Dear Secret Blogiary,
Mister W. and I do not often get date nights. Hell, between his schedule and The Girls, it isn’t often we get any type of quiet alone time. But we try.
Tonight, out of some random act of kindness, Mom took The Girls for a sleepover. My mind immediately began racing through various naughty things Mister W. and I could partake in.
Oh…The plans I made while waiting for Mister W. to finally get home. And it all started with food. You see, I have long since discovered that, although it is an Old Wive’s Tale, the way to Mister’s heart is to bypass it altogether and focus on the stomach. Mister Q. loves his food. Loves. So it was with great pleasure that I remembered an awesome Christmas present we had yet to use: A gift card to Chili’s.
I assaulted Mister W. as he walked through the door all but tearing off his shirt and shoved him into the shower. As he soaped up I told him of my plans and with a grumble from his stomach he readily agreed that it was a fine plan.
Chili’s was slow, odd for a Saturday evening, but it was nice to get a table without having to wait thirty minutes. Sliding into the booth, Dreamy Waiter took our drink order: Sweet Tea for me (I was driving) and Crown on the Rocks for Mister W.
Normally we skip the appetizers because I never finsish my dinner when we have a started, but Mister W. was Hungry and I just couldn’t resist the southwestern egg rolls.
Big Mistake.
Hot, crispy, just a touch of spice, dipped in that avocado-ranch dressing. Divine. And did I mention hot? Sort of like a lava flow in your mouth except instead of lava it is the skin from the roof of your mouth melting and cascading over your tongue.
I survived. Barely. Thank the sweet tea deity that Dreamy Waiter had just brought me a refill. I guzzled half of it down and suck on ice cubes while waiting for dinner to arrive.
Fajitas all around for dinner; me, the trio, Mister W. the buffalo chicken. Ah! but the meal was so good. And it was nice to be out of the house, eating food that I didn’t have to cook, with someone who I occasionally like to spend time with.
We talked in quiet voices about the plans for the rest of the evening and I am sure that my face was warm not because of the spicy food but because…
But then, poor planning struck. As it so often happens (because every single time we have a date night this is how it ends up) we eat too much and waddle back to the house, bemoaning all the food, as good as it was.
We sit down on the couch to let our dinner settle.
We turn the T.V. on (really haven’t we seen this episode of Mythbusters 5,000 times?).
Mister W. yawns. I rub my eyes.
I lie down and put my head in his lap. His stomach burbles in protest. I sit back up.
We look at each other.
We laugh and shake our heads.
“Every single time,” Mister W. says.
“Yup.”
“Maybe in the morning? Before the girls come home?” Mister W. asks.
"I do like morning sex," I say.
Mister W. stumbles off to bed.
And I get sucked into watching a SyFy (why do they spell it like that?) mini-movie, Meteor, "starring" Jason Alexander.
I blame you, Chili’s.
Countdowns
Showing posts with label disappointment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disappointment. Show all posts
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Stupid Fucking Day
Dear Secret Blogiary,
What a Stupid Fucking Day. You know those days when nothing “goes wrong” per say but nothing goes right either. Today was a Stupid Fucking Day or an SFD for short.
It started simply enough. Mister W and I woke up at the same time for a change and I attempted to initiate a quick intimate moment. God Lord! How long has it been since morning sex? Pre kids, I think. I could have used the pick-me-up, today, and I was shot down. Hard.
Pushing my hand away, Mister W. goes into a diatribe about how he needs to get up and get going for work. WORK?!?! Screw work! I wanted SEX!
All the time we are on his schedule and this morning it just tipped me off that whenever he wants it, I jump in full on regardless of whether I am really interested or not because I have discovered that unless I am sick, I will get interested real quick once we start. But God Forbid I want it at an inconvenient time and it is all hands off.
So, pissy, horny and now irritated because I woke up early I rolled from bed and moved on. Sort-of. Have I mentioned that I am really, really good at holding a grudge and stewing about things?
The morning continued with diabolical plans to with-hold all sex acts until further notice. That lasted until the end of my shower when I realized that that was just about as likely as me winning the lottery without actually playing.
At school, I had my yearly observation. I was woefully unprepared. The lesson was one that I had never taught before, but the next “required” piece in the curriculum. Stupid curriculum. So despite my prep, I felt, at best, “iffy” about the lesson. The class I chose for the observation is typically one of my better involved ones. They might be my lowest level class, but by God, they try.
