I would show you a picture of the wax glob that came out of Camden's left ear on Tuesday. But I didn't get a picture of that. Too bad for you.

What we now have is a left ear with an infection known as swimmer's ear. Yesterday, Camden was at 25%, though he claimed many times that he would rather be at flat zero.

Today he's at three quarters.

Tomorrow he plans to be at nine dimes.

As I type, he's tying knots using his new knot book. Right beside me, watching Royal Pains. At almost 11 p.m. It's so cool having a son who is a night owl like me.


Here are the boys being cordial.
Isn't it lovely?
Fabulous?
They are friendly, respectful, kind.
This is the golden rule, people.
I actually spend weeks teaching this!


Here you see Benjy digging.
Or trying to dig.
I think the thrill is in digging, not so much the hole.



My new favorite shot of Camden. Even with an earful of infection, he's still such a blessing.
Of course, this is his healthy ear.


And Camden making his Coke Zero ad.


Finally, the family of geese we saw as we left the point on Tuesday.
Look, it's Curt,
Camden,
Benjy,
and
me.

Just look at that blue sky, people!

It was like this all day long yesterday.

And there was even a little breeze to keep things exciting.


The waves were wild on the ocean side at the Point yesterday. Camden took some ferocious tumbles, but lived to watch the video I made of it.

Yeah, it was all worth the bumps and scrapes when he could relive his 6 seconds of glory on video.


Camden's favorite point of interest, besides the Atlantic ocean, is this torpedo-turned-shark yard art we pass between our beach cottage and everything else we visit.


My favorite siting so far, and has been every year, is this space ship house.

Can you believe that blue water?

Summer.

Ah, what a sweet, sweet word.



Well, if you're a teacher, that is.



Here is a list, in no particular order, of things I love about summer vacation.



1. Staying up till midnight. Then reading my Bible, followed by my latest novel till 1.



2. Waking up at 6 a.m. and rolling over and going back to sleep. Till 9.



3. Getting up at 9 and staying in my pajamas (pronounced pa-JAM-es) till whenever I dingdang feel like not wearing them.



4. Knowing that every day is Friday.



5. Oh, yeah, playing with the Wild Things! This includes, but is not limited to,

building Lego castles,
swimming in the redneck pool out back,
reading (yes, I make them read.),
frog-catching at the park,
making brownies,
making banana bread,
making pizzas,
eating,
going to the library,
snuggling.

6. Taking a nap with Emmalemmalimabean. (She's my dog, people.)



7. Going to the bathroom when the mood hits. Seriously, one of the few drawbacks of being a teacher is peeing on a schedule.



8. Checking Facebook whenever I want.



9. Planning the annual Hatteras Island vaca.



10. Shall I watch Fox News or Rachel Rae?

I am a recent reader of Vodkamom's blog. No, I don't drink vodka, but I do like the vodka mom's blog. She's a teacher and is quite hilarious in that teacherly way. I dare say, this lady does not wear seasonal sweaters and sensible shoes. Well, maybe comfy shoes.

Anywho, she likes The Queen's Meme blog, so I clicked on it and discovered a meme!!!!!!! Imagine that! A meme is, technically, a cultural unit (an idea or value or pattern of behavior) that is passed from one person to another by non-genetic means (as by imitation); memes are the cultural counterpart of genes.

In layman's terms, it's a fill-in-the-blank.

Welcome To The Queen's Meme #45
The What Would You Do? Meme

A mixed bag of miscellaneous scenarios

1. You start out on your road trip. You are 90 miles down the road with not a care in the world until you remember you forgot the most important ingredient needed for your vacation. What was it and would you turn around and go back to get it?

Ummmm, it was probably my hair dryer. And I would most definitely NOT waste 90 miles home and 90 miles back again - that's 180 miles wasted - when I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that there will be a Wal-Mart somewhere nearby and I can just buy one. I'm sure I could use an extra hair dryer anyway.

2. You are standing in the checkout line at the grocery store. A homeless man walks by and asks for food from your grocery cart. What would you do?

