Always tell the truth. Even if you have to make it up. ~Author Unknown

This is me giving myself advice. I mean for this to go along with my last blog.

Truth is the most valuable thing we have, so I try to conserve it.
Mark Twain

“Gossip needn't be false to be evil - there's a lot of truth that shouldn't be passed around.”
Frank A. Clark

If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything.
Mark Twain

"Gossip and slander are not victimless crimes. Words do not just dissipate into midair. . . . Words can injure and damage, maim and destroy - forcefully, painfully, lastingly. . . . Plans have been disrupted, deals have been lost, companies have fallen, because of idle gossip or malicious slander. Reputations have been sullied, careers have been ruined, lives have been devastated, because of cruel lies or vicious rumors. . . . Your words have such power to do good or evil that they must be chosen carefully, wisely, and well."
Wayne Dosick

A half truth is a whole lie.
Yiddish Proverb

"I will follow my logic, no matter where it goes, after it has consulted with my heart. If you ever come to a conclusion without calling the heart in, you will come to a bad conclusion."
Robert Ingersoll

Reality is bad enough. Why should I tell the truth?
Patrick Sky

Speak the truth, but leave immediately after.
Slovenian Proverb

"A more peaceful way to live is to decide consciously which battles are worth fighting and which are better left alone. . . . Is it really important . . . that you confront someone simply because . . . he or she has made a minor mistake? . . . Does a small scratch on your car really warrant a suit in small claims court? . . . These and thousands of other small things are what many people spend their lives fighting about. . . . If you don't want to 'sweat the small stuff,' it's critical that you choose your battles wisely."
Richard Carlson

The cruelest lies are often told in silence.
Adlai Stevenson

"Wink at small faults; remember thou hast great ones."
Benjamin Franklin

Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true.
Robert Brault

A little candor never leaves me. It is what protects me.
Antonio Porchia

Respect for the truth is an acquired taste.
Mark Van Doren

People who are brutally honest get more satisfaction out of the brutality than out of the honesty.
Richard J. Needham

There are only two ways of telling the complete truth - anonymously and posthumously. Thomas Sowell

“The only gossip I'm interested in is things from the Weekly World News - 'Woman's bra bursts, 11 injured'. That kind of thing.”
Johnny Depp

Cue the Truth Police

One of my greatest character flaws in running my mouth. When I get angry, I quickly spout off to whoever happens to be nearby. People who know me really well just let it go--they know that I will chill once the catharsis is complete. A good friend of mine recently reminded me that I need to be more careful who I choose as listener for my venting because he/she may not understand that no matter what I am saying, I am likely only momentarily upset.

This made me think about 'talking behind someone's back' and I realized that I probably do this far too often. Granted, most of it is harmless, 'ugggh' kinds of things--passing annoyances easily dismissed. Nevertheless, I decided that I should tell my friends/family directly when I am upset about something. I try to delineate between passing irritation and true issues that are getting in the way of my relationship with him/her. I recently made my first attempt at telling someone about what was bothering me, only to have it blow up in my face.

So, what now? I don't want to be cynical and just say, 'well, back to sh*t talking,' but seriously? Is this why so many people gossip and avoid honesty from the get-go? I realize that sometimes I could use more tact--who couldn't? But I want to feel as though I can speak candidly with the people in my life without fear of an nuclear meltdown in the relationship. I simply cannot tiptoe around on eggshells sugarcoating everything--it's hard on my back and sticky as all hell.

Maybe I just overestimate the openness of my relationships. Maybe I am just a jerk. Maybe most people just 'can't handle the truth!' But maybe, just maybe, I did what was true to me--and I won't apologize for that.

Lisa 'veritas vos liberabit' C

My Two Funny Girls

I have two friends that regularly crack me up. Here are some things these two ladies (and I use that term loosely) have said via MySpace, text message, or in conversation in the recent past:

Viva La Santa... wait a minute... that doesn't sound right. Give me a break. I've only lived here for six months. I'm practicing the language.

I like to think of our tezts as "delightfully tacky," much like the Hooter's slogan!
I love that I typed tezts. Wow...have another!

Over the holiday weekend a rattler wounded my dog Scooter. I ended up paying a pretty penny on anti-venom and care provided at the vet. I've gotten several, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" looks from co-workers regarding the pricey bill. The best though, is when a co-worker informed me I wasted money and Benadryl would've sufficed. Okay Ace Ventura, the snake bit my dog… he didn't sneeze on him.

Why would someone have texted you? Why would they have seen 'The Gooch' in my phone book and been like, yeah, I'll text that one?

Apparently he was half blind before we got him glasses. You should have heard him read the other night! He did so good!

If anyone asks, 'ho, ho, ho' is just what Santa says and has nothing to do with our picture.

