If you are wondering why there haven't been any posts lately, the answer is that we have moved to a new and improved blog.
I just wanted to start over. That's it.
Anyway, if you want the address, please email me at erinmmcintyre@hotmail.com.
I'll keep this blog for posterity and so I can re-read the mouse posting over and over. Hah.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
I'm still alive ...
... barely.
Seriously, I am exhausted. Just even taking a minute to update with this short message is a big deal, peeps.
I've survived this year and this is my last week of school. I'm in the midst of packing up my room to move to a portable classroom outside the building, as well as wrapping up the year for the kids and doing report cards.
No one told me there was this much paperwork in teaching. Every time I turn around, there's another stupid form to fill out exactly like the last one. Ugh.
So that's what's going on. I'm so tired of going to school at 7 a.m. and not coming home until 7 p.m. but there's only this week to get through.
After that, you'll be getting a REAL update from me, k?
Seriously, I am exhausted. Just even taking a minute to update with this short message is a big deal, peeps.
I've survived this year and this is my last week of school. I'm in the midst of packing up my room to move to a portable classroom outside the building, as well as wrapping up the year for the kids and doing report cards.
No one told me there was this much paperwork in teaching. Every time I turn around, there's another stupid form to fill out exactly like the last one. Ugh.
So that's what's going on. I'm so tired of going to school at 7 a.m. and not coming home until 7 p.m. but there's only this week to get through.
After that, you'll be getting a REAL update from me, k?
Monday, March 17, 2008
Dazed and Confused
I think our neighbor is getting our dog stoned while we're at work.
How's that for an introduction?
Well, let me put it this way. I came home and Maxwell was super mellow, smelled like something moldy-ish that normally is semi-hidden by patchouli, and he was REALLY hungry.
And Mike and I have both smelled the wafting scents coming from the neighbor's garage for the past few years.
At first we thought it was the son partying ... but after a few bloodshot-eyed encounters with the neighbor, we're 99.99% sure it's the 50-something neighbor.
Max plays in this neighbor's yard a lot while we're at work... and maybe he got hotboxed in the garage. That's the only explanation I can come up with. Unless he made some hoodlum friends and is being pressured or something. I'm keeping watch for a secret doggy drum circle.
All I know is, our dog's got the munchies and smells like Triple Pl@y records downtown. If he tie-dyes his collar and starts living in a van down by the river, I'm drawing the line.
How's that for an introduction?
Well, let me put it this way. I came home and Maxwell was super mellow, smelled like something moldy-ish that normally is semi-hidden by patchouli, and he was REALLY hungry.
And Mike and I have both smelled the wafting scents coming from the neighbor's garage for the past few years.
At first we thought it was the son partying ... but after a few bloodshot-eyed encounters with the neighbor, we're 99.99% sure it's the 50-something neighbor.
Max plays in this neighbor's yard a lot while we're at work... and maybe he got hotboxed in the garage. That's the only explanation I can come up with. Unless he made some hoodlum friends and is being pressured or something. I'm keeping watch for a secret doggy drum circle.
All I know is, our dog's got the munchies and smells like Triple Pl@y records downtown. If he tie-dyes his collar and starts living in a van down by the river, I'm drawing the line.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Totally drained
That's how I feel today.
Survived the funeral. There were full military honors and bagpipes. I don't know what it is about old guys in military uniforms, but they make me think of my grandpa and it makes me bawl.
And about the bagpipes ... I actually like bagpipes, but I've come to associate them with funerals so much that whenever I hear them, I start getting a knot in my chest that makes it hard to swallow.
There's something very raw about the sound of bagpipes, the droning and the whining. And that breath of air that it takes to get them started before the notes start to sound right. It seems appropriate for a funeral, because it sounds like the last rasping breath a person might take as they die.
It was the most genuine funeral I have ever attended. And I was very proud to sit with the family.
