Many great ideas have come from the sub-Asian continent--the concept of zero, raman noodles, silk, curry. However, beyond a shadow of a doubt the greatest contribution to society is the concept and idea of Karma. The great and ever present equalizer, Karma serves as a looming shadow over those who play loose and fast, and a light of comfort and hope for those who play by the rules.
I happen to be of the latter ilk, always minding my manners and trying to stay within the letter of the law. Why? Why tread so lightly? Well Karma, luck, whatever you want to call it, has a way of abusing me like slow, fat kid in the Amazing Race. The second I step out of line, Karma has a way of producing the very person who doesn't need to see me stepping out of line. Once I wrote the word Dominatrix on the board. Why, you may ask? Well I was trying to think of non-breakfast cereal words that ended in x. I no sooner finished writing the word than my vice principal appeared in my classroom. See, karma.
This string of "luck" is also why I don't ever drink and drive, don't ever do drugs, and don't ever cheat on my wife. Sure they are all wrong, but more importantly, I know I will get caught!
I have had the good fortune of watching some really nasty people get their come-uppance this week. I have seen Regina George hit by the bus, and I must humbly admit that it was wonderful. (I don't want to be too over zealous, lest my own cheese wagon come driving by...) In this time when the great monetary playing field is getting levelled, remember that at the end of the day you will be remembered by how you treat others, and you have the choice to give them a hand or step on their face. Karma does not play favorites, and she doesn't pull her punches!
Until next time,
M
Friday, December 19, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Over the river and through the woods
Okay, we are in the final countdown to Christmas vacation. There is no way for those of you who are not educators to appreciate the warm fuzzy feeling that starts at your toes upon pulling out of the parking lot at school, heading home for Christmas break. At this point of the year we are all ready for a break--the kids are sick of their teachers, the teachers are sick of the kids, and we are both sick of the routine of education. There is a routine in education, but there is very little repetition from day to day, or even class to class. As a teacher I am basically engaged in full out improv comedy from the time the first bell rings to the time I pull out of the parking lot. Oh and by the way, the kids need to learn something as well. Bah-Humbug!
So we are preparing for the Christmas merriment at the old U household. We are doing "Christmas Light" this year, avoiding such trifling things as ornaments for our tree or decorations for the house. Some may call me a bit of a Scrooge, but in truth I am more of a Bob Cratchet. I can't afford the hundreds of dollars necessary in proclaiming to the world that I am in the Christmas Spirit, not to mention the increase in electricity costs. The wife and I just put up the tree, but no ornaments, partly due to the fact that we have been very busy this December, but mostly it is due to our 18 month old. We decided that rather than spending our days telling him "no" and "don't touch!" that we would opt for "pretty" and "don't put your mouth on that light it's hot!"
All in all, despite the lack of decorations, this Christmas season has felt the most like Christmas in a long time. I think with the recession and the impending doom of America that we have been forced to focus on those things that are important--family, time off, whiskers on kittens, blue satin sashes, etc. The missus has even come up with a novel concept of Christmas for our 18 month old. She is wrapping some of his favorite toys and putting them under the tree for him to open on Christmas morning. So come that morning he'll open up his favorite tennis balls, and the empty paper towel rolls, and the vacuum cleaner attachment that he loves so much. Are we mean? No, we just know that A) he already has too many toys, and B) for him, at this age, he is all about opening presents and playing with the wrapping paper. Remember that Christmas is about finding joy, whatever that joy may be.
For me, I am off to try and chase the sun to the end of the day. Only three more days to go.
Until next time....
M
So we are preparing for the Christmas merriment at the old U household. We are doing "Christmas Light" this year, avoiding such trifling things as ornaments for our tree or decorations for the house. Some may call me a bit of a Scrooge, but in truth I am more of a Bob Cratchet. I can't afford the hundreds of dollars necessary in proclaiming to the world that I am in the Christmas Spirit, not to mention the increase in electricity costs. The wife and I just put up the tree, but no ornaments, partly due to the fact that we have been very busy this December, but mostly it is due to our 18 month old. We decided that rather than spending our days telling him "no" and "don't touch!" that we would opt for "pretty" and "don't put your mouth on that light it's hot!"
