Miss Sherman was our 5th grade music teacher and aside from corporeal punishment and unruly hair, she was perfect. Every week, students were encouraged to bring in their favorite record album. And because lessons are best learned through repeated humiliation (read about First Picture Day at my new school), I brought in my favorite album.
…I wonder what the other kids brought! This is SO much fun!
…Wait…
Michael Jackson, Off The Wall…
The Cars, Panorama??…
Oh, Kermit! Nobody understands us/Miss Sherman forgot to call on me/oh look, this record barely sticks out between my stack of books/these darn Fall allergies make my eyes water!
I wouldn’t tell my mom about this while I stood by the piano as she played folk songs and I sang my little heart out. I WOULDN’T.
What I’m trying to say is that Jen and I picked cards for our Spring Release.
My husband was on a business trip, and that meant it was time for one or more of the kids to get the stomach flu. Because we love tradition, the youngest barfed in her own bath water. While I was cleaning that up, and not to be outdone, the middle one inhaled and regurgitated his macaroni & cheese right back on the plate.
The older one slunk away.
While I was cleaning that up, and unbeknownst to me, the cat coughed up a slimy hair-ball. I stepped on it (barefoot).
While I stood on one foot, crying, the dog came over and licked it up.
The odyssey began exactly three and a half miles West of the Mississippi during what would later be called “Friday.” No need for an alarm to be set because rising at 4am comes so naturally to me – getting a jump on the day makes me feel like a dynamo.
First legs of journeys are often fueled by earnestness and without vigilance, that fuel can turn to ennui. (ahn-wee)
Ennui can turn to desperation and when mixed with starvation, can lead to tragedy. Remember the Chilean rugby team? Their plane crashed in the Andes and they ate each other. Survival and cannibalism are in cahoots, everyone knows that.
Our airline didn’t want that blood on their hands so they loaded us up with a rib-sticking breakfast.
Our plane did land safely on the ground and we were stuffed into a sweat lodge/taxi-cab that smelled like thousands of weary travelers. (Curry + pine tree + urine).
I don’t remember my own birth but I bet it felt similar to exiting the taxi – the crying, the relief, the hotel cradling me in it’s arms.
Like good tourists, we went right from the hotel to the subway. Now I know that when I go to Purgatory (and I know I will) it will look, feel, and smell like the subway.
It will make heaven even more glorious.
Because traveling underground on a train isn’t strange enough, the subway was filled with hundreds of boozed-up Santas.
And because my touristy feet were killing me, I had to go to the T.J. Maxx on Wall street to buy slippers. I did see the Occupy Wall Street people and asked them if they wanted to occupy T.J. Maxx with me but they (all five of them) looked at me like I was crazy.
Oh, we also walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Has anyone seen that thing? It’s pretty cool and people should really be aware of it.
Don’t I look serious? I didn’t crack a smile all day.
2010 has a short driveway and as we backed down it we (I) felt wistful. It seems like only last year we were freezing in Brainerd. Here we are again, eating thick-cut bacon and praying for the strength to survive round after round of Name That Tune. I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions because the prisons are overcrowded as it is and also because the world isn’t ready for my style of leadership. (Deer-in-the-headlights.)
This was a big year for Zeichen Press – and as I sit in my Fiberglass Insulated Cell, I feel gratitude. I also feel greasy from all of the bacon, but like the sparrow, I will take a sand-bath to freshen up when the time is right. A new website, a fleet of reps, prints in Room & Board, the dog’s wig:
Who wouldn’t be grateful? I believe Jen and I are coming up on The Five Year Anniversary of Our Zeichen Press Partnership – we will celebrate by not murdering each other in cold blood.
Jen and I share many things: Type wash, paper towels, dirty looks… But nothing… nothing even comes close to this weekend…
Whew! That was a tear-jerker! Um… there is no easy way to segue from a cat eating a placenta…
Well, other things happened this weekend, too… I biked 8 million miles to Hopkins to take some pictures of the new Pizza Lucé… I wrote about that on the Tanek blog… And, well I guess nothing can really compare to the moment when Jen and Susie the Cat locked eyes and Jen stated firmly (but tenderly) “I love you.”
Swimmers spotted four Great White Sharks on the beach in Chatham. Wait, let me be clear: Not ON the beach – in the water. Swimming around … and around … and around.Some would call that circling – orbiting their prey, slowly moving in for the flesh-ripping, limb-tearing, feeding-frenzy. But I’m not here to give sharks bad press – that’s already been done – I’m just trying to help you, the reader, understand the everyday danger that is my life. I risk it all to bring you, the reader, a good story.
So, off we went up the coast. Past Chatham, to Wellfleet. Wellfleet, where there is no swimming ban. God forbid we miss a beach day because the “Coast Guard” spotted some 12′ sharks. The Atlantic called us and it would be rude to ignore the call – we had to dive right into the water like good-natured guests.
A seal joined us – not more than 15 feet from shore. If he were walking on land he’d be limping… I don’t know what that’s called in the water. Drowning?
