Petport

This is my cat, Diego. After a little internet investigating, I learned that he can move to Europe with us, whenever this happens, with the help of a pet passport. He'll have to take a picture and everything, just like we do. The idea of drugging him for such a long plane ride has left me with a latent feeling of guilt, even though we don't have the jobs or home yet to even warrant buying tickets anytime very soon. But when I think of my plane ride just a couple of weeks ago, I realize that that's how a lot of people make their way over the ocean, drugged and dazed, with one eye half open and the other closed. And many people helped to compound the effects of their "medications" with the free booze on the plane. So if they can do it, I imagine little Diego can too. Under a seat. In a carrier.

When Gilligan and the Skipper Became One

He was from Spain. The patriarch, quietly avoiding responsibility for anything. His grandbabies were fussy - he looked out at the ocean. His daughters wanted pictures taken of the whole group, or maybe someone to hold the pails and shovels while diapers were changed, sunscreen applied-he was in the water.

They had a killer camera with a lens like they were doing surveillance. Sandwiches galore, almost all ham an cheese. The sisters, they were all gorgeous and loved each other.

It all made me want to be a wealthy Spanish sister for minute.

Break it up

This was a good day. It was warm. Like the day before it,the day after it, and a whole lot of days more after that, we decided what we wanted to do, and then we did it.

It was today's opposite day.

Doris and Glenn's Greenhouse - FL

Before heading to Oaxaca, we stopped in Florida for a week to visit Alex's family. Grammy and Grandaddy, also known to the many young folks who showed up as Sir and Ma'm, are a couple who grew old together, front porch and all. World War II separated them for a time before they built their first home together up in Kentucky where both had their roots. The weather there didn't agree with the health of their middle girl, and so they moved to Florida where they built another house. And when the girls were grown and the nest was empty, they moved from the city out to the country where - you guessed it - they up and built another house. It was at this last house we stayed for a pre-Christmas Christmas with all the kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. There was also a cat, Callie, and one dog, Miss Daisy, to round things out. Unlike the television and print ads you might see, Florida is not always warm and sunny, though there were many orange trees, but "not as many as there used to be". Florida, as I experienced it, was cold. Late at night, Grandaddy would head out to make sure the orchids wouldn't freeze over in the greenhouse; heat was turned on as needed.

Christmas Eve 1 (or HS Homecoming)

"They do Christmas Eve Different here, dad."

That's what I overheard Alex say while we were making our Christmas phone calls home to family in the states. More accustomed to a sit down dinner with your nearest and dearest, a church service before or after, the parade of musicians and nativity themed floats primarily starring children takes the traveler by surprise.

I call the second photo Joseph's beard.

Layover

My love affair with Oaxaca resumed in December when we got to escape the global-warming-ozone-layer-depletion-fire-the-engines cold of the bay area. Perhaps my memory is glossing over a freeze from last year, but I have no memory of so many 40 degree mornings.

I am starting this series of photos, however, with one of the last I took on our trip. On our way back from the beach, we had a 6 hour layover in Oaxaca City. While I went across the street to look at dresses, Alex guarded our bags on the steps of Santo Domingo. With beach relaxation still in his heart, he laid out in endearing fashion keeping our luggage safe and his feet up.

By the light...

This is on the way back from Bodega Bay, maybe Petaluma. Just about a full moon starting to show itself. The pictures make me remember the cool air and the smell of dried grass blowing into the car.

The more I pursue this memory, I remember how we were stuck behind the north bay's slowest drivers for forever. Lots of Prius drivers.

Back to Skull

It's nice not to be at the front of the room anymore. It's Thursday and I am going to meet a friend for a drink in a little bit. Are you a teacher? You probably can't do that. I mean, not unless you meet a colleague in the janitor's closet with a flask, a toothbrush and a box of Altoids.

May Day

The sand was coarse. It felt good on my feet for awhile, but it didn't take too long before my soles felt sensitive and I started saying "ow" with every few steps. Also noteworthy this day was a blueberry marzipan scone, right out of the oven. I nearly melted when it hit my tongue. I imagine I looked the way a baby does the first time they have something like ice cream or pudding - big eyes, slow smile, leaning forward for more.

