FFOT: Sick kids

Whatever is bothering my kids can go fuck itself with a rusty chainsaw.  Both kids are sick, now--the imp has a painful lower belly, and told me "Momma, my butt threw up.  I don't feel good.  I don't want supper."

There.  Is.  Nothing.  I.  Can.  Do.  Not a damned thing I can possibly do to make my kids feel better.  And that can fuck right the fuck off while it fucks itself with a two-pronged Sybian, studded with broken glass, and set on high. 

Great.

I have a sick pixie.  She's all congested, has a sore throat, and had a vomit incident this morning (though I think that's because she drank too much water too fast, and swallowed too much air with it).  She's lying on the couch, munching dry honey nut Cheerios. 

The imp managed, somehow, to sleep through the pixie's squawking that she was up, at seven.  He seems to be a happy boy, this morning. 

I'm not a very happy mommy, though.  I have a sick kid, and she's near impossible to keep settled so she can rest and get better faster.  I'm probably going to need to give her Benedryl at nap time and bedtime tonight, judging by the sound of her trying to breathe through the congestion, so that will help.  I've been trying to avoid giving her Tylenol or Ibuprofen, because she has a little fever that should probably be permitted to run its course to help her recover. 

I also have forty-seven papers to grade before Tuesday.

Missed the boat

So, I've gotten a few papers graded, but had to stop.  I ended up nearly screaming in frustration because I had two students in the first six write a proposal essay rather than a definition essay, as they were assigned, and as we went over and over and over in class. 

I'll do more later, but right now, I'm tired.

Office hours...and papers to grade

I've picked up the first set of papers.  So far, so good--I've been catching up on some other things, so I only have the first two done, but at least both were well done.

And I have two more hours to tear through as many as I can.

A good cause.

A very good friend of mine has a friend who just lost his son to violence.  The cops haven't found the murderer.  Go here and read (and follow his links).  If you can, help. 

No parent should have to bury a child.

speaking as someone who has been there...

This idea that people who commit suicide are victims is bullshit.  I understand that they're in black despair, but they are still capable of making that choice not to.  Not to make the most cowardly and selfish choice to put their families through the pain of losing them. 

I just read an article that I will not link because it is such bullshit that claims that one doesn't commit cancer, or a heart attack, and so one doesn't commit suicide because that is also a death caused by an illness.

No. 

It is not the same. 

Yes, depression is horrid.  I know.  I have been there.  I have held the knife in my hands, with the blade set on my wrist.  I chose not to.  I chose to live.  I chose not to be a selfish coward. 

Committing suicide is not an involuntary action.

It is a choice.  A stupid, selfish, cowardly act.  It is not simply a death caused by disease  Depression alone won't kill you--if you die, it's because it was the result of a choice.  One that's only justifiable in a very few circumstances.*



*Chronic pain that isn't treatable under our current draconian prohibition laws is one.  Coming back from war crippled and in constant, high-grade pain from wounds sustained is another.   Last, but not least, terminal illness is also justifiable.  Nothing else. 

Gonna be busy, today

I have my early chores mostly done (take care of dog, take care of pixie breakfast), but I have a huge, long list of stuff I still have to do--tomorrow is my long day.

I'm hoping to get more decluttering done in the living room, and get it straightened up a lot more, especially around my corner of it. 

I have to get the kitchen cleaned up--again.  I cleared the table off a bit over a week ago, and it's collecting more stuff.  Same with my counters.  I do not know how it happens: one minute, everything is organized and straightened, and the next, I can't see my flat surfaces.  I swear it happens as soon as I turn my back.  While most of the living room mess is caused by my children, the kitchen isn't a play room, and I don't know how it happens in there.

While I'm working on this, Odysseus will be working on his accounting degree: he's got classes today.  After he's done with class, I really want to go out for lunch with my husband and daughter.  We also really need to hit Sam's Club.

Last, but not least--we found a Honda Passport that we need to take to the mechanic, and see if it's worth buying.  We have an appointment to do that at 2:30.  I'm going to try to find someone to watch the pixie while we do that.  If I can't find someone...well, then it's just going to be Odysseus going.

I think tomorrow's class and office hours will be a relief.    

Little angry, today...

I walked into the bottom floor of the library, then took the elevator up to the circulation desk for my classroom key, just like I always do.  I turned to go up the last floor to my classroom, and came face to print with a whiteboard sign stand, just inside the front doors, and this is where the spitting mad came in.

The sign?  Written yesterday.  Had the footprints of the American chicken all over it,* and wished all viewers "Happy Vietnam Peace Day." 

Um...what? 

Did I read that right?

Sure did. 

There is a holiday celebrating our defeat. 

GRRRR!!!!!



*The hippie peace symbol.

