It's a PEEmergency

****WARNING this post contains indelicate subject matter involving bodily functions.*****

Hello there faithful readers. I'm happy to say that standardized testing is FINISHED (for the week)! As I teach Sophomores all day long and Sophomores are the ones tested in the state of Nevada the job of proctoring the tests is mine, baby!
Yeah for me! For those who don't know me, you should know that I just LOOOOOOVE standardized testing. I love having to read a script that requires me to ask perfectly intelligent teenagers if they understand that they need to fill in ovals completely using a number two pencil. Then, to top off the joy of the occasion, I get to sit and stare at kids for three hours at a stretch.

And that was an example of verbal irony. Discuss.

Anywhooooo I sold both of my long preps this week so that I could proctor (great word, huh?) the test in my own classroom rather than in someone else's or--horror of horrors--the cafeteria. I got a lot of my reading for class done, and became totally addicted to thepioneerwoman.com (sidenote: if you haven't read of city girl Ree's adventures as a housewife on a working cattle ranch, you really really should).

But, with the selling of the preps comes the reality that I could not leave my classroom at all during the first two periods each day: 7:00-10:00 and then I had to take my testing materials downstairs and then get back to my classroom to teach my next class during the four minute passing period. This means no time for the potty as I teach upstairs and down a long hallway from the office. With the class included it would mean a stretch from 7:00 am to 11:30 am with no chance to go to the restroom (and if you think that's no big deal, you've never tried it. Seriously. Make it a little experiment. Drink enough water to be able to talk for 4.5 hours straight and then try not to go to the bathroom. It's not pleasant, let me tell you.)



Yesterday was ok, 'cause someone came in during the first block to give me a bathroom break. I thought, foolish child that I am, that someone would come in to break me today as well. Therefore, I threw caution to the wind like the fabled grasshopper, and drank water like usual. First block came and went with no bathroom breaker appearing. "Surely," I thought, "Surely, they will send someone to give me a bathroom break." But, my wishes and dreams were crushed. NO one came. If only I'd planned ahead and drunk no water, in preparation for this horrendous possibility. Alas, no. I had not. I don't know if you've ever had to hold your pee for an extended period of time, but let me tell you all about it. You feel like you have a balloon inside your body that's getting bigger and bigger and more and more painful until you are pretty sure you'll explode in a shower of urine. I haven't spent a lot of time contemplating the last moments of my life, but that's certainly not the way I want to go out. It would be so embarrassing, not to mention stinky, and I don't want to be any trouble.

So, for about the 1,000,000,000,000,000,000th time since getting my job here at A-TECH I counted the blessing of teaching big ole nerd balls(she said with overwhelming tenderness), got the class going, and ran to the bathroom. I don't know if you've ever seen the movie Where the Heart Is, but there's a scene where a VERY pregnant Natalie Portman finally gets the chance to use the bathroom and as she pees (sorry, but I just hate the word urinate in any form)screams out thanks to the Lord for creating toilets. That's kinda how I felt today. Had there not been a female student two stalls over, I would have shouted my thanks long and loud. So, the bladder's empty, but I held it so long that it still hurts. I think it wants me to remember this experience and never ever do it again. I wish I could tell it that I won't but. . . I'm a teacher, and that means that along with enlightening the minds of our youth and molding the leaders of the future, I have to hold my pee.

The Holocaust: Major Downer

In case you didn't know it already, I'm a high school English teacher. This is a job that is equal parts horrible and entirely, breathtakingly wonderful. That's the honest truth. Most days, the wonderful parts more than make up for the horror. I love my job. I get to read and talk about great books all day long with people who HAVE to talk back to me. Sometimes I forget that part and wonder why my family members don't respond to my literary commentary the way my students do. Then I remember, "Oh yeah, they don't need to cooperate in order to get a grade that will help them get into college!"

I'm a good teacher. Really. I am. I put a lot of thought and effort into my teaching and try really hard to help my students connect with the literature that we read. Right now I'm beginning a unit to teach the book Night by Elie Wiesel.
For those of you who haven't read it. . . you really should. It's a Holocaust memoir that is both brutal and beautiful. I love this book and actually look forward to reading it each year. To prepare my students I give a historical lecture on The Holocaust and the events leading up to it. In years past I've had students tell me that I am a wonderful lecturer and should be a history teacher.