Golden Gate Park. 1017 acres of wild animals, botanical curiosities, art, 2-wheelers, 4-wheelers and socks-in-sandals foot traffic.

"Dude, man! I'm just drinking beers on a bench in San Francisco!"

The sun was out, but so was the wind. That didn't stop people from wearing shorts and flip flops, from having picnics and leaving their sweaters at home. But not me. I hate being cold. I brought a sweater, a jacket and wore them both. I saw the goose bumps on people's arms, not to mention a few aerobic looking moves by the picnicking hipsters to warm up when they were out of PBR and wine in a box.

It was a nice day. The conservatory visit inspired a trip to Hortica in the Castro. 2 new plants came home. Everything else we've gotten from there has lived. And the man who runs the store is very nice. I want him to be my uncle or a really good neighbor-friend. And even though it's on Castro in between Butt Buddies posters and fancy groceries, it's reasonably priced.

Oscar Dengue Bird Pig Fever

This is the entrance to a market in L.A. There were no photogs, which was a nice break for me. Hardest part of being a teacher? Easily the paparazzi.

Heart

You can't tell from this photo - or maybe you can - but this guy was really, really tall. I didn't manage to take a picture that effectively captured his beanstalk stature. Instead, in this one, you can see the crumbs on and around his mouth from the Valentine's Day cookies the people at Sweet Adeline's were giving away. He doesn't seem like a V-Day cookie kind of guy to me, but unlike most of us who said a grateful thanks and then put the cookie in our purses and backpacks, this guy ate his up in a few quick bites after he finished his cinnamon roll.

The way each employee came up to your table personally and gave you the cookie, all wrapped up with a pink ribbon, and smiled and said, "Happy Valentine's Day! I thought you might want..." made you feel like the chosen one, like there was something extra special about you that warranted the cookie being given to you. This man came in with 2 library books, pants that will never be long enough and a leather jacket. He looked kind of lonely to me, so I'm glad he got the cookie. And I'm glad he ate it right away.

Posturing

We were on a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art, on the number 8X bus headed downtown. It was one of those loooooooong buses whose two parts are connected by an accordion looking thing. This girl and her friends were in the back, ditching school, wearing her black hoodie and Old Navy hunting cap for her day out and about tagging city buses. We were in the back too. That's what you do when you get on a crowded bus. We were all standing there while these kids took out their fat markers and started tagging the same thing again and again.

"What?! You wanna take my picture? Get my good side!" The guy with the curly hair and badly bucked brown teeth said that while I openly photographed their exploits through the arms of my students and other city folk riding the Express. Most everyone ignored them or held a disgusted look on their faces while reluctantly taking in the criminal act.

They were rude and young and almost pityingly immature. At least she's not pregnant, I thought. I'd hate to be her kid.

At least she didn't look pregnant.

Once they got off, my kids looked like MLK, Mother Teresa and my cat all rolled into one. They tried to figure out what they could draw on top of the tags to make it look nicer, or what stickers they could come prepared with next time.

Nothing but unicorns could save that mess.

We had a really good docent at the museum. And except for the lost (and now returned) wallet, and the hummingbird who died after flying into the glass wall by the rooftop sculpture garden, it was a really nice trip.

Teef

Some of us have teeth while others of us have teefs. This woman, an important figure in the world of contemporary art, has the latter. I don't doubt she had the money to fix those things, but when you come into the world like that, live through the childhood teasing, tolerate the quiet, behind-your-back adulthood teasing, I suppose you might build up something of a strange pride around sticking with them for so long. Through thick and thin, out and about.

"Yeah, that's right. I've got teefs. And my picture is in MOMA next to the Matisses. Where you at?"

Los Especiales...an uncerimonious end

"If you need to sharpen any of the color pencils the sharpener is on my desk. Make sure you use it over the trash bin."

Yes, I say trash bin. But only to my students. It helps to make me even more other to them than I already am. I work with a Scottish guy, so I feel I can blame some kind of weak cultural osmosis to a degree. A very little, tiny, itsy-bitsy degree. So anyway, I said do it over the garbage thing and this one does it on the effing table. Who do you think cleans this stuff up?

