Sunday, March 25, 2007

Don't move 'til you see it.

I spent too much money today at Wholesale Chess today. I just couldn't help myself!

We needed a new chess set. Duncan became interested in chess earlier in the school year - apparently they had a "teaching set" in his classroom with the moves printed on each piece and he and some other friends were learning to play during free time. I didn't think much of it. I played him a few times, and while he did have a clear idea of how the pieces move, he had little to no strategy and I beat him fairly easily. His interest grew, and around Thanksgiving I discovered through an ad in the local paper that there was a free Youth Chess Club meeting in the library every weekend. The meetings are now a high point of his week, and he gets positively distraught if it looks like we won't make it.

He ran out of opponents close to the end of his meeting today and asked if I would play with him. Now, I'm just not a great chess player. My distractibility combined with my very poor visualization skills make it difficult for me to plan more than a move or two ahead. And I quickly discovered that my little boy had been paying attention in three months of meetings. Before long, I found that he had me in a Noah's Ark Trap, something he learned from the club.

"Got your bishop," he said casually.

He dodged every trap I tried to set up. He played with strategy. Several moves later, in a moment of inattentiveness, I left my queen open and it didn't go unnoticed. He successfully pinned my last rook. Finally I was down to my king and a couple of pawns against several strong pieces, including his queen. Rarely has accepting defeat made me feel so proud.

So, he's been needing a good chess set for home...I figured it was finally time to realize this was not a passing fancy for him and get him some quality equipment. I got a good deal for what I got...a quality vinyl roll-up board, triple-weighted tournament pieces, and a chess clock and deluxe roll-up bag both in his favorite color, red. With shipping - fifty dollars. I let him know it's coming later this week, and I got extra hugs and kisses for my awesome Good Mommy-ness.

Heh, heh. Little does he realize I will now use his very tools to brush up my game. Then he'll be sorry, spending all that quality time with Mom using his brain and having fun! Oh, wait.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

A skin what?

Folks, give blood. I can't stress this enough. It's been said that only five percent of the eligible population does, and hospitals around the country have acute shortages every year. It's quick and relatively painless for most folks, and it saves lives. The anecdote I'm going to relate here is just amusing to me and should not discourage any healthy adult from giving.

You see, I have an unlucky history with blood donation. Never stops me from coming back, but still. For one thing, I'm almost perpetually iron-deficient despite a reasonable diet and regular vitamins. The week before a blood drive, I have to really make sure to take those multivitamins with extra iron AND a separate iron supplement, eat my red meat, drink plenty of water....and it's often still close to the cutoff. For another, my veins are apparently situated more sideways than most. Good to know for future reference, but until one good phlebotomist recently figured this out and told me, every blood drive meant getting stuck repeatedly because they'd feel the vein there, stick the needle in at a nearly parallel angle, and get nothing. The vast majority of donors sweep in and out of the center without a hitch while this goes down.

So I'm feeling good about my odds today. I let the girl know about my previous difficulties and the angle of my veins. She nods, and after applying the cuff and feeling around a bit, is confident that she's found a nice big vein. She traces it on my arm with a purple marker, and it's in the same spot I'd seen the other person mark. I settle in.

She sticks the needle in...and seemingly misses the vein. So she pulls the needle back without withdrawing completely and pushes it forward again, and again, trying to get the blood flowing. This really hurts. And every time I suck in my breath or grip the armrest the technician pauses uncertainly and says, "Are you O.K.?" Lady, this isn't a danger to my health it just hurts so yes I'm okay and I know my blood is important and I will clench my teeth and clutch the chair but QUIT STOPPING TO ASK IF I'M OKAY AND FINISH IT. She gets another phlebotomist, who also pulls the needle back and forth a couple times before calling over a third. The third one, bless her, tries once and then says to the first, "You've got a skin plug."

The first girl stares back just as blankly as I do. Apparently a tiny piece of skin broke off when she stuck me and it plugged up the needle. They could have moved that needle all afternoon and never gotten it going. So they have to take the needle completely out and start over. At this point my arm is way too tender so I get it bandaged and offer up my other one. The girl clearly feels SO bad about this that it is impossible to be mad at her. She even offers to replace herself, but in over a decade of donations I've never had a 'skin plug' occur and I really don't chalk it up to any ineptitude on her part. She marks my other arm and places the needle expertly on the first try, the bag fills quickly, and I am chomping down cookies in no time.

So now here I sit, both arms wrapped in cheerfully colored self-stick gauze and one arm definitely more tender than the other, but still very glad that I did my part today. And as my husband pointed out...with both arms bandaged, I look like I donated the hell out of my blood today. Hardcore, man.

Friday, March 23, 2007

A Veeeeritable Smorgasbord, orgasbord, orgasbord

School Food Service Industry, meet Spring Break!!