This year, I got a different response. One of my "favorite" students *Whiney McWhinerton came in, shoulders slumped in defeat and told me,

"Miss, your class is really depressing me. I just can't hear about the Jews anymore."

me: "I'm so sorry that hearing about the suffering of others is bumming you out. I'll take that into consideration in the future."

W. McW: "Whew! Thanks!"

I think I need to work harder to teach these kids verbal irony.

*not his real name

Farewell, President Hinckley

Later this week I'll get back to snarky insights and reviews of all things British and corsetted, but I have other things on my mind today.

President Gordon B. Hinckley died yesterday. I'm not devastated, because I know that church is in good hands. I know that he lived his life as close to the Savior as it is possible to do and he is now with his beloved wife Marjorie. I'm not heartbroken, but I am sad the way that I was when my dear sweet Grandpa Cox died. Grandpa, like President Hinckley was in his 90's and had lived a good, honorable, and long life. I knew that he was ready to go and that he was now free from pain. I was simply sad for me. I still miss Grandpa and I think that I always will.

I never personally met President Hinckley but I felt like I did. He was warm, wise, and funny. He had seemingly never ending energy, and not just for a man in his nineties, but for anyone. President Hunter died as I put in my mission papers, and my call was signed by President Hinckley. That's always made me feel like he was in fact, "MY" prophet. I know I'm not alone in this sentiment. I will miss his sparkling eyes and humor, I will miss his wise guiding counsel, but I'm so glad to know that the work progresses, and that the Lord does not leave us alone.

Until we meet again, goodbye President Hinckley.

Wrong...just wrong

Hey everyone. Every once in a while you come across something so wrong you have to say something about it. That happened to me today. Here it is:



Call me a purist. Call me an elitist. Call me a Corgi snob, but don't ever call me and ask if I'd like a Corgi Bassett mix. The answer, dear friends, won't just be no, but in the words of Sophia from The Color Purple. . . "HELL NO!"

If you find this dog cute, he's looking for a home, 'cause. . . DUH! Check him out at http://www.ksl.com/?nid=218&ad=2541795&cat=&lpid=

At least they didn't call him something precious like a Cassett Hound or a Welsh Bassie. While I'm at it can I ask, when did it become reasonable to call mutts "designer dogs" and charge money for them? Where I come from we call those dogs "Ooopsies!" and we give them away FOR FREE in front of Stater Brothers or Wal-Mart, generally by ten year olds with messy hair and dirty feet.

Northanger Abbey

Jane Austen season on Masterpiece Theatre continued this Sunday with Northanger Abbey and I REALLY liked it. I think this is partially because it's my least favorite book by Jane and largely because it was screen written by Andrew Davies. If you don't know who he is, shame on you!! He is the wonderful human being who wrote the 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries starring Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy.
(in case you need a reference: )



Felicity Jones was darling as Catherine, and J. J. Field was charming and lovely as Henry Tilney. So, two thumbs up.

Scouter Remembered

Today is the one year anniversary of my sweet Scouter's death. I'm not going to get overly in this post, don't worry. I just feel like remembering my wonderful girl and marking this day.

The ONLY way Garfield is funny

My love of people who mock idiotic comics knows no bounds these days. While I always enjoy a good deal of snark, I think my stress level has made my need for it even greater than usual. I heard about Lasagnecat from the Comics Curmudgeon and let me tell you that I'm so happy! This guy has taken Garfield strips and made them live action. Watching these has been the first time since I was 8 that I actually laughed at anything related to Garfield: Enjoy!



THIS ONE'S EVEN BETTER!!

Am I Persuaded?

Last night was the kick off of the new Masterpiece Theatre series "The Complete Jane Austen". From now until April PBS will be showing a film or miniseries for each of the six novels of Miss Austen. If you know me at all, you know that I am SO EXCITED I CAN HARDLY STAND IT!! My love for Jane knows no bounds and I've been looking forward to this. That being said, it goes without saying (but here I am saying it) I sat down last night wanting to love the new version of Persuasion.

