Extra Credit

We went to Open House at the local elementary school the other night.  It was all very nice and the kids are doing good work, etc.   One conversation from the evening stood out to me especially.  We were talking to Lily's teacher, who always has great things to say about Lily.  Ms. X says to us "Lily remembers every story I tell!  She is just like a little Ms. X!  I bet she wants to be a teacher when she grows up just like Ms. X!  She always follows all directions and is so creative in her writing, and she is so thoughtful.  She is just a little Ms. X! She probably uses the same phrases I do when she's at home. She is just my mini-me! "

While happy to hear so many good things from her teacher I was a little, shall we say, miffed, that Ms. X would presume to think that all of Lily's good qualities:  her sweetness and work ethic and study skills and creativity, are the result of a 7 month acquaintance with a teacher.  I'm sure her natural inherited tendencies from her family, not to mention her home environment and the influence of her mother and father had nothing to do with the person Lily is. 

I am very grateful that Lily has a teacher who enjoys her, and is an enthusiastic and effective teacher.   I just wish she took a little less credit for my girl and her abilities.

Sleeping With the Fishes

Sometimes Pinterest provides inspiration, sometimes it provides the basis of my nightmares.  An example:


It is a fish tank bed.  If you know me well you know why this and a can of Pillsbury biscuits can keep me awake for weeks. 

Life on the Plains

A haiku I was compelled to compose yesterday:


The wind, relentless.
My mind like a tumbleweed -
restlessly rattles.

The wind and I are at odds with one another.  I am always telling Tyler that if I had been a Texas ranching pioneer (Perish the thought.  Ugh.  The flies.  The heat.  THE WIND. So thankful I was not.) I would surely have been brought low by "prairie fever" and ended up like poor Mrs. Brewster:  limp nightgown, wild hair, staring blankly into the distance rocking a baby back and forth, back and forth, contemplating when to pull out the old butcher knife.  (Yes, that's a Little House On The Prairie reference...These Happy Golden Years to be more specific.)

I don't mind a nice breeze, but when wind positively rattles the windows and whistles around the walls all day and night it really gets to me.  Maybe wind could be a new and effective interrogation technique for law enforcement.  Perhaps living on the Texas plains isn't the optimal environment for me...I wonder what is?  I'm thinking green mountains with streams and meadows for larking about in a la The Sound of Music opening song, but I don't think the opportunity will arise for me to move to the Austrian alps to test my hunch.