Musings

A very close friend posted something to her Facebook page last night, something that prompted my sluggish brain to start thinking about it: "Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; but remember what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."

As I said, it got me thinking. 

If you don't desire what you don't have, you have no goals.  Nothing to work toward.  Yes, sometimes wanting what you don't have can be destructive; however, without that desire for more, you have no reason to do more than the minimum to live.

I understand that there is a subset of young men that decide to do just that--the absolute minimum--and I understand their reluctance to work to earn more.  I understand totally: marriage is a dangerous gamble that can wipe out a life's work rewards, and the harder you work, the more the government takes to support those who believe it's their life's calling to be a deadbeat.  I know a lot of that bunch are fairly content with their lives, and many work just enough to fund their next trip. 

I cannot imagine it being anything other than an incredibly lonely existence.  Almost pointless, too. 

So, set yourself goals: real, attainable ones.  My goal is to get through this semester.  And to support Odysseus through college.  Those are short-term goals, I'll grant you (though the one with Odysseus being back in classes is sort of long term, and sort of the first part of a longer term goals), but with two kids, short-term is all I can do right now. 

But it still gives me something to work towards. 

Tired.

I'm tired of the weather shifts--today was around sixty, then the wind shifted direction and picked up, and the temperature plummeted.  Tomorrow's high will be around forty degrees cooler.  My hands are killing me.

I'm tired of the kids' antics.  The imp threw three or four temper tantrums today--all before lunch.  Then, after lunch, I sent him out to play.  TinCan Assassin's Progeny came over to play, and the imp threw two more loud, screaming, squalling tempter tantrums.  After the second, I put him to bed. 

Eventually, he got up and went back out...at which point he threw another one when I called him over to ask what he wanted for supper.

The pixie has had an excuse for her behavior, today: she's been irritable because her ears hurt most of the day, and she's three years old.  The imp?  As far as I know...no excuse.  Just really terrible behavior. 

And I'm really, really tired of it.

Here's hoping it's allergies, and that the Allegra works for him.

random ramblings

Every time TinCan Assassin shows up over here by himself, he gets mobbed by imp and pixie, who then immediately ask, "Where's [Progeny]?"

You would swear that these three kids grew up together.

The pixie spent Thursday night with her grandma and grandpa.  Early Thursday morning, she'd told me that her ears hurt, so I packed some Benedryl and ibuprofen in her backpack...which she insisted on putting on her back and carrying around for an hour before it was actually time to leave. 

The imp...has been a small monster for the past three days.  I think he needs some outside time, which I'm planning for him to get tomorrow (assuming the wind doesn't make fifty-six degrees feel like fifteen). 

Last night, there was a house fire not far from us, judging by the sudden onset of sirens around midnight or so, and then the smell of smoke permeating the area.  It disturbed the pixie's sleep...and mine...and, oddly enough, Shadow's.  Our little black cat has been nervous and twitchy all day since she's been let out of the back room.

Cricket is her normal self, but then again, if she'd been upset at midnight, she'd probably forgotten by seven-thirty when I let them out.  She isn't the brightest bulb in the box.

The dog is happy, happy dog, today.  Last night, she got one hell of a treat for supper: instead of dry kibble, she got eight pizza rolls.  See, I'd fixed them and cut them up for my imp's supper...then promptly dropped them on the floor.  I got him a second batch prepped right quick (hard not to, when he started crying like his little heart was broken about Mommy dropping his supper on the floor), then looked at the mess.  Sixteen bites, sauce, cheese, and pepperoni thickly covered about eighteen inches by eighteen inches of floor.  It would have been a stone bitch to clean up, and I have a bit of a hang-up about throwing away food.

So, I went and got the dog, and let her clean it up.

Happy puppy.

Happy puppy today, too: the weather is nice enough that she's out in her pen until dark.  Or maybe until her dinner time.

Next week is going to be interesting--Tuesday will be the first workshop day for my spring classes.  Thursday will see the first paper due.  I have one student that I think I'm going to have to keep an eye on: the student acts like they've been bullied by English teachers to the point that any attempt at instruction is taken as a personal attack.  This student has decided on a topic for the first paper that not only doesn't fulfill assignment guidelines for the first paper (but does for the second), but is a fairly complex topic that their skills don't suggest that they'll be capable of.  If the paper turns out to be good (effects of drilling for natural gas on human and animal health), then I'm going to have to check every damn line in the paper to make sure it's not plagiarized.

As for my writing...well, I'm still at it.  I really want to finish my book, since I'm so close to having a draft done, but...yeah.  Life.  I have ordered a new power cord for my laptop, so I shouldn't have a repeat of Thursday's disaster.  All it will take is time.

FFOT: static, messed-up power cords, office space

So, yesterday was cold.  Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.  Cold enough that I decided to wear insulated leggings (my nylon ones were all I could find) under my flannel jeans.  Did you know that causes massive static, just sitting still?  Not fun.  Static can fuck off.