Yes, due to the timing of my hire, after one week of training on the job I now have an entire week off. Plus, the Monday following is a "teacher conference" day or something, so I have ten, count 'em, ten consecutive days of blissful freedom. Well, unless you count the catch-up housecleaning, the cooking, the gardening, the shopping, the studying for my online medical transcription course, and the daily trips to the park to keep my school-free child from getting cabin fever. ^_^

And then, there is the food. Of course, the school regularly cycles through the expiration dates and makes sure food closest to its date gets served first, but with an entire week off some of it just can't wait until April 3rd. So once the kids were gone, the dishes done and the kitchen all cleaned up, they started divvying up what had to go. I tried to claim as little as possible, being the newbie and not wanting to seem greedy. But it just kept coming, and eyeballs kept turning to me to take more. I walked out the door today with:

10 pounds of vacuum-sealed salad fixings
4 baskets of cherry tomatoes
1 large bag hot dog buns
1 large bag dinner rolls
1 large handful of individual serving packs of carrot sticks
1 handful of Uncrustables (those lovely pre-packaged PBJ sandwiches; quite delicious really!)

All this I lugged home in a box, remembering on the way out the door, "Hey, I have to walk two blocks home in the rain!" I have no idea if I'll even get through all this stuff. On the other hand, my husband and I are going out tonight, so maybe I should hark back to the days of bartering. I wonder if the sitter will accept payment in salad?

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Such a deal!

Discovered on the new chalkboard today:

Better than McDonald's even?

It's my fourth day on the job, and I am tired. It's a three-hour position, but during my training period they've got me working full-time to learn various jobs I may have to fill in from time to time. I know it's wimpy, but I fully admit I'm out of shape...so six hours of standing, lifting, bending, twisting, washing, etc. has got me beat. Heck, just the six hours of standing would have me pretty footsore.

Today I had to learn the workings of the nearby elementary school. I've noticed there's a neat little symbiosis going amongst the schools. The facilities vary greatly from school to school - from nice, modern kitchens with multiple serving lines and elaborate dishwashing systems to a couple fridges, one serving warmer and a residential sized oven. So, for examples, the middle school washes its own dishes and the dishes of another school which are brought over each day by truck, and the intermediate school (where I work) serves its own children and also brings food to the elementary school down the street. So I tagged along, learning the procedure for loading up the food truck, driving the food truck (about the size of a small 'daily rent' U-haul), setting up and serving lunch there, and driving back.

The little guys, apparently, have one choice for lunch, namely: lunch. No multiple entree choices, no water or juice or milk, etc. Just milk, which is conveniently placed for them to pick up before they reach the lunchlady. So by the time they come to us, there are no choices to be made and no beverages to select, thus, it goes FAST. I quickly became a Champion Bun Stuffer as I ripped open package after package of hot dog buns, cramming boiled hot dogs into them just quickly enough to get them on trays as they were passed out.

Yep, today's fare was boiled hot dogs in room temperature buns, heated mass-production baked beans, diced peaches cups and pudding cups. Mmmmmm, mmmmm. And yet, the moment that brought the biggest smile to my face today came when a little boy of about nine came through as one of the last kids, as the crazy rush subsided.

When he saw the hot dogs, and the extra big gloopy scoop of baked beans, and was overjoyed. He placed both hands on the counter, and grinned at us. "When I'm forty years old, I'm STILL gonna be coming here to eat, 'cause everything is sooo good!"

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

I need this!

I dropped by the local discount hardware store, hoping to find some good paving stones for the backyard...tomorrow I plan to do some major work on the backyard, reseed some bald patches, dig up the soil around the edges, lay some fertilizer and hopefully start a garden. (I say hopefully - I am a notorious brown-thumb who could probably kill a silk plant.) Since it was right next to Goodwill, of course I had to stop in there as well.

I...love...Goodwill. I really do. Though in general I seem to lack that stereotypical female shopping gene, I can spend a long time browsing through the Goodwill. You just never know what little treasures you might find. And when I found this particular treasure, I knew immediately that (a) I had absolutely no need for it; and (b) I wasn't leaving the store without it.

A chalkboard, and a rather big one at that. It was about three foot by four foot, with a wooden frame and the green slate I remember from my childhood. Just being near it evoked memories of my childhood and a faint smell of chalk dust. Do you know, the chalkboard is already obsolete in the classroom? I've been to my son's classes. They all use dry-erase boards now. With those smelly markers. It just doesn't compare.

So I loaded it, with great difficulty, into my little Dodge Neon and drove it home, relying entirely on side mirrors as it effectively obscured my rear view. I lovingly placed it in my son's room, who was duly happy to have it. Armed with a fresh piece of chalk, I stood thoughtfully before it, and in a tribute to my school days, christened it with a right triangle and the equation, a = 1/2(bxh).

Duncan stepped up with his piece of chalk and added, "My mom is a poophead."

Monday, March 19, 2007

I have to FEED my child too?

Today was my first day at my new job! I am now a lunch cashier at the local intermediate school (5th and 6th graders.) I've subbed there a handful of times as a server - I get a call maybe twice a month tops to come in for a few hours, fill trays with food, and hand them over to children. But three hours of work a couple times a month doesn't buy much, and when a regular position opened up I jumped at the chance to apply.