I was cleaning out my email inbox today after the funeral and found an email from Brian from last May. It made me cry again. But for once I'm glad that I have, like, 12 pages of old emails I haven't trashed. I'll share the most important part of the email, because I think that all of us need to realize this.
"I am thinking about things that I should think of more often. About people I love and mean the world to me. There are some things in this world that I do very well... and some that I do not. A number of people once were here, and now they are not. And I never told them how I felt about them."
Well, for the record, I'm thinking about this today, too. And I wish that we could all attend our own funerals, like Tom Sawyer. I hope Brian knows how much everyone cared about him and could hear what we all said and thought today.
Survived the funeral. There were full military honors and bagpipes. I don't know what it is about old guys in military uniforms, but they make me think of my grandpa and it makes me bawl.
And about the bagpipes ... I actually like bagpipes, but I've come to associate them with funerals so much that whenever I hear them, I start getting a knot in my chest that makes it hard to swallow.
There's something very raw about the sound of bagpipes, the droning and the whining. And that breath of air that it takes to get them started before the notes start to sound right. It seems appropriate for a funeral, because it sounds like the last rasping breath a person might take as they die.
It was the most genuine funeral I have ever attended. And I was very proud to sit with the family.
I was cleaning out my email inbox today after the funeral and found an email from Brian from last May. It made me cry again. But for once I'm glad that I have, like, 12 pages of old emails I haven't trashed. I'll share the most important part of the email, because I think that all of us need to realize this.
"I am thinking about things that I should think of more often. About people I love and mean the world to me. There are some things in this world that I do very well... and some that I do not. A number of people once were here, and now they are not. And I never told them how I felt about them."
Well, for the record, I'm thinking about this today, too. And I wish that we could all attend our own funerals, like Tom Sawyer. I hope Brian knows how much everyone cared about him and could hear what we all said and thought today.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Why?
I've struggled with posting about this for a long time. Now seems a fitting time, since it's all over.
I have to come up with something to say at my friend's funeral next week.
Yes, my friend died. I think it's the first time I've had someone close to me die who was not a relative.
He was only 44. And I knew this was coming. It was inevitable, with the events of the past two years.
He wasn't himself anymore. As time passed, less and less of the person I loved could surface for a conversation, for a glimpse of the person I became friends with. I knew he was in there, drowning. But it was like he was laying face-down in standing water and he wouldn't even get up to breathe, no matter what the people around him tried to do to help.
I'm trying to think of the good times, the hilarious stories that left my stomach aching and tears streaming from my eyes. I'm trying to remember the way he always had a tidbit of trivia about presidents and Gilligan's Island to share.
And those memories surface like bizarre pieces of a shipwreck floating in the midst of a sea of anger and confusion.
I have to come up with something to say at my friend's funeral next week.
Yes, my friend died. I think it's the first time I've had someone close to me die who was not a relative.
He was only 44. And I knew this was coming. It was inevitable, with the events of the past two years.
He wasn't himself anymore. As time passed, less and less of the person I loved could surface for a conversation, for a glimpse of the person I became friends with. I knew he was in there, drowning. But it was like he was laying face-down in standing water and he wouldn't even get up to breathe, no matter what the people around him tried to do to help.
I'm trying to think of the good times, the hilarious stories that left my stomach aching and tears streaming from my eyes. I'm trying to remember the way he always had a tidbit of trivia about presidents and Gilligan's Island to share.
And those memories surface like bizarre pieces of a shipwreck floating in the midst of a sea of anger and confusion.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
On the road again
I finally have a chance to post a blog from the road!
We're in Denver ... Mikey won two awards and we're here to pick them up.
Every time we're here, I wonder if someday we will make the jump and actually move to a "cit-y" (I'm saying it like Jon Reep here).
Then I think about how GJ is growing and how maybe the cit-y is coming to us, whether we like it or not.
This makes me think of reasons why I would not enjoy living in a congested asphalt jungle. Here are a few off the top of my head:
1. Steam coming from underground. Haven't you ever wondered what the heck all that weird steam is coming from under the manhole covers? I believe it is quite hazardous to my health.