Lisa 'giggling' C

Christmas Movie Faves

I love Christmas movies, and so I compiled the following list of my favorites. These are mostly sentimental faves--most are the ones we would watch on TV as kids. And even in the instant gratification buy the holiday DVD set age, I still like to catch most of these on TV:

1. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer: Who hasn't felt like a Misfit Toy at some point in their life?

2. A Charlie Brown Christmas: She may be a b**ch, but I really love Lucy.

3. Miracle on 34th Street: I think I established my love of Santa in the last blog, so it's not a stretch to see why I love this movie.

4. Elf: First, I adore Will Ferrell. Second, I cry whenever Santa's sleigh flies over the cynical New Yorkers' heads. I really love this movie.

5. It's a Wonderful Life: Classic.

Lisa 'in the holiday spirit' C

You'd better watch out!

The Santa Myth

November 21 2007

Whether you're the kind of parent who creeps in on Christmas Eve to deposit presents at the foot of the bed, or goes so far as to put sooty footprints on the living room floor, apparently most kids have twigged the truth about the man in the red suit by the time they're seven and three quarters.
Back in the more innocent 1970s, children apparently believed in Santa beyond the age of nine, but a new survey by Disney to mark the launch of Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause has found that today's kids are more clued-up.

From: http://www.raisingkids.co.uk/todaysnews07/news_211107_03.asp

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was raised in the not-so-innocent-80s, and I am here to tell you that I believed in Santa.

Until I was 12.

Yes, really. (I was a late bloomer, in bra size and emotional maturity.) I'd suspected for a couple years, but when I finally pieced it all together, I told the family member I thought would be the least angry with me--a favorite aunt. She got wide eyes, and said, "You'd better talk to your dad." Crap. I was in trouble for not believing in Santa? My dad seemed somehow befuddled by this development in his little girl; he alternated between what seemed to be anger and disappointment. Finally, he pulled me aside, and told me that yes, I was right, there really was no fat man in a suit who delivered presents--but I had better be clear on one thing: "The spirit of Santa is very real. And that is what's important."

As with most things in life, my dad is so right.

My nine year old is dangerously close to not believing. And I, well, I feel my father's anger and disappointment at this development. Last year (when she was in third grade), she came home and questioned us constantly: "Mom, so-and-so said Santa isn't real...is he? How does he get to all the houses? Does he really live at the North Pole?" This was exhausting, this constant parade of know-it-all, disenchanted eight year olds trying to wreck my little girl's belief in Santa Claus. So you know what we did? We lied. We bought sleigh bells and made Santa-landing-on-the-roof-noises. We baked cookies and left them out for the big guy. We tracked Santa on NORAD's website. We kept her believing in Santa, if only for one more year.

In my research for this blog I found people calling Santa 'the big lie.' This crushes me a bit. Since when is believing in something you don't see, but benefit from, a terrible thing? I wasn't broken spirited when I found out Santa wasn't real. And when my kids quit believing, they'll be just fine (I may not be, however). My husband never believed in Santa, and he feels totally robbed. I did believe in Santa, and I am thankful. It's a lie, but as far as I am concerned--believing is always the truth.

Lisa 'Jolly ol' C

Burn, baby, burn!!

I am gearing up to teach Fahrenheit 451, and this if-you-never-read-it-but-always-wondered-what-it-was-about-GO-READ-IT-NOW cultural landmark of a novel always makes me think about how much books mean to me. So, in celebration of my Right to Read (ah, Cpt. Beatty--how I understand thee), I feel now is an appropriate time to talk about books I have loved and the sweet, sweet times we've had together (even if they didn't call me in the morning). I chose something from my past, and something that recently reminded me of the power of literature:

1. The Little House on the Prairie Series: These are the books that made me love reading. I think I read each one five or six times each, within a couple years' time. I loved Laura, her Pa, Ma, and sisters. I loved Jack, their little terrier who faithfully followed them across the prairie. I loved the idea of living in a dugout, and thanks to my favorite pioneer family, I still remember how to turn Maple syrup into candy using nothing but snow. Ah, the Ingalls...
2. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian by Sherman Alexie: This book somehow made me laugh and cry at the same time (really, I am not exaggerating). The book is partly autobiographical, and purely delightful. Alexie takes an unflinching look at 'the rez', and does not try to paint Native Americans, ahem, Indians, in any light other than the one he can shed on those nearest and dearest to him. There is tragedy, joy, and a basketball game that will wound you in the scarred place we all carry around from the trauma and triumph of high school.

God, I love books.

Lisa 'bookworm' C

What do you think?

Answer the following (in your mind, on a post-it, whatever). You must choose Agree or Disagree, you may choose neutral ONCE:

Technological advances make life better for everyone.

It is dangerous to place too much faith in technology.

