Win/Fail

Okay--I'm rating my goals for this weekend--everybody with me?

Cleaning the table--#fail

Folding the clothes--#fail

Scrubbing the bathroom--#fail

Going grocery shopping--#fail

Taking Zoom Boy to his soccer party--#win!

Getting the kids to gymnastics--#win!

Getting to see a movie with mate--#fail

Getting to see a movie with mate & the short people--#win!

Getting to see a movie with the tall people--#fail (but they saw 'Zombieland' with mate--Mate gets a #win on that one!)

Finishing a cool fingerless mitt from a new pattern--#win

Starting mitt #2--#win

Finishing the new Jack and Teague adventure--#win!

Finishing Adrian and the Angels--#fail

Finding my husband's iPod which he lent to me--#fail

Planning to eviscerate my knitting bag where I think it is--#win

Getting over my crappy goodreads status--#fail

Finding a way to MAYBE publish Rampant--#win (but don't hold your breath!)

Not eating cake when it's put in front of me--#fail

Not eating something I've cooked when it's put in front of me--#win!

Forgiving Curmudgeonly Colleague for butting into my business--#win!

Forgiving myself for taking the whole thing so seriously--#fail

Getting to bed on time tonight? #win or #fail... it's all in the flip of a coin!

I hate being a LIbra...

You all know the birth sign Libra, right? The scales? The justice? I hates it.

I have a temper (shocker) and I have a spine, and I know how to use them--but it's hard sometimes when you see the other guy's side of the story. But that doesn't mean it doesn't piss me off. (You can see how this can lead to stomach ulcers and/or eating your feelings, right?)

See, the thing is...

I was leading my second period (again, shocker that it would be this class!) back from the library and almost everybody was inside when suddenly two of the girls started shrieking at the top of their lungs. "Holy shit! What the fuck! Oh my God!" I turn back around to see what the problem was, and there's a five inch praying mantis on the rail of the ramp to my room. I snap, "Oh, Jesus, calm down!" but I can see their point--one of the girls had almost put her hand on the thing, and yeah. It would freak anybody out a little, right?

So they're almost calmed down when here comes the two biggest bozos from my class room--except, they're not really being bozos. They're trying to be HEROES. "It's just a bug! I'll kill it for you!"

And I've got my hands on their shoulders and am pushing them back inside, when...

My curmudgeonly colleague comes out of his classroom. He's pissed off. He was giving a quiz, and suddenly there is screaming and shrieking and "What the fuck!" interrupting his class and he automatically assumes (and this is wrong of him) that I don't have things in hand, so he starts ordering my bozos back into the room.

My bozos are bozos. I've sent them to the office more often in the last two months than I sent anybody in all of last year. But they are MY bozos, and they were actually GOING BACK TO THE ROOM, and suddenly curmudgeonly colleague is out on his step yelling at them, and they get mad. That's MY job. They go, but they're grumbling, and then one of them says something HIGHLY inappropriate.

And suddenly they're both being referred. And they're mad at me for not standing up for them. Except they've just told another teacher "That fuckin' niggah do too much!" so they're screwed.

*sigh*

And I can see everyone's point. Curmudgeonly colleague has a right to keep his door open without worrying about my kids kicking up a ruckus. The girls were being teenaged girls--it was a big skeery bug. The boys were not actually being bozos--they were trying to be heroes. I get it. I wrote an e-mail to administration saying just that--the boys said inappropriate things to a staff member--I support any consequences. But the admin should know that they were reacting to other circumstances--they felt like CC was getting into their business when he shouldn't have.

To an extent, they're right.

I resent having someone order my kids around. And I walked into lunch with every intention of calling CC aside and saying as much to him. But lunch was... crowded. And rowdy. And people were enjoying themselves, and the weekend was coming, and... and my spine deserted me.

I managed to say something like, "Hey, Curmudgeonly--the next time I need a bug killed, I'll be sure to go into your room and get you first! Because, you know, God forbid we should kill them ourselves!" And then I left it at that.

