Note to Self:

Um, just in case anyone ever wondered...when you're driving? And the sun gets in your eyes? You should reconsider flipping down the visor if any of the following conditions happen to be in place:

1. Your garage door opener is clipped to said visor.
2. You have a chocolate/banana/peanut butter milkshake in the cupholder.
3. You are Pigs and have a propensity for bizarre accidents.

In case you are curious, a garage door opener that is propelled directly into a chocolate banana peanut butter milkshake while hurtling down the expressway at approximately 75 miles per hour will:

a) submerge
b) get very, very sticky
c) no longer open your garage

Hypothetically, Part 2

So, the readership seems to agree that the hypothetical child should have been punished in some way. Would it change your opinion if I told you that his hypothetical father was a prominent member of the community? Because clearly, we can't punish a child whose father is a prominent member of the community. Plus, his hypothetical mom says that he's too sensitive to receive conduct marks, that he should get special treatment. Even when the policeman came to her door, she said he could only come in if he was nice to her son. So, since he's sensitive and all...
Don't you think that we should instead yell at the [really good] sub in front of the child about her behavior? Remembering that her behavior included chasing this child across the playground screaming his name? Did I mention that he turned and looked at her and then kept running? Remember that we are taking the word of a child whether or not he punched someone over the word of a [trusted, loyal, experienced] substitute. And don't you think that we should then give the child the privilege to come straight to the principal's office in the future without asking whenever he might feel a bit uncomfortable? Don't you? Don't you?!

Hypothetically

Hypothetically, if a child, say....I don't know, ran away from school because a sub gave him a conduct mark for punching someone. Ran away home across a busy road? Do you think that child should be punished by the school? Hypotheticallly, of course. Just your opinion.

Shudder

My throat hurts right now. You know why? Because I was just screaming within a foot of my second snake within two days. You know what? I am not a fan of the snake. They don’t quite give me the willies the way the many-legged creatures do, but good grief! Who wants to bump up to a snake?

Last night, Gus and I went for a walk with a friend. Gus is a great walking dog for one reason: he doesn’t pee or poop in other people’s yards unless we stop to talk. He is all business on a walk. His goal? To find bunny rabbits and chase them. No time for peeing. He saves it all up for my yard when we get home.

Which brings us to snake #1. As Gus as I enter the yard, I notice a long gray and black object frozen in place in the grass. Gus walks by it obliviously on one side with me on the other side and the leash passes casually over the snake’s body. Gah! We gather the neighbors and have a lengthy debate regarding the merits of killing him with a shovel (I was strongly in favor) and decide to leave him alone. He later goes down into the drainage sewer thinger on his own accord. This is about our 4th snake in as many years, so I wasn’t expecting to see another. Right? You’d think.

After arriving home from school today, I let Gus out and soon began to hear incessant barking. Because I care about what my neighbors think and I don’t want to get blackballed from the neighborhood, I went outside – in my bare feet – to get him. I thought he probably had a mouse. It was clearly his mouse bark. You can imagine my alarm when I saw Gus barking viciously at a snake that is coiled up and hissing at him with its mouth open. I saw little snake fangs and a little snake waggy tongue. There is really nothing cute about a snake. That snake was NOT happy with Gus, nor did it want to “play” as he did. I lunged at Gus and grabbed him and raced inside where I proceeded to almost have a heart attack. (Is that good for the Piglet? I doubt it.)

That is absolutely ENOUGH with the snakes! This was in broad daylight! And Gus the Idiot Beagle is about to hang himself on a curtain to get back outside. I don’t think I will ever allow him out there again! If you are interested in finding him now, he can be located by the backdoor, glaring at me and pouting because I won't let his get after his snake.



On another note, this is seriously going to interfere with my laying out.

The Big 3-0

Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me-eeee,
And I can't even drink!

Bummer.

Asparagus, anyone?

When you're in a hurry, there's really nothing better than when your garbage disposal throws up shredded asparagus all over your cabinet. It's really great when the pipe breaks and all the asparagus-y water runs all over your feet.

