Trash Day, yo.

Man. Wo-man. (think so I married an axe murderer)
Time gets away from me this time of year.

WM had her open house for the holidays at her store. Read: I pick out, light up, and decorate roughly 7,000 trees. Well, maybe not. But in the tens of dozens anyway. Roughly a metric ass ton of trees. I am really good at it. I also have only had a tree like once at my house. I get my fill of that shit in late october. After the trees she closes down for a week. Which means, this kid works 14 ish hour days every day for like 3 weeks. This year, I'm working many weekends for her because apparently, people don't want to work. I mean sure, they want to go somewhere and get a check. But they don't want to work. Shit, I don't get that. If nothing else, the day takes too damn long if you stand there with your thumb up your ass.
I'm just saying.

I survived the outlaw visit. Barely. Lots of "i thought you said...."s from my MIL. And pictures of her boy with her, her boy with his dad but none of her boy and his wife. Um, I may not exactly be a looker.... but I ain't gonna break a camera lens either. Then there was that passive aggressive, 'I'm not going to walk over to you and hug you." And folks, I was not the bigger person. I didn't go get a hug. Not because I'm being passive (cuz let's face it folks...I'm aggressive sometimes *cof*often...but never passive). Only because I was too damn tired to bother. Two tears in a bucket.

I am really, really fucking tired. And apparently, that sleeping issue I have is starting to cause other health problems. So a new doc who's trying to find out what has happened put me on one of those 'non addictive' sleep aids. And yeah. I'm still freaked out about it. Puh-leeze don't give me the rap about biological shit and how it won't hook me. If you'd come up like I did, seen air conditioners ripped out of walls and guns pulled on family members and more other fun stuff, you'd worry about it too. You'd understand being scared to death that you might be a junkie. You'd be scared to death that you would be the one to go back to the way things are there. But in what is either good or bad news, the sleep aid, four days in....doesn't do a damn thing.

My dog is rad. After we went to vote, we went to hike. The squirrels of the world have apparently gotten together, held a caucus and figured out how they can drive WD apeshit. Their plan of run past him really fast..... totally works. Squirrels don't use leashes and that drives WD crazy. Equally as maddening... squirrels don't stay on the path. My dog, it seems, is as crazy as I am. Hmm.. my doc did say I seem anxious.
*****no shit, sherlock, you've had me waiting for an hour.....I.NEED.TO.GO.*****

Yeah. Doc met me for ten minutes and said I seem anxious. Up tight. Wonder if he wanted to call me a dork or start talking about my mother. Fucking pissed me off and no doubt, that makes me everything he said. But still.

And that, dear readers.... updates you on my world.

But because my bloggofriend MOJO (see my list) is advocating for the peace blog and i dig peace...there will be a peace blog on the 6th. And there would be a cool logo too if I were cooler.
So use your imagination about the direction I might take and for those of you that know me IRL, think about how I always end messages on the phone and email with Peace. And how I totally don't sound like a hippy....

heh.

Ahem

My in-laws will be here this weekend.
Pray for me, people.
Or maybe....
come bail me out.

About Home Training....

I talk a lot about home training. I don't mean training for WD. Though he's had his share and like the kids in my class, I insist my pup know to act like he's been somewhere before.

Every time one of my classes goes somewhere as a group (fire drill, assembly, library trip) I threaten my children within an inch of their lives. This really means that I come up with ugly disciplinary act outside the detention box. No lie, earlier this week, I marched a kid to the janitor and had the kid help with the toilet scrubbing while his classmates were in the library. Our dress code states that for safety purposes (gun holding, not tripping over yourself), shirts must at all times be tucked into the uniforms. When a child leaves my room, I always instruct them to 'tuck that shirt in to your socks, son.... don't you leave here lookin' like you don't belong to nobody...' The implication, of course being that they belong to me if no one else.

