:: p-dog ::

News from the ranch: we have a new cow, bringing the tally up to 10. Bob delivered a beautiful (wet and gooey) dark brown calf yesterday morning, one day after we'd left and a wicked cold front had blown in. Mom couldn't rest easy for worrying about the animals, so she and Dad drove out in the morning just to check on them, and yes, Bob had given birth in a manger. Despite the obvious, we did not name the new calf Jesus. Nor Fun Bags. After an intense brainstorming session, we decided on Joe for a girl (going with our gender-reversal theme), and for a boy, since they would sell him in 8-9 months, Veal.

And for you, Peanut, and all others who would like a look at these famed bovines, I posted scads of holiday pictures, including far too many of cows, on gallery. If time with your family becomes overwhelming, take a look at mine.

[Allison used to love that I'd call my parents Mom and Dad when talking about them (instead of "my mom" and "my dad") as though they are the only mom and dad in the world. Did you notice?]

:: Leslie H - 7:49 AM - ::

It used to be, when I was back in Dallas, that I was returning to a life I had just left. It was still home, more familiar to me than another place. At some unknowable point, though, the center of my life shifted, and I became a visitor. I have come just frequently enough that it is not special or unusual to be here--I no longer have that feeling of wonder that these familiar places can exist without me. I feel farther and farther away from who I was when I left. The memories and feelings that used to come automatically as I drove down familiar streets now require effort to evoke. I can do it, listening to a particular song, looking at a particular strip of stores, all with varied and rich roles in my history--I can brush high school Leslie, graze her with my fingertips. But at the gulf in time grows, it will be harder to reach her. Already my memories are false, and I am losing what it felt like to be in this life.

Yes, it's the holidays. And as wonderful Nicole said, I'm all sentimental and shit.

:: Leslie H - 8:02 PM - ::

OY! Bryan and I were on our way back from Johanna's birthday dinner (at a sushi bar/disco where groups of Stanford frat boys routinely stood on their chairs to drink sake bombs, and during which Peanut gave us all prolonged hugs and whispered that we were "her favorite") when we got pulled over for a random "sobriety check." Bryan made the inconvenient mistake of being honest with the cop and admitting to having a beer with dinner, and his prize for such forthrightness was getting to pull over and go through the entire nose-touching, line-walking ordeal. I craned my head around to watch out the back window and felt my leg go completely numb as I tried not to pee on myself (the bathroom line at the restaurant was really long).

After ten minutes or so we drove away without incident, though we both had some rough moments wondering how the breathalizer results would turn out. Though Bryan felt fine, he had had a beer to drink, and neither of us know how blood alcohol level actually corresponds to how sober one feels. What is certain, though, is that if they'd hauled in Bryan for a DUI, they would have had to take me in for public urination.

Anyway, we're home now, and packed, and ready to leave for Texas and Christmas and everything else. Happy holidays.

:: Leslie H - 11:44 PM - ::

School is over.*

Hallelujah. The birth of Christ may not get my panties in a twist, but a break from the kiddies is big news. I got some heartfelt holiday wishes from some kids, a few visits from last year's crop, and loads of cards from other teachers. 8th graders--at my school at least--seem to have grown out of giving teachers gifts, all to the good considering the normal gift fare. I did get a few cards and two stuffed animals, one talking Pooh from a current 9th grader, and one dog-in-a-santa-hat from a current student. An 8th grade boy, who presented it shyly after class. Do 8th grade boys ever give their teachers presents? He must have a crush on me.

But what makes the whole thing tragic is the possible fate of the toy. I have absolutely no use for it. Would it be wrong to re-gift it to my dog?

*for two weeks

:: Leslie H - 6:15 PM - ::

One day till Christmas break. After that, five months left of my teaching career. It's pretty bizarre.

Things have been going better than I expected this week. After the hell of last week, I was prepared for the worst, but kids have been almost moderately crazy. Or I've been fairly evil.

One of my joys this week has been yard duty. For 15 minutes in the mornings I have to go stand out behind the gym to make sure kids don't kill each other. It's surprisingly entertaining to watch them run around and play every conceivable sport that involves a ball. Recently I've enjoyed watching the tiniest kid imaginable (I swear he doesn't crest 4 feet) play basketball with his friends, some of whom are twice his size. He gamely rockets around the court and lobs the ball toward the hoop, undaunted both by the unlikely physics of making the shot and the two normal-sized kids towering over him, blocking any hope of scoring simply by standing there.

