What I’m Reading
May
30
Maybe Not Always The Best Policy
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Yesterday morning I was standing guard at my usual pre-school day library post to make sure the darling children were not at each other’s throats with X-Acto knives happy and safe. I was enjoying a coffee and marveling at how the kids truly believe that I won’t know something is up when fifteen of them are all congregated in a tight circle, and laughing on the inside at the surprised look on their faces when I bust them and take their iPhones away.
Then one small sixth grade boy came up and hesitantly said to me, “Ms. NPW, I wanted to tell you that yesterday during the Quiz Bowl tryouts I saw one of Stephen’s answers and I wrote down the same answer. I shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry. Oh, and now I know the answer was wrong, anyway.”
I swear, it was the closest I came to hugging a kid in my somewhat short career. Because the thing is, he was already one of my favorite students, I had already decided I wanted him on the team, but the fact that this little twelve-year old kid was probably up all night wracked with guilt about copying an answer and just had to come tell me about it even though there was absolutely no way I ever would have found out- well, it made my cynical heart melt just a little bit. But I played the part of Concerned Adult and thanked him for his honesty, telling him I would take that into consideration when I formed the Quiz Bowl team for next year.
My natural inclination is to let it go after talking to him about it. The kid has integrity and a super sweet temperament. Plus, he’s whip-fast on the trivia buzzer and the rest of the team is looking… well, if not dim, then a little dull. So what do you think? Should I let him on the team? Please say yes. That 2009 Quiz Bowl trophy has my name on it.
May
29
700 and Counting
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Today marks 700 posts since I first started writing. If that seems like an arbitrary number to celebrate that’s because it totally is. At this point in the school year it’s a stretch to find anything worth waking up for and 700 posts is just as good as any other reason I could come up with. So: yay me! The riches and accolades should come pouring in any minute now.
I’ve been trying to mostly keep my end-of-year frustration to myself. Nobody likes to read a constant stream of bitching and anyway, it gets pretty tiring being pissed off all the time. I frequently rant myself into naps. So rather than write a bulleted post about all the reasons why The Man has got me down I’ve been trying to focus on the stuff that gets me by, like random trips to the zoo. There are four full weeks of school looming large and yet it seems to me like I’ve been saying I have four weeks left for four weeks already. And before I get bombarded with snide remarks about how I have the WHOLE SUMMER OFF, please note that in reality I do not get the whole summer off. I get more like six weeks, which is hardly more than most corporate jobs get for vacation time. But oh, how I need them.
Which also brings me to the little problem of summer work. On the one hand, the prospect of lying on the beach with trashy magazines and a gallon of iced tea sounds like perfection. On the other, the long-term goal of buying a house requires that I make more money than I spend, which is difficult when your salary to bills ratio leaves you with about $200 a month to sock away, and that’s not even including a shoe allowance. At this rate I should be able to make a down payment on a house in New England by about 2035. Which is, coincidentally, when all my student loans will be paid off, so by the time I hit my fifties life will be golden. Only two more decades to go!
I guess this weekend will be spent updating my resume and scouring the pages of Craig’s list for summer jobs not involving foot fetishes or medical studies. Although I have to say, making four grand just for letting a couple of bioengineering students draw my blood doesn’t sound half bad at this point. Who cares if I someday run into my clone walking down Mass Ave. with a DSW shopping bag? The world could use a few more NPWs.
Tonight I am going to the $75-I-could-have-spent-on-those-beautiful-Marc-Jacobs-flats retirement party at the country club. I hope my Principal really appreciates whatever the hell gift my $75 bought him. I’m sure he’ll need it next year when he’s sitting in his rocking chair overlooking the lake, smoking his pipe and remarking on how the trout are really running while I am still here typing up purchase orders on a typewriter.
May
28
This Place Is A Zoo
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We went to the zoo on Sunday, simply because we happened to be driving home on the highway and noticed a sign that read “NEW! Black Bear exhibit!”. And maybe we should have guessed from the excessive use of capitals and exclamation points in a four-word sign (or also maybe because I have been there before years ago and had vague memories of it being dismal) but the zoo was rather less exciting than its sign made it out to be, even with the addition of bears.