Being that they are junior high aged babies, they have a propensity to suck their teeth (you need some dental floss honey, you got somethin' nasty in there??)blow out copious amounts of annoyed at me air from their mouths (you got a leak, baby...'bout to wind up flat like Stanley if you don't seal that up), they have cornered the market on rolling their eyes (don't you roll those little eyes at me, child...I'm not the one). When the kids are aggravated and toss something to someone I make them do it again until they can be nice about it. When they say something with an attitude, I make them say it again until they can say it right. If they stomp their little silly feet, they must walk across my room again, until they can walk like they've got some sense. Its my way of imparting the same home training I got on them. It often takes away time from curriculum, but I believe children need home training. I think it is the most important part of what I do.

On more than one occasion, I've had parents thank me for helping to raise their child when they are not there to do it. I've also had a few parents in my class annoyed with me and my strict rules, but that's another story.

This notion of home training is a part of who I am. It really does define me when you get right down to it. When I'm in a store, particularly in the area of town where I work, and I see some kids showing out, I often shake my head at the cashier and say, "no home training..." Nine times out of ten, a conversation ensues about how our mothers 'would have busted us in the ass by now.' I think, maybe, its a cultural thing.

The Boy was not raised with the same kind of home training. He had training, I guess, but it was vastly different. We had just started dating when I realized it. His sister walked in his parents house, and took off her shoes while we (her mom, dad, brother, friend and me) were all sitting there in the same room. She didn't so much as speak to anyone. I was floored, waiting for his mom to go drag her by the ear out to the living room make her apologize and then make her go outside and come in again like she had some sense.

Um. I don't know anything about having to do that myself....

Instead, his mom turned to me and told me not to take it personally, that her daughter was just like that.

Rude?

The longer I was in this relationship and the more it put me into other situations with people so unlike myself, I began to realize that some folks idea of home training or politeness was vastly different than my own. I became familiar with what I think of as the White Middle Class Interview. That is, when someone (who I guess can't just make small talk about random stuff OR who isn't comfortable just being together quietly) begins to drill you with questions about yourself. Where are you from, what do you do, are you married, what do your parents do.....

GAH!!!!

This is unbelievably rude in my book. The way I grew up, you just don't do this. Its prying, nosy, and shows that no one raised you right.

Except that I found out, that this is supposed to make some folks feel comfortable...not like they're on trial or at a job interview. The idea is that people like to talk about themselves and you're giving them an opportunity to do so. You're showing them that you're interested. You're supposed to return the favor, asking them the same series of questions. Except a) i was raised not to act like my name is Nosetta b)I don't much care unless I know you well enough that you want to share these details without my asking c) I was also raised that its rude to monopolize a conversation by talking about yourself and d)doesn't this make conversation less of a conversation and more of a verbal tennis match?

I've also noticed the tendency, for people to need to show you that they know what you're talking about (where is the shame in just saying, 'damn, i don't know nuthin 'bout that....'?). Sometimes, I think of it like a terrier with a tennis ball, bouncing up and down... "I know something! I know something!"


You can imagine, I'm sure, my frustration with these events and these people who I'm sure mean well and are perfectly nice folks, but have no home training. No doubt they have a very staunch idea about what it is to be polite...but that's way different than home training.


In my regular life, outside of brief work-type encounters, I don't run around with people with no home training. Life is short, people. I like people who get my flow, people with whom interactions are easy and comfortable, not people who lean on my last nerve and say things that make me think, "excuse me??? the fuck did you just say to me???"

This is problematic, because TB, does spend time with these folks. And sometimes, he expects me to come with him and sometimes, when he does, he forgets who he's married. Or maybe he expects me to forget who I am, just for a happy hour. The last time we went to happy hour with his work place friends, I had just defended my dissertation. TB had taken a personal day to go with me to my defense. Hanging out on campus, waiting for me to call asking either for a celebration or some solace. Because he took a personal day, some folks he worked with knew where he'd gone. But just because it had just happened didn't mean I want to make some grand announcement to people who were basically strangers. If you know me, you know that's about the last thing I'd want to do.