Except for today. I don’t know if it was the administrator in the class or what, but they were silent, taciturn, and reticent. Who were these children? Clearly they were abducted last night and replaced by pod-people.
The focus lesson (a mini mini-lesson – essentially I have to teach two lessons one FCAT focused and then one content but that’s a rant for another day) ran long and although they had been over it before, they acted like they had never seen inferences before even though as a focus lesson they have been over it dozens of times. Then when we got into the bulk of the content – character development and historical background of a story – they lost it and went crazy with misbehavior.
Then, before I got into my super required “differentiated instruction” the admin left. Observation over.
Great. Perfect. I am sure to ace this one.
From there it just got worse. Spring is really in the air because I could not get the rest of the class in line with what they needed to do. At one point, I gathered up the five kids who were doing what they were supposed to a taught them alone and ignored the rest.
They didn’t seem to mind.
Then I got yelled at TWICE! for letting a student use the restroom.
SFD.
We have this ridiculous rule about when we are allowed to let students out on hall passes. As ridiculous as it is I follow it to the letter because that is just the law-abiding goody-two-shoes I am. So, with two minutes to spare before the cut-off time, a student who never asks me to go to the restroom asked. I look at the time, I tell him, okay, but hurry because you only have 2 minutes before the cut-off. The boy grabed the pass and took off running to make it to and from in time.
Mr. MoHOLU radioed my direct admin and sent him to reprimand me. My reply was courteous and I told him that the boy was within the time. My admin radioed back letting Mr. MoHOLU know my response and reason. Not ten seconds later Mr. MoHOLU stormed into the wing and shouted, SHOUTED! Down the hall that he was sick of all the hall passes and it didn’t matter that the boy was sent out right before the cut-off I shouldn’t have sent him out because he could have held it until next period.
SFD!
Why the Hell did Mr. MoHOLU established a cut-off time if he wasn’t going to allow us to abide by it? My school is on block schedule so we are in class for 90 minutes. 6th period, because it is the lunch period, actual real time is 2 hours because it is the lunch block and we have to rotate 900 students in three shifts through, with clean-ups between each. So, it is a long period and after lunch, kids need to pee. Fact of life. They guzzle down chocolate milk, juice and soda and then are trapped in a class for near two hours. Hell! I gave up drinking any thing at lunch because I couldn’t hold it that long.
Stupid Fucking Day.
All I’ve got to say is that Mister W. better put out tonight.
What a Stupid Fucking Day. You know those days when nothing “goes wrong” per say but nothing goes right either. Today was a Stupid Fucking Day or an SFD for short.
It started simply enough. Mister W and I woke up at the same time for a change and I attempted to initiate a quick intimate moment. God Lord! How long has it been since morning sex? Pre kids, I think. I could have used the pick-me-up, today, and I was shot down. Hard.
Pushing my hand away, Mister W. goes into a diatribe about how he needs to get up and get going for work. WORK?!?! Screw work! I wanted SEX!
All the time we are on his schedule and this morning it just tipped me off that whenever he wants it, I jump in full on regardless of whether I am really interested or not because I have discovered that unless I am sick, I will get interested real quick once we start. But God Forbid I want it at an inconvenient time and it is all hands off.
So, pissy, horny and now irritated because I woke up early I rolled from bed and moved on. Sort-of. Have I mentioned that I am really, really good at holding a grudge and stewing about things?
The morning continued with diabolical plans to with-hold all sex acts until further notice. That lasted until the end of my shower when I realized that that was just about as likely as me winning the lottery without actually playing.
At school, I had my yearly observation. I was woefully unprepared. The lesson was one that I had never taught before, but the next “required” piece in the curriculum. Stupid curriculum. So despite my prep, I felt, at best, “iffy” about the lesson. The class I chose for the observation is typically one of my better involved ones. They might be my lowest level class, but by God, they try.
Except for today. I don’t know if it was the administrator in the class or what, but they were silent, taciturn, and reticent. Who were these children? Clearly they were abducted last night and replaced by pod-people.
The focus lesson (a mini mini-lesson – essentially I have to teach two lessons one FCAT focused and then one content but that’s a rant for another day) ran long and although they had been over it before, they acted like they had never seen inferences before even though as a focus lesson they have been over it dozens of times. Then when we got into the bulk of the content – character development and historical background of a story – they lost it and went crazy with misbehavior.
