A FAIR DAY

My town has a fair day.  Well, it's like a fair -- Main Street is shut off to traffic, and a whole bunch of booths and activities and stuff go up all over the sidewalks and into the road.  It's basically Town Day.  I live within walking distance of town, and I also know there's a Farmers' Market going on there, so I decide to mosey on up.

I start at one end where all the hoopla is happening.  A huge stage is set up, and some mature (as in my age) tap dancers are entertaining the crowd.  I'll admit, they're pretty good.  I meander down the street, almost convincing myself that I need another fancy dress on sale (I don't), or that I need an entire pound of pumpkin fudge (I don't), or that I should re-join the Choral Arts Society (they get my contact info, but I won't).

By the time I get to the Farmer's Market, I'm not really sure I want vegetables anymore.  I glance around and realize that I have fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini and such from friends' gardens, and I simply cannot convince myself to throw down $3.50 for a small baggie of green beans.

I wander over to the wine tasting booth (the guy is incredibly stingy about offering anything up from his nearby winery) and decide to play a few games with the old coot.  He thinks I don't know anything, is hesitant to even give me the time of day, so I start tapping into my limited knowledge of wines.

"Is the chardonnay oaked?"

"Um, partially," he responds.

"Partially?  What does that mean?  Is it, or isn't it?"

"Well, er, during the first part of the process..." I cut him off and demand a taste.  It's actually pretty smooth, but, at $25 a bottle, I can do better at the wine tastings I'm going to later, one of which is exclusively chardonnays. 

"Your pinot noir grapes, " I say, "you don't grow them locally, obviously.  From where do you get them?"

"Oh, uh ... well ... Sonoma Valley ..."

"Hmmmm.  California.  I prefer the Oregon pinots.  Let me try that..." And this goes on for a few minutes before I promise to visit his winery (I probably won't) and walk away empty-handed.

This is when two tables opposite each other catch my eye, both featuring locally made honey.  The best part about the locally made honey is that it helps ease allergies, and, no, this isn't an Old Wives Tale, or, if it is, it's a worthy one.  I end up buying a jar of the Methuen honey (a young girl is the beekeeper) and a jar of the Wilmington honey.

I don't end up spending much, but it's okay.  It frees up some money for the wine tastings I go to later, where the chardonnays are far superior, anyway, and a hell of a lot less expensive.

SUMMER'S END

Summer’s over. 

Oh, sure, the date hasn’t passed yet, and it seems like we have another week or so to bask in the calendar’s version of summer.  It may even get hot for a few more days, reminding us that air conditioners must stay in windows until well into October, just in case.

But, I’m back at work, and it’s starting to get darker earlier.  Summer surely is wrapping up its run, and it’s sad in many ways.  I missed the last week or so at the beach, but I did manage to get a few twilight pictures recently that will speak for me.

Hang in there, summer.  Hang in for just a little while longer because I still need you.

HUNGRY TIME

I hate it when I'm hungry and I don't know what I want for dinner.  Take tonight, for example.

I can't decide what kind of salad I want, so I make a tomato and mozzarella and basil salad, but I also make a garden salad with grilled chicken and feta cheese.  I eat some of both.

Earlier I stopped at the store and happened to see packaged pie crusts, so I decide to make ham and cheese calzone to go with the salads.  Do I need to eat calzone on top of two salads, including one with chicken in it?  Of course I do.  I eat two huge hunks of the calzone.

Apparently, I also do not want dinner to end because two hours later, I'm still plowing through a final huge plate of salad, doused in a robust Italian dressing.  I mean, it's healthy, right?  Sort of?

I suppose this is an improvement.  There was a time when being this hungry brought on a chocolate binge.  Now I when I binge, it's on cukes and feta cheese; quite the example.

GO LONG!

The hallway in my wing of the new school is long.  Really long.

I am in the second to last room before the administrative offices, and when I stand outside of my door and gaze down this lengthy corridor, it's almost like peering into an optical illusion --  the walls, the ceiling tiles, the lockers, the floor tiles all seem to melt together into one serious case of tunnel vision.  Everything appears to be spinning ever-so slowly.

We all joke that the walking of this hall will give us buns of steel.  One of the admin guys measured the entire hallway using a metal tape measure to put his mind at ease about the true length of the daily walk: Two football fields. Yup, the long hallway measures the same as two football fields, end to end.

Most people find this information to be important, helping them to focus on whatever exercise is good, such as this lengthy walk.

Not me.

Ever since I realized that the hallway is the same length as two football fields, I want to go out there with a football and play a game.  I want to get that admin guy in the hallway, raise a football with my right arm, and yell, "Go long, Gronk; go looooong!"

And this is why I teach middle school, 

ODE TO CHINESE FOOD

Sure, I know that you in fact
Are not even Chinese.
You're more Americano
Than the Santa Ana breeze.
But I cannot help myself
When your food I need --
I don't require a menu 'cuz
It's memorized, indeed.
I get the same old same old
Which can be a hefty price:
Terikayi beef and wings and
Stuff like pork fried rice,
I will use some soy sauce
(It's usually a hit),
But could you skip the mustard?
That crap smells like shit.
I wonder: Will my fortune
Predict that I am lucky?
(Of course it won't, you stupid girl --
It's just a frigging cookie.)
Had to order early
A small town crowd to fight
Because, folks, please remember:
FOOTBALL STARTS TONIGHT.

DEAR BUD LIGHT

Dear Bud Light:

I just wanted to tell you how very much I love you after a long, strenuous day at work dealing with unnecessary minutiae and incredibly far-fetched gobbledy-goop.  Having temperatures in the 90's with humidity levels damn near the same really isn't helping, either.

I crawl through the townhouse door, open the fridge anticipating something like ice water or juice or something healthy, but there you are.  Yup, there you peek out from behind the Gatorade, smiling at me in your long, brown, glassy suit, a hint of frost at your hips.

Yup.  I see you.  I see what you're doing there, enticing me, calling to me.

You're a beer-siren.  You bastard.

And though I have enough wax in my ears to rival Odysseus, I can still hear you whispering, singing a song that sounds vaguely like a beer commercial.

I'm thirsty, so very thirsty; I'm  tired, so very tired; I am disgusted, so very disgusted.

Help me, O-Bud-Light-Kenobi.  Help me battle the minutiae that plagues me during this September heat wave, this Death Star of Senselessness.

Bless you, and thank you for being icy chill when I need you.

Your friend,

Heliand

SO CLEVER

I think I am so clever.

I hid my school printer from last year and connected it to my computer at work.  This is important because otherwise I would have to print things out remotely, sensitive things like parent emails, guidance information on students, and IEP's.  You know, confidential shit that gets sent to a remote location and printed out in front of god only knows who, or, worse, accidentally gets picked up and left somewhere in the open.

I've known since last spring that my printer is almost out of ink.  I shake the toner cartridge every time I need to print something, so smartypants me looks online today for replacement cartridges on sale.

Guess what!  My work printer is so fancy-schmancy that the cheapest replacement toner is $90.

Well, aren't I just the most brilliant fucking idiot on the planet.

Tomorrow I'm going to WalMart and buying a $25 Cannon printer that comes with $45 worth of ink already loaded.  If I can't get that sucker to connect to the school computer, I can always add it to my printer repertoire here at home.

It's cheaper than $90.  Besides, knowing how things go at work, someone will steal my printer, anyway. This way I'm only out $25 instead of an expensive printer plus a brand new $90 toner cartridge.

Clever?  Who, me?  Dumb as a fucking stump, apparently.

And so it begins.