I'd no more sat down at the table where they all were, when some lady I never remember meeting said, "So I understand you just defended your dissertation?"
"Um. Yeah. I wasn't exactly planning on making an announcement, but yeah I sure did."

TB just gave me this freaked out look. Clearly, I should have just smiled a toothy smile and said "yes." Maybe while tilting my head to the side.

But. Not only did this woman put my business out there for everyone to hear, but she also made an announcement for me. I did have 2 fairly good friends there, who I'd been waiting to share my news with... in private. Thanks, lady, for taking that away from me. You want to tell me what Santa is bringing me this year, too?

At that time, a guy who I'm not close to (not even friends...he's just a co worker of TB) but who I know from my teacher prep program, spoke up, "So. You're a PhD now, huh?"

I nodded my head watching the other 6 people just look at me like I had 3 eyes, "yep, I guess I am."

He poured another drink and said, "huh."

Not, "that's awesome" or "good for you" or "kiss my ass." Notice, no one said anything positive. They just got their information and moved on. Indeed, it would have been worse if I'd gotten the interview. But my answer to the first women was intended to gently remind her that I didn't necessarily want to go into the ins and outs of a dissertation defense right there over nachos and beer. And the reason I didn't folks, is because to tout a big degree like that, would be bragging. Even if they asked me about it. And I have home training, people.


I don't think these people were being inherently rude. In fact, in some circles I understand this was an attempt to include me and be polite on their terms. However, it was bullshit under my framework. And by not saying, "excuse me???" I was showing my high level of home training. It was my right, to put a gentle stop to the conversation. If TB's co workers were uncomfortable, then they damn well should be.


TB is putting together another co-worker happy hour this week. He wants me to go. God love him, he always wants me to go. But he always ends up giving me this freaked out 'you're making these people uncomfortable' look. So I reminded him who it is that he married. And offered to stay home. Frankly, I've worked damn hard to get where I am and still stay true to myself. Everything I've done has been on my terms (though its made my road exponentially harder). I'm not going to pretend to be Suzie White Middle Class just to eat a half a quesedilla with TB's friends from work. I am what I am. Take me or leave me. No hard feelings either way. Shit, and I'm not that ghetto, people. Its not like I am one of the bitches from Flavor of Love or something.


He told me, "I just want you to be nice." I reminded him, that I am nice. In my own way. Never, when I hear his co workers talk about how his students 'can't talk right' or how they're 'tired of seeing boy's under ware' (old white women hate when boys have some sag in their swag), or crack on a decidedly urban hair cut, do I give them a full body 'WTF is wrong with you? you look like you just rolled the fuck out of bed and you're going to talk about someone else???' I let it go until they address me. Then I gently say something like, "um, what do you mean by that?" And no lie, there's an edge to it that says, "I can't believe you just said that out loud in front of other people." But I don't just rail on them.


I think TB would rather (for his own comfortableness) that I just smile and nod and let it go...understanding that they don't know any better. But I have home training and while that doesn't permit me to just go off on someone (no matter how they've offended me) it also doesn't allow that I don't stand up for my people. I have home training.

*Disclaimer*
I am just putting this out there, folks. It isn't an attempt to understand how the other person might be trying to make me feel welcomed, etc. I've spent about the last four year studying social interactions from a discourse analysis perspective between white middle class female teachers and working/survival class students of color. So I feel comfortable with my assessment of my own life experience.
:) I am not trying to bust on other people who may subscribe to this framework, just analyzing the world with a more marginalized one in order to share a different perspective.

Cuz maybe you have ten minutes before you have to get into the shower, too....

I got a book yesterday from the library.
But not the university library.
The Public Library.
I got a book to read for fun.
People, except for Harry Potter...I have not had one of these for over 5 years. Hot damn.

My dog is feeling better. He wiggled his butt at me and ran out in the yard today without limping. Yay!