All in all, despite the lack of decorations, this Christmas season has felt the most like Christmas in a long time. I think with the recession and the impending doom of America that we have been forced to focus on those things that are important--family, time off, whiskers on kittens, blue satin sashes, etc. The missus has even come up with a novel concept of Christmas for our 18 month old. She is wrapping some of his favorite toys and putting them under the tree for him to open on Christmas morning. So come that morning he'll open up his favorite tennis balls, and the empty paper towel rolls, and the vacuum cleaner attachment that he loves so much. Are we mean? No, we just know that A) he already has too many toys, and B) for him, at this age, he is all about opening presents and playing with the wrapping paper. Remember that Christmas is about finding joy, whatever that joy may be.
For me, I am off to try and chase the sun to the end of the day. Only three more days to go.
Until next time....
M
Friday, December 12, 2008
Full Moon Fever
So I work in education. That's right, I am a teacher--which means that I am also superstitious, a bit of an alchemist, and sometime down right loony. For those of you out there that may not know it, your children are crazy, especially when the moon is full. So this morning when I started my pre-dawn trek to school, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a nice full moon hanging just above the light pink streak of early morning sky. Great....but in retrospect it would explain so much of the past few days.
I have been actively participating in the weirdest week ever. I spent the better part of Wednesday not sure if I was going to win the lottery or get hit by a meteor, both events involve great odds, but the results are slightly different. Without getting into too much detail, lets just say that by Wednesday evening I had solved three major problems in my friends lives, participated in 6 evaluations, had strange students call me out of nowhere, and appeared on television twice, on two different channels, in stories that didn't involve me. The sky had been covered up for three solid days, so if I could have seen the full moon, I would have just known that it was the lunacy acting up instead of stressing about my impending doom.
We are creatures of water and the moon's pull on our bodies does cause strange things to happen. Some would discount the truth of this statement, but my observations of your kids would more than validate the theory. We have more fights, more break-ups, more general craziness (and from kids that are normally rather sane--or at least sane for a teenager) when the moon is full than at any other time.
I can only hope that this doesn't spill over into the shopping weekend.
Here's hoping that you are holding on to your sanity, or at least giving it a good twirl over your head.
Until next time,
M
I have been actively participating in the weirdest week ever. I spent the better part of Wednesday not sure if I was going to win the lottery or get hit by a meteor, both events involve great odds, but the results are slightly different. Without getting into too much detail, lets just say that by Wednesday evening I had solved three major problems in my friends lives, participated in 6 evaluations, had strange students call me out of nowhere, and appeared on television twice, on two different channels, in stories that didn't involve me. The sky had been covered up for three solid days, so if I could have seen the full moon, I would have just known that it was the lunacy acting up instead of stressing about my impending doom.
We are creatures of water and the moon's pull on our bodies does cause strange things to happen. Some would discount the truth of this statement, but my observations of your kids would more than validate the theory. We have more fights, more break-ups, more general craziness (and from kids that are normally rather sane--or at least sane for a teenager) when the moon is full than at any other time.
I can only hope that this doesn't spill over into the shopping weekend.
Here's hoping that you are holding on to your sanity, or at least giving it a good twirl over your head.
Until next time,
M
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Well, duh!
I am an avid listener to NPR: All things Considered, Morning Edition, Marketplace, each has a place in my daily commute to and from work. Yesterday it was reported that "Thus-and-Such-Important-Agency has just announced that the economy is in recession." The next few moments were filled with the various "reactions" to the news that the economy is in a recession.
My immediate response was "DUH!!!" I know that we have been going through tough economic times--God knows my pittance of a retirement account has shrunk like George in the ocean, but for weeks, and by weeks I mean 52 of them, Kai Risdol on Marketplace has been saying, "...and that is another sign that we might be in a recession." It almost became a running joke, a la Jeff Foxworthy, to see how we "might be in a recession."
