I was skimming through a cookbook the other day—you know the days when I fantasize what I would cook if I wasn’t so burnt at the end of the day—and I found an interesting recipe.

Basically, Nigella Lawson did this recipe for guacamole mixed with blue cheese and sour cream.  Those three ingredients WORK for me, and I was intrigued.  I didn’t have sour cream, but I decided to use our store’s IN.CRED.IBLE. guacamole and add blue cheese crumbles.  The idea of the sharp cheese and mild avocado just appealed to me.

Holy Yumms, Batman!  Granted, you have to enjoy blue cheese.  And granted, you have to have an utter disregard for your waistline, but I called Ryan, who was driving home after a late meeting to tell him he now had an even better reason to come home.  Like me, he is a fan of guac and blue cheese as separate entities.  Combined...well, it was a bit of heaven clogging up my arteries.

P.S.  Don’t tell the kids, but we’re going to Disneyland right before Christmas. 

P.P.S.  Little Maddie is reading now, and it’s just too freaking exciting to watch it unfold before my very eyes.  I love four.  I love five.  I love nine, too.  I don’t mean to sound a bit snooty, but I think these ages are simply the ages I am suited to mother.  I’m not a good toddler mom.  I love my children, don’t get me wrong, but I am simply suited to these ages.  Good thing I teach elementary school...for now.

But back to the cheese.  Good.

...My guess is that those of you who recently sat through parent conferences did not the phrase, “...with a rubber chicken,” put into your child’s permanent record.

Just guessing.

While reading a book about Thanksgiving:

“That’s funny!  There are ANIMAL turkeys—and FOOD turkeys.  That’s weird.”

--- Slowly, a crack starts to enter into her worldview.

I loooooove election time as a teacher.  The best part is hearing small children parrot their parents political views.  Oh, the quotable quotes I could share, but now is not the time.

Now is the time I share the note that was waiting for us when Ryan picked up Matt from childcare.  Now, Matt knows I’m prObama.  But he also knows that, while I don’t wish McCain to be my president, that I consider him to be a patriotic public servant.  One who has done much, and with what I believe to be honorable intentions.  That doesn’t mean I want him in the White House, but I just want you to know I try to keep things balanced to an extent (however, we did train Maddie to do the Tina Fey impersonation of Sarah Palin’s “adorable” routine..."Pew, pew”, chin resting sweetly on her fists...You had to be there.).

The note could be worded better and contains a few errors, but I’m sure it was written in the midst of mild chaos.  Also, if she quoted Matt accurately, his facts are off...but it just cracked me up that this is the first letter we’ve ever received from the daycare employees:

Date: 10-29-o8
Child’s Name: Matt R.
Teacher: Mrs. Kelly

Message and/or Information:  This morning (out of the blue) the children started shouting “Obama”! then Elise asked Matt, “Why are you for Obama”?  Matt replied, Well; there is a 4 out of 5 chance of him [Ed. note: McCain] dying, Do you really think palin is ready to lead a country? 

I thought it was so funny that I would share with you.
Thanks,
Kelly

I’m trying to think if I happened to be watching that Matt Damon video about Palin when Matthew was in the room, or where he heard the actuarial “facts” about McCain’s chance of dying during his first term.  We’re very careful not to play the age card in our house, as my father is six years older than McCain, my mom is a year older, and nothing chaps my hide more than people who make Alzheimer’s jokes or other suggestions that McCain wouldn’t be competent because of his age.  I mean, when I think of the president’s work and travel schedule (current vacationing one excluded), I think *I’m* too old, but don’t disrespect people because they are no longer middle-aged.  My dad is sharper than the vast majority of us, and he works physics problems for the hell of it.  Seriously carries textbooks in his briefcase when he visits.  But I digress.  Again.

Long story long, my son has perhaps heard too much campaign talk around the house.  But it serves me right for chuckling all these years at other peoples’ children and their mirrored sentiments…

P.S.  Sorry this may ramble in weird, concentric circles.  This is parent conference week and tonight was the Fall Festival.  Worked from 7:30 AM to 8:30 PM.

First for the cute:

At Maddie’s school, they do the whole, “Letter of the Week” thing, and the kids get to bring in a toy on Friday to play with and “share”. 

This week’s letter is “D”.  She starts scanning the house each Monday, so we’ve already discussed dolls, toy dogs, and disco balls.  Tonight, Ryan says, “I thought we agreed you are bringing me for share time.”

From the back seat, Maddie snorted.  Really snorted. Actually, now that I think about it, it was a cross between a snort and a raspberry. 

“DAAADDY!  You know I can’t fit you in my cubby.”