Because he's a friend, and he may have pissed me off, but when the bozos are gone, we're gonna be stuck with each other and it would be nice if we were speaking.

I hate being a Libra.


And on the lighter side of things? (And also relating to Curmudgeonly bossing my kids around, but this time didn't piss me off.)

Another class of kids was going off to the library, and one of the girls was being pretty loud. As I took off after the class (after shooing the stragglers out of my room) Curmudgeonly said "Hey, could you quiet her down a little!" and I was planning to anyway, so I walked up next to her and asked her nicely to not shriek across the quad.

Now Sweetie's a big girl-- as am I, and I wobbled a little as I was walking and bumped into her. I apologized, and she laughed, "That's why big girls like us aren't supposed to walk together Ms. Lane--we'll rub up together and start a fire!"

I was cracking up over that one all day.

And I'm sorry the post was late--I had another oops moment where I went to put the kids down to sleep and fell asleep with them. *happy sigh* I'm starting to enjoy those.

Ladybug-land

Okay-- still boring, but this time it's not my fault. We had CAHSEE make-up tests--everyone who didn't pass the test in their sophomore year had to take it in the last two days. I was missing 1/3-1/2 my classes, and was SO not in a position to teach them ANYTHING I was going to have to repeat. Twice.

We watched movies. Sue me. I can't even find it in myself to be a teeny-weeny-itty-bit repentant. Shepherd angel of penitence forgive me... (I'm not joking--I looked up angels for research for Adrian's story in heaven, and there really is a Shepherd, Angel of Penitence. I personally think he sounds sexy as hell--yeah, he's gonna be in the story.)

Anyway, Ladybug has been making her presence felt. As I was telling her babysitter, she's sort of like that Bugs Bunny character-- Baby Faced Finster. One minute, she's all simpering cuteness and wee-thing theatre, and the next she's a midget bank robber, shaving in the mirror while puffing a cigar. You think I'm kidding? I give you exhibits A, B, & C.

A. We were late to dance yesterday--I couldn't find her dress. After convincing her to go without her dress (easier said than done, trust me!) I got her there and was putting on her shoes.

"Dancers are pretty mama."

"You think so?"

"Yeah--Dancers are LADIES."

"Yeah--are you a LADY?"

"No." She gave me a VERY pointed look. "I don't have a DRESS!"

aherm. That's me. I've been schooled.

B. Brenda (the day care lady) told me that her husband, Roy, was dancing to the music from his laptop, trying to get the kids to laugh. Ladybug looked at him and sniffed disdainfully.

"That's not dancing!"

"Oh yeah--what's this?" And Roy performed a mock pihrouette (sic).

"That's BALLET!" She said indignantly. "THAT'S dancing!"

aherm. And that's the baby sitter's husband. He's been schooled.

C. This afternoon while she was watching television, I took the opportunity to go to the bathroom. I was there, contemplating my navel, when she walks in with her little toy camera phone and an absolutely EVIL grin.

"Smile, mama! Say cheese!"

And now I've not only been schooled, I've been toy-you-tubed.


The thing is, she's not only articulate, playful, and fearless... she's also a sarcastic bossy bit of baggage--and she's hella smart. You'll be talking to her, thinking "She's playing us all--she knows she's cute and she's got the stage knowhow of a seasoned Vaudeville veteran!" and suddenly she'll talk to you like a complete adult and confirm that idea. This isn't REALLY a three year old with a winning overbite and a charming lisp-- it's a midget in need of a good orthodontist.

*shudder*

I'm planning to ship her off to Catholic school when she hits thirteen. I'm just not old enough to deal with what's coming down the pike. (Can pagans go to Catholic school? This could become a REALLY PRESSING QUESTION in about ten years!)

And that's about all! Oh yeah- Mom & Dad brought dinner today, and good news about a chance to see the Trans Siberian Orchestra (SQUUUEEEEEEE!) and, of course, a good load of guilt about not writing the kinds of books my mom can share with her friends. (Yes. It sounded decidedly like mixed signals to me, too!)