Question of the Day: Why does every house key look exactly the same?

:: Leslie H - 4:57 PM - ::

We're just back from this year's Trek to Tahoe, the fabulous day of skiing that was the perfect cure for my terrible week. Sick + teaching = bad, bad days. Middle school students lack any kind of empathy. I ended up taking both Monday and Friday off. Friday was infinitely more exciting, as Bryan and I left early for Tahoe with Catie and Johanna. We rolled into our mountain cabin at about 3, subjected Bryan to half an hour of Oprah, and grilled up a fabulous dinner of steaks and vegetables, which we ate in front of our roaring fire.



On Saturday morning, we launched out of bed, greeted the rest of our cabin (most of whom had arrived after we had gone to bed, having fought rush hour traffic from the Bay to Tahoe), and dressed for skiing. Bryan and I spent most of the day skiing with Jenn. The mountain got fairly crowded, so we stuck to the backside: half a dozen wide, groomed blacks--exactly what we like. The runs are easy blacks, but the diamonds all over the signs kepts most people off that side of the slope.


(That's right: still no ski jackets. The weather was so warm, though, that we didn't miss them at all.)

After half a hot shower (the water turned glacial in mid-lather), all eight of us in the cabin napped away the early evening. We got up at 7 to make dinner and play a few modest drinking games. Silly rules introduced: if you say the word "drink" you must drink; you may only imbibe with your left hand; and there is a little man sitting on the rim of your glass--before you sip you must politely remove him.



Then we went to the TFA party for maybe an hour and got to bed fairly early. This morning we woke, cleaned, and hit the road. But not before a stop in scenic downtown Truckee, so Catie could shop for some magical coffee flavor.



My tally for the weekend
Falls that required the removal of at least one ski: 1
Overpacked items: 8
Nearly full beers spilled all over the carpet: 2

Check out gallery for the full photo collection.

:: Leslie H - 2:49 PM - ::

I forgot to knock on wood when I said it had been some time since I was sick. Forty-eight hours later, I came down with a cold that has wiped me out for the whole weekend. Because it violates everything sacred to be sick only on the weekend, I am not going to school tomorrow even if I do feel better. I probably wasn't too sick to grade papers this weekend, but it was a very tempting excuse. Thus, I'm behind.

I did drag my sorry self shopping this morning (I had to get out of the house). Despite a few dirty looks as I blew my nose through the grocery store, I had a successful trip and impulse-bought a tiny Christmas tree. Bryan and I had not planned to get one since we're heading to Dallas so early this year (12/18), but I couldn't resist its fat and fluffy charms. It's basically the sawed-off top of a noble fir, and now it's perched on our dining table, decorated and already sporting presents underneath. So today, I listened to Christmas carols, made gifts, and churned through Kleenex. Happy holidays, indeed.

:: Leslie H - 7:10 PM - ::

I finally found my camera (it was AWOL for a week) and uploaded Thanksgiving pictures. There are quite a few tourist shots through the windshield of our car as we drive over the Golden Gate up to Sebastopol. The rest are mostly preparation and dinner set up pictures. Good times.

:: Leslie H - 10:09 AM - ::

I miss it! I miss blogging. It's as though I broke up with someone, and I keep thinking of things I want to say to him, but it's still too awkward to call.

But December is here; my self-imposed exile is at an end; and I can once again regale you with tales of my usually-just-silly life.

Two things happened on my way from the car to my classroom that I wanted to share with my blogfriend. The first frost arrived at Fischer, dusting the wooden benches with glittering ice crumbs. It will last about ten minutes, before the tempting twinkle prompts the more reckless of the boys to take running leaps onto the benches, slide the length of them, and try not to fall off and break their jaws at the end.

Also, the loveably grouchy attendance admin informed two of us in the staff room that she had a special glare reserved for all teachers today. One of our number had really "tinkled in [her] wheaties."

Now that is language at its finest.

:: Leslie H - 8:24 AM - ::