Oh, Seal! Do you remember our meeting last year? I do. It was magical. Last year, I had to swim ever so far – my legs dangled 100 feet above the ocean floor – they were like little noodles hanging off the end of a fork, ready to be swallowed up by the sharks. This year, you bob seductively near shore… it would be effortless to get to you. But I won’t do it because I am sensible and also I saw this
hovering overhead. A sure sign that somebody is looking for sharks. I said, LOOKING FOR SHARKS. We decided that building sand castles is pretty fun.
to check out their card selection – one thing is clear: they might have enough rubber lobsters but they do need some letterpress from Minnesota. I will see what I can do about that.
A day at the beach always includes:
That poor thing has been around for such a long time.
That’s where I am. Will I ever be able to get back to Minneapolis? Stay tuned.
And, just because I’m a little obsessed with the weather, I gathered some very important figures. - Record low temperatures in The United States of America:
State
Temp.
Date
Station
Elevation
Alabama
-27
Jan. 30, 1966
New Market
760
Alaska
-80
Jan. 23, 1971
Prospect Creek
1,100
Arizona
-40
Jan. 7, 1971
Hawley Lake
8,180
Arkansas
-29
Feb. 13, 1905
Pond
1,250
California
-45
Jan. 20, 1937
Boca
5,532
Colorado
-61
Feb. 1, 1985
Maybell
5,920
Connecticut
-32
Feb. 16, 1943
Falls Village
585
Delaware
-17
Jan. 17, 1893
Millsboro
20
Florida
– 2
Feb. 13, 1899
Tallahassee
193
Georgia
-17
Jan. 27, 1940
Mauna Kea
13,770
Idaho
-60
Jan. 18, 1943
Island Park Dam
6,285
Illinois
-36
Jan. 5, 1999
Congerville
722
Indiana
-36
Jan. 19, 1994
New Whiteland
785
Iowa
-47
Feb. 3, 1996*
Elkader
770
Kansas
-40
Feb. 13, 1905
Lebanon
1,812
Kentucky
-37
Jan. 19, 1994
Shelbyville
730
Louisiana
-16
Feb. 13, 1899
Minden
194
Maine
-48
Jan. 19, 1925
Van Buren
458
Maryland
-40
Jan. 13, 1912
Oakland
2,461
Massachusetts
-35
Jan. 12, 1981
Chester
640
Michigan
-51
Feb. 9, 1934
Vanderbilt
785
Minnesota
-60
Feb. 2, 1996
Tower
1,430
Mississippi
-19
Jan. 30, 1966
Corinth
420
Missouri
-40
Feb. 13, 1905
Warsaw
700
Montana
-70
Jan. 20, 1954
Rogers Pass
5,470
Nebraska
-47
Feb. 12, 1899
Camp Clarke
3,700
Nevada
-50
Jan. 8, 1937
San Jacinto
5,200
New Hampshire
-47
Jan. 29, 1934
Mt. Washington
6,288
New Jersey
-34
Jan. 5, 1904
River Vale
70
New Mexico
-50
Feb. 1, 1951
Gavilan
7,350
New York
-52
Feb. 18, 1979*
Old Forge
1,720
North Carolina
-34
Jan. 21, 1985
Mt. Mitchell
6,525
North Dakota
-60
Feb. 15, 1936
Parshall
1,929
Ohio
-39
Feb. 10, 1899
Milligan
800
Oklahoma
-27
Jan. 18, 1930
Watts
958
Oregon
-54
Feb. 10, 1933*
Seneca
4,700
Pennsylvania
-42
Jan. 5, 1904
Smethport
est. 1,500
Rhode Island
-25
Feb. 5, 1996
Greene
425
South Carolina
-19
Jan. 21, 1985
Caesars Head
3,100
South Dakota
-58
Feb. 17, 1936
McIntosh
2,277
Tennessee
-32
Dec. 30, 1917
Mountain City
2,471
Texas
-23
Feb. 8, 1933*
Seminole
3,275
Utah
-69
Feb. 1, 1985
Peter’s Sink
8,092
Vermont
-50
Dec. 30, 1933
Bloomfield
915
Virginia
-30
Jan. 22, 1985
Mountain Lake
3,870
Washington
-48
Dec. 30, 1968
Mazama
2,120
West Virginia
-37
Dec. 30, 1917
Lewisburg
2,200
Wisconsin
-55
Feb.4, 1996
Couderay
1,300
Wyoming
-66
Feb. 9, 1933
Riverside
6,650
AND before we start killing and eating each other, we are entertaining ourselves by throwing boiling water into the cold air.
I wonder if schools are more selective about their teachers these days.
I had a high-school teacher that greeted us with such giddy enthusiasm when we entered the classroom – I might say he “pranced” around the room, his little toesies all dressed up for the day in black, dress socks. I could see the socks because those feet weren’t stuffed into a smelly old shoe – no! They were free as you and me in a classic Birkenstock sandal.
Six of them kept their backs to us, the seventh would be turned to let us know what day of the week it was,”Happy Monday!” and so on. So much better than a calender.
We were told that we should address him as “Doctor” – that title was later disputed. And revoked. Turns out it was all just a fantasy… oh, such a fantasy… I imagine myself getting a doctorate degree in religion…
He described one of his teaching methods as “accelerated learning.” All students were required to put their heads on their desk – or grab one of his strange-smelling pillows from his “cubby-hole.” Classical music blaring, he read aloud – synchronizing the inflection of his voice to the swells and ebbs of the music.
I wish I could remember what he read. Maybe it was the multiplication-tables. Or Jim Jones’ manifesto.