All the animal holding cells were small and sparse, rather like sticking a jaguar in a cardboard cat carrier and hoping it doesn’t notice or get mad. Chris’s two favorite animals were the bats and the tarantulas, neither of which I could even bring myself to look at without wanting to curl up in a ball of panic on the zoo benches. The bald eagles were pretty impressive, kind of majestic looking, and after saluting them I felt that I had met my requirement for weekend patriotism. Chris and I both liked the black bears despite the fact the pen looked like a bear could rake one claw down the chain link fence and waltz on out of there. Luckily, the bears were too busy being bored to death in their muddy pit to ponder escape. Give them a few weeks. The zookeep did provide them with what looked like pilates balance balls, presumably in case these bears happened to have a background in classic circus training and might decide to hop up on there to perform tricks for a delighted audience. I’m guessing that the tap dancing while juggling flamethrowers act will come later in the summer.
There was a building that used to house an aviary, which was now totally busted up and held glass cases of meerkats (cute!), parrots (huge and unspeakably hideous!), and a few random monkeys and sloths thrown in, most of whom seemed to be sleeping, all of whom I wanted to steal right out of those sealed up boxes and smuggle out under my shirt. Because even living just one day as a City Monkey has to be better than a lifetime spent cooped up next to a flock of flamingos that smelled like death took a crap in their wading pool. The genius who designed these glass cases got it half right; although they were glass, which we could see through, they also had a giant steel bar running horizontally across the middle of each pane, which, unfortunately, meant that only the very tall and the very short were privy to animal viewing.
I’m sure Chris would like me to also note that he was very disappointed in the “Dinosaur Dig” area. Maybe he thought it was some kind of archaeological site right there at the zoo rather than a sandbox filled with toddler poop and plastic rib bones, but he was sadly mistaken.
Aside from all that, though, our surprise trip to the zoo was really quite enjoyable. Mostly because we have a sense of humor. And also because, hey: bears!
May
23
First Photo Friday
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All of you should be pleased to note that I resisted the urge to write “photo” as “foto” just to annoy all you alliteration haters. And also I didn’t want any new readers stopping by to think that I truly did not know how to spell photo and click away fast before discovering I am not, in fact, illiterate. So there you have it; I cannot make any promises for future posts.
For this week’s photo fest (again with the almost-alliteration!) I decided to ease into it with a much-requested theme: my library! I’ve posted a few pictures of my library before, but I took a few new ones for all you long-time readers and anyone relatively new will get a first-time glimpse into the secret world of NPW. Oh, lucky day!
First, we have a shot of what is currently taking up most of my library- the book fair!
Fun, right? Who doesn’t love pencils topped with troll dolls? Oh yeah, and books. Whatevs. Next up, we have a shot of the interior of my lovely library, with a complimentary addition of one of the Chinese people who live here. Live where? In my library, duh. Please try to keep up.
So can you spot her?
Pretty pretty pink and orange! Don’t you all wish you could be subjected to such beauty on a daily basis? Actually, it’s not too bad. I do have a lot of windows, a very nice courtyard, and plenty of books. But then there is this:
The sink of mysterious odors! I am fairly certain that this is where the disgusting smells are emanating from but I have been unsuccessful in my attempts to prove it. You know, since I’m NOT A PLUMBER. And also the sink is kind of dirty at the mo’; I think some kids used it last night at the Open House to fill squirt guns and that is not my dirty mug sitting there. Grossness!
In the world of Not Gross, we have Guitar Hero. Fun for you and me, kids!
And also a couple of PS2s, some loaner laptops, and a random bunch of wires. Because my library is awesome like that. My library is also awesome because I have many displays. For example:
Ancient India displays, made by the kids out of that goopy mixture of baking soda and water, then painted. How come I don’t remember our projects being half as fun? I also have my own displays, like graphic novels and new books.
Library life 4-EVA! Peace out, weekend lovers.