Most teenagers are online too much.

Computer technology makes finding information faster and easier.

Adults too often use computer games as a kind of babysitter for their children.

Lisa 'Thinking' C

You. Have. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

Let's play that fun game of Which One Doesn't Belong':

You have a stylist, a personal dietician, and a trainer who keeps your body tight.

You are successful, and have made tons of money.

You hit the red carpet with camel toe.

Hmmmmm....

Lisa 'Dromedary' Cillessen

Oh, the humanity!

Observations as I shopped on Black Friday:

1. A woman lost her child in Children's Place (I never realized how ironic that store name was until that moment). I was at the checkout and noticed a great many people saying, 'Ashley' over and over again. The store employees were suddenly all over their walkie-talkies, and the phone by the register in front of me was occupied with a woman calling mall security. The mother was over my left shoulder, bawling her eyes out, hoarsely calling 'Ashley'...when suddenly the woman on the phone said, 'Ma'am, ma'am...mall security has her. They'll be here in a second.' Even the day after Thanksgiving there is always reason to be thankful.
2. My mother-in-law was talking on the phone via earpiece when a Lowe's store employee came up to ask if we needed help. Before I could answer that we needed Velcro, Patti said, "Baby, whatever you want..." (to my father-in-law about buying pizza). The poor guy's eyes went quite large for a second before I explained that she was on the phone.
3. At 6 p.m. in another store:

Store Clerk (holding the copy of 'Chuck and Larry' we were buying): "Have you guys seen this movie? Oh my gosh...it is sooooo funny. I laughed so hard! It's really, really good.

Me: How long have you been here?

Store Clerk: Me? Oh just a few months...

Me: (I make a face.)

Store Clerk: Oh, you mean today...oh. I got here at 3.

Me: Ah.

She was the first perky clerk I'd seen all day. Most store employees had been on since 4 a.m. so by noon they were spent. Speaking of spent...I am headed to bed...

Lisa 'Shopped 'til I Dropped' C

Because it needs to be said...

I have three family members planning weddings right now. All parties will be married within four weeks time next summer. As everyone plans their weddings, I feel compelled to say a few things...

Above all else, weddings are about union. The matrimonial celebration is not only about the joining of a couple, but the joining of families. I feel very powerfully that a wedding should be about inclusion--not exclusion. Argue if you will that it is 'their day' and they can do what 'they' want because it is 'their wedding'--in which case I ask, then why don't 'they' go have 'their wedding' by 'themselves'? Why worry so much about who is paying for what, how many people to invite, and where grandma is sitting if the special day is just for the two people getting married? The idea that a wedding is just for the couple is total bull. I'm pretty sure no couple pays $32 a head for 'their' enjoyment.

Someone whom I love dearly has recently been excluded from just such a celebration. By excluded, I do not mean the wedding party is 'full'--I mean she was left out to the tune of, "I picked ________ (a non-family member, while my friend is) to be in the wedding...you're not upset are you?" My darling friend is far more diplomatic than I am and she won't blog about how hurt she is--but I will. I think it is absolutely wrong to callously pick and choose wedding party members when it costs the wedding couple NOTHING to add people to the party. The bridesmaids/groomsmen take care of their own clothing, etc. so logistically the policy of pick and choose doesn't make sense. And going back to my argument of inclusion--why not work toward having more people there to support and eventually sustain your marriage than fewer? I know what marriage looks like two, four, and eight years into it, and those who were included on my wedding day are still those who I count on to support our marriage.

Hurt feelings last indefinitely. A wedding day lasts for 24 hours.

Lisa 'gotta say it' C

Five Fingers of Thanks

Today, here is what I am thankful for:

1. Electricity. I couldn't blog without it.


2. My new washer and dryer--these have literally changed my life.


3. The fact that I have been married for almost nine years and I do not have to plan and execute my wedding ever again in my life.


4. Snow on the ground. So pretty.


5. Beer.

Lisa 'Turkey' C

Annoyed

This is the email I received from my child's first grade teacher today:

Just a quick note to let you know that I found Taylor's Oct. 15th and Oct. 22nd homework papers today in her desk as we did some cleaning. I am trying to help to remind her but at this point it's going to take more push from home to really get this done. She doesn't see any importance in the homework she's doing and is not following through on returning her work on time. Any assistance from you guys at home would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for all that you do. Ms.XXX

My very diplomatic reply:


Ms. XXX,
We did get behind on her homework--honestly, during the week we are just non-stop go-go-go. We've always dealt with weekend homework with all the kids, so the 'due on Friday' schedule has thrown us for a loop. And obviously, we haven't done a good job of integrating her nightly homework into our routine. Honestly, we usually don't think to do it until Thursday night--and if Thursday night is busy...well, you see what happens. She brought all the backed up work last week--obviously little miss just stuffed it in her desk. I will work harder on instilling the importance of homework in her (and us!) and we'll be more diligent in the future.