Then, before I got into my super required “differentiated instruction” the admin left. Observation over.
Great. Perfect. I am sure to ace this one.
From there it just got worse. Spring is really in the air because I could not get the rest of the class in line with what they needed to do. At one point, I gathered up the five kids who were doing what they were supposed to a taught them alone and ignored the rest.
They didn’t seem to mind.
Then I got yelled at TWICE! for letting a student use the restroom.
SFD.
We have this ridiculous rule about when we are allowed to let students out on hall passes. As ridiculous as it is I follow it to the letter because that is just the law-abiding goody-two-shoes I am. So, with two minutes to spare before the cut-off time, a student who never asks me to go to the restroom asked. I look at the time, I tell him, okay, but hurry because you only have 2 minutes before the cut-off. The boy grabed the pass and took off running to make it to and from in time.
Mr. MoHOLU radioed my direct admin and sent him to reprimand me. My reply was courteous and I told him that the boy was within the time. My admin radioed back letting Mr. MoHOLU know my response and reason. Not ten seconds later Mr. MoHOLU stormed into the wing and shouted, SHOUTED! Down the hall that he was sick of all the hall passes and it didn’t matter that the boy was sent out right before the cut-off I shouldn’t have sent him out because he could have held it until next period.
SFD!
Why the Hell did Mr. MoHOLU established a cut-off time if he wasn’t going to allow us to abide by it? My school is on block schedule so we are in class for 90 minutes. 6th period, because it is the lunch period, actual real time is 2 hours because it is the lunch block and we have to rotate 900 students in three shifts through, with clean-ups between each. So, it is a long period and after lunch, kids need to pee. Fact of life. They guzzle down chocolate milk, juice and soda and then are trapped in a class for near two hours. Hell! I gave up drinking any thing at lunch because I couldn’t hold it that long.
Stupid Fucking Day.
All I’ve got to say is that Mister W. better put out tonight.
Monday, October 11, 2010
A Man Can Plan
Dear Secret Blogiary,
So the word is in and it is not in my favor. Not that everything has to be about me (though it is nice when it is) and not that I expect to win get my way all the time (although, really, I still don’t understand why I don’t).
Mister W and I had a deep standing-in-the-kitchen conversation about plans for the future tonight. This was probably not the best time to converse about the subject, but as I had finally forced my way through the massive number of secretaries and voice mails and actually managed to speak to the real live lawyer*, I was able to get some basic real estate advice. And the crazy thing was, after I explained what was going one with Mister W’s dad, the house and everything, his legal advice was explicitly simple in design:
Walk Away.
It. Isn’t. Worth. It.
This from a LAWYER!!
Wow.
He laughed and commented that I sounded like I had been raised by “proper” middle class parents who instilled in me a set of rigid morals that kept me on the straight and narrow.
And I certainly was. You pay your debts, pay your taxes and follow the rules. I was good with this system. I like it. It works for me. Everything is structured and symmetrical; which is odd, considering how chaotic and spontaneous I tend to be. I have never understood myself!
In any case, Mister W and I talked and we developed a three year plan. One that unfortunately does not involve me moving to Maine and becoming a lobsterwoman, never mind the fact that looking at waves gets me seasick! The plan then is this:
We walk away from the house, bankroll my paycheck, I keep working at least until the school year is over, and then we pick up an apartment closer to Mister’s work and I can work or not (probably will so as to keep the extra money coming in for the next two years and then Mister W will entertain the possibility of moving back up north. Maybe.
This is something that I have just got to accept. I knew way back when, that Mister W did not want to leave Florida. He likes it here, likes his job and really invested in it. But me? I’ve never been thrilled with Florida. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with it since I came here. I hate it for nine months of the year when the blistering sun bakes the very gray matter in my brain. And Florida loves to torture me with the blistering heat.
There are way more reasons than this, but far too many to go into any great detail. Let’s just say that I came with the understanding that I would remain no more than four years. It has now been ten years and I am more than ready to exit stage right!
The biggest problem I have with this plan is that it puts Big Sis as a junior in high school when the plan magically comes to fruition. And I would feel bad ripping her from school (assuming she didn’t graduate early and head to MIT or Yale because that is how bad-ass her brain is). I hate that I have been unable to provide for her the kind of physical environment I had growing up. I hate that for most of her life she had lived in a city and a crappy one at that! Obviously, I can’t change the fact, I can only do what I can to ease my mind about it (because really, I don’t think she has ever once complained about it except once she mentioned she wanted to live in the country and raise chickens).