May
22
Nerd Alert: High
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If you were to enter my school and stop in on a random class or two and maybe happened by the library on your way out the door, you would probably notice something right away: everyone here is SO DONE with being in school. Students, teachers, staff- everyone has checked out. The kids are finally done with their standardized testing as of yesterday. My end-of-year Bookfair starts tonight at the Spring Open House (yay, free books! but boo, staying at work until 7:30 pm). It is warm and sunny and breezy and begs the question, why even bother? School should be for cold winter months when there isn’t much to do anyway. Academia is better suited to chilled temperatures, it keeps the kids alert and focused. Sitting in a greenhouse classroom is like injecting a soporific into their veins and then asking them to list China’s major imports and exports: boring and unnecessary.
Also, in the three years I have been here I have not seen my Principal smile more than he has in the past month. With retirement looming close he has been nothing but grins. When I asked him if I could buy camcorders for all the teams with the technology budget money he said, “You got the dough? Spend away!”, which was a far cry from his usual “Well now, we’ll probably have to discuss this with the town budget manager and see what kind of plan we can come up with”. And in his eyes I could practically see him envisioning himself on a fishing boat in Alaska, far away from mundane requests like ordering more printer paper. Is it wrong that I am jealous of people retiring? And that I’ve already figured out the exact age I will have to be, including the months to my birthday, in order to retire with full school benefits (a very, very long time from now)?
Anyway, these last few weeks of school are a mix of cramming every last thing in, and then a final week of sitting around doing nothing. Literally. I mean besides eating ice cream sandwiches and occasionally tending to a whiffle ball injury, we really do nothing but sit in the sun and let the kids sign yearbooks. Unfortunately, the cramming everything in before that is what is happening right now, including the tryouts for next year’s Quiz Bowl team. Since all my seventh graders want to do it again next year, I just have to add a bunch of sixth graders to the team and call it a day. Except we have a group of very overachieving, overzealous sixth graders who all want to be on the team and I have eight spots. Eight! There are sixty kids trying out! Last year I had to get other teachers to recruit kids for the team, I was begging for 8th graders, and now I have to turn kids away? I have to imagine the sudden popularity is due to my current team going around to homerooms to tell the younger kids that Quiz Bowl helped them get into private school and not my winning personality and leadership.
Although I suppose being relatively young and having a nice rack doesn’t hurt, either. What’s up, raging hormonal super nerds?
May
20
Death of a Car Salesman
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Yesterday after work I brought my car back to the Nissan dealership because it was making a rattling sound that put my 1985 Dodge Daytona to shame. Every time I started the car it would rumble like my dashboard was going to fall off, and that is not a sound you want to hear in a car that has less than 10,000 miles on it. Come to find out it was some kind of manufacturer’s recall part, so off I went to sit in a car service center, my only hope being that they at least had a stale cookie or two left to go with the burnt coffee and that I didn’t have to watch the Spanish-language news this time.
When I got there I spied the pretty new SUVs in the lot, the one that came out two weeks after I bought my car, causing me to throw my hands up in the air in disgust at my timing. Of course, now I am very glad I did not buy an SUV, with gas prices being so ridiculous and all, but what better way to kill some time than to take one out for a joy ride? I knew the second I stepped out onto the lot to look in the window of one of the SUVs someone would be by to try and score a commission. Ten minutes later, I was reviewing specs with an old bald dude and hopping in the sweet loaded vehicle to go for a spin.
As soon as we got going, the old dude started chatting me up, asking about where I lived, what I did, fairly normal salesperson talk. Suddenly he said, “I noticed you were drinking an iced tea earlier. Would you like to stop and get one with me?” I thought he was simply being humorous and laughed him off with a “no thanks”.
“No, really,” he insisted, “I’d love to stop and get a drink with you. Please let me get you something.”
Umm. WHAT?
“I’m really okay. Did you want me to stop so you can get something?”
Why did I offer to stop for him? Because I am easily flustered and incapable of normal response when surprised like that. Am I overreacting yet? Does stopping to let an old car salesman buy me a drink not seem weird to you? It felt extremely awkward. When he got back in the car with his drink (I steadfastly refused to let him buy me anything), I took a left out of the parking lot. I didn’t realize for a few minutes that I should have gone right, and when I did realize and point it out to him he said, “Oh, yes, I noticed. But why would I tell you? I am enjoying a car ride with a beautiful woman on a beautiful day!” And stared at me with a wide grin.