On a plus note--we do read every night without fail, so she's got that going for her!

Have a good day,
LC

What I wanted to say:

Are you effing serious? First graders do not need nightly homework. They need literacy integrated into their daily lives and we do an outstanding job of this in our home. I am not surprised that Taylor sees no value in her homework, as I do not see the point of her doing mindless worksheets and telling me her address and counting doors in the house (assignments actually given). I am an educator and I fully understand the importance of at-home reinforcement of important concepts, but I do think you should sincerely question whether your little green grids of gloom that come home every Monday really are a means to that end. Furthermore, at the age of six, the reality is that the so-called 'homework' is really being assigned to the parent and I do not need or want this added to my evenings. Have a delightful day.

Nip/Tuck

Oh. My. God.

I don't watch much TV, but there is one show killing me right now. Can we just talk for a minute about Nip/Tuck?

Can they say that on TV? Can they repair that in real life?

I need to take a shower after I watch this damn show. Between Julia's lesbianism, Christian as a male magazine model, a really, really naughty18 year old, and the dominatrix...eww? I don't even know what to think. I know this is the most base, poorly written (hello...where's Conor and his effed up hands?) season yet, and I am still compelled to watch. It's the trainwreck syndrome; I can't look away.

We also tape Heroes, but I am taking a break from it--I got a bit annoyed with 'everyone's a superhero--look she can copy TV!' thing that was happening. Write a plot line, dammit...don't just aimlessly expand the cast.

That's all for now.

Lisa 'TiVo' C

Freedom

News item I picked up through a friend's blog:



TUSCOLA, Texas — A popular English teacher has been placed on paid leave _ and faces possible criminal charges _ after a student's parents complained to police that a ninth-grade class reading list contained a book about a murderer who has sex with his victims' bodies.
Kaleb Tierce, 25, is being investigated for allegedly distributing harmful material to a minor after the student selected Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Cormac McCarthy's "Child of God" off the list and read it. (See rest of article at http://www.foxnews.com/wires/2007Oct22/0,4670,BookControversy,00.html)



So far this year I have taught literature that deals with the following: incest, murder, death, capital punishment, adultery and self-multilation. And in the remainder of the year I will teach literature that deals with hellish punishments, burning books, genocide, Buddhism, racism, anti-government ideas, and sex.



Choosing the right book to teach is always a judgement call. If it was on the district's list, Tierce will have some protection. (Still, his protection will be limited; in another article I read it said he was not part of the teacher's union--in my opinion, this is where he really goofed.) Usually teachers follow a couple basic steps when it comes to choosing which books to teach: first, we choose books based on personal passion and curriculum requirements. Next comes the part that Tierce may have skipped--always have a rationale and a back-up plan. Since the book was on the pre-AP list, I am sure there is a rationale somewhere that justifies the use of Child of God in the classroom. (I have not read McCarthy's book, so I cannot speak to the grade level appropriateness of the story.) I cannot believe he didn't realize a book dealing with necrophilia couldn't be partly objectionable to some readers. If Tierce did not first send home a letter and then have an equitable and fair plan for those students who might not want to read the book for whatever reason, then he did not protect himself. And sadly, self-preservation and protection is something teachers need to think about if they wish for the longevity of their career.



I could rant and rave about the parents who objected to the literature, but quite simply, it is their right. And of course the beautiful reality of their objections is that they are self-punishing; their conservative battle-cry will renew interest in the very same material they mean to censor. So, Mr. Tierce, expect a thank you note from Cormac McCarthy soon.



Because these works are important, and because I believe you cannot be free without literature I will continue to teach Oedipus, The Crucible, Dante's Inferno, To Kill a Mockingbird, Civil Disobedience, Night, Siddhartha, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Fahrenheit 451.



"You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them." Ray Bradbury

On this day...

Yes, two blogs in one day. Aren't you lucky.

I posted my vent blog because it felt good. It was a guilty pleasure. Now, I must reflect on this sobering day of remembrance.

Today is of course the 110th anniversary of the first drunk driving arrest. Let us reflect, in all seriousness and with great thought and conversation, on the effects this tremendous event had on our lives. I think of this day every time I have four beers and then tell myself, "No, Lisa. You can't drive. Remember what happened to George Smith in '97?' Yeah, so it was 1897--but I often think of poor Georgie and his little electric London cab and his now dubious place in the annals of history.

But, wait...hold on. The History Channel is loading a new video on its 'This Day in History' video.

Of course I remember.