So if we have been saying "a sign of a recession" and have known in our heart of hearts that we really are in a recession then why did the stock market "react to the news." Sometimes I just wonder if we blame the rise and fall on the stocks on random and unrelated events. "This just in Katie Couric is wearing a blue dress, stocks fall 200 points in reaction to her choice." We need to get a grip and stop trying to make our fortunes on the trading of intangible suppositions of possibility.
I have some slightly used wishes and some dented dreams for sale, if anyone is interested.
Until next time,
M
My immediate response was "DUH!!!" I know that we have been going through tough economic times--God knows my pittance of a retirement account has shrunk like George in the ocean, but for weeks, and by weeks I mean 52 of them, Kai Risdol on Marketplace has been saying, "...and that is another sign that we might be in a recession." It almost became a running joke, a la Jeff Foxworthy, to see how we "might be in a recession."
So if we have been saying "a sign of a recession" and have known in our heart of hearts that we really are in a recession then why did the stock market "react to the news." Sometimes I just wonder if we blame the rise and fall on the stocks on random and unrelated events. "This just in Katie Couric is wearing a blue dress, stocks fall 200 points in reaction to her choice." We need to get a grip and stop trying to make our fortunes on the trading of intangible suppositions of possibility.
I have some slightly used wishes and some dented dreams for sale, if anyone is interested.
Until next time,
M
Monday, December 1, 2008
A Birthday Wish
Yep, today's the big day. It happens about once a year, the ole birthday roles around. So I thought for #34 I would make my Birthday wish in cyber space before I blow out my candles. (That's not the same as telling people, right?) What I wish for this year is...better christmas commercials. I have become spoiled over the past several years--GAP, Target, Old Navy--great commercials. This year...uhm...(somebody cue the crickets.)
I like the "can't beat the (insert great old gift) experience" Lexus commercials, but even then I am missing the toe-tapping, fleece pull over, catchy tune experience I have been accustomed to over the past several years. I am hoping that as we move further into December that the ads will get better.
The annual Gravy Bowl is in the books. My step father and uncle squared off in their annual Democrats vs Republicans gripe match. The winner this year--math. That's right, math. The central question of this year's gripe match was whether or not 3% of a 5 cent tax was equal to three pennies. Now, as an educator, I could have stepped in at this point and pointed out that in order to collect three pennies you would need to collect a dollar, BUT I know better than to get between those two. Besides, I was too busy trying to make sure that neither of them had a heart attack. Both of them, from their respective easy chairs, swiveled and cursed and called each other names. My mother sat in the back of the living room, head in hand, trying to avoid the conflict and fretting over his spiking blood pressure. In one particularly heated exchange, my step father referred to my uncle as a "Hannity loving, Limbaugh listening, Kool-aid drinking republican ignoramous ass hole." There is a certain poetry in my step father's rants--one that is better appreciated when the rant is not directed at you.
Fortunately my grandfather, who spent his career as a tax man, stepped in and corrected my uncle's math. You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, and you don't mess around with Poppy. Long live math without calculators.
Until Later
M
I like the "can't beat the (insert great old gift) experience" Lexus commercials, but even then I am missing the toe-tapping, fleece pull over, catchy tune experience I have been accustomed to over the past several years. I am hoping that as we move further into December that the ads will get better.
The annual Gravy Bowl is in the books. My step father and uncle squared off in their annual Democrats vs Republicans gripe match. The winner this year--math. That's right, math. The central question of this year's gripe match was whether or not 3% of a 5 cent tax was equal to three pennies. Now, as an educator, I could have stepped in at this point and pointed out that in order to collect three pennies you would need to collect a dollar, BUT I know better than to get between those two. Besides, I was too busy trying to make sure that neither of them had a heart attack. Both of them, from their respective easy chairs, swiveled and cursed and called each other names. My mother sat in the back of the living room, head in hand, trying to avoid the conflict and fretting over his spiking blood pressure. In one particularly heated exchange, my step father referred to my uncle as a "Hannity loving, Limbaugh listening, Kool-aid drinking republican ignoramous ass hole." There is a certain poetry in my step father's rants--one that is better appreciated when the rant is not directed at you.
