BACK TO SCHOOL 2021

Dear Everyone,

Please be kind to teachers. This is our last “free weekend” (for many, that has already passed) before another Covid-crazy year starts. Please understand that we do not make the mandates nor rules – we simply follow them, just like you do.

Also, for those of you who are under the mistaken belief that teachers get paid for time off all summer, you couldn’t be more mistaken. We are per diem employees. We do not get paid for holidays nor snow days nor any “vacation” day your child gets or that we get. If we get “paid all summer,” it is because we have chosen to have our per diem rate slashed significantly in order to have our earned pay doled out to us over the summer so we don’t starve to death.

Please be kind to those who wander around with completely shell-shocked expressions this weekend. We are the Teachers, the Warriors, the Extreme Paper Pushers who love your children almost as much, as much, and sometimes more than you do (if your child might be having a bad morning). We aren’t asking for thanks, kudos, nor raises – just a slight bit of patience and compassion as we mask up (literally) for school to start.

Love,

A Teacher

ON HAVING A KAYAK

Rain, rain, go away . . . Truly, just go away.

No one wants a drought, but we would like to give up the ark building. It’s getting old around here. Now we have Hurricane Henri making an appearance, due here at any moment – maybe even by the time you read this.

However, I have an ace in my pocket until the rain stops. I have a kayak.

Most of my kayak plans are thwarted this summer by the weather or by my schedule, but predominantly it is the rain. I finally get a chance to get out on a decent-sized lake, but the forecast is iffy. Doesn’t matter. I drive up to the lake, anyway.

When I arrive, my friend and I decide that we should get right out on the lake before the weather turns. We kayak to the far end of the lake, and it starts to sprinkle. We keep paddling because the clouds are changing. First we get rained on, then we see rain in the distance to the left, then rain in the distance to the right. Other than the brief light shower or two, we manage to kayak the lake without many other weather-related interruptions.

As soon as we pull up to shore, though, the sky turns a mid-shade of gray. By the time we haul the kayaks out of the water and set ourselves up in beach chairs, it starts to rain. No surprise. I’ve come prepared, though. I have my sun umbrella, which can double as a rain umbrella.

After a ten-minute downpour, we are ready to go in the water and float around on inflated rafts. For a short while, until the anti-rain people return, we have the beach and water pretty much to ourselves and our small contingency.

So, rain – go away, or hang around, or do whatever you dang-well please because I, too, have decided to do as I dang-well please. Two can play at this game. You and Henri might be winning the battle this weekend, but just wait. My summer isn’t over yet, and I don’t give in that easily.

Besides, I have a kayak . . . and I know how to use it.

AND I BUILT THIS . . . TWO

Some things I can build and some things I cannot.

As I mentioned in the last blog, I still have a shelf unit and two pub chairs to put together. These are less “building” and more “assembling.” However, the directions still lack words. I cannot do pictures, people. I always failed those parts of the Iowa IQ tests that I took as a kid. What would this shape look like if it were put together? What would this look like is you took it apart?

My answers: CRAP, that’s what anything would look like if I put it together or took it apart. Crap, crap, utter crap.

(I have a failed attempt at a foldable kayak, but that’s a story for another day and mostly a manufacturing problem. Note to readers: Do NOT invest it Tucktec kayaks – the assembly mechanism is off by centimeters, and the instructional video clearly shows a broken piece that the guy just blows by like it’s nothing. Thank god for UPS returns.)

I have to stay out of the sun for a few days due to yet another weird medical issue (not measles – been there, done that), and, of course, it is the ONLY time all summer that New England has had several decent days in a row. So, I decide to assemble the last pieces of furniture because I’ll be damned if I will let that failed kayak experiment ruin my confidence.

I set out all of the pieces that I need for the pub chairs because I figure (correctly) that these will be far worse to assemble than the shelf unit. Step #1 – one of the swivel mechanisms is jammed. FML. I put on a pair of work gloves and force that sucker to start turning. Then, I begin the assembly, needing, of course, a small, super-powered flashlight (which, strangely enough, I own) to line up the holes. Two hours later, I have two pub chairs.

So, I decide, what the hell. I have two more hours. I’ll assemble the damn shelf unit, too. I take out all the parts for the shelf unit and study the directions.

All of a sudden, something completely unpredictable happens. I look at the pictures for the directions and decide that I know an even easier way to assemble this that will not require my gray hair getting grayer, me needing a high-powered flashlight, nor alcohol consumption to keep my nerves in check. Thirty minutes … yes, thirty teeny tiny minutes later, the shelf unit is assembled and ready for action.

In a way, I am glad that I finished up all of this furniture stuff by building last the easy shelf unit. Had I started that way, I would’ve been way over-confident and set myself up for disappointment. I am pleased to report that all of the furniture I have built/assembled so far is still standing and functioning.