I remember we had no working TV because we'd only been living in our house a couple weeks and hadn't installed cable. I remember Jeremy left the house a little late and called back to tell me, "Terrorists are attacking the United States." I remember looking at my two little girls in the tub and putting a hand on my belly full of our son and wondering if we were safe. I remember dashing to my parents to see the footage. I remember seeing the totally surreal image of planes dissolving into the side of a skyscraper whose name I knew despite never having traveled to New York. I remember seeing bodies dropping like bricks, people holding hands, and the completely mind bending image of buildings disintegrating into plumes of gray dust.

I remember George W. Bush's speech from atop the wreckage, and his televised address shortly thereafter. I remember asking my brother, "Are you still glad you joined the military?" and I remember his answer: "Lisa. This is why I joined the military." I remember learning new words like Taliban, Shiite, Sunni, and WMDs. I remember already knowing who Saddam was, and honestly hoping we'd catch him (but I have NEVER watched his hanging).

I say the Pledge of Allegiance in my 2nd hour classroom every morning (despite the annoying f**king chain email that keeps insisting people don't say it in public schools). I work with both bleeding heart liberals and hardass conservatives and yet, I am equally turned off by, "America doesn't need to be the world's police" and "Troop Surge". I am so damn happy to be an American it is silly, but I see how life can be equally satisfying and happy elsewhere.

I remember today.

Lisa 'Red, White, and Blue' C

Make like a Volcano and Vent

I said I would not be passive-aggressive using my blog. But dammit, it's my blog and I'm going to vent.

I'm going to vent about Britney Spears and how disgusting she looked at the VMAs. I want to write this letter:

Dear Britney,

You have millions of dollars. Quit getting your weave from a beauty school dropout.

You have had two kids. Quit acting like you didn't.

You can't sing and we've know that forever. Quit f**king up your dancing--it's what we counted on.

Love,

A concerned citizen

I'm going to vent about teenage girls letting their boobs hang out of their shirt. Seriously? Why do I have to call attention to it? I HATE that part of my job. Why do you want people to feel uncomfortable? Because a couple teenage boys might have to carry their math books in front for a few minutes after seeing you? Ick.

I am going to vent about shared custody where kids have to move back and forth between parents' houses. Let them choose a home base for the majority of the time. The arrangement may work while they're little, but it tears them up when they're in high school. I see it all day long.

I am going to vent about health food freaks/certain medical professionals/know-it-all-health-nuts. I am going to clue them on a little something: You will die. Life will kill you. And from time to time I'd like to have a McDonald's french fry without seeing that bastard from 'Super Size Me' in my mind. It's called moderation, people. Try it.

I am going to vent about people commenting on my weight. I don't comment when you look like you've put on ten pounds, so quit giving me nasty looks and saying skinny in a way that I know does not imply praise. And believe it or not, there are things that I am very uncomfortable about on my body too, so don't dismiss me based on my pant size.

I'm going to vent about venting. I get to do it if I want. I can say what I want, because if I deal with the consequences, who gives a sh*t? Talk is cheap, actions speak louder than words, and by golly, that is how I live. I get mad quickly and I cool down just as fast. I don't hold grudges very long, and I sure don't pick fights. I bust my ass to include many, many people in my life and with all those personalities around me, sometimes there is conflict. So, when I get frustrated, I run my mouth. I'm tired of apologizing for this part of my personality. Anyone who knows me at all knows my venting is mostly steam, and once the irritation is out--it's gone. And for the record, that rapid dissipation of anger benefits many, many people in my life who have hurt me. It's true that in my older age I've learned when I should and should not say certain things to certain people, but generally, I talk. That's me.

Lisa 'Mount St. Helens' C

"Wouldn't you like to be my neighbor?"

I have a great neighborhood. Ok--I'm sure when most people come to my house the first time, they're not blown away by the cute little houses next to the rentals that are going to pot, but I love my little house and where it's at.

I am a pleasure denier. At dinner, I save my favorite food item for last. I often force myself to do very unpleasant things before rewarding myself with a more enjoyable pasttime. It's just how I am. I don't like having or doing anything if I don't feel like I earned it. I feel that way about my house. I am putting in my time with a 1000 sq. ft. upstairs (filled with two adults, three rapidly growing kids, two dogs, and myriad guests) in an okay neighborhood. Although I can't wait for more space, I will miss my little, odd cul-de-sac.

When I look catty-corner to me, I think of the neighbors who moved away for more space with their three kids, and how we too will make that same exodus some day. I think about the renters who live there now, and how cuts in mental health care affect their family. I look directly across the street to our favorite neighbor, a Mexican immigrant who put in my flagstone patio and who will cross the street to let me practice my really bad Spanish on him and his evolving English on me. When I glance across and to my left I see my elderly neighbors, who are the original homeowners, and I wonder why no one ever comes to visit them. I also wonder if loneliness is why they insist on layering their front sidewalk with popcorn to attract the ducks from a nearby lake. To my direct left is a bachelor who isn't often home, and whose parents come over to initiate any and all home improvements. To his left is a family with a fifteen year old daughter who looks ten, and a dad whose thick New York accent is a perfect compliment to the white wife-beaters and shorts he wears when he cruises up and down the street commenting on the state of the neighborhood.