Fortunately my grandfather, who spent his career as a tax man, stepped in and corrected my uncle's math. You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, and you don't mess around with Poppy. Long live math without calculators.
Until Later
M
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Its the most wonderful time of the year
So here we go again...that little cringe that starts in the small of my back and slowly creeps up in between my shoulder blades and results in a full body dread that has been known to send me into catatonic fits. I am of course talking about the impending doom that is Black Friday. Even though I have been out of the retail business for the better part of six years, there is still a dread that infiltrates my soul as we approach the Thanksgiving, my own little slice of Post-Thanksgiving Stress Disorder.
I don't know if the greater majority of America truly appreciates the horror that is Black Friday. That one day that we shed our Dr. Jeckyll exterior to expose our Mr. Hyde-and-shop door buster selves. We change from normally controlled, only slightly neurotic individuals into a frenzied mob of hooting neanderthals scrambling to get the most stuff into our shopping carts, as quickly as possible. We lose that sensibility and practicality that we seem to pride ourselves on so much.
Perhaps it is an after effect of the large amounts of tryptophan from the turkey, or even just the need to feel like we are getting one up on the Joneses by getting our shopping done early. Yet for whatever reason the transformation is complete, and for those of us who have spent time on the other side of the register, down right scary.
I can remember arriving at my store in a small town mall at 4am to make sure that we were ready to go at the 5am door opening. The line was already around the corner, old women in their various holiday sweatshirts imploring us to "keep Christ in Christmas", sleepy kids that had been dragged out bed to stand in the cold, and of course the hung over mothers and daughters that had put their differences aside "for the holidays". I approached the door, already cursing under my breath at the fact that I had gotten up at an hour that most of my college friends were just returning from the bars.
"Hey fat boy!" It was one of the grannies in her "Merry Catmas" sweatshirt, "The line starts back there!" The rhinestone eyes of the cat on her shirt twinkled under the street light. "I have been here since 2 am and I'll be damned if somebody is going to pass me in line."
Now I would hazard a bet that this particular grannie had administered several good mouthwashings in her time--probably fond of using the lava soap on the kids--for their use of foul language. Yet here she was, swearing as easily as any ten year old. I just smiled and wished her a Merry Christmas, as my boss let me through the door.
Inside I found my fellow teammates bleary eyed and dreading the next ten hours of their respective shifts. We moved as zombies, going through the various routines necessary for opening the story, but as zoned out as we were, we remained conscious of the time. Some detached part of our psyche kept pace with the long hand of the clock as it swept quickly to the 6 and then climbed with amazing speed toward the 12. As if the clock was not enough, the press of grannie flesh outside the main doors provided a constant reminder.
At 4:55am the tuggers started working the doors. These are the people that come and try the doors, pulling on them to see if they are open even though no one with keys has gone anywhere near the doors. 4:57 brought us all to the center of the store where we drew lots to see who would be the unfortunate person that opened the doors. Opening the doors on Black Friday is somewhat akin to the running of the bulls in Spain. The unlucky person chosen for this position has to somehow manage to convince the people to back up from the door, to take the pressure off the lock so that the key can turn the tumbler. Then, once the door is unlocked, the person has the choice of running ahead of the pack of shoppers or, as in most cases, just getting the hell out of the way. The only thing that saves most people from being trampled to death is the fact that the doors open out, so the mob has to step back before they can rush in.
And rush in is exactly what they do, generally at high speeds with little care for themselves or those around them. Many have already mapped out a plan of where the good deals are and will run anybody over to get to them. I have seen grannies run though packs of people with skills that would make a college football running back jealous, most of the time dragging some poor grandkid like a skier. Good thing most of the kids that year were wearing those heely shoes. They just lifted their toes and let grannie do the pulling.
