WASP WATUSI

Today I put on a mini show at the beach. Nope, I don't have a wardrobe malfunction.  I have an attack wasp after me.

As soon as I emerge from the water, where I have been entertaining myself floating and getting smacked by the waves, a large black wasp dive-bombs me.

I wave my hand first, and this just pisses it off.  I start waving my arms around, and it starts swooshing back and forth through my hair.  An older gentleman walking by starts laughing, so I run next to him and take off for my chair, calling behind me, "There!  It's my gift to you!"  He flails his arms as the giant insect buzzes around him.

I sit in my canvas chair, reading a book and minding my own damn business, when the killer wasp returns.  My book instantly goes into the air, and I thrust the paperback at the wasp as if this really might make any difference.  I stand up and dance around, ducking and jumping and swearing my head off.  This motherfucker truly is out to kill me.

As I am dancing away, old people next to me start laughing.  Dangerous move, folks, because now I'm sending the killer your way.  As soon as I see them all motioning with the arms and jumping out of their chairs, I drag my stuff away from them and and the insect and enjoy a peaceful rest of the morning.

Make fun of me doing the Wasp Watusi?  Ha!  No problem--

I'M HAPPY TO SHARE.

PARKING LIKE AN A-HOLE

I would like to say that not many things piss me off, but I would totally be lying.  Damn near everything pisses me off.  Take today, for example.

The movers broke one of my only bookcases at school.  I think I can fix it, but I need a special piece of hardware, something a store clerk calls a pilaster shelf clip.  Of course, I don't get this information (the name of the thing I need) until I'm in store #5, the smallest and least likely of the stores I've searched.  I find a bag of the clips, along with nails I don't need, and buy the whole kit and kaboodle.

This may sound like the whole story, but that would be wrong.  One of the stores I search for these clips is Home Depot.  I mean, surely Home Depot will have it; they have everything.  They have the Goop glue I needed to repair my kayak, for crying out loud.  Four store clerks and as many aisles later, I am told that the clips I am searching for are too old to be used anymore, according to the HD employees.  Of course, they are stupid and don't know shit, so I go somewhere else.

I am already annoyed and damn near back into someone who is coming out of Home Depot with lumber balanced on a shopping carriage.  A fucking shopping carriage?!  Really?  Dude, use one of the rolling metal pallets.  Don't be a complete and total fuckstick.  I can't see you with your damn two-by-fours piled up and stretching off both ends of a fucking shopping carriage.  Moron.

At the next store, I decide to park in a pull-through spot so I don't accidentally wipe out any more shoppers.  I choose a spot six or seven away from the rest of the traffic, and I am the only car parked out in No Man's Land.  I shop quickly, only getting a couple of small things I need once I determine that the store does not have the damn clips.  I head out to my car a whole fifteen minutes after I left it, and it is still parked in No Man's Land, but it has company.

Yup, company.  Really close company.  Some asshole mini-van driver parked his/her "soccer mom car" next to my car.  Right next to my car.  Unreasonably close to my car.  Yet the rest of the entire fucking parking lot is wide frigging OPEN.

There are a few people milling around the lot on their way in to Staples and such, and these people hear my tirade.  I swear a few times, yell out, "Really?  REALLY?!?!" then add some choice words about what a fucking asshole this driver must be.

After I get into my car, I decide to step back out again.  Bullshit.  I'm taking a picture.  Really, I think to myself, this is blog-worthy.  

 So, kids, because some idiot movers aren't careful with my belongings at school (what a surprise), I must go on a Pilaster Shelf Clip Quest.  Because I must go on a Pilaster Shelf Clip Quest, I almost back into a man masquerading as someone who knows what he's doing (and failing miserably) with two-by-fours.  Because I almost back into a man masquerading as someone who knows what he's doing with two-by-fours, I park way, way, waaaaaaay out in the next lot.

Because I park, way, way,  waaaaaaay out in the next lot, some fucker in a mini van tries to prevent me from getting into my car to leave.  But, don't worry, Asshole Parker, it's your lucky day because not much pisses me off, dude, not much.

Except for everything.  Everything pisses me off.

On second thought, RUN.

BEACH SUNSET

Today I find myself in my classroom, tearing through thirty-nine moving bins, rearranging furniture, and hiding boxes of important stuff (only to discover the cabinet doesn't really truly lock after all).  I make some copies, line up the thirty desks and chairs, but don't bother actually unpacking anything.  The rest I'll do on their time, not mine.

The afternoon rolls in, and the temperature is still in the high eighties. An adventurous friend and I decide that the beach is the perfect way to wrap up the summer break.  And perfect it is until we realize that we cannot face the sun and watch the water at the same time.