Little Sis is, quite honestly, happy wherever. She wants a horse and to live on a farm, but then so did I and that never happened and I turned out mostly sane. I still want to live on a farm though, except, I’d rather have llamas than a horse. And a large concrete wall but that’s a story for another day.
Little Sis seems to have the mindset that home is where Mommy and Daddy are and if we don’t have a horse, chickens or llamas, that’s okay because it is. She is so wise sometimes and makes connections that I just don’t remember making at her age.
I guess what it boils down to is that Mister W needs a plan and I think plans take too long. I’d go tomorrow if Mister W said, “Hey, let’s jam!” I’ll go his way, though, if for no other reason than that while I hate my job, Mister W loves his and he is really good at it. His biggest fear about the “let’s just go” plan is that we’d go and end up in a worse situation where he is in a job that he hates and I can’t find a job I love.
Also, he seems very concerned about food.
Geeze. As if I wouldn’t pack a few granola bars to tide us over.
*Coolest thing about being part of a union, I totally have free access to a lawyer…and of course, by free I mean I make regularly monthly payments to be able to have access to a lawyer.
So the word is in and it is not in my favor. Not that everything has to be about me (though it is nice when it is) and not that I expect to win get my way all the time (although, really, I still don’t understand why I don’t).
Mister W and I had a deep standing-in-the-kitchen conversation about plans for the future tonight. This was probably not the best time to converse about the subject, but as I had finally forced my way through the massive number of secretaries and voice mails and actually managed to speak to the real live lawyer*, I was able to get some basic real estate advice. And the crazy thing was, after I explained what was going one with Mister W’s dad, the house and everything, his legal advice was explicitly simple in design:
Walk Away.
It. Isn’t. Worth. It.
This from a LAWYER!!
Wow.
He laughed and commented that I sounded like I had been raised by “proper” middle class parents who instilled in me a set of rigid morals that kept me on the straight and narrow.
And I certainly was. You pay your debts, pay your taxes and follow the rules. I was good with this system. I like it. It works for me. Everything is structured and symmetrical; which is odd, considering how chaotic and spontaneous I tend to be. I have never understood myself!
In any case, Mister W and I talked and we developed a three year plan. One that unfortunately does not involve me moving to Maine and becoming a lobsterwoman, never mind the fact that looking at waves gets me seasick! The plan then is this:
We walk away from the house, bankroll my paycheck, I keep working at least until the school year is over, and then we pick up an apartment closer to Mister’s work and I can work or not (probably will so as to keep the extra money coming in for the next two years and then Mister W will entertain the possibility of moving back up north. Maybe.
This is something that I have just got to accept. I knew way back when, that Mister W did not want to leave Florida. He likes it here, likes his job and really invested in it. But me? I’ve never been thrilled with Florida. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with it since I came here. I hate it for nine months of the year when the blistering sun bakes the very gray matter in my brain. And Florida loves to torture me with the blistering heat.
There are way more reasons than this, but far too many to go into any great detail. Let’s just say that I came with the understanding that I would remain no more than four years. It has now been ten years and I am more than ready to exit stage right!
The biggest problem I have with this plan is that it puts Big Sis as a junior in high school when the plan magically comes to fruition. And I would feel bad ripping her from school (assuming she didn’t graduate early and head to MIT or Yale because that is how bad-ass her brain is). I hate that I have been unable to provide for her the kind of physical environment I had growing up. I hate that for most of her life she had lived in a city and a crappy one at that! Obviously, I can’t change the fact, I can only do what I can to ease my mind about it (because really, I don’t think she has ever once complained about it except once she mentioned she wanted to live in the country and raise chickens).
Little Sis is, quite honestly, happy wherever. She wants a horse and to live on a farm, but then so did I and that never happened and I turned out mostly sane. I still want to live on a farm though, except, I’d rather have llamas than a horse. And a large concrete wall but that’s a story for another day.
Little Sis seems to have the mindset that home is where Mommy and Daddy are and if we don’t have a horse, chickens or llamas, that’s okay because it is. She is so wise sometimes and makes connections that I just don’t remember making at her age.