I wonder what this year will bring with our recession and the proverbial tightening of our belts. I don't think the crowds will be any less, or the people any less frenzied--old habits die hard. I suppose the best we can hope for is that in the midst of the mad sprint for the 50% off bin that there is a moment of reflective pause to consider all the good things we do have in our lives, or at least how much those good things will appreciate the great pair of christmas light earrings that you got for $2.00. Viva la percent off.
Until next time...
M
I don't know if the greater majority of America truly appreciates the horror that is Black Friday. That one day that we shed our Dr. Jeckyll exterior to expose our Mr. Hyde-and-shop door buster selves. We change from normally controlled, only slightly neurotic individuals into a frenzied mob of hooting neanderthals scrambling to get the most stuff into our shopping carts, as quickly as possible. We lose that sensibility and practicality that we seem to pride ourselves on so much.
Perhaps it is an after effect of the large amounts of tryptophan from the turkey, or even just the need to feel like we are getting one up on the Joneses by getting our shopping done early. Yet for whatever reason the transformation is complete, and for those of us who have spent time on the other side of the register, down right scary.
I can remember arriving at my store in a small town mall at 4am to make sure that we were ready to go at the 5am door opening. The line was already around the corner, old women in their various holiday sweatshirts imploring us to "keep Christ in Christmas", sleepy kids that had been dragged out bed to stand in the cold, and of course the hung over mothers and daughters that had put their differences aside "for the holidays". I approached the door, already cursing under my breath at the fact that I had gotten up at an hour that most of my college friends were just returning from the bars.
"Hey fat boy!" It was one of the grannies in her "Merry Catmas" sweatshirt, "The line starts back there!" The rhinestone eyes of the cat on her shirt twinkled under the street light. "I have been here since 2 am and I'll be damned if somebody is going to pass me in line."
Now I would hazard a bet that this particular grannie had administered several good mouthwashings in her time--probably fond of using the lava soap on the kids--for their use of foul language. Yet here she was, swearing as easily as any ten year old. I just smiled and wished her a Merry Christmas, as my boss let me through the door.
Inside I found my fellow teammates bleary eyed and dreading the next ten hours of their respective shifts. We moved as zombies, going through the various routines necessary for opening the story, but as zoned out as we were, we remained conscious of the time. Some detached part of our psyche kept pace with the long hand of the clock as it swept quickly to the 6 and then climbed with amazing speed toward the 12. As if the clock was not enough, the press of grannie flesh outside the main doors provided a constant reminder.
At 4:55am the tuggers started working the doors. These are the people that come and try the doors, pulling on them to see if they are open even though no one with keys has gone anywhere near the doors. 4:57 brought us all to the center of the store where we drew lots to see who would be the unfortunate person that opened the doors. Opening the doors on Black Friday is somewhat akin to the running of the bulls in Spain. The unlucky person chosen for this position has to somehow manage to convince the people to back up from the door, to take the pressure off the lock so that the key can turn the tumbler. Then, once the door is unlocked, the person has the choice of running ahead of the pack of shoppers or, as in most cases, just getting the hell out of the way. The only thing that saves most people from being trampled to death is the fact that the doors open out, so the mob has to step back before they can rush in.
And rush in is exactly what they do, generally at high speeds with little care for themselves or those around them. Many have already mapped out a plan of where the good deals are and will run anybody over to get to them. I have seen grannies run though packs of people with skills that would make a college football running back jealous, most of the time dragging some poor grandkid like a skier. Good thing most of the kids that year were wearing those heely shoes. They just lifted their toes and let grannie do the pulling.
I wonder what this year will bring with our recession and the proverbial tightening of our belts. I don't think the crowds will be any less, or the people any less frenzied--old habits die hard. I suppose the best we can hope for is that in the midst of the mad sprint for the 50% off bin that there is a moment of reflective pause to consider all the good things we do have in our lives, or at least how much those good things will appreciate the great pair of christmas light earrings that you got for $2.00. Viva la percent off.
Until next time...
M
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