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So here it is, May first. Only a handful of days left of work--*sighofrelief*. You know, the teachers look equally forward to the end of the year as the students—perhaps even more so! Most of the general public has no earthly idea how desperately we need each chunk of time off that we get each year. It’s quite the stressful job! I mean, how many of you have jobs where you have to manage 30 people in 45-minute segments, about seven times a day? And, while managing them, teaching them something the state will test them on later?
As Jasmyn crept quietly across the cold tile floor, she scarcely made a sound. She clutched her purse to her breast and nervously readjusted her hoodie. If her mom caught her sneaking out at this late hour, no telling what she’d do! Or even worse, her dad! She waved her right hand back in the air and shook her hair vehemently. Just get those ridiculous thoughts out of your mind! she silently admonished herself. When Jasmyn reached the back door, she slowly and carefully opened it, making special efforts to keep it from creaking. That might wake her snoozing parents!
Planet Zorbahn, located in the Wahnaey Galaxy, was home to an androgynous race called the “Meeekahnz” clan. They were approximately 19 fahnz in height and had thick, lavender fur. Each Meeekahnz traveled about the icy land on seven pahleeelz, which resembled jointed legs of a wooden farm table. They had suede-like pads on the flat bottom of each, which made it easier for the Meeekahnz clanspeople to move about the terrain. The clanspeople subsisted on prickly, triangular-shaped objects of bright fuchsia. Their method was to slide over the objects and rest a bit, while the objects blended into their being.
My students are writing research papers; a couple are writing about capital punishment. They’re so immersed in their typing right now, I was able to do some of my own research today. I decided to research a guy named Peter Cantu, who murdered two females back in Houston, years ago. One of the girls had been my former student. Peter earned death row, but Texas officials have stayed his execution for some reason. We had discussed this in class before, and the students remembered it. Reading the grisly details of the girls’ undeserved deaths was all very surreal to me.
The vast field was a sparkling array of colorful blooms. Springing up from an endless verdant carpet of long, slender leaves were blossoms of lavender, lemon yellow, bright tangerine, peacock blue, and dazzling pink! Sprinkled about the vibrant splashes of color were miniature blooms of silken ivory that shimmered in the warm sunlight. The fragrant blossoms swayed slowly from side to side, appearing to be in slow motion, as they passed their intoxicating aroma into the breeze. The cerulean expanse of sky stretched behind the massive field, providing a seemingly never-ending heavenly backdrop for the brightly-colored stage of graceful dancers.
Heavenly Father, please forgive me, for I have sinned. I have committed treasons to myself and others that I cannot admit to the general public. You see, they might not be as bad or evil as people think, but the way the world judges us...but that shouldn’t matter, right? Because ultimately, YOU are the only judge, right? At least that’s what people tell me, and they claim to be staunch believers of the Gospel. But then I think about politicians—don’t they sin much more than I do? Whoops...there I go, doing YOUR job again. As I was saying before...
Its dulled white edges danced along in the icy waters up to the edge of the bank, bumping occasionally into the jagged rocks and catapulting back into the frigidness. As saturated as it seemed, it still clung to its final hopes that one day it would finally come face to face with its intended recipient. Therefore, it tried to stay intact as long as envelopely possible, just in case she happened to be strolling near the banks of the creek and found it. She’d casually lean over, lift it from the water, and shake the droplets of water from it.
The water dripped from the steel faucet into the cast iron of the laundry tub. It had to drop quite a distance from the mouth of the faucet to the bottom of the tub. Ernest the frog sat in the corner of the tub, his flanks surrounded by the smooth, cold metal. He was contemplating how he would manage it—the jump that would finally release him from the hell around him. He’d been here for what seemed decades, and he could take it no longer. He had been training for this very day for several long months.
One time I went driving with my ex up the California coastal highway—1 or 101—the famous one, you know the one I mean. Anyhow, we were looking all over for somewhere to camp, and nothing was available! There was one lame place, full of RVs, and across the street from the beach, even! So we drove on. Our next stop was this horribly-gray spot with steel-girder trestles—very industrial! Our final, and most delightful, was a wonderful place called Pismo Beach—halfway up the coast. It was amazing! You could drive/camp on the beach...and the price was right!
So we’re in this little 50’s retro beach town, and we pick up basic groceries at the local IGA. Back at the beach, it’s super windy, and we have to assemble the grill and cook something. It’s a major hassle, but finally after dark, we get everything situated, and we eat. We hang out on the beach for a bit, but it gets chilly, so we crash. The next morning, the tide had come in considerably, and thankfully, we had set up camp far enough back. I comb the beach, find virtually hundreds of sand dollars, and begin collecting them...