Greek yogurt. Holy shit. Where have you been all my life? Oh yeah. In the bin marked mother-freaking 2 dollas a thing... Ehh, that's part of my philosophy. We almost never eat out and we budget well. If I want to spend ten bucks on greek yogurt and its good for me, I'll do it. I'm crazy blessed that way to feel like I can get what I want at the grocery store as long as its healthy. Hasn't always been that way folks...And I'm totally aware of how damn fortunate I am.

Had a parent meeting yesterday. Have talked with this lady on the phone a couple of times. Introduced myself, "hi i am (first name here) Err, how you doin' today?" Lady looked at me like I had 3 eyes or something. Don't know what the hell that was about.

They want me to write up WD's story because he's done so well with his training. Seems other folks have had the problems he has, not gotten help soon enough and been put down (gah!). After seeing the pretty little girl GSD who was in there yesterday getting help... I am more than happy to do it!

I love my neighborhood

Not the one I live in. It totally sucks my Err.
The one I work in. THAT is my neighborhood.
It used to be busy and business-y. Not so much now. Higher crime and poverty pushing in have moved business to the next town over in the way that urban sprawl does. Which really, if you think about it...is less of an urban sprawl and more of a shift. No lie, the poverty and high crime that has pushed in is that from the neighborhood where my family was from. I suppose, I am just another generation who's come to stay.

I spend most of my life in this area, I shop there as much as possible, which isn't often because there aren't many businesses left. Of the businesses that remain, there is a PetSmart and an Anderson's General Store.

Anderson's is just a cool place. Its supposed to be an old fashioned general store. This means you can buy dog food, soap, fancy pants beer and tulip bulbs. They have a nice butcher that is reasonable and helpful, a bakery that is clearly straight from the depths of hell because it is so damn sinful, a garden center and areas where you can remodel your bathroom. There are all kinds of people there. Uppity white women buying herbs and imported idon'tknowwhat, rough necks buying beer and Dickies, old folks browsing over locally grown apples and $.99 sugar baby watermelons on special, rats like me buying neckbones or hamhocks for greens and other stuff. No one looks out of place there.

My purchase yesterday was a half-peck of Ohio grown yellow delicious apples (and really, I have no idea what a half-peck is, but will tell you that it tickles a city girl to buy apples like this in the city), a LED light up collar thingy for Wonder Dog (because it is never light on our morning walks anymore), Burts Bees soap for my shower, a magazine that is hard to find for my mom (they always have it), and 2 cans (yay, metal cans!!!) of coffee with chicory. You can't help but leave happy.

I drove around the empty shopping district (the grocery, Best Buy and others are gone, a cheap seats movie and Waffle House remain). There's a Target (that no doubt has limited days as they are building one in that neighboring town I was telling you about earlier), a Hobby Lobby, an Office Max, and a Pet Smart. There were twice the amount of stores here at one time, but they're all gone and the parking lots are empty and eerie.

Wonder Dog managed to get himself a puncture wound in his front paw. My boy who's got issues to begin with, hurt his paw and was limping. And finally trusted me to help him. He looked to me to fix it. And that, folks, broke my heart, because I didn't know how and couldn't get in to see the vet until two days later. Because I am a totally sap about things WD related, I decided it was time to replace his old, now flat, too small for a tall guy like WD bed with the grand master pimp bed that I saw at Pet Smart when I adopted him (but couldn't afford because, people, new dogs...particularly new big dogs with issues.... are expensive).

I love Pet Smart anyway. Even when I don't get to take my dog (I know, I'm a dork) I love being around the other dogs. I'm reminded of adopting my dog from a Mingle with the Mutts sponsored by Pet Smart. But this store is somewhat different than others. Its almost totally devoid of designer dogs. Mixed breeds like mine don't get sideways looks. Big tuff dogs like mine, don't get looks. There are some little dogs with older folks, but mostly, there are powerful breeds. Rotties, dobes, and pitbulls. My guy, with his muscles, tuff guy swagger, and gentleman's collar, wouldn't have raised any eyes.

