Where Were You?

A little questionaire I got from Shae's blog...

The following are 5 major events and the impact they had on me:

Princess Diana's death - August 31, 1997
I was just coming home from the California State Fair with a college roommate. We had gone to my parents' house for the weekend so she could see the fair. We were shocked to find the news on TV. Her mom came to our apartment a few days later and we all watched the funeral together.

Margaret Thatcher's resignation - November 22, 1990
I was in 7th grade, and it was a loooonnng time before my Anglophilia came out, so it didn't rock my world in any way.

Attack on the Twin Towers - September 11, 2001
I was working. I had to be at Mervyn's at 6:00 to do the ad work--basically scanning all items to make sure they were signed correctly. As the first plane hit, I was driving down Folsom Blvd. to the store.

A few minutes into my shift, I was bleary-eyed and tired, scanning pajamas and bras, when the manager came over the PA to tell us she was turning the radio on, replacing our normal "Mervyn's Muzak" with a news show. We had no idea what was going on, but the more we listened, the more we knew it was terrorist-related.

The lady in jewelry (the department next to mine) and I hugged and worried about our families, even though the terror seemed confined to the East Coast, and not the West. I don't think anyone felt truly safe that day.

We had a TV in the employee break room, but the reception was terrible. We had fuzzy images of the towers smoking, and people fleeing. I tried calling my parents but couldn't get a hold of them.

The store opened at 9:00 and our manager turned the muzak back on, and told us, "I know our country has just been attacked...but we still have to push credit!"

Within a couple of weeks, I had quit and gone to subbing and teaching private music lessons full time (this was while I was working on my teaching credential).

I got off at noon and went home to find that Dad had been sent home from work. All state employees had been sent home. Dad already had our American flag posted in front of the house. As I pulled in, Mom was just coming home for lunch. We hugged and went in to watch the news. It was terrible. We watched the towers fall on TV.

I had class that night--National University didn't cancel classes. I couldn't afford to miss one, so I went. We spent the first hour or so discussing the day and how it had affected us, and for those who were already in classrooms, how it had affected their kids. In the end, I was glad I went to class that night, to get insight about how to handle this kind of situation in a school setting. I wish I could say it helped me when I was teaching in England on the day of the London Transport Bombings (July 7, 2005), but we weren't allowed to talk about that with the students...which seemed really awful to me.

England's World Cup semi final v Germany - July 4, 1990
I was eleven...and about a week shy of getting my first period. Wow! Yeah...I was pretty self-absorbed at that point.

President Kennedy's Assassination - November 22, 1963
I wasn't born yet, but I know it was a huge thing for my parents' generation, and, indeed, our whole nation.

"She's One of Us!"

It's no secret that I am a complete Neat Freak. With capital letters. Case in point: I've just spent the last two-and-a-half hours doing some minor cleaning in preparation for...going out of town this weekend. Yep.

Well, think about it: I can't leave the garbage growing nasty stuff under the sink, or the damp towels molding in the washing machine. The carpet was looking a little rough with debris, so I ran the vacuum around. Hung some clothes up, folded some laundry, etc. I'm feeling quite satisfied.

But I digress. The title of this post is not about my clean little apartment, but rather a funny little incident that happened to Little Miss Organized at work yesterday.

I had treated myself to a small pouch of Hershey's Kissables (Special Dark--yum!) the night before, and brought them in my lunch box. After eating my little microwave meal and a small tub of applesauce, I was eager to dig in to the chocolate.

Three other 7th/8th grade teachers and the school's curriculum advisor happened to be in the teaher's lounge with me at the time, and conversation was flowing along at a nice pace as I sorted my Kissables into neat little pairs by color.

Yes, yes, it's one of those wierd little things I do.

Anyway, I was doing it without even thinking about it, putting the little brown ones together, then the red, then the purple, then the lavender. Suddenly, I noticed it was sort of quiet in the room, and two of the teachers, a couple of gals who are about my age, were looking at me with funny looks, watching my little display of Obsessive Candy Sorting. One was whispering.

I must have had a baffled look on my face because Stacy burst out laughing and said, "Pam just leaned over and whispered, 'She's one of us!'"

Who knew that fitting in at my new job would be all about my strange eating habits? :P

I Can Has Kitties

Every once in a while, I stop by Lolcats 'n' Funny Pictures of Cats -- I Can Has Cheezburger? a terrific website in which cute/funny pictures of cats (and sometimes other animals) are posted with hysterical captions in bad grammar and spelling.

