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Category Archives: The Junk Drawer

328619_lgThis week I’m thankful for…

  • evening soaks in the hot tub with The Hubs
  • the squirrel who ran alongside me for a block on my bike ride to school
  • the friend who made a surprise donation to my classroom
  • my little one who wanted to pay me a penny “for being such a good teacher”
  • riding my bike to and from school every morning
  • “just because” flowers from The Hubs
  • the sound of my bike bell
  • my 5-year-old nephew who learned to ride his bike without training wheels
  • the ladies in the cafeteria who make delicious lunch salads for me each day

I have a friend, Jason, who has three noteworthy talents.  Wait, that came out wrong.  Sorry, Jason.  He has many noteworthy talents, but three in particular that I greatly appreciate.

1. He orders well off the In N Out secret menu.

2. He can play pretty much any instrument just by looking at it.

3. He picks out the most perfect music for me, music that I wouldn’t normally give a second glance to.  Then he points it out and lo and behold the songs he suggests are now all of my favorites.

That third one may actually verge on the side of superpower and it’s that talent/superpower that brings me here today.

A few weeks ago Jason tweeted about loving this Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth mash-up that Bing Crosby and David Bowie sang together.  Rub your eyes all you want, you read that right.

Bing Crosby.

David Bowie.

Singing.

Together.

When I read Jason’s tweet, my eyes rolled so hard they almost got stuck, which would have been terrible because moms all over the world would have rightfully let out a global, “I told you so.”

My eye roll was impeded by a teensy niggling thought.  Jason always recommends brilliant stuff.  But David Bowie and Big Crosby???  No.  Just no.

So with my eyes set on auto roll and my scoff turned on high, I watched the video.

And then I swallowed my scoff back down past the lump in my throat and my eyes were too busy blinking back tears to even think of rolling.

The sorrow of the Newtown shooting was still a bleeding wound, soaking through my days in the classroom and staining my pillow with nightmares.

So when David Bowie sang these lines, I found myself weeping and echoing his prayer.

I pray my wish will come true for my child and your child, too.

He’ll see the day of glory,

See the day when men of goodwill live in peace,

Live in peace again.

Many Christmas songs wish goodwill to others, like goodwill is a thing to be gifted with a plate of cookies.  I stopped in my tracks at the phrase “men of goodwill” because as it turns out, all this time goodwill is something to be, not to have.

I get that it’s a Christmas song and that you’re on an eleven month sabbatical from Christmas music, but that verse has been loping in my head for the last few weeks as my little ones and I studied Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his call for all of us to be a people with spirits devoted to equality, a people with minds set on peace, and a people with hearts pulsing with goodwill.

This Monday as we honor Dr. King, his words will ring in my heart and in a surprising twist, David Bowie and Bing Crosby will be singing the soundtrack that plays in my mind as I seek opportunities to be a woman of goodwill.


mistletoe-sprig

This week I’m thankful for…

  • the little boy selling sprigs of “kissletoe” outside the grocery store
  • my fence that stayed standing in the fierce windstorms
  • holiday sweater sightings
  • Christmas carols
  • Salvation Army bell ringers
  • peppermint hot cocoa
  • spin class on rainy days
  • clothes warm from the dryer
  • scarves

Hello, dear ones.  It’s good to be back with you.  I know you all have lives and other bloggers you love, so you may not have missed me, but I missed you.  I love writing to you and thinking of you looking at your screen while I’m looking at mine.  I’ve got so much to write about, but first let me explain why I haven’t been around the old Pedals and Pencils neck of the woods.

The machines have been against me.

*I’m far less embarrassed by that reference than I should be.  I watched it when I was sick at home once, k?
Image courtesy of thecia.com.au.

Not in a Transformers Dark Side of the Moon* sort of against me.  There aren’t huge talking robot cars breaking into my house or anything.