I love my crazy little barrio. I worry about buying a big, obnoxious house in a bland, white-bread area. I worry about losing character and variety and flavor for square footage. But Lord knows we'll have earned it.

Lisa "Mr. Rogers" C

Bueller...Bueller...

I am back in school. My nine year old informed me that it isn't fair that I have to go back before my students. After hours of blinding meetings, I am tempted to second her opinion. In all seriousness though, I am okay with being back. I hesitate to say ready, because I think I could have used a couple more weeks.

I am figuring out that being a second year teacher is going to be a bit gnarly. Not as death defying as my first year, but still difficult. I have my own room, and as I've started taking ownership of my own space, I really feel myself settling in for another go. We are undertaking major curriculum realignment right now, which means a ton of work...but we'll get there.

A student I had last fall died over the summer in a car accident. Drinking and driving. What I remember best about him was that he was the first student to cuss around me. We were studying Oedipus and talking about the infamous Oedipal complex, when he said, 'Isn't that where a kid wants to f**k his mom?' Yeah...I didn't let that one slide. While death often means a positive, compliment laden memorial, I have to say that I wasn't truly surprised that he went out the way he did. He seemed arrogant, and very much the party type. Still, he was a kid. They're all really still just kids.

I do love my job. My crazy, hard as hell job. Here's to round two...

Lisa 'Maestra' Cillessen

Celebrity trash and me!

This is really silly, but I saw it on a friend's MySpace post and had to try it for myself. I just got out of the car after 7 hours on the road (just me and my three kids), so this is my evening brain candy. If you want to do it, try different photos--I chose one I liked, but then went back and found a not-so-flattering photo, and on that attempt the face recognition said I looked like Camilla Parker Bowles and David Bowie. Um, so, yeah...I chose to post the more pleasant of the two...for my sake, and yours. You're welcome.

http://www.myheritage.com

Just thinkin'...

The Brain is a-goin'...

I am so not ready to start working again.

I don't have a book to read right now...and that totally stresses me out.

My mom was right about just getting books from the library.

How am I going to decorate my classroom? I need floorlamps...crates...posters...

We spent a sh*tload of money in July.

Luau.

I love that the people I had over Wednesday told me I had a great house. I don't hear that much.

Spending $3.00 in quarters and 15 minutes was so worth it to use the cool vacuum at the car wash place.

I should be writing a to-do list, not a blog.

I miss my brother who lives overseas.

I'm excited to rock it to Farmington next weekend...I totally dig my in-laws (and it wasn't always like that!)

I saw a baby born a little over a week ago, and as always, it made my heart stop a little with the magnificence of being witness to new life.

One of the reasons I never had a fourth child is because I didn't want to hear, 'Again?' again.

Disneyland has forever ruined my expectations for theme parks. Curse the raised bar!

I want to buy a cabin in the mountains. I hate tent camping.

I love that the title of 'best friend' is still a big deal in my life.

My nine year old daughter made a friend at the pool today, and I overheard them talking about a rude boy. I smiled for about ten minutes.

Lisa 'Random' C

Internet Goodies

I1. have found MySpace for geeks like me. It is called Shelfari, check it out at http://www.shelfari.com/ . Above is my shelf...I'm working on adding more tags and reviews, etcetera. If you see something I haven't rated and you're curious, shoot me a message and I'll let you know what I thought of the book. You can join (for free) and create your own shelf.

2. There is a dude who tied helium balloons to his lawn chair and flew 13,000 feet in the air for almost two hundred miles. Don't believe me? Check it out here: http://www.abcnews.go.com/GMA/story?id=3365726

3. I thought most people knew about it, but apparently not. Check out Post Secret--people mail their secrets on post cards to this guy and he posts them online. (He's collected thousands and thousands--there are Post Secret books.) There are new posts every Sunday: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

That's it for today...

Lisa "www dot" C

Punching Sully and Other Fun Tales out of Uncle Walt's House

We returned from Disneyland safe and sound. The drive was cake, and the kids were great. The following is a list of my favorite memories from our trip...

1. Favorite Sights:
Sitting outside on a bench in Disneyland, a nun in full habit.

An 80+ year old woman being pushed in her wheelchair by what appeared to be her grandson--she was wearing a Goofy hat, complete with a bill that made up Goofy's snout and two big black ears hanging down. She made the boy stop at every baby she passed so she could pinch cheeks and coo.