Tonight, I got inspired to make my own version of Lolcats with pictures of my own Millie and Mom's Bella and Duchess. The result follows.

Got Latin?

I'm working on a lesson plan for my 7th and 8th graders, in which they will design a school seal and a school money. It is to be a contest, and the winners will receive prizes.

To help my kids along, I'm coming up with some ideas. This project stems out of a discussion we had last week about the Great Seal of the United States, and the symbolism in the unfinished pyramid (with 13 steps), the Eye of Horus, the eagle, and why it has an olive branch (signifying peace) in one foot and thirteen arrows (signifying war) in the other. Thirteen comes up a lot, because of the original thirteen colonies. We also discussed the meaning of the Latin phrases used in the seal, specifically e pluribus unum, meaning "out of many, one." I asked how many of my students were born outside of the United States (a majority, actually) and explained that like their families, for hundreds of years now, people have been coming from many different places to live in and create one country. I think they got it.

Anyway, for their seals, I want them to have a motto of some kind, and I thought it might be fun to have those mottos in Latin. Fire up Google! I typed "Latin generator" into the field and came up with a very handy page for generating Latin mottos.

Fun! Now I've got a bunch of ideas for my kids to use, like "Knowledge and Friendship," "Through knowledge, life," and many others.

All Dressed Down with Nowhere to Go

...and that's a good thing!

I love Friday evenings at home. After a busy week, giving myself Friday evening to loaf around the apartment with a good movie or book is the best reward. Saturday night is better for going out--and Friday is perfect for catching up on my "me" time.

Another successful week at the new job. I am thoroughly enjoying working with my "teenies" (the kindergarteners, 1st and 2nd graders) and my "tweenies" (the always-exciting preteen set of middle school). The little kids are a lot of fun. We've been doing a lot of singing with motion. The kindergartners are still very young--barely a month into school, so with them, I'm just hoping to reinforce the motor skills and some of the things they learn in their classroom. We've been doing a lot of "game" songs like The Farmer in the Dell and Itsy Bitsy Spider, and we also spend some time singing about colors and animals with my finger puppets. It's something I saw a really good elementary music teacher do, and I just had to bring it here with me. Let me tell you, the kids love the finger puppets!

It's good to be back with the younger kids. I enjoy their energy and their innocence. They don't have that "I hate school" mentality yet...well, we had some "criers" for a while, but they're getting better as they get used to going to school and being away from home and family all day.

Even my middle school kids are, for the most part, really fun to work with. They definitely take a different teaching style than the teenies! But I've had a lot of experience with this age group, and I actually, sorta...like them. : P

I come home from work every day feeling satisfied that I'm in a good place. I'm getting to know my colleagues and we have a good rapport. The 7th/8th grade team had a collaboration meeting the other day, and we kept coming up with more ideas for integrating VAPA with the core curriculum (in this week's case, 8th grade social studies)...which explains why my students will be designing a school seal and money in the next week.

So, things are good. I'm looking forward to a relaxing weekend. I might do some shopping--suddenly it seems all of my blouses are too ragged for work. I suppose that's the Back to School ads getting to my head. Still, there's a Shoe Pavilion nearby...I'm tempted to publish this blog and get in my car.

I'm finally getting my cable TV tomorrow. I waited a few weeks, and then there was a glitch with Comcast, so instead of coming last weekend, they're coming tomorrow. I missed the entire Olympics, but NBC is posting everything on the web, and I find I'm happy going back a day or two later and watching the videos...sans all the commercials.

And that, as they say, is all for now, folks. : )

Home Sweet Home

It's only taken me, what, a month? Without further ado...some pics of my new apartment.

First, we had to settle in. For Millie, this meant finding a place where she could be in control of her situation. She's an agile cat, and she likes high places...so the top of the cabinets above the fridge must have seemed ideal. Once she was settled in comfortably (and I'd finally arranged the living room), she was happy to have her Sweet Spot available. Oh, and the bird TV is fabulous.





As you walk in the front door, the kitchen/dinette is to the left:




I won't be putting a table in the dinette area--the hutch just doesn't give much room for that. The closet is being used as a pantry. The boxes stacked next to it are Grandma's china--pretty much the last thing I have to unpack.

Still entering the apartment, to the right is the living room. I put the computer at one end, so I can work on lesson plans and such while watching TV. Plus, the second bedroom isn't big enough to be an office, craft room AND Snoopy display place...two outta three ain't bad, right?