The question is, did I love it? No. I liked it very much, and I love me some Rupert Penry-Jones (see exhibit A, below). As Captain Wentworth he's charming and dashing in a quiet and smoldering kind of way. I don't usually love blondes, but he's YUMMMMMMMMY, and I thought he did an admirable (wink wink. . .'cause he's in the NAVY, get it?) job, especially considering the very large boots he has to fill. I will still think of Ciaran Hinds (see exhibit B, below) from the 1995 film as THE Captain Wentworth, much in the way that Colin Firth will always be the Mr. Darcy of my heart, but I did like him.

Exhibit A:


Exhibit B:


Like Ciaran Hinds, Amanda Root who played Anne in the earlier film created an unforgettable and multilayered character. To try to step into that bonnet and corset is nearly impossible. That being said, I think that Sally Hawkins was a believably fragile Anne, barely hanging on emotionally when confronted with the lost love of her life. I understood her pain, and she made me cry along with her when she gazed right into the camera, tears streaming down her face, believing all hope is lost.

Amanda:


Sally:


Here's my problem. . . For some reason, the screenwriter chose to have Anne running like a maniac for many scenes, including the pivotal engagement scene in Bath. After running for what seems to be 20 minutes straight, she finds Captain Wentworth, accepts his proposal, and then KISSES HIM IN FULL VIEW OF EVERYONE ON A VERY BUSY STREET. I know that this seems very reasonable to those of you who don't visit the Republic of Pemberly on a regular basis, but... Jane Austen's heroines don't forget their manners, they don't gallop through the streets of Bath like lunatics, and they most certainly don't make out with men on the street in front of passers-by! I know that this is a Persuasion for modern audiences, but it's also MASTERPIECE THEATRE for heaven's sake. This film wasn't made for general audiences. It doesn't have Keira Knightly in the lead (so there's very little chance my brother will be caught dead watching!). It was made for Masterpiece Theatre watchers: we're purists, we understand the way these things are supposed to work!

Ok, rant over. I don't think I'll care as much if they mess up parts of Northanger Abbey or Mansfield Park, but don't mess with my Persuasion!

Chewy Sweet Fiber-Filled Goodness

A couple of months ago I visited my friend Jill (who at last glance was 29 years old. . . and counting :))during my long weekend Nevada Day extravaganza. As always, Jill was a veritable font of knowledge about foodstuffs. She introduced me to several delicious foods in bar form, but my favorite has to be Fiber One Oats and Chocolate granola bars.
They are sweet, but not too sweet, chewy, and have fiber coming out of their ears (errr if they had ears, but then it would look like a face and then I could NOT eat them.) I was so in love with the Oats and Chocolate variety of these bars that I didn't even look at the other kinds. I'm kinda a one bar woman if you know what I mean. But, yesterday I went to Target as I am wont to do and on a whim I bought not only the Oats and Chocolate but also the Oats and Peanut Butter variety.



Oh. My. Goodness.
They are delicicous.

So delicious, in fact that the chocolate ones and I are breaking up. They are, in fact a dim memory if one walked past me on the street it would only look vaguely familiar. So if you haven't yet, check them out.

A Heroic Evening

So, my brother and sister-in-law gave me season one of Heroes to watch a couple of days ago. I knew that I should never never never start watching this show, and I was right. I have a highly addictive personality, and the last thing I need is another addiction. Well, thank you very much David and Jena, 'cause now I'm totally addicted. It has everything I love in a show: humor, action, clever writing, strong characters, and eye candy.

A few months ago I was listening to a podcast where a person asked the question "Sayid or Mohinder?" At the time I only watched LOST so I thought "Sayid, of course!" Now I'm not so sure. Judge for yourself:

(Sayid is in the tank top, Mohinder in the longsleeved shirt)


(note to non-LOST viewers, no picture formed by man can show the breadth of Sayid's hunkiness. He's manly and dangerous and this picture just doesn't convey that.)

Whoo hooo it's 2008.

Ummm Yeah. It's 2008. I'll be 34 in less than 2 months. I don't know how I feel about that. Wait. Yes I do. I don't like it. In my head I'm still about 25 years old and just getting started in teaching etc. 34 just feels so, well, OLD.

So, I guess I'll leave on that note. I'll be back with updates soon. . . I'll be back at work on Monday and life as usual. Right now I need to take a nap.