I saw the most beautiful red pitt as I was carrying out a dog bed that was so big it made me feel silly. His man let him out and then had him wait until he got his wallet and locked the passenger side door. Leash dragging, the pitt did not run away and go eat someone's face. Instead he watched his man, wiggling and waiting. And instead of everyone acting like loose pitt would eat their face (he picked up the leash, by the way, when he began walking into the store) an older lady stopped him to pet the pretty red dog and talk to his owner.

Even after a long staff meeting in what is currently a complicated job situation, I left for home in a really good mood (which got exponentially better when WD went totally ape shit over his new bed). Its good to be somewhere that the world makes sense to you. Where people nod up instead of down. Where they say, "how you doin'" and "alright" and look you in the eye when you pass by. Where people catch the door because they have home training. Where the people checking you out get your jokes and don't look at you like you're weird. I suppose its how you feel when you're home.

This Week In Mama Err's Class....

Enter Dr. Err. She looks up just in time see boy take 3 running steps and CLEAR a set of four of those desk chair hooked together things.

Dr. Err: Hakeem!!!!!! Out here now!

A hush falls over Dr. Err's room. Which, folks, hasn't happened without threat of death, detention or a text book up the nose...sideways.... since the beginning of the year.

Hakeem: Yes, mama.

As they step outside she slams the door dramatically.

Dr. Err: Dude.
Hakeem: I'm sorry Mama.
Dr. Err: Boy, you know there's a part of me that thought that was really impressive right?

Hakeem breaks into a huge smile, knowing he's not about to die, just maybe get told.

Dr. Err: But you know the teacher part of me knows that if you'd hit that desk wrong, or missed it or something, you coulda busted your head and killed yourself, right?

Hakeem (more serious): Yes, Mama.
Dr. Err: And you know, that because of this most teacher's would have put you out for that, right?
Hakeem: Yes, mama.
Dr. Err: I ain't gonna put you out over that, cause we got important stuff to do and I want you in the class to hold down your table family. But I will personally break your legs if I see you do that again. Kapeesh?
Hakeem: Kapeesh.
Dr. Err: Now that was all kinds of cool. You got hops, Hakeem. I want to see you put them on an athletic floor, you hear me?
Hakeem: Yes, Mama.
Dr. Err: But if you tell any of those knuckle heads I said that, I'll deny it in a court of law.
Hakeem: (laughing) Ok, Mama.
****************************************************
Same class, different day. We're jotting down everything we know about Pharaohs.

Dr. Err: I just want ya'll to take, maybe like 2 minutes to write down every thing you've learned about Pharaoh's. You don't have to write in complete sentences. I am more concerned that you write down a lot of different things, than that you take the time to write in sentences. This ain't Language Arts, ya'll. Just gimme a laundry list of things you know about Pharaohs.
Tanisha: Laundry List?
Dr. Err: Um, yeah. You know, sometimes when people want a list of things, or whatever, they call it a laundry list.
Jamaal: Why?
Dr. Err: I dunno, actually.
King David: Mama, nobody say that.
Dr. Err: Sure they do. I didn't just make it up.
King David: I ain't never heard no one say that.
Dr. Err: I dunno, King David. White people say it. My husband say it. That's where I got it from, I think.
DeYante: That's why you don't know what it mean.
Dr. Err: Probably. Anyway. Can we PLEASE get back to my class and making lists of things we know about Pharaoh's?
***************************************************************
Enter a 9th grader from high school.

Samisha: Hiiiiiii, Dr. Err..... Look at that, Dr. Err.

gives Dr. Err a hug.

Dr. Err: Hi baby. How's the high school?
Samisha: Social Studies is easy... I'll tell you that.
Dr. Err: Didn't I tell you? Everything after my class...is easy.
Samisha: Yeah, but I didn't think you meant it!!!!
******************************************************************
*note* all names have been changed to protect the identity of the knuckle heads in my class who say this ridiculous stuff....

Fear

JC and I were talking last week sometime about dry spells in your writing. I think most people go through dry spells with most things they do. Times when you're just not feeling it. That may be cooking, gardening, running, dealing with your house or partner. Sometimes life takes enough out of you that it doesn't leave much extra energy for other things.

