first day of school

When I was a kid, my mother took a picture every year, on the first day of school. It was always my brother and me, at the end of our driveway, ready to get on the school bus. Some years she actually got a picture of the moment we stepped onto the bus. New shoes, new clothes, new backpacks, you know the drill.

Here's mine for this year. Today was my first ever day of teaching graduate school. Imagine that. I'm afraid I still look like a student, but the actual students didn't ask to see my ID or anything, so I guess I fooled them.

I'm teaching a curriculum class for pre-service teachers in their first semester of a two-year master's degree. The class is about how to make the work we do in elementary classrooms more interesting, more fun, more holistic, better for kids. I'm hoping it's going to be fun, for me and the students.

Here's what I asked them today: Why are you here? What are schools for? What do we as a society hope to accomplish by setting up schools and classrooms? What do you hope to accomplish as a teacher?

Here's what I'm asking you: What do you think these pre-service teachers should know, about schools, about teaching, about kids, as they enter this profession?

in which we (attempt to) resume our previously scheduled life...

My identity theft problem is not over yet, but it feels contained. I still have plenty to do, but it has ceased to be an all-day-every-day crisis. I have thoughts about the whole process (advice! ruminations! wonderment!) but I'll save those for another day.

Today, it's all show and tell. Here is some yarn I spun:

Here is the yarn I'm currently spinning, along with the only spinning equipment I have at the moment:

I've sold my spinning wheel, to a friend who is delighted, and I've ordered a different wheel, which will delight me even more, with any luck. More on this later.

My spindle is sitting in an improvised lazy kate, otherwise known as a section of tree branch with a hole in it, carefully cut and drilled by Joe himself. It actually functions quite well. I use it to hold the spindle upright while I wind the single into a ball. I've been plying using the flowerpot method, in which each ply is in a ball with the end going through a hole in the bottom of a flowerpot. It works great, and doesn't require a tensioned lazy kate. The balls stop rolling around when you stop pulling on them. Low-tech, effective, love it.





Joe's also been working on this:
He's doing a way better job than he really has to be doing, but I can't complain. It's going to look great. I'm supposed to get out there and start painting, but I want all the sanding done first. Really, I'm so difficult, aren't I?

The garden blooms whether you notice it or not, this time of year:

how I love my husband

Joe is really coming through in a crisis, folks. I always knew this about him, but it can be hard to remember when you are, well, between crises. The latest crisis is this identity fraud mess, and it has hit the Deluxe household like a ton of bricks. Or at least me, anyway. The kids are pretty much oblivious, but last week? Ugh, last week, my means of asking for help was to, uh, shout at Joe that I'm really upset, okay? And that telling me it's all going to work out is not helping, okay?

Over the weekend, I got a little perspective, realized that everyone I'm working with on this is just doing their job (including the scammer) and my job is to keep my cool and be as friendly and sweet to everyone as I possibly can. You know that saying, "Be nicer than you have to be, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle" ? That's been my mantra this week. It's helping, a lot.

Anyway, this post was supposed to be about Joe.

Here's what he's done since I calmed down and got a clue.

1. He took yesterday off work to sit by me as I played phone jockey with credit card companies and credit reporting agencies.

2. If I needed a phone number, he found it.

3. If I needed to figure something out and/or make a decision, he looked at it, thought about it, and helped.

4. He accompanied me to the police station to pull a copy of my police report. (You don't know this about me, but the police make me nervous. Actually, I should say that the police used to make me nervous. Right about now they're looking like heroes. Along with my homeowner's insurance company's fraud experts. Go figure.)

5. He used his considerable people-finding expertise to track down the real name and police blotter history of the scammer who has chosen to take a dump in the middle of my life.

6. He made pizza on the grill, just because I expressed an idle curiosity about how that would taste.

I love him. Love love love him. I'm keeping him, forever.