It all began when the air conditioner at the school broke.  My classroom A/C worked just fine mind you.  But when the men in coveralls came to fix the school-wide A/C, mine stopped working.  Stopped working as in it was eighty-eight-lord-have-mercy-degress inside my classroom.  Dear ones, let me tell you that there isn’t a tougher crowd than 30 five and six-year olds who are too hot to move and/or think.  Due to the smoke from the fires blazing around us, we couldn’t even open a door or crack a window.  Teaching Sweating profusely for upwards of 10 hours a day and then driving home in a cauldron of smoke made me contemplate 2 things:

  1. How hot can hell really be?
  2. Am I in hell right now?

Truth be told, it also made me long for my days in Uganda writing with my sons and daughters in their beautiful open air classrooms that don’t need pesky things like air conditioners or for that matter, electricity.  It made me long to sit under the trees with them, looking out over the bush while they entranced me with their stories.

Once word got out that one of my machines had gone rogue, the others followed suit.  My router went on the fritz, taking my internet access and printer with it.  No amount of cajoling could bring the router back to life.  Believe me I tried.  I tried to fix it with the help of customer service agents from all over the world.  I was on the phone with customer service for 5 unholy hours which led to me saying very bad words and entertaining thoughts of taking the business end of a screwdriver to my router, which I may or may not have done while having a full on fit in my garage.

So while I would have loved to write about said ridiculous fit in detail here, the last thing I wanted to do after sweating through my clothes all day was vagabond myself out to free WiFi spots.  The only thing I wanted to do was come home and take an icy shower.  Trust me, sparing the public of my presence during those days was really an act of community service because let me tell you, the funk rising out of my skin was so strong it sometimes brought tears to my eyes when I happened to catch an errant whiff of myself.  There aren’t deodorants strong enough for that people, there just aren’t.

After the A/C, router and printer went on strike, my classroom projector and camera followed suit.  I swear it’s because they were melting in the heat.  My classroom A/C has now been out for 2 weeks.  Luckily for me I have a student teacher who climbs into the spiderwebby A/C closet every day and manually starts the thing up.  What better way for him to get a glimpse of the realities of teaching that to do that every morning, right?  Unfortunately once it’s on, it will not be stopped, so we’ve moved from the sweltering fires of Mordor to the frozen tundra of Antarctica.

But today, dear ones, is a turning point in The Great Machine Strike.  Perhaps they saw the damage I can do with a single screwdriver.  Perhaps their little metal innards were scarred by a full-grown woman melting down in all senses of the word.  Today two men in coveralls came and banged on things in the A/C closet outside of my classroom so I’m hopeful that tomorrow it will be humming away again.  Also a man with a jangling tool belt came and did things to the projector and it’s all bright and happy again.  I bought a new router that is speedy and quick and smiles at me with a pretty blue light.

The last hold out is the printer, but I think it knows I mean business because it’s beginning to perk back up and make clicking sounds and flash cheerful blinking lights at me like it wants to be friends again.  Just in case it needs a little more convincing, I left the screwdriver out in plain sight.

Image courtesy of flatheadscrewdriver.net


This week I’m thankful for…

  • watching the mother of one of my little ones totally dominate in a roller derby bout
  • blood orange flavored sorbet
  • the sound of popcorn popping on the stove
  • driving with the top down
  • writing haikus with my little ones
  • finishing report cards
  • my little ones who wrote me a giant thank you note for taking them on a field trip
  • my little one who was singing ‘Hey, Jude’ while he was painting today
  • my hubby who knows how to cheer me up like no other

This week I’m thankful for…

  • an extra day off to sleep in and lay in the warm spot on the hubby’s side of the bed
  • a quiet Valentine’s at home with the hubs
  • my first grade team
  • my little ones who let out a round of cheers when I announced it was assessment week
  • lots of time to read in bed
  • sunny afternoons by the river
  • Girl Scout cookies!!!!!!

image courtesy of someecards.com


Don’t take my bike away for saying this, but sometimes walking is better than cycling.  Wait, before you stab my bike tires and spit in my water bottles, hear me out.  Sometimes I need to look at things at an even slower pace.  Those of you who have ridden with me before are balking already because surely there can’t be anything slower than me slugging along on The Rocket.  Sometimes I just need to stroll and inhale the crisp air and squat down on the ground and look at stuff, really look at stuff.