I won't say that I'm quite there yet, but so far...this has been a long school year, folks. Its all good and I do love these kids but I feel like every third thing out of my mouth is, "baby.... what is wrong with you???" And I'm thinking about another side gig for the Dr. part of my career. No doubt, its a long shot (I'm over qualified in some areas, but not quite as specialized as they might looking for), but because I'm a crackhead like that, I'm already thinking about what I might wear to an interview.

So oh yeah. JC. The whole bit of this particular convo was about just writing and not worrying about what to write about. Just write about something like your fears or something.

It got me thinking about my own fears. I expect that this could be some deep and philosophical post about fears of the unknown or being alone. Yeah. I don't sweat that so much. The unknown will be what it will be. I'll deal with it then. I can handle me. Being alone isn't so bad, and often its a choice so if you don't like it, do something about it. I don't worry about finances. I plan well. I am sincerely grateful for what I have. I have no reason to think the carpet is going to get yanked and if it does, I'll deal then. I'm not afraid of high crime neighborhoods since I've spent most of my life in the middle and on the edges of them. I'm not afraid of getting assaulted. I take as many steps as possible to avoid that. I carry mace. I walk with a buff pup who under no circumstances wants anyone too close to his mom. I don't go anywhere after dark alone. I lock my doors. And anyone who wants to steal me...is going to have to shoot my ass first, cuz I am scrappy and I ain't getting in a car with you because I'm also not afraid to have someone pull a gun on me.

I am, however, totally what you call cautious. Which in my mind is different than scared. No, I am not going out any farther in the ocean, I'm not a good swimmer. If I can touch, I am safe. No, I am not driving any faster than 35 miles an hour in this ice storm. I lived in Alaska for 19 years and I know for a friggin' fact, if I go any faster, I can spin out, like that asshole in the ditch just did. No. I am not going any closer to the edge of that cliff, I am clumsy and trip and that's a long way down. No. I am not answering my door if I don't know you are coming. I don't need to hear what a stranger has to say, sell, or show me. And while chances are slim its a home invasion thing, if it is, I am safe on this side of the door.

But yes. I will bust on an active gang member in my class. I will put his ass right in his place. I know the rules. Yes. I will pet that pretty little pit bull with the light eyes (is this what they call it on dogs?) that is wiggling its tail at me in Pet Smart. Regardless of breed, I've never been afraid of a dog unless its chewing on my leg. And I try to deal with them on their terms. Which is why I've likely never had one chew on my leg. I will snowboard and ski. I'll be safe. Bruised, but safe, knowing my limits. I will walk in the morning. I'll watch my back, stay by the houses instead of in the woods and take mace. And WD, who apparently, most strangers ARE afraid of.

I am however, really scared of frogs. Lizards. Snakes. Mice. Birds. Heights. The first five are sort of silly. Heights is no joke and nearly paralyzing. Don't travel with me if you have a problem with me taking the elevator instead of the escalator anywhere higher than one floor. I am also, as I learned this summer, afraid of sticking my foot in something that isn't sand while in the ocean. Well I'll be dammed.

I also scream like a b-movie hooker. Yeah. Nothing sucks the cool out of you like squealing like a stuck pig who's also being held up. I think, while I am regularly silly and seldom serious, I am typically fairly quiet. I mean, I'm not a wall flower or someone who won't talk (I have no tolerance for stupid, forced small talk, however). I just don't have a loud voice. Servers in restaurants never hear me. I had to work hard on a classroom voice and people regularly ask me to repeat myself. But let a frog jump out of my garden at me. I have no doubt my voice carries around a quarter mile radius.

It makes me think my fears are really pretty silly. Except my fear of heights. I mean, you can fall off of heights.... My god daughter (who is 5) asked me about the fear of birds..."you don't like Robins, Auntie Err?" Um. I just don't want them too close to me.

So.
What does this have to do with any-damn-thing?

I dunno. Probably very little. Except that my fears are just one more thing about me that doesn't make any damn sense.