I'd give him some food. "If you have two coats, give one away," he said. "Do the same with your food." Luke 3:11

3. The mailman delivers the wrong mail. It is your neighbor's. You can't stand your neighbor. You realize that inside the small brown package there must be something very secretive, very intriguing and possibly incriminating. What do you do?

I'd give it to the neighbor. Keeping it is stealing. And that's just not right. Reap what you sow and all that jazz.

4. Photography Class 101. First exam. The slide show you are presenting is the wrong one. You accidentally left last weekend's party pics in the camera instead. The whole class is watching....

For starters, although I was not a perfect college kid, I was not THAT bad. I partied a bit. I got more than buzzed on a few occasions. My mom even forced me to go to church and then endure a drive through the valley on mornings after. Yeah, she was that mean. :) But I wasn't THAT bad. Still, if this happened, which according to meme rules, I am to pretend it did, I would probably fake illness, beg out of class, and finish the show next week. Then again, I'm a terrible liar. I'd most def confess that I have the wrong pictures, plead for a chance to sprint to my dorm and get the right ones, and return to finish the exam. The professor would have to appreciate my situation, no???

5. You find your boss's wife on Facebook. She is obviously carrying on with another man in blatant fashion and behind his back. What is the first thing that pops into your head when you see your boss the next day at work?

Well, obviously, I would remember the FB debacle. DUHHHHHHHHHHHHH. But I would N.E.V.E.R. say a peep. I'm the queen of decorum. And decorum requires shushness. It's not my business.

6. Your plane lands in the wrong vacation spot but you like this one better.

Does that mean I have to tell???? Technically, I guess I do. Considering how I need to get back home and all. This is a no-brainer. Enjoy the stay till I get where I belong.

7. You walk out of the doctor's office. The news after your yearly checkup is very very good but the news for the person you'd been sitting beside and chatting with in the waiting room is very very bad. You see them in the elevator on the way out and they are in tears. You.....

Yikes! I am horrible at knowing what to say. Frankly, I'd pray. God will give me the words. I cannot even predict what those would be. I just know He'd provide.

And there you have it. My first meme response in a waaaaaaaaay long time.
I think I'll play this game again!

Is anybody out there thinking, "GET RID OF NINA!"????? If you're watching HGTV's Design Star, then you probably are. Because Nina is, well, not so much my favorite girl on earth.

And there you go. In the time it took me to type the first paragraph, Nina is GONE. Say it with me, G.O.N.E.!!!!!!!

In other news, we're home from our inaugural camping trip in Viv (the camper). She did great, and we're so proud. Her abundance of Wendi-covered pillows came in handy, even if Eaglescout found them tossed all over the place by the time we parked at the camp site. I tell you, the way to camp is most def in a camper with air conditioning, a toilet, shower, and electricity. There is simply no other way.

OK, more later when I upload some pictures. See you on FB!

An open letter to my GPS:

Dear Tom Tom,

We had such a lovely drive to West Hartford today. You took us straight to our destination. We traded the clarinet for the trumpet and signed up for lessons. Because every new trumpet player needs lessons. More on this at a later date. When my ears have recovered.


I was so happy with your performance, your lead, your lovely way off the beaten path. My favorite part of you is the screen that says "avoid freeways". I no like freeways.









Your path through Bloomfield to the urban center of West Hartford was pristine, sweet, life in the country. Well, I didn't quite see this, but the houses we did see once sat on this land. Of that I am sure.

And then we arrived.

West Hartford is to me what New York City is to urbanites. It's a mecca of shops, restaurants, on-street parking, and fancy crosswalk signals with sound effects.

I was in a panic. Where do I park? What if I hit someone? Where are the house numbers on these dingdang stores? Oh, please don't let our destination be on the wrong side of the road.

Our destination was on the wrong side of the road. Nonetheless, Tom Tom, it's not your fault.



I was feeling absolutely giddy with our journey across the road and back. I even arrived at the parking meter within SECONDS of the expiration tag popping up. Talk about karma. The boys and I buckled in and set you for the drive back home.