That Laura & I walked along the river the other day, the winter wind whipping my camera strap as I happily snapped away, trying to make some sense of my new camera.  We walked into the arboretum, one of my favorite places on the trail because a new surprise waits around every corner.

Take the Monkey Puzzle Trees for one.  Just looking at their sparse, prickly branches makes me laugh.

And when I start to compose myself again, I think of the name ‘Monkey Puzzle Trees’ and I’m in stitches all over again.

Until the other day, I’d never taken the branch of the path that leads to a little bridge called Charlotte’s Crossing.  I was mooning over it already because I’m the teacher who cries every year when I read the end of Charlotte’s Web.  Then Charlotte herself greeted us and I thought I was going to straight swoon.

So by the time I saw Charlotte’s charming children climbing the sides of the bridge, I was downright giddy.  Not to mention that blue sky in the background.  I love sunny winter California days.

A few steps later I spotted this petite pile of stones.  Something about the balance required to stack stones always makes me stop and pause.

And then I turned a corner and saw these.

We meandered along the trail and ducked into the Children’s Sculpture Garden where “Mosaic Oasis”, a sculpture by Colleen Barry, sits as the crowning jewel in the garden.

I could stay at this sculpture for hours, running my fingers over each tile.  I mean just look at these ladybugs creeping along.  Don’t they make your fingers itch to do crayon rubbings?

Everywhere you look there’s a new treasure to behold, like this little heart marked with love.

Or Lady Liberty standing tall amongst other shining jewels.

And then there are the dragonflies.  Small dragonflies skitter and flit in and out of the mosaic, but this is the one that makes my heart leap into my throat.  It’s staggeringly beautiful.

In the center of the mosaic on the back side of the dragonfly is this gorgeous tree.

And because I adore, adore, adore the plaque accompanying the tree, here’s a closer look.

On a scale of 1-10 how weird would it be to tattoo that quote to my forehead for every parent to see?  11?  Oh well, I’m afraid of needles anyway.

And then, as if the Mosaic Oasis wasn’t full of enough wonder, there are the giant insect sculptures.  Isn’t this ladybug just absolutely begging for a smooch?

And then there’s the giant metal dragonfly statue.  Be.  Still.  My.  Heart.

I’ve died and gone to Heaven.  Look at the details in the face.  I’m absolutely smitten with this dragonfly.

The Children’s Sculpture Garden brims with magic.  Even a glimpse through the spindly branches of Harry Lauder’s walking stick revealed this quaint, blue house.

As the light began to fade, That Laura and I turned back toward the trailhead.  On the path we spotted this stencil of a woman watering her plant.

We hurried up the last hill back to the car and as we did, I couldn’t help but feel that this walk had watered a parched part of me, a part of me in desperate need of a day to slow down and drink it all in.


This week I’m thankful for…

  • watching the last troops leave Iraq
  • turning off my alarm clock for the next couple of weeks
  • Christmas vacation
  • watching David Hallberg dance at the Bolshoi
  • A Charlie Brown Christmas
  • singing Christmas carols with my little ones
  • packages in the mail
  • homemade gifts
  • my little one who said he was so excited that his “heart was pumping with Christmas”

This week I’m thankful for…

  • local theater and the opportunity for kids to act
  • pink eye.  It allowed me to take a sick day without being all that sick.
  • decorating the tree with my hubby
  • sitting by the light of the Christmas tree
  • unexpected chances to catch up with old friends
  • parent volunteers
  • my foster grandmother, who loves my little ones so very much

The Christmas tree is all a twinkle.  The stockings are hung side by side.  The Nativity set my grandmother brought back from Jerusalem is splayed out on the shelf behind me, wooden Baby Jesus smiling up at Mary and Joseph.  And I’ve got my Christmas playlist doing overtime with some old favorites from last year and some shiny new additions.  In no particular order, here they are.