A cross-dressing man in a short black dress and pigtails. He was spotted again later in shorts and a t-shirt--perhaps Walt and Crew took offense?

The fireworks show is amazing. They have Tinkerbell flying around (an actual person on a cable system) above the castle waving her wand to set off the show. Connor said, 'Tinkerbell can really fly?!' That made a believer out of adults too...

2. Favorite happenings:
When Sully (from Monsters Inc.) approached us, my cousin gave him a playful little jab to the side and then hugged him. The lady escorting Sully said, 'Oh, no! We don't punch Sully! He's a nice Monster!' in a tone that implied Kristina should have known better. Seriously. I'm pretty sure Kristina would have punched that lady if there hadn't been kids present.

The Indiana Jones ride was a blast, but Connor almost revolted when we tried to go on it again. He was crying and throwing a fit, until, grasping for straws, I said that the big boulder that rolls toward the jeep is plastic and there's nothing in it. His eyes opened wide and he said, "It's fake?" We got him to go on everything by simply explaining the mechanics behind it. Maybe we sucked some magic out of it, but you try to find a five year old who's ridden Space Mountain and The Tower of Terror three times each!

While boarding the Monsters Inc. ride (and no, Kristina didn't box anything on this ride), the ride operators noticed Madison was wearing a birthday hat. When our little cars got to the end of the ride, our cars stopped and an animatronic Monster sang 'Happy Birthday' to her. It was such a wonderful experience for Ms. Maddy.

We spotted Mickey on the California Adventure side of the park--he was in his safari gear. We happened to see him just as he came around the corner so we got behind a couple people and scored a great picture.

3. Comments on Traveling to Disneyland:
Unless you're someone who intends to take your kids their multiple times in their young lives, why you would take a child under the age of five is beyond me. I watched many an exhausted, bleary eyed parent struggle with toddlers and babies who didn't want to wait in line for the Dumbo ride they would never remember. Everyone has their own agenda, I guess.

Disneyland is great for keeping parties together, and every ride operator has their own lingo (i.e. at The Tower of Terror, it's 'Enjoy your stay' when you board the ride, at Space Mountain, it's 'Welcome back Space Explorers). Disneyland is not good for meeting the characters--watch the parade if you really have to see them, but if you want to actually meet most of the princesses, etc. you're talking half and hour plus waiting in line. No thanks.

Fast Pass it. You can get a Fast Pass that will give you a window of time to return to the ride, and when you return, you go to the front. Not every ride offers it, but most of the big ones do. Plot out your plan of attack to make sure you get to go on the rides you like best.

Get there early, and then take a break. We got there first thing both days, and then left around the hottest time of the day; we returned to our hotel room and took naps. It was the way to do it, I tell ya. Also, pay attention to the restrictions on your tickets--certain tickets allow an 'Early Admission' day, where you can get in an hour early (it's only offered on certain days of the week, so check that too!). We got there an hour early, and when we got up front, discovered the Two-Day Park Hopper ticket doesn't allow Early Admission. Big, big sad faces.

The prices and lines are not completely ridiculous. Prepare for the worst, and expect the best.


Lisa 'I heart Disneyland' Cillessen

Dimples

Recently, I took the kids to visit a close friend and her newborn son. Because I'd been tied up in my first year teaching and she was absorbed in pregnancy/new motherhood, we hadn't seen each other in several months. When my youngest--a sturdy little dude of five--stepped through the door, my friend remarked, 'My, what a big boy he's become.' Her remark highlighted my own silent, sad observation. My youngest, who just five years ago was a drooling, diaper-wearing carpet monster, has no baby left in him.

In all my kids, the hallmark of the transition from little to big kid is not the typical mile marker of diapers to underwear, or the abandonment of the crib. Rather, the evidence of big kid is in the elbow--really, in the disappearance of their elbow dimples. Those adorable little depressions just above the elbow were the most lasting signature of baby on my kiddos--well after the diapers were (thankfully) retired, the roundness of the cheeks thinned out, and the sippy cups disappeared, those little dimples persisted. I loved pushing my finger into the little indentation and feeling the baby chubbiness push back. What I had noticed months earlier on my little guy was verbalized by my friend--all sign of baby is erased from my son's now long, summer-browned, big boy arms.

I am not a baby person--I didn't cry when they lost their first tooth or when they turned one. I enjoy holding a friend's baby, but I love that my kids have grown up into kids. I feel as though I am parenting more now, and babysitting less. Still, the loss of my last baby's elbow dimple gave me pause.

They really do grow up so fast.

Lisa 'mommy' C

Weighing In...

Weighing in on cultural/celebrity/internet goodies...