What's extra cool is after you've cleaned up the mess and you are waiting for your husband to come fix it, you have a bout of temporary insanity and forget that the pipe is hanging open and strain your macaroni noodles in the sink, thus pouring scalding hot water all over your cabinet and, again, onto your feet.

Help

This blog is so screwed up. If you know how to fix it, please email me. Help meeeeeee!

15 minutes later....

Okay. I think I've fixed it. If you were one of the 20 or so people who emailed me to tell me how messed up my blog was, will you please let me know it it's better now? I have very limited mad computer code skillz.

Thank you so kindly.

Heart,
Pigs

I would like to state for the record...

This post has been revised in hopes of making it more viewable....please let me know if you were having issues before and you can see it now!

...that Pigs is knocked up! [Note: Pigs' mom has requested that I stop using this phrase, also for the record. She also does not condone my talk of all things poop. Again, record.]

Aren't you excited for my students who get to deal with my mood swings and general lack of patience? Oh, wait.....that has little to do with the current situation.

So what do you think about that? A piglet in October!

Sometimes it's just a Monday

Sometimes, you come out of the shower to find your beagle in your bed like this:



...and you know it's going to be one of those Mondays. If Gus can't handle it, then it's not going to be a banner day.

My day got off to a slow start since my first class is generally comatose until about 10:30. The only alert being was my friend ScaryKid. Now, I generally like ScaryKid a lot. He's a bit obsessed with weaponry for my taste, but I'm nice to him in hopes that he won't come back and kill me someday. He always greets me with a cheery morning thought.

ScaryKid: "Hey, Mrs. Pigs? I think I figured out what the first weapon was."

Me: "A rock?" [grin]

ScaryKid: [stone-faced stare] "No. A catapault. Or maybe a bow and arrow. "

Of course, silly me. As my lethargic sloths began to rouse themselves from their stupors, I began my lesson. I soon noticed some violent movements from the corner of my eye. Scary Kid was trying to strangle himself. He would grip his neck, wag it around a bit, then relax, as though dead, before beginning again. He wasn't hurting anyone else today, so I let him be and continued my lesson.

That's when HelperMommy comes into the room importantly on a baggie quest. I continue teaching over my shoulder while I fetch her some baggies when her cellphone rings. Not just a ring, mind you, but that phone began to sing. "Ain't no hollaback girl! I ain't no hollaback girl!" Gwen Stephani sang into my classroom, clearly not blending with my "Do you think Sam Houston did the right thing by letting Santa Anna go" line of questioning. My class began to titter and giggle and bop like a chorus line, rockin' out to Gwen. It would be unprofessional and wrong for me, the teacher, to use a cellphone during class, or even to have one ring, so I was sure she would just silence it and apologize.

So you would think, right? No, no. She answers her phone immediately. "Hello?......Oh, I'm so sorry, mom.....Do you think you'll go to the funeral?.......Really.......Me? No, I can't go. I won't be able to make it........Well, you know SuperChild has soccer on Sunday.......Right.....Send my condolences.......Pigs? I think that should be enough baggies, thanks......Okay, mom.....Love you too......I will.....Okay, bye." This is all at full, regular phone conversation volume. My class stared at her, fascinated as she crossed the room and walked out.

I tried to shake it off and get back to my lesson when I noticed ScaryKid had turned his pencil into a gun and had turned it on himself. I shrugged. It was a nice change from it being aimed at me.