"That's the custodians job!"

Did you just say that? Did you think it? For you and for any of my very most special kids, no. That is not the custodian's job. And no, special student X, custodian is not, in fact, an SAT word. It's kind of like janitor, but not exactly the same. Look it up.

"Why you always gotta say that! That's what my mentor always says."

Well God almighty bless that poor fool for sticking by your special side.

Things like that make me wish there was one of those trees you could send a kid out to go and pick a switch from. And that it was 70 years ago. In the South. I just think I could do that in the South. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel it in my chicken fried soul.

So long, January; hello to the incomplete month of February. Do you say the first "r"? Tell me. I want to know.

Beaking it down, eSPECIALly for you

That's right, yes he does.

Lazylegs (no joke) showed our students that there are "No Excuses! No Limits!" when he came and gave a motivational talk and dance demo to our lazybrain student body this past fall. He brought his friend Kujo with him to break that shit down for you. Lazylegs has itty bitty legs but very muscular arms that help him break dance for you like it's 1983. Kujo is deaf (pronounced deef) and relies on sound waves bouncing back to him and you feeling the music and clapping along to keep him on rhythm.

You could really have fun with that.

Happy Special New Year

I've been away. I always had the wrong computer with me. Since we last met, I moved voices, about 100. I effectively structured arguments. I had a failed SI joint. I tried good coffee in bad places and mediocre coffee in nice places. I lost time while wearing a new sweater, Maker's in an espresso cup is what I heard. My resolve to find a new money maker for next year was further solidified. I started dreaming again, remembering them, really, I guess is what it is. I have one new nemesis.

And now I'm back, hookers.

The theme for this month is special-ness. The first picture speaks for itself. The second features a man speaking for his special kid who ruined graduation.

Oeste

There is a park over where all those cranes are on the waterfront in Oakland. There are a lot of signs along the sand telling you and showing you what is prohibited. Some examples include dogs, alcohol, bikes, cars, and swimming. Many of the garbage receptacles had flyers taped onto them informing citizens not to dispose of anything oily in there. ?????

The view is a beautiful one. I had a Floridian with me. He said you don't get this pink sky over there. It makes the water look sweet, like a candy factory pool. I know, I know - I want to make fun of me too. I'll take a picture of a bullfight or something next, to macho up.

On Tuesday, at our community meeting at school, I was last on the announcement list. I allowed my mild fury at the poor audience behavior to show through my stone cold gaze. The student working the lightboard shone a red light on me. And my audience came back. ("Look! They put her in red like the devil.")

The quarter's over at school. Grades are due. We have to show our grade reports to kids this week and have them assess themselves using these rubrics. They get mad and confused and defiant. They get upset. A few of them are okay. I am going to do this tomorrow.

Artist, Art, Hybrid

These are from Creativity Explored's Sci-fi opening. I met this one artist who led me around by the hand showing me her pieces and telling me to buy every single one of them because she wants a big check this year. There was a theramin player too, but I'm kind of over the theramin.

Tomorrow

I had too much wine to drink while grading yesterday so my head feels kind of tight right now. Or maybe it's because my head is so packed with the responsibilities I bear to make this job work that my brain is crying for me, feels dehydrated and that's the tight feeling.

Anyineedanewjobbeforeifallapartandget5150'd, this picture is for Dan. So was my opening confession. Tomorrow Dan's going back to Madrid, where he becomes, once again, a temporary ex-pat, teaching young Spanish people the subtleties of conversational English and trying to make a go of a business venture in the same vein with my summer host, Ana.

In less interesting news, when I took a break from working for a bit yesterday, I got on the private school jobs website and looked everywhere I could think of for a maternity leave position. I need someone at a privileged school to get knocked up or realize she's knocked up, now. That would mean there's a position at the end of spring and maybe into the fall! Or maybe someone will learn they are having multiples and need time off earlier rather than later for bed rest or something. Then I can save the day in January or something.

Please, encourage your private school teacher friends to do it. I'll make the Marvin Gaye cd to get everyone started. I'll make the dinner reservations too.