#1: The Sopranos Series Finale: If you were stupidly watching The Sopranos only for mob violence, well, yeah, Sunday's episode likely pissed you off. If you watched this likely-to-be-called-best-TV-drama of all time and never noticed that what made it better than any other mob story ever was the tragic hero/family dynamic...well, clearly you were stupidly watching. So stop crying. Of course Tony wasn't going to get whacked...

#2: Paris Hilton: Says acting dumb was an act. Agents dump her. Nuff said.

#3: The Today Show: Other than always being amused when they say, 'Tomorrow on Today', I sometimes catch a great interview--like one I saw the other morning. I have a thing for reading war memoirs (shout out to my boy Hagburg who let me read his handwritten journal from his time in Iraq). I caught an interview the other morning with Matt Lauer and a former Navy Seal by the name of Marcus Luttrell. The sit-down focused on Luttrell's experience in a firefight during his tour in Afghanistan from which he emerged as the sole survivor. He wrote a book about it (I've already requested it from the library). But the real gem is the interview--follow the link and watch the actual video (scroll down a tiny bit and click 'Launch' where you see his face): http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19173935/ What he says toward the end of the interview is heartbreaking, and a head's up that my generation will have to carry the burden of many stories from many a heart-broken veteran.

#4: Books (of course): Just read a book called Feed by M.T. Anderson. It is on the Summer Reading list for our 10th graders and since they're tested on these books within the first week of school, I figured I'd better read all the books. Feed is set in futuristic America--people no longer have external computers, instead they now have 'feeds' in their heads. With these feeds they can do everything we can do with PCs now, and more. The characters are constantly bombarded with ads and banners (think pop-ups in your brain), and are always IMing one another. It is definitely an interesting concept--but ultimately, I didn't like the book. I hated the main character and I felt that some of the writing was all over the place, and the futuristic 'English' was just ridiculous. Now I am reading Wicked by Gregory Maguire. Yes, the same Wicked that was made into the hit musical. It is the true tale of the Wicked Witch of the West. I haven't seen the musical, but the word on the street is that it is significantly different than the book. So far it is very interesting, and totally different than what I thought it would be about.

That's all for today...

Lisa "Logging Off" Cillessen

Mrs. C's End of Year Reflection

If you were wondering, no, I am not drunk. (Yet.)

Well, now, don't stop reading...I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunity for drunk-blogging this summer.

I am so happy my first year is over. I can honestly say that this past year has been the hardest year in my life. More difficult than when I had Madison, tougher than when Jeremy and I had problems, and rougher than the time my family tried to force me into AA. (Wait, that last thing hasn't happened yet...maybe I can just feel it coming...)

My first year in a nutshell (and if anyone just thought of Austin Powers, I love you):

I've taught 118 students how to be better readers, better writers, and better people. I've graded well over 1,000 pieces of paper. I coached a speech team. I had to tell 26 sophomores on the second day of school that a classmate died. I made students cry, and I made students laugh. I told them 'Friday Stories' and watched as they blossomed into storytellers in their own right. I read 24 books since the start of the school year because it was the only thing I could do for myself that still somehow paid off in the classroom. I had a failing student tell me that it was okay he failed because he was taking more away from my class than just a grade. I had a student tell me that she fell back in love with reading because of my class. I had a student tell me to not admit that I hated teaching poetry because it made the class hate it, too. I had a student tell me if there was an All Star game for teachers, I'd be in it--because rookies can dream, too. I watched Freedom Writers with my sophomores because so many of them said that it reminded them of our class. I offered extra credit for students who wrote a letter to a senator after they watched a documentary about child soldiers in Africa. I had to give first semester finals in January after a December blizzard cancelled school for two days. I had a student tell me thank you for being like a mom to him and the whole class. I baked cookies for my students, and they brought me caramel corn, cookies, Starbucks, and Arby's. I had a parent tell me he thought his son had plagiarized something because he couldn't believe how much his son had grown as a writer--and he then told me that my class was the only one his son ever talked about. I worked with several other dedicated teachers to ensure that students were well fed before they took the CSAP. I worked myself into panic attacks and finally after confessing it, several other teachers admitted they, too, had the same thing. I worked alongside some of the most brillant people I've ever met--and I often felt intimidated by the collective brain power in the room. I told the story of Jeremy's cliff falling accident and had a student start bawling; when I asked her what was wrong, she explained her father had been killed in a fall only 7 years ago. I kicked my entire fifth hour out of class when they made me so mad I couldn't see straight. I made kids call their parents during class for neglecting to complete their homework. I had more than one student say this was their best English class ever. I had a student thank me for understanding her learning diability and helping her. I taught Dante's Inferno, Oedipus, Latin American literature, Night, A Midsummer Night's Dream, two different types of research papers, The Crucible, Siddhartha, Fahrenheit 451, and a Coming of Age unit. I learned.

I taught.

Lisa "I'll be back for more in August" Cillessen