Dear Students,

I know that the state of Texas mandates that we take all instructional posters and efforts off of the walls for The Test. I know that we have taught you everything in the curriculum and it is only mid-April. I know that it's 90 degrees outside and it feels as though it might be summertime. I even understand that there was a full moon yesterday. However, please remember that we still have six weeks of school to go.
I know that baseball, soccer, and softball seasons have started. I know that the time changed and you are allowed to play outside a little later. I have come to accept that you are just an Unfortunate Group of People. I pity your fifth grade teachers with an indescribable empathy. However, pumpkins, you have got to start acting like civilized human beings.
Sticking my brown markers in water bottles to make "tea" to give to people? Not really appropriate. Yelling at me because you didn't do your homework that you've had a month to do? Not so much my problem. The constant girl fights because "she didn't ask us first if she could like him?" Puh-lease.
My main concern is your pathetic apathy. I find it incredibly sad that you don't do your homework. I find it even sadder that your parents defend you when I bring this to their attention. My prediction that this is what our school would come to without grades has come to fruition sooner than I expected. Middle school is going to be a cold, hard slap in the face to you and I want to be there to see it all go down. I think it's lame that you don't take any pride in what score you might achieve on your state tests. I feel sorry for the 3-4 kids in our class who do care because I spend all my time standing on my head to motivate the rest of the class.
So, students? We have six more weeks together. They could be fun, but I suspect you will make them otherwise. I have never seen a group quite like you. A class? Yes. But never an entire grade level. I pray that you are not foreshadowing future generations.
I hope for your sake that the moon wanes, you realize that you are taking two Very Important Tests this week, and that you grow some scrap of respect for the adults who have tried to help you all year. I also hope that someday when your parents realize that they have no control over you that they think back to this time and think, "Boy, maybe I should've done an ounce of parenting back in fourth grade instead of giving into their every whim and idea and defending them to teachers who knew what they were talking about."
Happy Easter,
Mrs. Pigs

Poop.

Why is it that when you go poop, you're fine to be in there with it, but as soon as you smell someone else's poop, it's nasty? Have you ever walked into your own bathroom and not known if that smell was your poop from earlier or if someone else had followed you? I don't know what to think then. Just a thought.

The Dreaded High Crack

Weddings are usually a lot of fun and this one was no exception. My favorite part, though? The Incident at the restaurant where my mom and I hosted the bridesmaid luncheon.
It has come to my attention that the low rise pants trend may be slightly out of control. Me? I adore low rise pants because they are the first pant to come in style that actually fits me. Upon extensive discussion with various relatives, we discovered that there are two types of women in my family: those who can wear low rise pants and those who cannot. We will call them High Cracks and Low Cracks.
It seems that I am fortunate to be blessed with a Low Crack. My sister and cousin are afflicted with the dreaded High Crack, making the wearing of low rise pants tricky at best. However, they do their best to either wear them tastefully or to avoid them altogether. Some people just insist on wearing them at any cost. These people need to invest in some type of protective covering device. Perhaps a cape. This is what my sister spotted in the [relatively nice] restaurant in which we were hosting said luncheon. I, of course, had to snap a picture with my blog readers in mind. Ignore the nice lady in the purple frock and look carefully in the background. Now imagine eating your lunch and having 17 people staring at you while pointing and laughing. Hypothetically, of course.

It also has been brought to my attention by both my sister and cousineddie that I have got to stop standing about like a horse. Ever since my high school prom, all pictures of me in a dress involve a stance as though I'm about to leap upon a horse and ride off. Take a wild guess which one is me:

Giddyap!

One of these things is not like the other....