Doesn't matter. What matters is, Big T washed dishes, I didn't have to cook, and Zoom boy and Ladybug got to pet their extraordinarily well behaved dog as he sat in the back of their truck. Everybody was happy.

Night!

Adventures of the world's most boring human...

Okay-- that's me.

Went to work-- did my job. Not great, but it got done. (Okay--I've got a backlog of papers that's sort of haunting me. If I get those done my self esteem will SKYROCKET I promise.)

Came home--did my job. Homework got done, baths got done. Some eating was involved with minimal cooking. I took a nap and disguised it as quality time by calling it 'cuddles'.

Saw Mate and the big kids off to their one King's game this year. (Probably not as exciting as the one in San Antonio, where an honest to God bat made an appearance, but they get to go in person this year.)

Worked on some Jack & Teague. (Progressing nicely, but I have to say I'm spoiled. It seems like it should be going a lot faster--I have to keep reminding myself that the dragon is taking it easy these days and we are not to goad him into frantic activity because that's hard on me and the family. Me and that dragon are going to have to coexist and that's just the goddamned truth.)

Gave an FO to its intended recipient. I'll try to get some pictures from her--just the fingertip gloves--they turned out pretty good, but they were done on size 0 needles and took forFREAKINGever. My next project is fingerless mitts w/a VERY cool lace pattern in this yummy hand-dyed cashmerino--the pattern's on the net and if I manage not to fuck these up I'll put in the link. It's fingerless mitts and a cowl out of one small skein--sweartadog, it's like magic.

And sat down to blog.

And was grateful--because sometimes boring is good. Boring makes you appreciate the special. Boring means you might get some sleep. Boring knits up the raveled sleeves of frantic that are soccer/beginning of school/birthday season. I don't mind being the most boring human some days. I might even get some reading done.

(*thought* After I finished the Jack & Teague, I was going to do a short story on Adrian and then start the 5th Cory book... I'm thinking I might start work on the 2nd Promise Rock book instead, since I don't have the money to publish Rampant yet. Brutal truth, but real, nonetheless... when I have enough $$$ to publish Rampant and Jack & Teague, then I'll start work on the next book in the series...)

'Nai 'Nai...

So the funeral was... sad, but happy to, in the way that someone who has lived a really good life surrounded by friends is happy. The best 'happy' part was the gathering at my parents' house--I got to see cousins I usually don't see, and I've got a few 'funeral' stories that actually, uhm, put the 'fun' back in funeral.

The first one was when I was talking to a cousin I hadn't seen in a while, telling her "Oh yeah--you live near the school where I work!" and then I started talking about the writing and suddenly the cousin looked at me and said, "Wait a minute... do you publish under another name?"

I said, "Yeah... Amy Lane!"

And she said, "I WONDERED who that was--I looked up Grandma's obituary and there was your blogpost and I couldn't figure out WHO that was who knew so much about our family!"

I got a laugh out of that--and so did my dad!

And then, later, I was talking to another cousin. Now this cousin I knew slightly better--and I love her to death, but, well, we don't see eye-to-eye on some things. She doesn't get the whole 'put the kids before the dream' kind of thing--when I say "I don't have enough money to go to San Francisco to schmooze with the agents/publishers" she says, "Cut the milk with powdered and go!" She doesn't understand that my family makes plenty of sacrifices (including clean laundry and a house that's un-embarrassing) so that I can chase my dream--I'm not making them give up anything else. So, well, when she started to show the (inevitable) prurient titillation at the sex scenes in my books, well...

It was impossible not to mess with her.

She wanted to know where I got my material for my sex scenes. This comes up a LOT-- and you'd be surprised how many people don't believe that it's just my filthy imagination and a lot of in-house monogamous practice. I tried to give her that answer and she was like, "Yeah... but it's... you know... TWO MEN! Or MORE!"

Now the thing is, anyone who can write a simple, straight, one on one sex-scene with two consenting adults can mix it up a bit--either gender, you're IMAGINING how the other gender feels. One man, two men, it's not like I've got experience with my own marriage tackle, right? I've got a whole different set of parts! But I've got a VERY bi-partisan imagination.