The next two are closeups of my infamous London Shrine (still working on getting it "just right") and my tea table setup. Cute, no? The Cabbage Patch Kid is Delinda Eleanor. She was my first (of ten) "Cabbies," and she is an original. The first Christmas they were out, they were nearly impossible to get--the 1980-something equivilent of Tickle Me Elmo--but Mom and Dad managed. Never say I take that for granted, as there's Delinda, in my living room.




Across the living room to the kitchen...the stereo is on the chair because I'm taking it to school soon. I never use it at home; it's all about iTunes.



My kitchen...it's tiny and has way less storage than my last one, but I'm learning to work in it. Less to mop, that's for sure!



So...the 2nd bedroom. Yeah, it's still a mess. Hey, on move-in day, it was wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling boxes. Now at least I can move around in there, but I have a ways to go before I can actually use the table for scrapbooking. I have started finding creative ways to display my gargantuan Snoopy collection (there's still one box I haven't unpacked). It's coming!






Across from the 2nd bedroom is my teensy-weensy bathroom. I almost have to close the door to brush my teeth.




Finally, my bedroom, at the very back of the apartment. I have a travel theme going...and an enormous closet. I love the closet. Makes up for the small kitchen and bath!






And that's it. I still have some organizing to do, and power cords to hide and such. But mostly I'm settled in, and I like it. It's home.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

I am feeling the best kind of exhausted today. : )

My Big Three-Oh Celebration was a huge success. A great time was had by all. It started off a wee bit rocky, as the Birthday Girl got caught in horrid traffic on the Bay Bridge, but sanity was never lost and tears never shed.

Normally when I have an event I'm going to, I give myself a cusion of time just in case I hit delays. I didn't do this last night, as I was schlepping on the makeup and blow-drying my hair until the very last minute. I threw some clothes into my backpack and ran out to the car...where I discovered that if I didn't fill up the gas tank, I'd be coasting into the city on a teaspoon of gas.

I was actually making very good time when I hit the outskirts of Oakland. A traffic info sign said, "Downtown SF -- 38 minutes." Now, I know these things are generally very accurate, but still, I was the Birthday Girl and no one was keeping me from my big celebration. "Psh," I said out loud to the steering wheel. "Thirty-eight minutes to get from here to downtown? It's barely 15 miles!"

Famous last words.

Before long, I was in a parking lot. Seems everyone wanted to go to San Francisco for the evening.

I called Heather to let her know I was having a problem. At this point, I'd been quietly seething at my bad luck, but Heather simply said, "Well, there's nothing you can do. Let us know when you make it to the bridge."

Finally, about 20 minutes later, I'd made it the mile or so to the tollbooth and paid my $4. I called again, this time getting Arturo.

"The good news is, I'm past the toll booth. The bad news is, the bridge is a mess."

We finally got moving at a speed higher than 10 miles per hour, and I got across the bridge in more or less one piece. I practiced deep breathing and loud singing to calm myself.

It was 6:30. Our show at Beach Blanket Babylon started at 6:30.

Beyond my obvious excitement to see the show (I've been looking forward to this for a good two or three months), I was also feeling pretty bad that if we missed the show--Heather and Arturo would be out the money they'd spent on three tickets. Gah!

I finally got off the freeway and into their neighborhood. I found a parking spot near the Homie Convention and tottered to their building as fast as I could in my two-inch Steve Maddens.

We quickly left for the club, arriving a little after 7:00. Heather had called the box office but no one had answered, so we had no idea if they'd let us in. We approached the box office and said, "Bridge traffic!" They sent us to a side door and promptly let us in. Within a few minutes, an usher had found our seats and led us by flashlight to them. We were right at the edge of the stage. I actually used the very edge of the stage as an armrest.



The show...well, it was fabulous. Silly, irreverent, and no one is safe from being made into a satire. The costumes are outrageous and the hats...well, you just have to see them to believe them.

The best, by far, is the San Francisco skyline hat:



Despite being quite late for the show, we saw a lot and felt that any more would have been...too much, really.

At this point, we had about thirty minutes to kill before our reservation time at the restaurant, so we had a quick drink at an English-style pub and met up with a friend of Heather and Arturo, Bonnie.

At 9:00 we walked to Indian Oven for my dinner of choice. I had suggested Indian, but it was Heather and Arturo who found the restaurant. And what a choice it was!