I guess what it boils down to is that Mister W needs a plan and I think plans take too long. I’d go tomorrow if Mister W said, “Hey, let’s jam!” I’ll go his way, though, if for no other reason than that while I hate my job, Mister W loves his and he is really good at it. His biggest fear about the “let’s just go” plan is that we’d go and end up in a worse situation where he is in a job that he hates and I can’t find a job I love.
Also, he seems very concerned about food.
Geeze. As if I wouldn’t pack a few granola bars to tide us over.
*Coolest thing about being part of a union, I totally have free access to a lawyer…and of course, by free I mean I make regularly monthly payments to be able to have access to a lawyer.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Whose Got a "Work Family?" Not me!
Dear Decret Blogiary,
Every year and sometimes multiple times a year, my boss – Mr. MoHOLU – gives the faculty a speech about being at the school for the children and if you are not here for the children then you need to reassess your chosen career. He usually says this in tandem with a “we are a family here at this school. We help and support each other, take care of each other” …blah blah blah.
Well, I have since discovered that that is a big load of crap. There is no “family” at my school. There are cliques, and sure, aren’t they everywhere? Mr. MoHOLU has is own little clique himself. But I always bought into the whole faculty family thing until now.
We have on staff a teacher, Ms. D., who suffers from an incurable degenerative disease. I will not go into details as they are private, but essentially, one faculty member, Ms. S., organized and arranged a fundraiser to donate to MDA research – not to help the family – but strictly for research and local events for the MDA. She talked about it a pre-planning and sent out emails encouraging people to participate – after all this is a cause that we see the effects from every day.
Well, the fundraiser – a bowl-a-thon – came and went. Only two – TWO (including myself) showed up! I’m not sure if any more than that donated, but a family who supports each other we are not!!
Are you telling me that even with a whole month’s notice, people couldn’t clear one 2 hour block of time on a Saturday evening? Are you telling me that STRANGERS are more supportive than a faculty family??
Well, world, I think you are. I have been part of this faculty for six years and I have always involved myself with them. I have attended funeral services, baby showers, other fundraising events, and even donated money to teachers who were going through a difficult time. I had always considered myself lucky to be a part of such a caring faculty.
Well, no more I say. I am so disappointed in my faculty. In people I thought I was friends with. And hell, it wasn’t even MY fundraiser. But the woman we were supporting has been a leading member of the staff. She is on leadership, she is a friend to all, and she manages through every day without complaint and my god! with all that she has been through the woman deserves to complain!!
I am ashamed to be a part of such a faculty. And the next time Mr. MoHOLU makes any comment regarding supporting his “family” I will snort derisively and bow out.
Every year and sometimes multiple times a year, my boss – Mr. MoHOLU – gives the faculty a speech about being at the school for the children and if you are not here for the children then you need to reassess your chosen career. He usually says this in tandem with a “we are a family here at this school. We help and support each other, take care of each other” …blah blah blah.
Well, I have since discovered that that is a big load of crap. There is no “family” at my school. There are cliques, and sure, aren’t they everywhere? Mr. MoHOLU has is own little clique himself. But I always bought into the whole faculty family thing until now.
We have on staff a teacher, Ms. D., who suffers from an incurable degenerative disease. I will not go into details as they are private, but essentially, one faculty member, Ms. S., organized and arranged a fundraiser to donate to MDA research – not to help the family – but strictly for research and local events for the MDA. She talked about it a pre-planning and sent out emails encouraging people to participate – after all this is a cause that we see the effects from every day.
Well, the fundraiser – a bowl-a-thon – came and went. Only two – TWO (including myself) showed up! I’m not sure if any more than that donated, but a family who supports each other we are not!!
Are you telling me that even with a whole month’s notice, people couldn’t clear one 2 hour block of time on a Saturday evening? Are you telling me that STRANGERS are more supportive than a faculty family??
Well, world, I think you are. I have been part of this faculty for six years and I have always involved myself with them. I have attended funeral services, baby showers, other fundraising events, and even donated money to teachers who were going through a difficult time. I had always considered myself lucky to be a part of such a caring faculty.
Well, no more I say. I am so disappointed in my faculty. In people I thought I was friends with. And hell, it wasn’t even MY fundraiser. But the woman we were supporting has been a leading member of the staff. She is on leadership, she is a friend to all, and she manages through every day without complaint and my god! with all that she has been through the woman deserves to complain!!
I am ashamed to be a part of such a faculty. And the next time Mr. MoHOLU makes any comment regarding supporting his “family” I will snort derisively and bow out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)