I keep a spare power cord in my bag of holding for office days.  My laptop gives me two and a half or three hours of battery time...and I used most of that while my kids were writing their papers.  So, I plug it in after I get settled in for office hours...and discover that the power cord has developed a break somewhere between the transformer and the end that plugs into the laptop.  So, yesterday's office hours were really unproductive, and that can fuck the fuck off.  Four hours that I could have been writing wasted. 

Speaking of office hours...last semester, I held my office hours in my classroom.  It was decently comfortable, and I had a padded seat and a desk.  This semester, there's a class directly after mine in my classroom.  Which means I had to hunt for someplace where I could settle and focus to do work.  I tried the adjunct office but it made me jittery and jumpy like you wouldn't believe.  In four hours, I was able to write less than a thousand words.  And I should have managed six thousand or more. Yesterday's attempt in an out-of-the-way nook of the library would have been much better, but...yeah.  I'm paying for the seating today with an awful backache.  A lack of office space where I feel comfortable can fuck the fucking fuck off.

What's messed you up this week?  Tell it to fuck off in the comments.

Cold damn day

It's currently seven degrees.  It's not supposed to get warmer than sixteen, today.  And I'm going to be on campus from a bit after nine until a bit after five, holding office hours during the afternoon. 

I hate office hours when it's cold.  Because pretty much every building on campus is frigid.  And I don't have the room to pack even a small blanket.

Screw dressing up for class today--I'm wearing flannel lined jeans, and a fleece shirt over a tee-shirt.  And combat boots. 

Yet another one for the better dead list.

I do not have the words to express how disgusted and enraged I am.  Ronald Mazza needs to die.  Horribly.  Preferably with a colon shredded by shattered glass glued to a baseball bat.

Oh, noes!

Someone was spotted walking onto campus in a dark gray fleece jacket, and dark gray sweats, with a fedora.  I guess he (I assume) was carrying an umbrella on a dry day, because somebody lost rectal continence, and called the campus rent-a-cops to report a "suspicious" person between two of the residence hall apartment buildings (prime pathway for somebody who lives in one of the apartments just off campus to take in heading to class).

Or maybe the cranially incontinent witness simply thought that the individual might be armed because they were wearing a fedora.  Indiana Jones, y'know.

Hopefully, the individual in question was the first one inconvenienced when they locked down the dorms.

Quick workers

I didn't used to have a textbook.  Before I started teaching online, everything the students learned was from lecture.  Most of the textbooks I reviewed* were dreck, and expensive dreck.  Eight to twelve hundred pages, with very little text, and huge, glossy pictures.  Lots of bullet points.  No real explanation of what went into a paper, nor how to go about putting one together. 

Yes, I am talking about composition textbooks. 

For the spring semester after I had the imp (Spring '09), I expanded my lecture note outlines into a textbook, complete with explanations of what goes into a paper, and how to draft one.  My textbooks explain about how to determine what purpose a paper serves, and how to stay focused on the topic, and how to stay organized.  My textbooks explain what goes into a well-developed paragraph, and how to structure it. 

I've come to find out that, while no textbook is better than a bad one, one that's designed to do exactly what students need is better than the best lecture, because then, the teacher can focus on teaching students to apply the knowledge. 

And what brought me to this conclusion is this: today, my average class managed to power through the thesis statement and organization of their papers, then asked to move on to development.  They have all read the material in my textbook that covers paper construction, so needed help, not explanations, in applying it to their own ideas.

Thursday will consist of a freewrite day (where they write their papers during class time, either in class with my help, or with having emailed me that that's what they were going to be doing, at a place of their choice, during class time).  Thursday will be easy, if long--I won't have any lecture, but I will still have to hold my minimum office hours.

*Composition textbooks out there for sale are truly awful and useless, with one notable exception: They Say/I Say: The Moves that Matter in Academic Writing is an awesome resource that I can't recommend highly enough for high school and college writers.  I've got a copy that I'm planning to use to teach my kids how to write persuasively when they get older.

Dr. King would be disgusted.

Not only has culture moved in the opposite direction from what he'd hoped to see (actually judging people by the color of their skin), but the socialists have claimed him as a patron saint.  

He wasn't a socialist.  He believed it was the responsibility of each individual to help their neighbors, not the responsibility of the government to put a gun in each of our faces, and take money from some to give to others. 

Classes have been canceled on campus, today.  Government offices are closed (though, that isn't a bad thing), banks are closed. 

From what I've read of his writings, Dr. King was a man who saw every person he met as equal before God, no matter their color or socioeconomic status.  He did judge people not by the color of their skin nor yet by their income or their politics, but by their actions and their beliefs.  What we have is a culture that doesn't just judge people by the color of their skin (elevating black above white in the name of making things "fair" by reversing what was "unfair" rather than just changing what was "unfair"), but by their politics.  What we have today in his "honor" would disgust him, if I'm judging him right.