Part I: Yesterday I had a fight with my lawn mower, and unfortunately, the mower won. I was trying to get the thing started, yanking and tugging on the starter cord (not sure what it’s called), when I lost my balance and the mower handle went down and suddenly snapped back up—and the long end of the metal screw caught and gouged out a chunk from the outside of my right leg, just above the knee. It was painful, and the wound scared me. I checked it; it wasn’t bleeding profusely yet, so I applied pressure to the wound.
Part II: When a person lives alone, moments like these can be a major disadvantage. One has to think very quickly, and what first came to my mind was to get help from someone. So I held tightly to my leg and limped over to my neighbor’s house, only to find she wasn’t home. I proceeded to hobble back to my house, still applying pressure and staving off any major blood loss. I called my friend who’s a nurse, and she told me to come over right away so she could assess the damage and clean and dress the wound.
Part III: Off I went; it was only a couple blocks away, thank goodness. The cool thing about Kay, my friend, is she always remains cool and collected in a situation where others might freak out and totally lose control. She cleaned the wound up really well and applied necessary ointments and bandages. She advised me to get a tetanus shot as soon as possible and told me to watch for any significant changes in the wound. Then she sent me on my way. This morning it’s sore, but I think I will survive this minor catastrophe, thanks to her.
I’m pretty excited; the number of days I have left to work is down to single digits. I have many plans for this summer, beginning with the carpeting of my bedroom. Once that is accomplished, my new SelectComfort Sleep Number bed will be delivered. No more waking up with an aching back. I also plan to whip my flower gardens into shape, along with the rest of the yard. Thus far, last year’s flowers are coming back with a vengeance, I’m happy to say. I’m also planning a few short, inexpensive trips here and there. I’m so ready for summer!
100Words is, temporarily (much to my chagrin), becoming my personal ventilation system, or PVA. What I mean by this is that I cannot spare any additional time lately to exercise my creativity, due to endless piles of research papers and never-ending deadlines. How can one create under such layers of stress? So rather than entertain my audience, I feel obligated to vent my frustrations. Sort of a pseudo-journal—I say ‘pseudo’ mostly because I have to keep it in the realm of a “G” rating. That’s not an entirely effective method of purging, but it’ll have to do for now.
Did you know that there are differences between the following terms: knucklehead, bonehead, and doughhead? (Well, according to the dictionary in
mind there are.) A knucklehead is someone who does something without thinking—he actually knows how to do something correctly, but for some weird reason, he chooses not to. Go figure! A bonehead is closely related to a knucklehead, but add just a twinge more stupidity. Now a doughhead, on the other hand, is someone who just completely lacks any brains or sense at all—in
situation whatsoever, and his brain resembles a lump of unbaked bread.
A few entries back, I was writing about my lawn mower fiasco, and then I explained how I had to get a tetanus shot. Well, in doing some research about the vaccine
the fact, I learned some pretty freaky information about it. You see, I was at this energy balancing seminar today with a couple of my friends, when they were discussing how many of our vaccines contain mercury—a dangerous toxin to the body. So I decided to look it up, and I found the ingredients for the vaccine online. Sure enough, both aluminum
mercury were listed.
....listen to the rain pitter pattering on my metal roof. It has a certain rhythm to it; it’s soothing, yet exhilarating. As soon as it commences, it just as quickly ceases. Our snow has finally melted into rain, and we are daily blessed with a cool, fresh thunder shower. Foliage everywhere you look is plush green, and flowers glow radiantly under the comfort of the morning sun. Spring in Colorado is always something of an enigma; one never knows what it will bring. This year it’s brought an avalanche of moisture—an extremely valuable resource in this semi-arid desert country.
My mom sent me a precious treasure that cannot even be assessed a monetary value. She sent me a stack of old baby photographs, along with my second-grade yearbook and a lock of my infant hair. I was never so touched and thrilled to receive such a surprise. I hastily thumbed through the yearbook, only to discover the absence of both teachers’ and students’ names! As I glanced at thirty-something-year-old photos of my classmates, I realized I could match names in my brain to some of the snapshots, though I was distressed to find that I couldn’t recognize my teachers.
There’s an abundance of redundance in this room, crooned the groom. Look around he declared arrogantly, as he waved his hand airily across the space in front of him. Blue carpet, blue tablecloths, blue napkins, blueblah! he uttered haughtily. But dearest! the groom’s baffled bride gasped. There she stood, bedecked in billowing sheaths of alabaster taffeta, her mouth gaping, her bottom lip nearly touching the sweetheart neck of her lace bodice. Don’t you think this is the picture-perfect wedding? It’s color coordinated so absolutely stunningly!! The groom simply yawned, and went back to his plate of juicy, pink prime rib.
