sisters….sitting on the porch….watching the rains come…warm memories….talking family talk.  His family would watch the rains and enjoy the storms together.

I have a different story.

My universal theme for thunderstorms revolves around one night that I spent at my Grandmother Malloy's home.   It was quite a storm… I was awakened with a splash of Holy Water right in the face.  My Aunt Fannie was running through the house, sprinkling all of us with holy water, and chanting, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us."  I have never been considered slow on the uptake.  I figured out at 5 years old that an retired adult who was trotting around a two story house in the middle of the night administering pseudo Last Rites to all of us probably knew more than I did.  My fear of storms took root that night.

When I went to 4-H over night camp in 7th grade, my mother wrote on my application that I was terrified of thunderstorms.  I was appalled at my short comings but I thought there should be a stronger word than terrified….I needed my own "thunder shirt"-- My plan:  If there was a thunderstorm I would go to the lodge.  Someone would have had to come and get me.  Thankfully, I did not have to resort to Plan B.

I have vivid memories of going on a girl scout camp out….ANOTHER Big Thunderstorm!  The leader said, "Don't touch the tent, it will make it leak."  She didn't have to worry about me touching the tent….I was flat to the ground like a piece of sod.  I can't recall crying, but I do think my skill in math can be directly related to saying the multiplication facts over and over in my head waiting for the storms to be over.  (Look, as a professional, I know it's a little bit on the spectrum but it works!)

So, the moral of this cautionary tale is:

We all bring different things to the table.  Our experiences make us who we are-- for better for worse-- we are the sum of our experiences.  Bill, he'll be watching the clouds and thinking good thoughts.  Me?    Pawley and I will be sitting together on the sofa and I'll be quietly reciting multiplication facts in my big dog's ear.

Figuring Out My Life

Oh, don't get excited.

I'm not sure about my life just like you're not sure about your life.

But, I am sure of one thing.  I'm a "get'er done'er."

Huh?  Listen, I'm truly figuring out what I do for a living.  I get things done.

I might not be the one doing them, but I know how get a task completed.

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This year has been busy.

I've spent a majority of time listening to people and helping individuals….and getting things done.  But, there's lots more to do.  LOTS!

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Missing the "Cat Wrangler" has been a fact of my life right now….

Priorities…..

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I have numerous personal projects which have been put on hold-- a wall of family photos, Mike's memory garden, and my "lids and container" symposium have all been moved to the back burner until I finish this  TOD.

There was an old Central t-shirt that proclaimed, "Winners make commitments; Losers make excuses."

I needed to tell all of you that the Cat Wrangler is still thinking about her blog!  I made a commitment.

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Meow!

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So, I'm at this fancy meeting on the 17 floor of the Twin Towers.  Mature, "I grew up in a small town Erin", was more  intrigued  looking out the window than listening to the questions.  At the end of the meeting, I asked one the Department of Education folks how they got any work done with that great panoramic view of the ATL.  "I don't really look at it much," the person said.

Hmmmmm, that might tell us all we need to know.

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Summer is here.  It's time to enjoy every minute.  Read some great books.  Cook some really good food.  Swim, splash, and float!  Look at the clouds.  Smell the flowers.  Take care of yourself.  Be kind.  Expect the best out of others.  Expect the best out of yourself!

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LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!

Laundry and Dishes are never Done, Being a Woman is Lots of Fun!

Wrestling with a fitted sheet is about all I want to fight some days.


Cleaning the counters and putting dishes in the dishwasher are two of my favorite things.


We have two dogs and three cats.  Sometimes I find enough pet hair hiding in the corners of the rooms that I could "build a pet."


Vacuuming is sometimes fun-- and sometimes it's a chore.


I'm happy I don't have to go down to the creek to wash my clothes.


Is Thanksgiving my favorite meal of the year or is it the meal made with the Thanksgiving leftovers?


Sometimes the refrigerator just gets away from me….okay….the expiration date says "2001" but I don't think it's telling the truth.


I love sweeping the porch.


Hoarding is in my blood.  I'm not proud of it....but do you want to see a note of mine from junior high?


I spent the morning cleaning the window where Raggs waits for me to come home.  When he sees me get out of the car, he licks the window.  I wish there was chicken flavored glass cleaner.

The Rights of Spring

I try to stay apolitical.  I have strong feelings but I think for the most part people want a blog to entertain, relax, and maybe, just maybe make them think a little.

Bill and I finished watching "Breaking Bad"; Molly, the girls and I did some spring shopping yesterday, and today, I'm praising God and thinking about spring rights.

Spring cleaning is a rite.  But, today, I'm concentrating on rights.  Spring RIGHTS!

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It's right to tell the truth.

It's right to pick up after yourself.

It's right to move forward.

It's right to learn from our mistakes.

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It's right to eat fresh foods.

It's right to open the windows.

It's right to feel the first of the spring breezes.

It's right to smell that smell of spring.

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Come on spring!  I'm ready!

Heavy Dog

Most dogs I know make themselves heavy when they don't want to do something.