Summer and Ben joined us, and the six of us had a fabulous dinner of tikka masala, basatmi rice, nan bread, aloo gobi, and other dishes. Nan bread with mango chutney on it--wonderful! I hadn't had any really good Indian food since I was in England--three years ago.

We absolutely inhaled the food.

Summer and Ben had to leave after this, so the rest of us found our way over to a bar called Martuni's. At first, we debated about staying, as the single men in the place were obviously looking for...other single men. But we got a table in a side room where the piano player was letting people sing. After listening to a few drunken renditions of old Elton John songs, I decided that someone had to liven things up.

I started thumbing through the song books, when a nice man named Brett started helping me figure out to sing.

"It has to be a good song," I explained to him. "I majored in music--it can't be too cliche."

Brett and his companion (don't know if it was his date, boyfriend, or someone he'd just met) boosted my confidence (not that a wine-filled Meg needs much of a boost to get up and do what she loves best--show off the singing voice) and I approached the pianist with my selected song--"Can't Help Lovin' That Man of Mine" from Showboat.

Yes, I was going old school.

The pianist asked me what key I wanted--seeming to think the key it was written in would be too high. For an amateur? Yes. For me? Not so much. I informed the pianist that I majored in music and would not have a problem. He smiled, played the intro, and I immediately noticed he was giving the song a bit of a blues twist and thought to myself, "Oh. Hell. Yeah." Then I started to sing.

If you're not familiar with the song, I can tell you that it is a little bit on the high side, and it has a lot of leaps and skips in the melody, as well as some blues notes added in. For someone who sings for fun...I wouldn't recommend it as a bar song.

But for me? Piece of cake. I was having a blast up there.

My new friends, Brett and Anthony, led the mad cheering along with Heather, Arturo and Bonnie. After most singers, there would be scattered applause. I got cheers. Filled with pride (and just a smidgeon of that little inner voice saying, "You totally rock, girl!!") I returned to my group and accepted the hugs and cheek kisses. As I left the piano, Heather shouted, "Happy Birthday, Megan!!!" The pianist picked up on this and led the whole room in a rousing verse of "Happy Birthday To You."

It was so totally appropriate and awesome for a girl's 30th birthday.

The pianist then started playing "Seasons of Love" from Rent, and asking for someone to come up and sing with him. No one took him up, so I ran back up there and did my part to keep the party rolling.

Shortly after this, we were ready to go home, so I said my goodbyes to my new buddies, Brett and Anthony, and we left the bar. I smiled and giggled all the way to the car.

I slept over at Heather and Arturo's place, which was great, as no one ever wants to drive from San Francisco to Stockton in the wee small hours of the morning. I woke up at about 9:30, and within a few minutes, Heather poked her head into the guest room and offered me some tea. We had a lovely breakfast and I set off for home at about noon.

You might notice there are no pictures--I was having so much fun, I never got my camera out! We did, this morning, lament that it would have been fun to get a picture of me singing at the bar.

What an evening! It was truly a fitting way to usher in my thirties.

Unsportsmanlike Conduct of Olympic Proportions

Image courtesy of CBC

I don't pay much attention to wrestling--it's not really my thing--but this story caught my attention.

It seems that Swedish wrestler Ara Abrahamian, in protest of what he deemed a bad call in a match, dropped his bronze medal to the ground and stomped out of the arena during the medal ceremony. He contends that the officials are wrong, and has even hinted at cheating--a pretty hefty accusation in any sport.

When I first read the story a few days ago, I raised one weary eyebrow, and then forgot about it in the course of a normal day at work.

However, now it has emerged that Abrahamian is being stripped of his unwanted bronze medal, for violating the spirit of the whole point of the Olympics.

To which I say...good.

I understand that he worked for many years to get where he is--to be good enough to represent his country in the Olympics. I understand, too, that what drives so many of these atheletes to the heights they achieve is competitive drive--the thrill of winning, of being the best. And certainly, anyone can understand how it feels to work so hard, for so long, only to have the end goal slip through your fingers.

Failure's a bitch. But it happens to the best of us.

But how much did this guy really fail? I have seen top-notch athletes in these games graciously accept silver and bronze medals. Would they prefer gold? Of course--but they also understand that the fact that they are on the medal stands at all is pretty amazing.

Like I said, I don't follow wrestling. Maybe there is something scandalous going on...but on the surface, it really just looks like a sore loser throwing a tantrum.