Maybe next I will take on plumbing. Watch out, Three Stooges!

I BUILT THIS

I am NOT handy. Nope. Not even a little. My idea of repairing something usually involves duct tape, Gorilla Glue, or the trash can.

When I get the urge to be “handy,” I buy a piece of furniture that needs to be assembled. After a mistake or two, I get it right, semi-right, or just darn right enough. Usually it takes me months to recover from a building project, mostly because it’s traumatic but also because it takes me ten times longer than a normal person to assemble anything. (Yes, this includes puzzles.)

I have recently purchased several things that need to be assembled: a bathroom linen cabinet, a computer table, an accent table, a drop-leaf table, a bookshelf unit, and two pub-style chairs. All of these items represent the great and unwavering faith that I have in myself, despite repeated failures and shortcomings in assembling furniture.

In case you think I am kidding, I have made one and one trip only to Ikea. Oh, I loved the store -- until I got to the warehouse part. Holy crap in a cookie jar! People actually assemble this stuff . . . voluntarily?! Are there really that many weirdos in the world that a store like this, a franchise no less, can flourish?!

You sick, sick bastards!

I am pleased to report that so far everything is assembled except for the bookshelf unit (I am still recovering from the drop-leaf table episode) and the two pub-style chairs (they’re in transit from the manufacturer). If you see an old lady covered in duct tape and Gorilla Glue wandering the streets aimlessly, babbling about directions no longer having words but only pictures, that will be me. Feel free to bring your drills, screwdrivers, and wrenches to my room at the asylum. I’m sure I’ll need some furniture there, too.

FAIR USE IS A CRAPSHOOT WHEN IT COMES TO MY CAR

My car is a mess. It needs a wash, a good vacuuming, and the windows should be cleaned.

Recently I finally organized the trunk, which hasn’t been done thoroughly since I finished moving at the end of April. I cleaned out the back seat so I could load my break-in-half kayak into my car. That’s as far as I got, and the last time I even tried to make my car presentable was about two weeks ago.

A little background might help here:  I often write while driving.

Yes, you read that correctly. I actually write in weird, slanted, giant letters while keeping my eyes fixed on the road because I am unwilling to let a good idea get away from me just because I’m cruising along at 85 mph. I keep several notebooks and writing pads, lots and lots of pens and pencils, and several Post-It Note pads easily within reach of the steering wheel.

Well, I did until people started noticing these things.

Struggling with the mess: “Hey, I can’t buckle the belt with all of these binders stuffed next to the seat.”

Sitting on multiple writing implements: “Geez, just how many pens do you really need? Do you have stock in Papermate?”

Grabbing a purple Post-It Note that sticks to thigh: “What the hell does ‘Civil War Riot 1861’ mean?”

Making a face: “Doris Day? Que Sera, Sera? What are you smoking?!”

About two months ago, before I started cleaning out my car and when I was still jaded from the end of the Covid-ravaged school year, I confirmed that my current manuscript du jour may or may not walk the violation line of the U.S. Copyright Fair Use Law. Most of the notes in the car pertained to items that fall into the questionable Fair Use bucket. Of course, a lot of research could discount my concerns, but I remembered gathering up all of the loose notes and . . .

And what? Did I throw them out? Oh, snap. I think I did. I am pretty certain that in one of my post-work furies I decided that I would never need that crap again and that the manuscript would never be worth reading so let’s just junk the whole dang thing. I still have the manuscript, and I’m still playing with it, but what about the mountains of research scraps?

Friday night I do some more research and discover that, hey, my notes and concept ideas do not, I repeat, do NOT violate Fair Use Law. This makes me very happy. It’s near midnight when I make this wonderful discovery. Life will be better with all of my notes . . .

My notes. My notes? MY NOTES!

 I manage to sleep, despite my unease about the notes. In the course of my previous semi-car-cleaning, I cannot remember seeing the notes since early June. But I cling to my sole hope: I have yet to clean out the center console storage. It is the one part of the car I haven’t touched yet in my organizing. Did I save all of those months of note-writing, or did I have a knee-jerk reaction (which I have been known to do but not often) and trash everything?

I am pleased to report that all of my notes are still in the car, in the center console, shoved under a plastic bag full of paper masks, an old hairbrush, a half-used spray canister of sunscreen, a collection of plastic straws when the world was going all-paper and straws disintegrated as soon as they touched liquid, old sunglasses, and an inordinate collection of restaurant napkins.

My car still needs a wash, but at least now I have the mess under control, and, as a bonus, I have uncovered, discovered, and recovered notes I feared were lost forever. As the hippies say, “WRITE ON!” Or something like that – I don’t want anyone suing me over Fair Use.