Discussion: Dismissed.  Denied.

-------

On a, good Lord, do all men communicate like this:

I attended a teaching conference this weekend with my mom and one of her co-worker.  The co-worker sleeps with a device on her face to help with sleep apnea, and I’ve been worried for quite some time that Ryan has apnea issues.  That’s what I do in my spare time.  If I’m not self-diagnosing, I find other people and analyze what diseases and disorders they have.  Other people knit. 

Anyhow, given that I had someone to ask, I asked if she had to do the whole sleep-clinic thing, and she said she did it twice.  Then I explained that when Ryan sleeps, he’ll be dead asleep and suddenly wake up (not fully) and make a nasty gasp for air and start coughing in a way that sounds as if he is choking.  She suggested we mention it to his doctor, so today, while meeting his new doctor, Ryan mentioned it. 

I should say that he had no idea he does this, and it scares the ever-loving crap out of me on a weekly basis.  It’s not like a throat-clearing cough, he suddenly starts gasping in this wet, choky way that does NOT sound normal. 

Ryan went to the doctor, got his flu shot, asked about the rash he had on his stomach, and mentioned that his wife wanted him to ask about sleep apnea.

Only he told the doctor it’s because I told him he stops breathing and then coughs.  When the doctor asked how long he stops breathing, Ryan told him 45 seconds.  He thinks.  WTF!?!?  Dude, I would not have waited a few years to bring this up with him if he stopped breathing for darn near a minute!  I would be dialing 911.  Duh.  The doctor was stunned, and he said, 45 seconds?  We don’t need a second opinion.  I hereby diagnose you with sleep apnea.  I am writing the referral as we speak.  Are you sure she said 45 seconds? 

“Uh, yes.  I am fairly certain she said 45 seconds.  Wait.  Maybe 30.  But really, I could swear she said 45 seconds.”

Not sure where he got the whole time thing, but now the next time I see the doctor, I need to ask them to add something new to my file:  In the case of a debilitating illness, I need to elect a non-spousal representative to communicate about all medical information.  This is one in a long string of WTH communications on his part with medical personnel.

Usually, doctor says something like, “I think your daughter has an ear infection and I am going to prescribe this antibiotic, to be picked up at Longs and administered three times per day.  Refrigerate said medicine and give with food.”

One hour later, I hear: “Maddie’s ear will turn into a refrigerator if we do not give her food three times a day.  We need to purchase all the food from the snack aisle at Longs.”

Seriously, this doctor must think my husband is either very ill or I am incredibly insane.  45 seconds. 

Today was our annual whole-school field trip to the pumpkin patch, and while this time there was no vomit, I did sacrifice a sweatshirt to staunch a nasal hemorrhage. 

The winds were somewhere in the 25-25 mph range, which is always fun around bales of hay.  The hay ride was more like a swirling vortex of sharp particulate.  Fun.  Safe.  Totally relaxing.  My friend Debunot has been pining for life in the country, but let me tell you that I will take the suburban stress of soccer-mom living over flying hay knives any day.

The best part was a new feature, a “corn bath”, which was a blast.  Picture a large rectangle of hay bales, about 30 feet long and 12 feet wide.  The border is about 3 bales high, and the interior is filled entirely with dried corn kernels.  Not popcorn, but dehydrated kernels off the cob.  It was like a giant sandbox or ball pit, but filled with CORN.  You know I love starchy vegetables, so this was awesomeness to the extreme. 

We played in there for-ev-er, from Kindergartners to third graders, and it was total bliss.  Respite from the eyes getting impaled with that damn hay.  My class buried me, threatening to hold me hostage until I gave them all A’s.  And I think parents got photos of the kids jumping into the corn with the kind of abandon only children have fully mastered.  The downside was that as I sat down on the bus, I realized I had dried corn in all sorts of crevices.

As I entered the school, I could hear the “tink-tink” of kernels dropping out of my pants legs.  But it was only moments ago, when I went to adjust my bra that I realized I had (wait...counting) 17 pieces in my bra.  WTH?  We got back from the field trip at noon and I just figured this out.  My poor husband was sitting on the couch as I start pulling all kinds of crud out of my shirt.  This is probably not the sort of Friday night he was expecting when we got married.

Long day at work.  Pizza and movie night with the kids.  Sitting on the couch with his wife while she pulled dehydrated corn out of her bra. 

Nope.  I’m thinking this isn’t even close.

School’s good.  Kids are good.  House is a disaster.  Car interior is even worse.  Am freakin’ exhausted.

The only true downside to being a teacher is that the stress of preparing for a substitute fully negates the benefit of taking a “mental health day.”