"Avoid freeways."
(which loosely translates "avoid humanity")

Your Aussie self chirped to turn left, then turn right, then bear this way and then that. Go 200 yards, because we aren't willing to go metric till the rest of the country goes first.







I grew a little curious when you didn't turn me around, have me backtrack my path, turn toward the country.





I was perplexed when I saw this. And not a drop from the sky.






And passed these people crossing the street. How do they do that? Cross in broad daylight in their yoga pants?




I grew concerned when I passed this. I don't recall this in Bloomfield.
I know this to be the Hartford capital. This is most def not in Bloomfield.








And while you could have taken me by this lovely vista, you didn't.
Instead, you chose the path with the most bars on the windows, the most pedestrians walking in the MIDDLE OF THE DOGGONE ROAD, the most construction delays EVER.

I think I waved at 13 policemen on a single drive. They all waved back. Poor men. I guess very few drivers give them the time of day. It was 3:40. And 3:50. And 4:00. And 4:10. And 4:20.


There was only one thing left to do when we finally arrived at home.










While you didn't know the way to the other side of the galaxy, I certainly did.



So that's where I went. Sans you.

Summer is here! I'm sleeping till 9:00 - waking well into the morning with the sunlight streaming in through the windows. (I've gotta get those room darkening shades.) I wash my hair and get dressed at the time when my class is finishing lunch and getting ready to settle in for our chapter book read aloud. The kids and I are faced with the difficult choice of going to the park to catch frogs or swimming in our back yard redneck pool. Life is beyond good.

And yet I can't quit thinking about school. I surf the teacher boards and yahoo groups. I read the education blogs. I have stacks of dogeared books by the bed and the couch. In short, I'm a teacher without a class.

Here's what I'm pondering for my group of 2nd graders next year:

~ To theme or not to theme
~ If I go with a theme, will it be camping? beach? frogs? dogs? mystery? Can I even keep up with the madness once I start it?
~ Revamp reading workshop units after finishing Catching Readers Before They Fall.
~ Revamp writing workshop units after finishing Pyrotechnics on the Page.
~ Don't forget the online book study for Pyrotechnics, too.
~ Meet with the curriculum lady at school about setting up the word study program and training teachers on it.
~ Plan room arrangement and math/reading bulletin boards for next year.
~ Sort and level the newer books for the classroom library. Slap labels on them. Pick up some new $1.00 tubs at Dollar Tree for them.
~ Hunt for bean bag chairs at yard sales and thrift stores.
~ Pray for a document camera, computer projector of my very own, a new computer with a giant monitor, and/or a Smartboard.
~ Print and assemble beginning of the year calendar folders, offices, welcome letters, newsletter template, birthday badges, desk toppers, etc. (Etc. covers everything I think of between now and Aug. 24.)
~ Hit Staples Teacher Appreciation Days and shop Target's Back to School sales. Can't have too much paper, too many pencils, enough markers and glue and staples.
~ View Responsive Classroom videos.
~ Catch up on wrestling moves.

I know there's more. I just know it. And I'll probably think of it around 3:11 a.m. and get up to write it down. I sure hope not.

Sunday Haiku

I spent the morning reading over my old blog posts from waaaaaay back when Benjy was virtually speechless and Camden was a wee lad. I had forgotten about my habit of posting a Sunday haiku. So, without further ado, here's my reinstatement of the poetry form for today.

Painting is the best
Way to update your home's look,
But it hurts your neck.

That is all. Ta ta for now.

So this is our beach.
If we drove an hour south.

This is Benjy chasing a wave.

This is Camden getting warm.

This is what grabbed my attention.
What in the world does that say about me? :) :) :)

The glorious thing about living in a new house is the surprise of springtime. I ventured out back today to check out the growth I spied from the kitchen window. I never knew such secrets were hiding in my own backyard. This flowering bushy thing was hiding under a tree right outside my dining room window.


Well, I knew the boys were digging a pond in the backyard, which is made easy peasy by the sandy soil. I threatened to take pictures of their butts, but Camden figured me out and ruined that with his adorable profile.