A Very Hairy Issue

***Note: If you are a guy friend or one of my parents, this blog might contain Too Much Information for your comfort.***

Before I begin my rant, let me just state for the record that I am not a mother. But I am a woman, and I was, at one time, a preteen and teenaged girl. Middle school? Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. And the scars.

I started shaving my legs for the same reason all girls do--my friends were doing it. I was eleven or twelve, I guess. It wasn't a life-altering event (my period was a much bigger deal, obviously), but it was one transformation that took me from a little girl with a fine down on her legs to a young woman--smooth and, occasionally, nicked.

As an adult, I've become what seems sometimes like the lone holdout against bikini waxing. Hey, I'm all for keeping things tidy "down there" but I am not about to let a stranger--I don't care how professional--drip hot wax down there and rip paper off of my hoohah. It seems so completely unnecessary and painful. The only waxing I've ever had done was my eyebrows, and even then, the upkeep is so crazy, I ended up buying a little razor thing designed especially for eyebrows. Works for me, and it's a hell of a lot cheaper than the going rate at a salon.

I'm fortunate in that my body hair is light in color, and not too thick. I've never been self-concious about it. I don't shave my legs every day, but every other day, or every three days when I'm especially lazy. I moistuize and keep my skin nice, and somehow, I stay looking nice.

But it seems I am surrounded by a world that has gone Brazilian-mad. It seems every Glamour I read talks about waxing, plucking, shaving and, in general, keeping our feminine bodies as free of unsightly hair as possible. I'm sorry, folks, but if a man decides he doesn't want to be with me because I'm not baby-girl bald "down there," well, he wasn't right for me in the first place.

Am I right?!

So, what got me all riled up about body hair?

Oh, just the MSNBC article I read about how the age for waxing is going down...way down. Girls as young as six years old are getting waxed--including in the pubic region.

Some salons even advertise their services for young girls. One New York City salon, Wanda’s European Skin Care Center, boasts on its Web site that children 8 years and older can get discounted waxing for "virgin" hair. "Virgin hair can be waxed so successfully that growth can be permanently stopped in just 2 to 6 sessions. Save your child a lifetime of waxing ... and put the money in the bank for her college education instead!" the salon proclaims.

"I had a mother who brought her daughter in, pulled up her shirt and asked us to wax the girl’s back. The hair didn’t seem to be bothering the little girl, but the mom was embarrassed and wanted it done," Fisher recounted. "I told the mom to wait until the child wanted it, but she refused." The girl, Fisher added, was 6 years old.

I can't be the only one who feels that this is akin to child abuse!

Children are not dolls. Sure, it's fun to dress them in cute clothes, and to braid their hair and put ribbons in it. But a mother being embarassed by her daughter's "hairy back?" At age six? It seems to me that the problem is in the mother, not the child. And the child will suffer for her mother's issues.

Lentenor

My mom and I both followed the story of Barbaro very closely, from his Kentucky Derby win to his eventual death due to complications from laminitis following his horrifying injury in the Preakness.

His death affected me deeply, perhaps because, at the time, I was struggling so much with my own life. I spent much of that evening crying. It just seemed to reflect the sadness and despair I was going through personally.

Mom and I have followed the stories of his brothers as much as possible since then. In April 2007, a colt was born of the same sire and dam that had brought us Barbaro. For a while, I searched faithfully, finding very little about him after the inital baby pictures came out.

Tonight, for the first time in months, I did a little search, and I found that he now has a name: Lentenor. I also found the following video. It made me smile. I wish him a successful, healthy racing career.

Now That I'm Thirty...

Now that I'm thirty...

I will care less about what others think of me.

Now that I'm thirty...

I will laugh as loud as I want...even if other people are trying to eat.

Now that I'm thirty...

I will settle into my career and stop feeling like a "new" teacher.

Now that I'm thirty...

I will think about getting that elusive Master's degree.

Now that I'm thirty...

I will save money instead of spending it all each month.

Now that I'm thirty...

I will buy my own plane ticket to London.

Now that I'm thirty...

Maybe I'll even become more wine-literate. But then again...

Now that I'm thirty...

Maybe I'll just keep on considering any wine that's sorta sweet, sorta dry, "nice."

Now that I'm thirty...

I'll carry my new "I'm a Pepper!" Dr. Pepper lunch box to work each day (hey, I'm not the only teacher with a lunchbox).

Now that I'm thirty...

I will act in my own best interests...but never forget to be sensitive to the fact that my actions do impact others.

Now that I'm thirty...

My Snoopy collection will only get better.

Now that I'm thirty...