Okay, so by now I was terribly creeped out and trying not to show my alarm by firing out questions about the car, the answers to which I had no interest in whatsoever. In desperation I even started pointing out the differences between this car and my own car. At one point he threw open the sunroof and touched my elbow, asking, “Do you whistle? It is a rare woman that can whistle. How about singing? A woman singing is just too beautiful.” Like I was suddenly going to burst into song while test driving an SUV?
No, seriously. What the hell?
The whole trip lasted maybe ten minutes, drink stop included, but it felt interminable. When we finally made it back to the dealership I saw that my car was ready to go and I nearly jumped from the moving vehicle to get back to my own. I actually shouted, “my car is ready!” and bolted away. Now normally I do not react so harshly to being hit on. I mean, it would have been uncomfortable in any case, but being stuck in a car with this guy acting so blatantly weird just made me cringe.
And the worst part? I didn’t even like the damn SUV.
Next time I’ll stick to the stale cookies. Or better yet, a different dealer.
May
19
The Start of Something New
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Should I take it as a sign that my Friday picture post of things I want got roughly 40% more comments than my carefully crafted and lovingly written posts on how much my landlord sucks? I have considered the issue and I have decided not to take offense, since I know my readers are busy and important people with many pressing things to do, and besides, sometimes photos are all you need. They’re a fun and quick read on a Friday afternoon, and they also assure my mother that I am still alive even when I am not in the mood to write.
Which, unfortunately, seems to be the case around here more often than not lately.
Oh, it’s not that I don’t have things to write about. And even if I didn’t have anything to write about, when has that ever stopped me? It’s just that I can feel summer coming on, with its long lazy days of beach stretching out before me, nary a laptop in sight. There are still five weeks left of school but my body can sense the home stretch and it has checked out early. Maybe it’s that the temperatures have finally risen to 60’s and 70’s on a fairly steady basis and everything is growing lush and verdant in the city. Maybe it’s that this past weekend featured commencement ceremonies for many of the Boston academic institutions, consequently leaving me with no parking for three days (have a good life, college kids! I hope you really enjoyed that last case of Natty Light that was strewn all over the street this morning because your life will never be that fun again!) Or maybe it’s just that my neighbors have started their summer ritual of gathering their folding chairs on the sidewalks to smoke and drink and argue well into the night while their kids scream from second story windows. Ahhh. The smell of summer.
Regardless of the reason, I am hereby instituting a summer trend for my blog. Photo Fridays! Aren’t you just peeing your pants with excitement? Sorry, I should have warned you not to drink all that coffee and then read this post. My hope is that Photo Fridays give me some kind of structure to my summer posting because if past years are any indicator my summers slip by and OOPS, I realize I’ve written only a handful of posts. And since this Friday marks Memorial Sweet-I-Get-Three-Days-Off Weekend and the official kick off to summer, I am going to begin the Photo Fridays this very week.
You’re welcome!
To start us off right, I am now accepting any and all requests for photos you might like to see here on Friday. PG-rated, of course. This is a family blog. So what will it be?
May
16
WANT
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Guitar Hero 4- need I say more?
Sweet Valley High Gets Revamped! (And kind of tramped!)
To remind myself that I love birds. Thanks, etsy.
Umm, there are no words. Okay, maybe one: awesome. Do I get to be the Keymaster or the Gatekeeper?
It’s only $475! Pleeeeeease?
Must have. Right now. Lips so dry… parched… uncolored… send help…
And last but not least, concert tickets. ‘Cause wouldn’t that be hilarious to see?
Please and thank you.
May
15
Mission: Put Together
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As usual, I was late to the party when I signed up for RA’s Mission: Put Together pool on flickr. I didn’t join in until last Monday and I wish I could say I had a valid reason for waiting so long but sadly, all my reasons are lame, such as “I don’t have a full-length mirror!”, or “I need to clean my bathroom mirrors!”, or “Everyone will have way cooler work outfits than me and I will be the shame of the internet!” And while the first two were undoubtedly true, the last was not, yet it was probably the biggest factor that kept me from doing it.