Check out this beauty. It's a bleeding heart.

I taught Rachel a couple of years ago in first grade. She gave me hope that raising a girl couldn't be all that bad after all. She was that beautiful. I remember at the end of the school year her mom showed up with a bag that had a bush peeking out of it. It was a bleeding heart bush divided from her very own plant from her very own yard. Her mom had divided this flowering bush from every house she'd lived in and it had taken off at their latest home. And now she was sharing a piece of this very special plant with me. I took it home, planted it off the back porch (which was my favorite part of the entire house), and it GREW. Imagine my dismay that it actually worked!


This is what it gave me every spring and summer. Blossoms of bleeding hearts. So when we moved I was sad to leave this; but in November, I didn't dare dig it up. I didn't have that much faith in my gardening disabilities.

What a surprise to find one in my new backyard today! It was growing all by itself in the waaaaaaay back part of the yard. The part where we blew the leaves last fall. The part where the junk trees grow and the weeds are allowed to thrive. That's where this beauty lives. Curt saw it first and pointed me to it. As soon as I saw these blossoms, I thought of Rachel. Sweet Rachel. And her thoughtful mom who is a much better gardener than me.

From the bleeding hearts, this is my backyard.

See that perfect baseball diamond? I don't.
What I see is the inground that used to be there.

And then was filled in before we bought this house.
This house that does not have a pool.
Not that I'm bitter.

Don't you love the three trees here? It's like I was thinking, "Hey, I should totally take a picture of these three trees that I never noticed before!" These Three Trees. Don't you love the sound of that?



In other news, I couldn't resist this poster from etsy.com. I had to have it for our new condo, um... camper.

And now, for the cleverest thing I've E.V.E.R. done - I made this ottoman on my very own. It's a Cooler Cozey. Yes it is, girlfriend. It is a footstool by night...



A cooler by day. Yes. It. Is.

I have this recurring dream from back in my Roanoke Times days. I used to work in the Features department, putting together the Friday calendar of events for the Extra section. I felt proud of my job, back in the day. Thrilled to play a part of the weekend planning of my fellow Roanoke-ians. Truth be told, I liked to think I was higher than my "editorial assistant" title. I was high on the hog of pride, back then. I was on top of the world when I saw my byline. It didn't matter if it was in the NewsFun section, the Neighbors section, or the coveted Extra section. Heck, I'd have been over-the-moon to have appeared in the classifieds.

To this day, however, I have this dream that I am late for work at the Times, or that I do not show up at all. In my dream I know that I did the calendar, but then I just got bored. I quit doing it. And I didn't bother to show up after I did it. Which means that at least one Friday calendar wasn't done. At least one Roanoke Times & World-News Extra section wasn't complete. And I left it to my co-workers to figure out because, apparently, I didn't bother to report to work that week. In my dream, I am thinking that I have DONE everything, but I still have all these hours to fill up. How will I ever pass the time when the calendar is already DONE??? Whatever is left to DO?

Oh, this is a horrible nightmare for me. It's a lot like the dream I have when I'm late for a final exam and I get there only to realize that I showed up for only the first class. How in the world will I ever pass this exam?! The professor always looks at me and says, "How could you have let this happen, Wendi? We expected so much more of you." And I always feel that horrible bomb-in-your-gut feeling. "I don't know! I just showed up this very minute!"

When I finally wake from the Roanoke Times dream, the first person I think of is Beth Macy. She was my idol. Oh, how I wanted to be like Beth Macy. I wanted to name my first born Macy, but, alas, he was a boy. And I couldn't do that to him. So I called him Camden. But Beth Macy was my Mentor Of All Mentors. She was an actual REPORTER for the Roanoke Times. And she was good. G.O.O.D. I read every single thing she wrote. Even when Ed Shamy had a sure-fire headliner, I read Beth Macy before Ed Shamy. Shamy had nothin' on Macy. Shamy, quite frankly, scared the daylights out of me.