I’ll be at school today, even if all I want to do is lounge in bed.

I’m a family-oriented person, with a fairly conservative lifestyle.  Married, and happily so.  2 kids.  Church.  Elementary school teacher.  But I’m also a proud former member of a sorority AND...gasp...a little sister to a fraternity.

Some may roll their eyes or guess how “active” I was during my college years, but they are silly and clueless as to our college experience.  Nearly 15 years after college, my sisters have gone on to be some of the best in their fields, and amazing human beings.

There’s Jen, who works for NASA, so we call her our resident rocket scientist.  Catherine is working as an engineer (and manages her branch office of this national firm) while balancing motherhood and attending an M.B.A. program at UC Berkeley, WHILE her husband is deployed to Iraq.  Daphne made Daily Variety’s list of the 50 women with the most impact in the entertainment business this year, and is on her way to adopting her second child.  Many of us are teachers.  One, my friend Amy, used her severance pay from the tech bust a few years ago to become a landscape designer.  Juli has worked as a buyer for some trendy retailers you might get catalogs for each month.  She’s currently running a division with Restoration Hardware. 

We are single, married, and one is about to get married to her partner (now that California allows same-sex marriage).  We have children through birth and adoption.  We stay home, or work outside the home. 

And none of this involves any of the stereotypes you hear about sorority girls (well, unless you count the one example of the lesbian fantasy touted in many adult films oriented toward men). 

Career success and pretty houses aren’t the heart of the reason I am proud of my sisters.  In 15 years, I’ve seldom met a group of women who see the big picture.  I’m not one of them, by the way.  I’m shallow and petty, and have a tendency to wallow more than I should.  It’s why I like them.  They inspire me to be a better person.  I think they’ve rubbed off on me a LITTLE, but I’m keeping them in my life a bit longer, because there’s more lessons to be learned.

To get a better idea of who we are, though, I’ll let Karen’s obituary speak for me.  Karen was 2 years (I think) ahead of me when I pledged, and I admired her a lot.  She passed away from colon cancer this year, but like my sorority sisters, she did it with style.  She made a difference.  There are two pieces about her in the New York TImes, where she was consulted about the uneven quality of care for cancer patients.  She testified before a committee at the FDA about the importance of “quality of life” medications for cancer patients.  Karen was an eighth grade teacher, who helped found a Catholic school in Seattle after running her own consulting firm and helping build tech businesses using her law degree and legal background.

It was one week after giving birth that Karen discovered she had cancer that had spread to her liver.  It’s never a good thing when the doctor comes in to consult with you, tears in his eyes.  So with her newborn, Karen fought to live through more milestones than her initial prognosis allowed for: 2 months.  Like all my friends, she was a fighter, and she was blessed to make it to her daughter’s second birthday.  Not long enough.  Not by a long shot.  But I am so proud of her for fighting and for being grateful along the way. 

In the midst of her battle with cancer, Karen asked to give the gratitude prayer at her church’s Thanksgiving Mass.  Humbling.  Full of grace.

So...you may never have been blessed to know Karen, but I want you to meet her anyway. 

New York Times Article, number one

New York Times Obituary

Herald-Journal Obituary

Ryan’s cousin Eric married the love of his life a few years ago, and we welcomed Melanie, his stepdaughter into our family.  It made us proud when she decided to spend the year after high school graduation as a volunteer for AmeriCorps.  Like the Peace Corps in our own country, Melanie has been working to make life better for those with massive challenges.

Her latest project has been working in New Orlean’s St. Bernard’s Parish, a place hit hard by Hurricane Katrina three years ago yesterday.  Now she and the citizen’s are likely being evacuated because of Gustav, and everyone is worried and saddened. 

Below is a video of the AmeriCorps crew christening a Habitat for Humanity house that they helped build.  Imagine the pride of building something so necessary with your own two hands.  Now it is possible that work will be destroyed, but what Gustav can’t take away is the love that these young people put into it.  Nineteen and bringing youthful sweat equity, along with a goofy video.

Please keep everyone in your prayers. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSMiEkVj7DY&eurl=http://www.new.facebook.com/home.php

Matt starts fourth grade in a few days, and it’s a big transition.  After much thought, we had him put into the GATE class.  I’m still not 100% convinced it’s the right decision, but I’m going to try it.  We can always pull him out of the program next year.  Anything would be better than his experience last year with the woman who didn’t “get” boys. 

The thing is, Matt’s teacher is a two-time Olympic gold medalist and two-time world record holder in swimming. 

I thought the fact his surgeon climbed Mt. Everest was impressive. 

I’m going back to languishing in mediocrity.