1. O Come, O Come Emmanuel by the Civil Wars This song is so beautifully stripped bare.  It’s haunting and lovely and my favorite find this year.  Go now and buy it.  Then just try to stop yourself from listening to it on a continuous loop.

2. Breath of Heaven by Amy Grant I know, I know, it’s Amy Grant.  I can actually hear your eyes rolling and your finger tapping on the mouse.  Before you click away, just hear me out.  I know it’s Amy Grant and that putting her on my list again would leave me wide open for ridicule.  Knowing that I’d be mocked mercilessly, I STILL put this song in my  Top 9.  That’s how good it is.  It’s sung from Mary’s beautifully human perspective and I will love it all the days of my life.  If you can get past the fact that it’s Amy Grant, you’ll love it, too.  And if you can’t get past the fact that it’s Amy Grant, then consider this; the next best version of this song is by Jessica Simpson.  Amy Grant’s looking pretty good now, right?

3. River by Robert Downey, Junior This one’s not technically a Christmas song, but I’m the one who makes the rules around here.  I love Joni Mitchell’s version and Sarah MacLachlan’s rendering, but there’s a raw quality to Downey’s voice that gives it a vulnerable feel.  There’s something about a man singing this song that makes me weak in the knees.

4. Peace on Earth by U2  Don’t think that I haven’t noticed your index finger hovering over the mouse.  I have.  But then I go and throw U2 on the list and lure you back into my evil lair of Seasonal Songifying.  Go listen to this song and I swear by the end you’ll be making a list of all the philanthropic things you’re going to do just as soon as the last note sounds.

5. O Holy Night by Celine Dion O Holy Night is my most favorite Christmas carol.  I’m not a Celine Dion fan by any stretch of the imagination, but she sings this song like no other.  A lump rises in my throat as her voice soars over the high notes and pierces straight through my heart.

6. The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole Sometimes the classics just can’t be beaten.  His voice is like a drink of rich cocoa, filling me as it slides down my throat and into my stomach where it settles into a pile of warmth that lasts the whole day and keeps me from feeling stabby when I’m forced to brave the stores.

7. Baby, It’s Cold Outside by She & Him This one is so much fun!  It’s a bouncing give and take that brings a smile to my face every single time.  This one will squelch even the Grinchiest of all Grinches.  Believe me, I know because this girl’s heart is usually full of unwashed socks, but when this little ditty comes on, I find myself singing along and using cutesy word pairings like “little ditty”.

8. Christmastime is Here by The Vince Guaraldi Trio The children’s voices paired with the melancholy piano strikes the right chord every year and brings me back to visions of Charlie Browns spindly little tree.  While I have always loved this song, I’ve never fully appreciated its magical prowess until this year.  My little ones are bouncing off the walls-and we still have A FULL WEEK AND A HALF of school before blessed vacation arrives.  They are insanely excited and THE ONLY THING ON THE PLANET THAT SOOTHES THEM is this song.  I put it on and a hush, a hush I tell you, falls over the classroom.  For just a few minutes we’re lulled into tranquility.  If this song were a person, I’d kiss it on the mouth for the few calm moments it brings to my day.

9. Welcome to Our World by Chris Rice You don’t know Chris Rice?  Well, I’m so glad to acquaint the two of you.  There’s a great line in this song “Hope that you don’t mind our manger.”  Such a humble way to welcome the Son of God.  But the line that stops me in my tracks is “Bring Your peace into our violence, bid our hungry souls be filled.”  Seriously, I found myself fighting back a tear in the bread aisle yesterday when this one came up on my playlist.  But wait, there’s more, because then Chris Rice goes and sings this perfect verse “So wrap our injured flesh around You.  Breathe our air and walk our sod.  Rob our sin and make us holy.  Perfect Son of God.”  By the time that verse came around I was wiping my eyes on my sleeve and assuring the checker that I was fine, completely fine, no really.  I hope you enjoy it and if you’ve got some favorites, give them some love in the comments.