But people don't buy that--and my cousin wasn't buying it either, and, well... like I said, I messed with her. I looked her straight in the eye and said, "youporn.com. Lots and lots of youporn.com."

Her eyes grew the size of dinner plates and she said, "I don't even have a reply to that," at about the same time a friend of the family (who knows that I can be very evil) practically spit out his lasagna he was laughing so hard.

"Call it research!" he giggled, "Reasearch!" and I laughed and moved off to speak to someone else.

*sigh* Family--good times.

And I mean that. The really sucky thing about seeing your relatives at a funeral is that you wish there were other times you get to see them, because holidays always find you spread a bit thin. I mean that. There are too many good people in the world--and in my families--to get enough good, good time to visit.

It was hard to leave--but leave I did--because I had some promises to my children to keep. And I promised Knittech pictures or Grilltech will give me spoilers for my show on Thursday night and that would SUCK. (Tell him I lived up to my part of the bargain Saren--please?)

Anyway...
So yesterday, after the funeral, there was this...



And then there was some of this...



And then today, there was a lot of this...




And then some more of this




And finally, not too long ago, there was this...

Ooop... skipped a post.

Now see, I didn't plan to. But I was tired, and feeling sort of sick, and Ladybug said, "Lay down with me!" and I did.

And then I fell asleep, and, well, my regular posting day went right out the window.

The thing is, I'm a little bit sick. I took Wednesday off to take my turn at home with the little kids, and it turned out to be a good thing because I had laryngitis so bad, I couldn't place a drive-thru order. (Chicken had to do it for me--she thought that was hilarious!) Seriously--even Zoom Boy (also known as the CaveTroll or Bone Daddy) was walking up to me with his finger extended in classic E.T. pose telling me, "Mom--say "Ouuu-uuuuchhh...!" We had an inservice Monday, and I'm off today, but that still means I had to teach on Tuesday and Thursday.

On Thursday I made it easy for myself. I figured what the hell--I'm sick, it's a short week, and Friday is the day before Halloween (Or Samhain--remember, it's pronounced 'Sawain') and so what I did was this: I put a T-chart on the board and put Supernatural on one side and Big Whomping Test on the other. Then I stood up and told them that they had their choice of sub plans--it all depended on the next hour. Every time they quieted down or raised their hand, they got a mark under Supernatural. Every time someone shouted out or screwed around when I was trying to talk, they got a mark under Big Whomping Test. (They have a quiz on Friday anyway--this was just a promise to make it long and excruciating.) Needless to say, I did NOT have to formulate or leave copies for a Big Whomping Test, and my students are going to have an enjoyable Friday.

Today is my grandmother's funeral--and I'm taking the teenagers. They're not dealing with it well. Trystan wasn't very close with Flossie, (although I think he's going to miss her more than he realizes) and he's feeling awkward about attending. Chicken WAS close with her--Flossie, Chicken and Chicken's cousin Naters (only close to his real name) played cards all the time. Chicken has good memories of Flossie listening to her teen-angst and being kind about it, and this is the first grandparent Chicken's lost that she really knew. (When my older kids were born, they had a total of thirteen grandparents and great great grandparents--most of them women. When chicken was three an elderly neighbor came to the door and said "Hi, sweetheart--do you remember who I am?" to which Chicken replied, "Uhm, Grandma?" Because honestly, it probably seemed like she was constantly being hauled around to different places and told to call an older woman 'Grandma'-- we didn't blame her for being somewhat confused.) Anyway, lots of tears on Chicken's part, and that's been rough.

For me, I'm pretty sure it's going to sink in later. I know that passing Grandma's apartment building is going to be a constant source of "Oh shit... I should visit Grandma Flos... Oh. Well shit." And, as I told my mom, "Thanksgiving's gonna SUUUUCCCKKKK." And I think if I don't have a total estrogen dump at the funeral, that's when it will hit me. No more grandmothers at my Dad & Mom's place at Thanksgiving. Bummer.