I'm here! Betcha didn't know I was going anywhere, huh? I got up at 4:30 this morning (gasp!) and flew home to NC. I am in my cousin's wedding on Saturday, so I have arrived for all of the affiliated festivities. Thus far I have tied many little ribbons on many little vases and made place cards. Fun! In just two short days I will get to wear a vibrantly pink bridesmaid dress. (It actually looks nice, and it's a nice change from the three [3] periwinkle numbers that I already own.)
I am a touch Gus-sick. He cried and screamed from his room when I left this morning. That dog sees a suitcase and has a meltdown. The wailing could certainly be heard from miles away. He will be staying with his Auntie and Uncle who own the pugs, one of whom has a mad crush on him. You might remember last year about this time when he was there and had The Incident? Yeah. That. We had a long talk last night about how to treat other animals with respect. I think he was listening.
On a comical note, you must remember the parent who yelled at me on a field trip last fall then treated me like the scum of the earth for the rest of the year? Really a lovely woman. Her husband also emailed us that he had "heard quite enough from teh fourth grade teachers this year and would not address [this] until after the new year" just before holiday break. You will not be surprised to hear that we did not receive a gift from these parents. We did however receive some [possibly tainted] candy, which we all promptly threw in the trash.
Anyway. Same parent! Emails me yesterday wanting to know if I would babysit her kids for 3 nights and 4 days. She needed someone single and responsible and she knew that I was single. She wanted to make sure that someone was there to give them a bath and drive them to their activities.
[pause]
This is wrong on so many levels that I'm not even going to comment upon them. Let's make it a game, kind of like What's Wrong With This Picture? My game is called How Many Things Can You Find Wrong With This Scenario? I'll add more if you miss any. Did I mention that this woman has a well-known habit of suing people? Did I mention that she has tried to make me say that her son has ADD so that she can trap me? Okay, now go.

Yep, Yep

You know what really kind of annoys me? When steps are too short and too close together. You have to walk up them like a penguin unless you skip steps. I think that skipping steps looks kind of man-ish, so I try not to do that in public. A normal step should not be only 3 inches taller than the one before it. That's just difficult.
Also. I don't think that I should have to detect when a child has not taken medicine in the morning, email the mom, and convince her that he will have a better day if she will bring the medicine. I also don't think that child should aim "guns" at my head while I'm teaching. I also think that blatant acts of defiance toward 3 teachers in one morning should be rewarded by mom with a lunch out. Just sayin'.
On a happy note, I adore getting my hair cut at the nice place. The nice place being the place that actually does some scalp massage action and multiple conditioners. The nice place that brushes, cuts, thins, dries, and straightens/styles the hair. So luxurious. I should really go more than a few times a year. Ah, well.

[insert disgruntled sigh here]

I have just been summoned to jury duty. I do not have a problem serving this duty, as I know it is a key part of our system. Everyone should have a turn so that it is fair and just.

Except.

This is the 5th [fifth!] time that I have been summoned since moving to Texas 3.5 years ago. FIFTH! I was first summoned to the local municipal court, served, got my check mark, and left. Then I was called three times to the county "big court", which took great lengths to get out of prove my exemption status since I had already served. It involved a lot of photocopying of things that could not be faxed or emailed and driving of said things to places.
So now I get called again to the local court, which apparently you only have a two year break from. My two year anniversary expired February 28th and I was summoned in March. Fabulous. And of course, it's the day before the TAKS tests. I will be calling to have this rescheduled, but POOH! Is it because I'm out of state? I know people who have never been called! This is a conspiracy.

Pout.

Alert! Alert! We are under attack!

I hosted a baby shower today. You haven't seen anything funny until you've seen me trying to convince 6 wayward pink and yellow balloons that they need to be in my car on a rainy, windy morning. It was like Wack-A-Mole, The Party Version. I'd guide one in and two would pop out. I'd ease 3 in and the wind would shwoop them all back out in my face - boom! smack! bash! I'm certain that the people in the store were having a good laugh at my expense, but they did not make any moves to come assist me. After at last poking the final floating sphere of joy into my backseat, I drove home. Just for the record, this is extremely unsafe.
Driving with helium-filled balloons in your car should be a ticket-worthy offense. I could not see anything. The balloons slide around along the ceiling building up static, and then come cling to my head while I'm trying to negotiate a tricky merge. It's just a bad idea. I did make it home safely and ushered my floating mass into the house where it met Gus.


Gus has a rather volatile relationship with balloons. He's absolutely convinced that they are a dangerous predator lurking at the ceiling level, but he is so enamored with them that he can't stop staring. Then if the air-conditioning comes on and one moves, he scampers over to hide beside the Big Chair and won't move. But he's brave. Boy, he is brave.