But Macy was my friend. She called me Cal-Gal and made me feel like I was a part of her reporterly world. Macy taught me how to make a brisket. She loaned me her wedding dress. She made me feel like I belonged in the Features Department and that I could do a tad bit more than answer the phone. At the time, she lived in Salem. I will never forget passing Butt Hollow Road on the way to her house, thinking that only Beth Macy could pull that off. Yeah, she was that cool.

As I type this little blog of mine, I am perusing Macy's own blog (which I just discovered via the Roanoke Times) and I just read the line where she remembers her own plot of land on Texas Hollow Road. Holy crow, but I just was thinking of Texas Hollow Road and her rented ranch house that stretched across FOREVER and the divided Pepsi~Cola crate I purchased at her yard sale!!!

OK, so, yeah.

As I was saying. I have this recurring nightmare. And in it, I'm late. Very late. I am always a mess when I awake from this dream. But I'm always relieved when I realize that it's not real. I'm only dreaming. The calendar is fine in the hands of somebody else.

And I always pause to thank Beth Macy for being my mentor and my friend back when I didn't even have a clue who I was. Thank you, Beth Macy. I miss you.

I learned a new lesson today. No matter how bad you think you have it when you shop in Wal-Mart, it is most definitely worse when you decide to shop in Wal-Mart in Connecticut. I have no idea how it feels when you visit Wal-Mart in China, so I won't address that issue in this particular blog post.

We took a chance on Wally World in Manchester today, figuring that the cool red enamel-ware dishes for camping were a great deal. And we also figured we'd pick up some meds for Camden who is coughing in the Eagle Scout fashion. And plus also too we wanted to price Mr. Coffee makers. Just because. So we ventured down the road to Wal-Mart.


I did not see this person one single time in my visit to Wal-Mart today. In fact, everyone I did see did most certainly NOT have this face.


Long story short: WalMart up here in the Yankee lands makes me madder than the ones I've frequented in the south. What's missing? Good southernly charm, manners, smiley-faced people, and Southern Living at the check-out counter. (I'm not addressing aisle width, cleanliness, or restroom facilities in this post.)

If you are a primary teacher of reading, you probably know this book. It was the first one I read that triggered that longed-for ah-ha moment: So that's how you teach kids to read!

I first heard of Kathy Collins through proteacher, a message board for, you guessed it, teachers. I have not one, but two copies of this book. Long story short, I left my first one in Pennsylvania, not knowing when I would teach again. Then, when I got this gig teaching 2nd grade, I bought myself another because I can't teach without it, I tell you. On account of it's like the bible of how young children learn to read.


This is Kathy herself. She's the author of this amazing book that reads like you're hanging out in the classroom of your favorite teacher listening to her talk about what she did on that day with her kids. I love teachers like that. And plus also, she lives in New Hampshire. That's close to me, you know. So, I go to West Hartford yesterday to see her speak and she did not disappoint. I was inspired. I giggled.

I love that she liked books I like. (Ever read Duck Rabbit?)

She LIKES it, just like ME!)

And she is a humongous fan of David Sedaris. Well, I, too, like David Sedaris. He's a stitch, I tell you.

She had me hanging on the edge of my seat till my butt couldn't sit any longer. Then I was hanging by the balls of my feet as I stood in the back with Francie listening to who I want to be when I grow up. (Well, a little bit Kathy, a little bit Debbie Miller.)



So, she finishes her spiel, and it's time to leave. I stalk her, as fast as I can, to ask her to autograph my books. I'm cool. I'm confident. I'm every bit the subdued second grade teacher I think I am.

HI!
IJUSTLOVEYOU.
WOULDYOUPLEASESIGNMYBOOKS?
IJUSTLOVEYOU!!!!
IHAVETOTELLYOUTHAT.
I'MNOTWEIRD.

And, guess what, she signed them! In spite of myself!

Dear Michelle,

You are missed.
More than you will ever know.

Love you,
Sissy

PS. I forgive you for always being cute. For always knowing what to say to people to make them feel happy. For being a force of joy. I forgive you for making me pick my nose in this picture.