It being my first day, I merely "shadowed" another cashier today - stood by and watched her operate the register, helping restock items as needed and just a-larnin'. It's pretty straightforward, touch screen register (I HATE that, but hey). I did learn a few interesting things above and beyond the mechanics of the job:

1. Pre-adolescents find it impossible to keep track of their lunch cards.

2. A surprising number of children perpetually allow their accounts to dip way into the red before bringing in just enough money to catch up; and

3. A surprising percentage of children are on the reduced/free lunch program.

But at least most of these children ARE being provided for by their parents...one hapless young girl, when informed that her account was overdrawn (she got lunch anyway, though, the school never lets them go hungry), told us she was hoping to get caught up soon when she had more babysitting money in. Hel-LO?! After she left I said to the cashier, "What parent makes their 5th grader pay for her own food?" "You'd be surprised," the cashier muttered back to me.

I mean really. Given how many kids were on the reduced/free program there, the income requirements can't be that strict. Sign her up. And if you DO make too much money to qualify for that, then try giving up crack one day a week and PROVIDE LUNCH FOR YOUR CHILD.

Sheesh.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Curses! Foiled again!

Duncan Disorderly lost another tooth today, meaning that tonight I get to engage in one of my favorite tasks of parenthood - being the Tooth Fairy. And by favorite, I mean this:

Tooth Fairy Duty sucks.

I don't even know why I do it. The little skeptic has accused me of being the Tooth Fairy on more than one occasion...as he put it once, "You know, any grown-up could just sneak in after I'm sleeping and take my tooth and leave a dollar...probably YOU!" I staunchly deny it, and he doesn't push further. My guess is he doesn't want to risk losing the dollar. So with every tooth, I sneak in and replace it in the wee hours. Mind you, this boy sleeps with one arm under his pillow, and he is a light sleeper. So this task takes me forever. I have to creep slowly over to his bed in the darkness, then gently ease one hand under his pillow while trying to avoid his arm - and believe me, a tiny little tooth becomes extremely hard to find under these conditions. Sometimes he wakes a bit and I dive out of sight, holding still until he resettles. All told, I usually come out of his room a half hour later with sore knees and a grouchy disposition. All for a kid whose belief in the Tooth Fairy is tenuous at best.

So tonight, I thought I could save myself the hassle with a little sleight-of-hand. After our nightly reading, he climbed under the covers and placed the tooth under his pillow. As he reached up to me for his habitual "hug-and-kiss-and-squeeze", I surreptitiously slid my hand under his pillow and palmed the tooth, taking it with me as I turned off the lights and left. And I held my breath. And I thought, "Man, I'm a genious." And then, alas:

"Mooooommmmm!" sigh.

"I can't find my tooth!" came the call from his room. What could I do? As I entered, he was sitting in the dark running his hand along the sheet under his pillow. So I also ran my hand along the sheet in the dark, replacing the tooth as I did so. "Oh, thank goodness!" he said as he resettled. "I was going to sleep with my hand right on my tooth so I don't lose it."

Oh, I'm going to have fun tonight.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

How true.

Oh, and this is now my most favoritest cookie fortune ever.

SPEED IS A PPOOR SUBSTITUTE FOR ACCURANCY

Umm..how long are we talkin'?

On any given day I have no idea where a conversation with my eight-year-old will take me.

We went out for Chinese buffet, and in the car little Duncan made up a game he called "Would You Rather." We've all played it in various incarnations at one time or another, you know...he'd say "Would you rather be a dog...or a cat?" "If you were reeeeally hungry, would you rather get plenty of spinach, or a tiny bit of dessert?" "Would you rather be rich, or skinny?" (duh! show Momma the money!)

I got into the spirit and tried to come up with a few thinkers myself. "Would you rather be smart, or kind?" I can't help but notice that both husband and son answered "Smart!" without a second's hesitation. Hmm! No wonder I'm the people person in the family! And so it went on, dozens of questions, until Duncan asked the one that had me in stitches.

"Would you rather suffer, or die?"

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Flashin' for Jesus

I stopped in at my local convenience store/gas station today. As I stood at the counter, preparing to pay for my purchases, I was approached by an elderly man. He was seventy if he was a day, wearing an oversized jacket and a grin that said if he had any teeth, they were still sitting on his nightstand somewhere. He got up close, leaned casually on the counter, and in a manner reminiscent of a flasher whipped open his jacket. What the hell? And lo, he was wearing a black T-shirt with huge white lettering that said:

SATAN SUCKS

Then he began to giggle. And giggle, and utter that particular sort of guffaw that is usually the demesne of the Special Needs kid. I was utterly nonplussed.

"Well! How about that. That's a very...straightforward shirt." Okay, so I had no idea what to say. And I don't believe in Satan. And I certainly don't want to get into a theological discussion with an eccentric guffawing stranger. He continued to simply stand there, looking expectantly at me and grinning, while I completed my transaction, then I bid him farewell and left. As I got into my car, I found that I was grinning myself.

I thought, if that wasn't a blog moment, I don't know what is. And to tell the truth, I didn't mind a bit. It was an interesting moment in an otherwise ordinary day.