This week I’m thankful for…

  • watching the sunset over the ocean
  • the sting ray that shot out of the water near me when I was sea kayaking
  • the smell of the ocean
  • being rocked to sleep on a ship
  • a relaxing pedicure and a foot massage that hurt so good
  • towel animals on my bed at night
  • the five trivia trophies we brought home from our trip and the rare occasion that useless knowledge actually comes in handy
  • the grown woman I saw blowing bubbles in the hallway
  • taking my little ones to the theater
  • writing on the lovely and very tropical beach of Las Caletas.  I could get used to this..

This week I’m thankful for…

  • sleeping spread eagle in bed
  • the dollar movie theater
  • walking through piles of leaves
  • hot showers
  • reading in bed
  • morning music to psych me up for work after a couple of particularly hard work days
  • my little one who read this out of his notebook: ”I am a fun kid.  I love school.”  This was on the heels of a couple of days wherein he lived out the consequences for peppering the playground with a litany of profanity.  It’s proof once again that children need those boundaries.

Dear New Sweater,

I’m sorry for catching you in the paper cutter.  Twice.  Ahem.  I’m amazed that, try as I might, I could not cut your fabric.  I mean really, you look so light and airy, but apparently you’re made of Kevlar.  Who knew I’d be getting such protection for $20.  I will now stop trying to chop you to smithereens.

Sincerely,

The girl who shouldn’t be allowed to use sharp objects

P.S.  I’m also sorry for the spaghetti sauce splattering incident at lunch.  You’re a white sweater, you had to see that coming, no?

—————————————————————————————————————————————

Dear Terry,

I’m sorry that ice cream, cereal and salads are the extent of my dinner menu.  Thankfully you make a mean batch of vanilla pancakes or we would probably starve.

XOXO,

Your domestically challenged wife

—————————————————————————————————————————————

Dear Rocket,

I’m sorry I haven’t taken you out for a spin for a few weeks.  The cobwebs in your spokes are reprehensible.  I’m profoundly sorry and look forward to a reunion soon.  Please, please don’t buck me off in bitterness the next time we meet.

Love,

Alicia

—————————————————————————————————————————————

Dear Dentist,

I’m sorry I was a whiny baby in the chair.  In my defense you had to fix things in 3 of the 4 quadrants of my mouth.  And let’s face it, nobody likes to hear “I think I can do this one without numbing you.”  You’re right, it didn’t hurt, but the anticipation of pain caused buckets of perspiration to build up in my armpits and seep onto the chair.  Please accept my apologies for all the whimpering and, no doubt, for the extra time spent mopping up after me.

Kind regards,

Me and my new and improved molars


This week I’m thankful for…

  • brand new, freshly sharpened pencils
  • coffee with a friend
  • kayaking on the lake and the heron who didn’t poop on me
  • first day of school outfits
  • chick flicks
  • Terry, always Terry
  • my amazing helpers who worked hard to get my classroom ready
  • my custodians who always have a smile and a helping hand at the ready
  • my new little ones who have stolen my heart in record time

image courtesy of vivaboo.com

I can feel it in the air,

I see it in the way the sun stays tucked under the covers just a little longer every morning.

I smell it the stores, in the waxy scent of crayons, their tips perfectly pointed inside pristine yellow boxes all lined up in wait.

It’s in the scuffling of new shoes down the threadbare aisle of the shoe store.

The shoes, the air, the crayons, the sun are all in on the secret that a new school year is sneaking up on Summer.

As for me,

I’m staying up late to watch the moon rise, its ivory face peering down from an inky sky.

I’m picking breakfast blackberries, standing barefoot in my backyard and eating them straight from the brambles,

I’m languishing in long baths and drowning myself in good books read in bed.

I’m slipping through Wednesday morning traffic with my kayak piggyback on my car, both of us giddy to glide on the water.

The school year is sneaking up on me, inching up my spine and edging into my dreams.

But I’m in on a secret that the shoes, the air, the crayons, and the sun do not know.

Summer is ending,

But not just yet.



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