Putting Pawley in the bathtub = heavy dog

Carrying Raggs to the house from the yard = heavy dog

Pulling Mille from under a bed, carrying her downstairs, taking her outside to go the bathroom after a thunderstorm = really heavy dog

Toting Snoop (our dog from childhood) upstairs = heavy dog

Carrying Snoop downstairs (with a hand over his eyes so he wouldn't be nervous) = heavy dog

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You know, it's not a bad idea!

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Woman not wanting to leave knitting = heavy woman

Woman binge watching Netflix = heavy woman

Woman puttering in yard = heavy woman

Woman reading in the hammock = heavy woman

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Bill could drag me, but I don't think he could carry me without acquiring a hernia.

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When there are things we don't want to do, but we know we have to do them, I think we all kind of become heavy dogs (or as I say, heavy woman).  I have been trying to identify "those" facets of my life and power through them.  I can't say I'm always successful, but I've had my share of successes in the past week.   I'm walking more.  Drinking more water.  Eating more vegetables.  Eating less sweets.  Reading more.  Asking deeper questions.  Listening more.  Playing more bridge.

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It's Friday night, this "heavy dog" is going to knit and think.  (Oooooooo, and I am going to watch the last four episodes of "Breaking Bad."

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So, pop me with a rolled up newspaper!  Heavy dog!

My Deer Stand of Life

When I'm traveling down the back roads of Georgia, spotting a deer stand always, I said, always makes me smile.  I think about the thoughtful planning that goes into deciding where to set up a stand.  Those stands become home away from homes for hunters who are waiting for the right shot.

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My deer stand of life tends to be the hammock.  I'm not a hunter of deer, I'm a hunter of hope.  I want to make the world a better place.  I want people to talk to each other.  I want all of us to work together for the good of our county.

I'm an observer of those folks who are so dogmatic about their beliefs are the right beliefs.  Their actions are the right actions.  Their way is the only way.

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I don't think so.

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Compromise is the key to moving forward.  Bill could eat Mexican food every night of the week.  I could not.  I like Mexican food, but I can't eat it every night.  I would get surly if I was made to eat Mexican food every night.  (Sidebar:  I would also be the size of Rhode Island.)

Balance seems to be the key.

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Ecclesiastes 3

King James Version (KJV)

3 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

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So, from the hammock I wonder about those who know that their way is the only way.  My life isn't one extreme or the other.....I float in that middle area.....trying to give more than I get....trying to love more than I hate....trying to listen more than I say.....trying to make the world a better place one day at a time.  

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Last week it was the ice storm.  This week it's 75 degrees and I'm in the hammock.  Life can change in the blink of an eye-- enjoy your "deer stand" wherever it may be.

Snow Place Like Home

I enjoyed the two and a half snow days from this past week.  I might have entered the teaching profession because of my love of two things:  1.  Snow days 2.  Thanksgiving school lunches. (No, I entered because I get a kick out of kids.  They do say the darnedest things.)

I liken the first summer I was in Georgia to how most folks around here react to snow.  They don't get it.

1982

It was 90 degrees for about the 100th day in a row that first summer we were in Georgia.  "Mama, I can't stand it.  The heat is everywhere.  You can't get away from it.  It is oppressive," I wailed this on a regular basis to my mother via the phone.  We were in a second floor apartment.  I was pregnant with Mike and Molly was a busy 2 year old.

You see, I didn't get it.  I didn't know that swimming could be comfortable.  I didn't understand that sitting under a ceiling fan and drinking iced tea while reading a book, knitting, or watching the children play was a great way to pass the time.  Summer was as foreign to me then as the snow is to my friends.

"Mama, it is as hot as hell outside and it's 8:00 a.m."

"Mama, it is 11:00 at night and it is as hot as it was at noon."

"You will not believe it.  We get up and it is like an oven outside."

The heat was my enemy….until it became my friend.

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Swimming--

I never knew that swimming could be….comfortable.  I remember going to the YMCA lessons at Riverside pool in Marshalltown, Iowa.  They always posted the temperature of the water (sadists!).
It was warm if it was above 70 degrees….that's right, folks, the water temperature was 70!

Bill, Molly and I were invited to Lake Sinclair for an outing…picnic, boating, beach….and the water was….like a bathtub.  It was wonderful.  That's when summer became, well, enjoyable.  It was a time to be outside, cool off, relax, go to the park, run through a sprinkler, go to a pool, go to the lake, go to the beach, go to the mountains, go tubing….I got it.  Summer was different in Georgia.  It was hot.  Air conditioning was wonderful.

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SNOW is different in Iowa.  They all have heavy coats, boots, mittens, gloves, chapstick (by the gross), chains for their tires, jumper cables, snowmobiles……and snow plows.  They have lots of snow plows.
I can't do snow as well as I used to do snow.

I don't have a down jacket.  I don't have heavy snow boots.  Gone are the days when I had noon duty from November until March because my principal didn't want the other older teachers to have duty…."You won't break your hip if you fall," he told me that autumn.  "If one of the others go down, they'll be out for weeks.  You're 28 and tough."  I swear I took those hundred kids out if it was above zero.  They had to get their wiggles gone for an afternoon of work.  We sometimes stood like cattle with our backs to the wind….we got our fresh air and had a good experience.  That was in another life, in another time, in another state.

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2014


I am a Georgia girl….I'll layer up and stick near the fire.  And watch the snow fall gently in the woods.