Fortunately, no one has made fun of any of my fashion choices yet. In fact I may even end up letting all the praise go to my head if it continues on in this way. And I think it’s been good for me; I love to see what people are wearing every day and what kinds of accessories and shoes they choose to complete their outfits. Right up until college I never cared about what I wore, if I could have worn the same t-shirt and jeans every day it wouldn’t have bothered me one bit. Shoes? I think I had one pair of black shoes and one pair of sneakers. Hair? What a joke. Multiple people have seen pictures of me in high school and refused to believe I would ever have bangs like that. You think I LIKE admitting that my hair looked like a Jerry Springer special? Oh, and jewelry? HA! I don’t think I even owned a watch at that point. No, the biggest fashion choice I made between the ages of 13 and 17 was what color L.L. Bean backpack I should carry (purple) and whether I should wear a flannel over my t-shirt that day (likely).
In my defense: I grew up in New Hampshire. Not exactly the pinnacle of haute couture.
So once the beautiful, crazy world of fashion was revealed to me and I started earning an income that was more than $30 a week from my library work study, I found my shoes and jewelry increasing at an alarming rate. That trend continues on to today, where Chris has threatened me with a “buy one, toss one” mandate on the shoes. I just can’t help it. It is a weakness, and part of me still feels like I am just catching up to where most of my peers have already been for years and years. I revel in putting together an outfit that looks good and makes me feel okay about starting the day not feeling like a schlub. I’m not saying I don’t have days where I can’t be bothered to get dressed past a ratty t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants; there are still plenty of those. It just warms my heart to see that there are a whole bunch of ladies like me who just want to look “put together” as much as they can. Plus, if you ever want some hot tips on where the sales are at or what colors look surprisingly great together you should ask these women- they are hot. Bonus: I’ve noticed that I’ve started complimenting random people on their outfit choices, something emphatically un-New England. Stranger danger! But now I feel good about letting people know that they look good.
When Chris noticed the flickr pool he commented, “That is one thing you would definitely never see a guy doing.” So true, dear Christopher, so true. But there must be some guys out there who enjoy working an outfit, right? Maybe there’s hope for a Mission: Put Together- Dude’s Edition.
May
14
If I Have Fewer Brain Cells Than Ever, You Will All Know Why
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There has been an ongoing problem here in the library, one that involves mysterious odors that are sometimes so strong they actually blind me momentarily when I open my office door in the mornings. As you can well imagine, not exactly the best way to start your day. Last month the Principal showed me a work order he was placing, hand-written, noting that something needed to be done about the smell, preferably rightthehellnow. I have yet to see someone here to fix it.
Then this morning I walked into what I thought was my office but my office was apparently traded out sometime during the night for a sweltering cesspool. It was about 110 degrees and I had to stop myself from audibly retching and slammed the door back shut. So now I am sequestered to another part of the library until someone can come to find out why my space has become the dumping grounds for the town sewer system. The problem is, by the time the dudes show up from Maintenance I have usually opened every window and door in the place to air it out, you know, so I can work without being asphyxiated, and then at 2:30 in the afternoon when they finally saunter in they’re all, “What smell? We don’t smell anything!” and smirk at each other, pointing at their heads while making cuckoo motions.
So now every person that stops by my office and says “Ugh! What IS that?!”, I make them sign a sheet of paper attesting to the fact that they were assaulted by the disgustingness that is my work space. I have become the smell police, going into other people’s offices to find out if theirs also smells of poop and mildew. Before I would have been worried that other people might think I was causing the smell in my office, like I was incontinent or storing human waste under the sink, or worried that my co-workers would do that same cuckoo motion when they caught me standing in the stacks staring vacantly at books and sniffing the air. But now I have about 40 signatures on my piece of paper and I invite everyone to come smell my office before they can even ask me “Good God, WHY?”, and pretty much everyone knows that I am on a mission.
So you can bet that when those Maintenance guys finally do show up I will have a posse ready and I will rub their noses right in my list of names. And then WE will make cuckoo motions at THEM. So there!