But after the funeral and the 'deal' at my folks' place (which I may not attend--still feeling icky, and there's going to be a lot of elderly people there--it's not nice to share your germ stew with the elderly!) we're going to have to carve pumpkins--and THAT should be fun. The little kids have been looking forward to it for weeks--I was going to do it last night, but I got back from dropping Chicken off at Soccer, and they were BOTH ASLEEP. (Considering soccer starts at five o'clock, this is sort of a trip.) And Zoom Boy stayed asleep all night. It was his first day back to school after being sick--it's only to be expected, but it's gonna look kind of pathetic on his homework sheet.

Speaking of... we got Zoom Boy's report card back. He's 'approaching' grade level in all his subjects, which is sort of worrisome , (Chicken was a solid list of 'At Grade Level' when she hit public school) but that's not the big thing. The big thing is that all the stuff that helps kids do well in school-- paying attention, organization, following directions--those are all 'needs improvement'. I'm thinking Zoom Boy might really have an Attention Deficit problem--it would explain all sorts of his patterns of behavior. He fixates on things, doesn't seem to 'hear' what we ask frequently, needs CONSTANT reminders to stay on task. *sigh* It could be another open IEP for a Lane offspring. Lovely. I mean I REALLY appreciate the school system and how they work with special ed, but, well--you know it's hard. We've only JUST stopped fretting about Big T and how he's going to do when he's out of school. AD is such a pain in the ass for high school boy. Even the sweetest boys become like big whomping puppy dogs, and they frequently piss their teachers off. And Zoom Boy is so sensitive that way. *sigh* Borrowing worry. Who needs it.

Zoom Boy is going to be a vampire tomorrow. Ladybug is going to be a princess. I swear, I'll have pictures.

Cioau!

Meet T.J.

OKay-- so a week or so ago, Chicken was crocheting and I was writing a particularly, uhm, GRAPHIC scene for Becoming, the newest Jack & Teague adventure. Suddenly she comes rushing into the kitchen, with a burning question.

"Mom, mom! What does this look like to you?"




Well, first I choked on my tongue (and my immediate answer), and then I declined to comment. Suffice it to say, it did NOT look like a really big jalapeno pepper.

But eventually, with a little bit (lot of) work on Chicken's part, that, uhm, pepper-shaped thing evolved into this:



Meet T.J.

Now T.J. is not just an extraordinarily lucky length of acrylic yardage and some quilt batting. He's not even just a monkey. T.J. has a purpose. T.J. is a GAY PRIDE monkey.




Now Chicken didn't start out to crochet a Gay Pride monkey-- all she wanted was a little critter to love and to cherish and to prove her uniqueness to the world. (I think you can all agree that that last goal has been squarely met.) But as T.J. began to mature and emerge from the skeins under her skillful hand, we began to see signs.

Sign 1: The rainbow shirt was a big give away.
Sign 2: That thing that looked like a jalapeno? Yeah--that became his mouth.
Sign 3: What was supposed to be a mini-skirt ended up being a pair of high-cut bicycle shorts so tight, this stuffed monkey actually had a PACKAGE.
Sign 4: The sparkly red shoes.



See?

But that's not the final sign that T.J. is a loud and proud emblem of mom's new writing triumph. The final sign? Yeah--it was a complete accident, but what happened was this. Chicken wanted T.J. to smell good. She looked for some cinnamon/rose/ambergris oil to put on a cotton ball to use when stuffing T.J.'s head, but she couldn't find it, got impatient, and used some vanilla instead.

The result?

Uhm, yeah.

Sign 5: T.J. smells like a cupcake. No shit.

So Chicken named him 'T.J.' after a character in the Kitty the Werewolf series who was openly gay. We are proud to welcome T.J. to the family--we think he'll fit right in.

(Thanks everybody for the virtual (((hugs)))-- much appreciated. We are still sick--in fact, I lost my voice completely when teaching today. Ah, well--it's going to be a VERY short week.)