2. Crazy African taxi drivers. 'Nuf said.
3. I can't see the ground. I never think about dirt, but in the cit-y it is located fathoms below the sidewalks and grates and parking meters. This is somewhat disturbing to me for unknown reasons.
4. I can't seem to catch a whiff of anything besides exhaust, exhaled cigarette smoke, fry grease or old-man stench. This is a problem.
Reasons to live in the cit-y
1. Don't have to plan extra 30 minutes to go to grocery store because I run into everyone I know AND their extended family
2. Can shop for lots of things. In person. As in, not online. Instant gratification = good
3. Lots of cultural events that don't involve monster trucks or roping four-legged creatures.
4. Convenient airport that doesn't suck.
5. Wh0le F00ds. Need I say more?
6. When people talk about the "gay bar" in town, it could be more than one place, unlike GJ.
Hmmm......
We're in Denver ... Mikey won two awards and we're here to pick them up.
Every time we're here, I wonder if someday we will make the jump and actually move to a "cit-y" (I'm saying it like Jon Reep here).
Then I think about how GJ is growing and how maybe the cit-y is coming to us, whether we like it or not.
This makes me think of reasons why I would not enjoy living in a congested asphalt jungle. Here are a few off the top of my head:
1. Steam coming from underground. Haven't you ever wondered what the heck all that weird steam is coming from under the manhole covers? I believe it is quite hazardous to my health.
2. Crazy African taxi drivers. 'Nuf said.
3. I can't see the ground. I never think about dirt, but in the cit-y it is located fathoms below the sidewalks and grates and parking meters. This is somewhat disturbing to me for unknown reasons.
4. I can't seem to catch a whiff of anything besides exhaust, exhaled cigarette smoke, fry grease or old-man stench. This is a problem.
Reasons to live in the cit-y
1. Don't have to plan extra 30 minutes to go to grocery store because I run into everyone I know AND their extended family
2. Can shop for lots of things. In person. As in, not online. Instant gratification = good
3. Lots of cultural events that don't involve monster trucks or roping four-legged creatures.
4. Convenient airport that doesn't suck.
5. Wh0le F00ds. Need I say more?
6. When people talk about the "gay bar" in town, it could be more than one place, unlike GJ.
Hmmm......
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Yesssss you have the right address!
Just in case you're wondering, yes, it's still us.
I decided we needed a new look for 2008. Since I've graduated to using automatic windows and defrosting side mirrors, it's time for the blog to move on up in the world as well.
Nothing much to report here lately. I'm surviving school. Twelve school days until CSAP and I'm trying not to care that much. Because there's not too much more I can do to make a difference in a few test scores until then.
Survived V-Day. Did I mention that I'm part of the anti-V-Day movement? I wanted to wear clothing with skulls and stuff that day, but seeing as how I'm teaching elementary school and we were supposed to have a PARTY or whatever, I decided to tone it down and not be a grinch about the whole thing.
In case you're wondering, NO, I did not wear a teacher sweater with a blinky heart on the lapel. I make it a point to never wear electronic devices as accessories. Or teacher sweaters, for that matter.
I decided we needed a new look for 2008. Since I've graduated to using automatic windows and defrosting side mirrors, it's time for the blog to move on up in the world as well.
Nothing much to report here lately. I'm surviving school. Twelve school days until CSAP and I'm trying not to care that much. Because there's not too much more I can do to make a difference in a few test scores until then.
Survived V-Day. Did I mention that I'm part of the anti-V-Day movement? I wanted to wear clothing with skulls and stuff that day, but seeing as how I'm teaching elementary school and we were supposed to have a PARTY or whatever, I decided to tone it down and not be a grinch about the whole thing.
In case you're wondering, NO, I did not wear a teacher sweater with a blinky heart on the lapel. I make it a point to never wear electronic devices as accessories. Or teacher sweaters, for that matter.
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