I won't forget how to enjoy the simple things in life: the smell of line-dried laundry, the feel of sand in my toes, or the sound of waves hitting the beach.

Now that I'm thirty...

I'll still spend time in the children's section at Barnes and Noble.

Now that I'm thirty...

I'll make time for old friends and new...and most importantly,

Now that I'm thirty...

I'll still be young at heart.

Happy Birthday to MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

I am Officially Thirty!

Tonight, I shall celebrate with a glass of Bailey's and a good book I'm in the middle off. I celebrated at work by telling my middle school kids (one class sang for me) and taking cookies to the staff room at lunch.

Saturday, however, San Francisco had better watch out. I have Big Plans. First, Beach Blanket Babylon. I've never seen it, but it looks fabulous--the hats!!--and I've heard great things about it. After the show, we're going to dinner at India Oven. I haven't had a good curry in a long time, and this place gets good reviews. Then we'll end the evening singing bar songs and downing drinks, after which I will crash on the guest bed at Heather and Arturo's place.

Speaking of Heather and Arturo...

HAPPY WEDDING DAY!! Yes, it's true, the Nerds In Love are married! Today is their civil ceremony. November will be the religious one--the big celebration.

Of course, I wish the happy couple many, many happy years.

The fact that they are shuttling me around San Francisco this weekend, and letting me crash in the guest room during their first weekend of wedded bliss, well, I really do appreciate it. A girl only turns thirty once!

So yeah, I'm milking it for all its worth.

Pushing Thirty...

...for just under 12 hours. Then, no more pushing. I will officially be in my thirties.

"At least now I'm in my thirties, I can hold my drink."



CRASH!!

Note To Self:

Oh, and stock up on Benadryl.

*sneeze*

*cough*

Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too

If you need a good laugh, check out a blog I just found called Cake Wrecks. I'm actually snorting, looking at the pictures and reading the blogger's commentary.

There's the bride who commissioned a cake that looks almost exactly like her. There's the cake with a little naked frosting woman giving birth to a little frosting baby on it. There is also the big pile of dung on a cake, surrounded by flies.

And the kicker? These are all professional cakes!

Check it out.

Up To My Eyeballs in Paper

Whew!!!

After a very busy first week at the new job, tonight I finally got around to sorting some of the various paper that has come into my life through signing with a new school district, renting a new apartment, and other various things that have sort of piled up.

And I did some of the mundane little tasks, like printing up some address labels to make mailing stuff easier. To my left is a large pile of garbage. To my right, a large stack of stuff that needs to be shredded. On the kitchen counter--a very large stack of stuff that needs to be mailed or turned in to various people at various places.

For example, I was supposed to show proof that I have a PG&E account before taking posession of the apartment. Ooops. I guess I must look trustworthy or something, because I've been here two weeks and still haven't turned that in. It's on the To Do List for tomorrow.

In all the craziness of the last few weeks, I missed a very important day--July 27 marked the FOURTH anniversary of everyone's favorite LPB, The Wild and Absolutely True Adventures of Meg. I've actually managed to keep this thing going for four years! I love my blog. It's an outlet for me, and something I'm proud of. It's been across the world with me, and it's like an old friend. Every once in a while, I go through old stories; sometimes randomly, sometimes with a specific event in mind. I enjoy revisiting the memories, and I often use my blog updates in my scrapbooking to tell the story behind the pictures.

I'm still feeling pretty good. I had a short meeting with the principal today, and told her I'm very happy at the school. She seemed flattered, and she, in turn, told me that my colleagues have told her they love it that already I am becoming involved and active in the school. So it's looking like a good situation.

I'm tired when I get home from work each day, but it's a good tired. My classes fly by in a whirlwind of activity. I'm on my feet a lot, and they do keep me running. I find that my late-afternoon energy depletion is easily remedied by a small, healthy dinner.

Mom and Dad visited yesterday, to take some of the empty moving boxes off my hands and see what I've done with the place. Last time they saw it, one bedroom was floor-to-ceiling boxes, and nothing was arranged yet. Now it's quite homey. The neighborhood and surrounding area are nice. Lots of trees, well-manicured yards and such. Dad said, "You did good." High praise, indeed. :)

I've solved a lot of my storage issues, which is how it came to be that I have patio furniture under my bed (!) and a bookcase in the closet off the kitchen (hey, it makes a nice pantry). Millie is settled in. She's got food, water, a potty pan, and me. She's just fine.

And so am I.