Drama...

We just got back from visiting my mother, a little bit ago.  I called to let her know we'd gotten home safely...and she told me that she was about to get her hair blown back by the aunt on whose property she lives.  Turns out, she'd told that aunt's pastor not to worry about fixing the house, right now, that she and my sister are in the process of paring possessions down to be able to move (though, where they're planning to go, I have no clue--they have the world's fattest beagle, and a skittish, abused puppy-mill mommy Scotty dog, as well as a cat).  And she had not told my aunt this, yet.  Needless to say, when the pastor mentioned it, it pissed my aunt off something fierce (my mother has lived there since '88 or so, and my aunt hates change of any type). 

The house is a wreck.  The siding along the west side rotted all the way off, the insulation had molded and had to be ripped out, and a flooding washing machine had destroyed the drywall inside.  The siding on the south side of the house is in the process of rotting off, and if my sister happens to stumble against the window in her room, I have no doubt that the window will literally fall out of the house, and dump my sister two stories down onto the ground. 

It's got one bedroom downstairs, and the attic is half finished, lengthwise--exposing fiberglass insulation to whoever happens to be upstairs.  I think it's around 400 square feet of living space.

And my aunt expects nothing to ever change until both houses fall in on everyone. 

I think my mother and sister need to stop hemorrhaging money out to pay for an aunt who needs to be placed in a home for those unable to take care of themselves, and get their butts moved yesterday.  It would be best for everyone.  Even the aunt who's bringing the drama-llama down to scream at my mother.

random ramblings

My kids have a new best friend: TinCan Assassin's Progeny.  She's two years older than my imp (and four older than my pixie), but you'd swear they'd always been friends.  There has been much cuteness around here, what with three littles running around.  Yes, much mischief, but that's just kids.

Like today, the pixie got hollered at for getting smack in the way in the kitchen.  She breaks into wails and tears, and goes running into the living room, right to her new "best, best friend" for hugs and comfort.  Talk about cute!

Progeny has also been terrifically helpful in keeping the kids out from under foot while I'm cleaning.  Usually, I have one or the other kid coming running into wherever I happen to be, asking for help, for hugs, or for something they can do which will help me clean wherever I'm at.  Usually, I have to rack my brains for something they can do, and I can work quicker without helpers than I can with them.*  However, for the past two days, TinCan Assassin's Progeny has been keeping them occupied and happy, and I have gotten an unprecedented amount of housework** done. 

The weather has been nice enough lately that the dog has spent almost all day, almost every day, outside.  That makes for a very, very happy dog.

The cats have freaked right the fuck out over the past couple of days.  Not only have I disarranged their hiding places (cleaning and throwing out trash and clutter), but I brought in new people.  Shadow hides, and waits to see if they hurt Cricket.  If they don't the first time they come, she comes out to peek at them and watch to see if they're okay with Cricket.  It isn't until after a couple of visits watching that Shadow is willing to come out of hiding. 

She's almost willing.  She was fine taking my chair at the table (under the tablecloth, and under the table) right next to one of the new people, today.

I've got another full week before I get the first round of papers in.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to have one average class, and the other will be a bit above average.  In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can't get a room in the library to use for office hours.  And see if I can't get finished with Pendragon Resurgent.

Speaking of, I managed to get a thousand words written on Thursday, despite being jumpy to the point of not being able to focus on anything.

We'll have to see what next Thursday's office hours bring.



*There are exceptions: the imp is a wonderful book wrangler, the pixie actually sees messes, even if she doesn't know what to do with them, and needs step by step instructions on how to pick stuff up, and the imp vacuumed the hall, on Wednesday.

**Unprecedented since I've had children.

Busier than I thought I'd be...

Progeny was awesome.  She kept the kids off in their rooms playing with her (and not fighting) all afternoon.  I got the dishes done, the laundry done, the table nearly completely unloaded*--which was a day-long job--and a dinner fixed for everybody that was ready at about too dark for TinCan Assassin and his other half to transfer their stuff from the trailer to their new apartment.**

Tomorrow, I'm borrowing Progeny again while they finish that...so that I can work towards finishing the work on the table, and in the laundry room (and, incidentally, they don't have to worry about dropping an appliance on her).

*The table was stacked more than two feet deep under...stuff.  Some stuff went in the trash.  Some was repaired as I went (books that needed packing tape wrapped around their spines) and handed to the nearest small child to take and put away.  The rest will likely go back on the table, once I have it cleaned, and have a vinyl tablecloth put on it to protect the surface.

**Half of a house, really.  They've got the bottom half, and someone else is renting the top.