The "A" List


That is the running list of evaluations for which I am responsible.The eval at the top of the list was due March 29.

Yesterday I presented my findings on the last.
Hot Diggity.

With the school year ending in two weeks, I'm now hoping for a smooth ascent into summer. ::Of course I just jinxed myself.:: And seeing as how my caseload could double next year with the proposed staff cuts, I may never again see such a clear two-week period. And baybee, I plan to enjoy it.

I might even get some prep work done for fall; a time of year I usually find myself rolling around like a chicken with her legs cut off.

Project Much?
Between the above mentioned deadlines, other high profile issues and underlying anxiety related to my new job status next year, I've been under significant stress.

On one particularly bad day last week, on my way home from work I saw this sign on a corner:



My stressed brain read: Silky Terror Puppies.

I'll take three.

I Can Haz Braynz?
My eyes can smell the chaos,
And it's not a pretty sight.

My doctor put me on a new brain medication and I'm loving it very much. I feel crisp and focused and find myself finishing thoughts from six months ago and well into next week.

The two downsides to this (or any) medication of similar ilk, are:
1) It can't tell you what to focus on.
For example, it's now much harder for the wails of my lonely, starving family to distract me from a particular Ravelry group.

2) It can't put in what the Lord left out.
About once or twice a year, I get to drop Cakers off at school in the morning. Today was one of those days. As is found in many Stay-At-Home-Parentalized communities, the child drop off procedures are highly regulated, systemized and apparently known to all adults (but one) who drive within a 2-block range of the school.

My first mistake this morning was to shove the pile-o-crap in the back seat toward the "curb side" door, to make to room for Cakers to sit, thereby blocking the safer egress. My second mistake was not noticing the waving arms and jumping up and down bodies of the two safeties who monitor the drop off point, who apparently were not only trying to tell me I had stopped in the wrong spot and that my health now faced an uncertain future at the hands of other parents.

I did happen to notice their yelling, once I was out of the car and hauling Cakers into the angry fray of the usually-smooth-sailing-but-(thanks-to-mom-shit-for-brains)-now-stalled-Volvo-Escalade-Lexus-ladened traffic.

I'll never be able to show the inside of my car door in this town again.

Soccer To Me
Cakers had her last soccer game of the season earlier this week. While she loved the camaraderie of the team, she's really not that into soccer, as a sport. In fact, her approach to soccer reminds me of College Boy's approach to finding a job. i.e. If a soccer ball/job just happens to land on my foot/jump out of the bushes and kicks my ass, then I'm there.

Therefore, I don't have many action shots from the field. ::Nor do I have any of my son leaving the house in search of...anything.::

Even if she wasn't the star player. At least she had fun...




...and glow.



We're off to the cottage for the long weekend, so postings may be few and far, if at all.

Enjoy.