The pictures do not properly do the view justice, but the sentiment is the same -- Great afternoon at the beach after a stressful day back to work.  My friend and I are both teachers, but she started work in earnest today; I don't officially go back until next Tuesday.  For now, enjoy.  It may not be quite the same as being there, but it'll hold us all through.

I AM NOT A SANE PERSON

What do you do when you have a few hours of free time strung together, but you need to stay close to home?

Most sane people would answer with practicality and forethought.  They’d suggest taking in a local ball game or lunching out on a restaurant patio while sipping margaritas. 

I am not a sane person.

I pack my car to its capacity with two kayaks, a couple of board games, a few changes of clothes, and head to my sister’s house in Maine.  She only lives about seventy-five minutes away, and I have easy access to the major New England highways should I need to make an emergency run home or elsewhere.

I won’t go into all the details in this blog because, quite frankly, I’m exhausted.  I’m in recovery mode still from a nasty, knock-me-flat-on-my-ass bout of peritonsillar cellutlitis/abcess.  The overview is that my sister and I hike a small mountain, hit L. L. Bean plus a few other stores, go kayaking the wrong way and paddle the Mousam River rather than Estes Lake (they’re both connected), meet the new puppy addition (she’s adorable), and play some board games and rounds of Cribbage.

All this sounds wonderful, and it really is – I have a fantastic weekend.

Except for the email. 

Yup.  A work email, confirming my worst fears about our move to a new combined school:  some of our stuff is missing again.  Many of us had stuff stolen during and after the first move, and now it is happening again as we transition into our new digs.  This means I have to forego the last beach day or two and get into my classroom to rescue (then hide and lock up) my professional belongings. 

If I don’t do this right away, I’m going to go nuts with anxiety.

As soon as I get back from my jaunt, I unpack the gear from the hatch, wipe everything down, put it away, and start immediately packing my car with things for my classroom – three boxes of curriculum, and some furniture that I rescued last spring so it wouldn’t be thrown out (a old chair and a rolling cart).  I’ll stuff in the two grocery bags full of supplies tomorrow morning before I head to work.

That’s right – to work … on one of the last great beach days of the summer because, as I mentioned before, I am not a sane person.  If that last fact doesn’t scare people, then come by my classroom when (if) I discover any of my stuff missing out of the thirty-nine crates I packed up and marked.  When (if) I find everything in order, then I’ll sip margaritas on the patio.

That’s sanity I can tolerate.

STILL ON VACATION --- SUCKERS

Just so you all know, I've been trying to write my blog for over an hour.

Due to a combination of sangria and a few games of Bananagrams and Barbie Queen of the Prom, every idea that I suggest for a blog topic is getting shot down.  Apparently, I left my creativity somewhere on the river I accidentally kayaked this morning when I turned right at the bridge instead of left.  It's not like I couldn't see the lake ten feet away.  It's just that the other way seemed quieter, and it was quiet ... except for the near-animal attack.

But that's a story for another day.

So I won't tell you about the wrong-sized doggie poop bags, or the spider that ended up on my kneecap, or the lady with the electric orange hair, or the bad case of Foot In Mouth Disease that seemingly runs in my family.  Nope, I won't tell you about any of those things. 

But, I will tell you that I had a great weekend hiking Bradbury Mountain and floating down the Mousam River, and I enjoyed meeting the family's newest puppy.  As for the tales of inept kayaking and hillside portapotties, those will have to wait.

I'm still on vacation. 

Suckers.

VACATION DAY

Last week I took a blog sick day. 

Today my collective bargaining agreement with Blogger.com stipulates that I can take a vacation day.  

But, I will post a few clues as to where I am.  

If you can find me, then you can join me for a paddle in my spare kayak ... but you'll have to fight my sister for it.  

P.S.  When we were kids, she could kick my ass.  

I'll be back tomorrow with more adventures from Vacationland (hint hint hint).

NO SUMMER LEFT

Opened the windows hoping for relief.
A little bit of air movement, however it was brief.
Now I'm trying not to sweat, I'm trying all I can,
But honestly there's not much help from this tiny fan.

According to the calendar the summer has to end.
Even though we're starting school, the mercury won't bend.
I don't want to stand up in this heat and try to teach
Because my brain will still be lounging back upon the beach.

Finally this fall I do not have a kid in school --
It's kind of strange to skip the shopping malls and all that gruel.
I find it hard to break routine of backpacks, books, and tears.
After all, I raised school kids for twenty-five long years.

Now I sit and swelter as my mind pretends it's fall.
Humidity is lower but I cannot tell at all.
I'm packing boxes for my class - there's so much I must heft.
I can't believe there is no more vacation summer left.

Okay, children, better get yourselves all packed and set.
I am the meanest teacher probably that you have met,
And if you don't believe me, I'll say those words so cruel:
Set your clocks and set your clothes 'cause, kids, it's time for SCHOOL.