I feel like discussing history tonight, so I’m going to comment about the whales. You see, this story that’s all over the media currently about the whales stuck in a river in the middle of farm country in northern California is going to be history one day. I find it mind boggling as to why the authorities are so worried about the whales, now dubbed “Delta” and “Dawn”, being “trapped” in the Sacramento River, when scientists have shared that whales historically have swum inland at various times in their lives. Whales are intelligent beings; they got in, they’ll get out.
Today there was a scandal in the local media regarding a high school in the mountains and some questionable pictures that were published in the school’s yearbook. Pictures inside include students laden with various and sundry alcohol, marijuana joints, and girls proudly displaying their misdemeanor documents. So far we haven’t seen the teacher who’s responsible for checking each yearbook page before it goes to print, and her demise in uncertain. I believe she’ll get fired, and if she doesn’t, I’ll be flabbergasted. After all, the message she’s conveying is that she and the rest of the school condone illegal activities.
I have already made my “to do” list for this summer. I started it this evening, and I’ve already listed over twenty-five projects! Most are enjoyable tasks, such as yard work (which means working in my flower gardens), cleaning the cars (my convertible’s not that hard to clean, and it always looks great when finished), and changing the overhead lights in all the necessary rooms. I came up with six light fixtures that need replacing. That’s always a fun job—home improvements! Then getting credits for my raise next year is a pleasant task—who doesn’t enjoy having more money?
I went away for the holiday weekend down to southeastern Colorado with a friend of mine who grew up in that area. We took her nieces down to hang with grandma and grandpa for a couple weeks, then headed out to the lakes. We camped with half the Kiowa County sheriff’s department coupled with half the Lamar, CO, police department. They were very nice and hospitable people. Later we tore down camp and were picked up and taken to the other side of the lake by her rowdy friends. That ended up being an entirely different experience. Great weekend, though!
I wish I could write creatively these next few days, but alas, I’ve got way too many tasks to accomplish. Once I get on a productive roll, I generally keep my creative edge stifled. It’s just too hard for me to focus on such polar opposites. I have to admit, while temporarily sacrificing my creativity, I’m definitely getting lots done around the place. I’ve ended up with such clutter, I’ll be sorting through boxes and trashing and/or donating items I no longer need or use. Sort of like spring cleaning, I guess. Like they say, one’s trash is another’s treasure.
Nearly every muscle in my body is aching at this very moment. Not only did I spend two nights sleeping on hard ground or floor this past weekend, but I’ve also started my daily exercise regimen. This consists of thirty minutes of yoga and pilates exercises. Then I worked in the yard, digging in my flowerbeds, transplanting daisies and johnny jump ups, and moving heavy granite rocks to a different location in the yard. Next I moved indoors and began moving such unwieldy items as a queen-sized box spring and mattress, dressers, etc. I’m exhausted, but surprisingly, I feel great!
The summer has begun and is in full swing! After returning from Lamar, I learned the place across the street from me is going to be demolished. So my neighbor was over there digging out the perennials to plant in her yard and beckoned me to come help myself, also. So I did. I also hauled away all the rocks that they had used as edges around their flower garden, which I will be using for a gravel path through the worn spot of my yard where the kids always cut through. I also snagged some firewood for my chiminea.
Now that I’m done snagging great resources from the house that’s being demolished, I had to move indoors to work on clearing my bedroom of everything. You see, they’re coming to put in new carpet tomorrow morning, so I’ve got to be ready. I’ve also moved my old bed (I’m purchasing a new one) into the extra bedroom, where I’ll be sleeping until my new bed arrives. Once I take care of all that, I’ll have a furnished guest room, so hopefully I’ll end up having some visitors someday. Or I’ll go ahead and rent that room out to someone.
“Evening of the Warm, Epsom Salts Bath”
as i turn
blop blip blip
by christine antypas, 5/29/07, 9:27 PM
I had been doing physical labor all day and am still very sore, so I took a bath tonight. I noticed how the water sounded after I turned off the faucet, so I recited it over and over in my head and typed it as soon as I was finished getting dressed. The manifestation of my relaxing bath was a pretty decent poem!
Did you ever try thinking of something to write, but your mind draws a complete blank? That’s what I’m currently experiencing. It’s called writer’s block. Blah. I mean, I know there’s something I could discuss, but the stuff I really want to write about is super personal, and I don’t exactly feel like sharing it with the world, even though I’m just an insignificant speck in the universe, and probably no one out there in cyberspace reading posts on this site would even know who the heck I was. So instead, I’m churning out this completely mindless drivel. Go figure.
“This is the end, my friends...”
Simple words from a song by one of the most famous and revered bands of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, the Doors. What a great band; what a great lead singer—a genuine genius. Now why did I select this quote to begin my nightly spiel? Because today is the last day of May and the last day to post for the month. And because tonight’s velvety-black sky is sporting an amazing full, yellow moon. And because I have reason to celebrate—a well-deserved vacation! The end for some, the beginning for me!
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