Nobody knows...

the troubles I've seen...nobody knows my sorrow...

I went back to the doctor today to check on the Staph and the rash that still is in existence on my neck. The rash is also around the ouchies on my feet. In other words, although better, the Staph is still there and the ouchies are still...well...ouchie. Another $100 dollars and she literally told me, "I don't have anything else to give you. You need to go see a specialist." I wanted to scream. They pass me from one to another and nothing works. I will go see another and they will tell me to use cream and pat dry after a lukewarm shower. I've gotten that since I was 8. I'm so frustrated. There should be a return policy for medicines that don't work and cost you $100, and for the REVISITS that cost you $75 each time. When anyone else doesn't perform a service correctly, they do it again for free. How come doctors don't? I have more medication, more cream, and more problems. The cortisone that they have been giving me, both orally and topically, is not made for long term use and causes issues with blood pressure and the liver. So, for the first time in my life, thanks to the cortisone, have a systolic blood pressure of 181. The diastolic is okay, which I guess is the one we "worry about," but I am to be careful for the nest two weeks. She recommended I stay off my feet. Yeah, right. Im off to a softball game.

The American Research Association Conference in San Diego

Another trip out to California (this time San Diego) to attend AERA. I flew from Austin because Aunt Loretta is there and can keep both puppers. The plane was delayed an hour there and then 2 in Phoenix. The Phoenix wait wasnt as bad though as Jackie had flown from San Antonio and met me there for the second leg of the trip. I enjoy her more the longer I know her. She is up for things and outgoing, once you get her out of the work place. So, nothing much to report in regards to the conference. My personal dissertation session went terribly as the powerpoint wouldn't work, but the co-teaching session went well. My discussant gig was good but hard as the one I was reviewing was from an Ivy league school and her paper was yucky. Yes, that is the technical, high-brow word. The sessions, other than mine, for the most part were good. I love hearing about studies looking at motivation and emotions and their impact on learning and this is the only conference for that! The sessions that bug me are those about ELL (English Language Learners). I went to a couple and it seems they just talk and talk about what is wrong and how marginalizing school, testing, and life is for these special multilingual folk. I get it, but now what? I was actually in a discussion in which a professor from the University of Cincinnati said the only way to combat the ignorance is a revolution like happened with African Americans. All I wanted to do was remind her that segregation is still as rampant as it was in the 1960's during Brown v. Board of Education. African Americans don't have it good, better, perhaps, but not good. Test scores can be predicted by zip code calls foul ball to me, and I certainly don't think we can wait for a revolution...but alas, researchers like to research. I think I am a teacher at heart, more than a researcher. Almost everyday I think about going back into the classroom, the elementary classroom. Is that a sign?

Jody came down from LA on Wednesday and after sessions, we met up with her and drove to La Jolla. So gorgeous. It was cool and crisp outside and the water WAY to cold for swimming, but simply beautiful. We ate at an amazing restaurant overlooking the cliffs. I laughed and chatted incessantly with Jackie and Jody. Back to the hotel for drinking and TV, then out to a bar. The next day, we blew off morning sessions and went to Balboa Park. So serene, museum filled, and fun. Jody left us there and headed back to LA for work. We then went to the zoo, which from here on out I boycott. I know, I know, add it to my list. I had remembered this zoo as the prettiest one I had been to. I know why. The walkways are hilly and covered with flora...so the people get a glorious walk. The animals look miserable and are confined in desert terrain looking cages. Although I loved the Polar Bears and the signs told me they "loved San Diego" and were "used to the warm weather as the tundra also has a hot season," I couldn't help but see the plea in their eyes as they made circles throughout their pen. Nope, done with Wal-Mart, Kentucky Fried Chicken, circuses, and zoos. I am sure PETA gets happier with me as the list grows. We walked from the zoo back to the hotel, straight through Petco Park, where the Padres play. It is a public park and open for everyone during the day. People were there with their dogs and loved ones. I think all stadiums should be that way, especially the big, nice, green ones! It reminded me of season tickets behind the digout for Ranger games with my dad. After our long walk, we went to a session and then dinner at an Indian restaurant with Diane and Patricia Alexander, both of whom I admire. We walked Seaport village after sessions in the morning and ate on the boardwalk with my friend Sunny from Korea. Then sessions, again, and an airplane ride back to Austin. I spent the night at Loretta's and got home this afternoon. Tomorrow will be busy with school work as I have tests to grade, rubrics to write, and final exams to make.

My Feet

I hate my feet. They are all messed up. I try to dress them in fancy, fun, and flirty footwear, but alas, it is like trying to dress a corpse. It might resemble the real thing, but it is still fucked up. Maybe the high heels give attention to the leprosy look? Will my Excema plague ever be in vogue?

When I was a kid, I used to tell my friends that I got "all bitten up by ants." They seemed to accept that better than me having some disease that looked "gross." I never really got teased though, just questioned. One girl, Suzanne told me motheringly, "You should not play in your front yard. I see you out there all the time and the ants must be so bad. Your dad should treat them." My feet, my feet, my feet. My mom used to get mad at me for not taking a shower. I'd run the water, sit on the edge of the tube and sponge off. Why? Because the falling coupled with soap and shampoo falling into the sores was traumatic and painful. And I wasn't a baby, it still hurts!

Now, I hardly feel my feet. They are dead to the world. After a broken foot, dislocated ankle, numerous sprained ankles, and broken toes (not to mention ingrown toenails and toenail loss), one of my feet has an apple sized knot and turns inward at almost a 90 degree angle. My friend Loretta thinks it is "jacked" and "fucked up looking." I'd have to agree. They arent pretty. Yes, I am lucky to have them and in some ways, lucky there isnt much feeling there now. But, when it is ouchy, it is ouchy! My poor feet. It is so sad that I need them so badly, because it is time to let them die. They have suffered enough. But alas, I must slap on some concealer and diamonds, and grab the creams, lubes, and ointments and get in the platforms. The feet will ride again!

"A Raging Staph Infection"

I went to the doctor today because my poor little footies were hurting. Now, when I say hurting, I mean low grade hurt when you just looked at them, cracking, bloody stumps oozing nastiness when you walked. About three weeks ago I went to this dermatologist who was supposed to be the best in the state. Nice guy who convinced me to soak my feet each day, then apply this ointment. He also gave me this medicine that was "helpful in slowing the spread of anthrax sickness." After 2 weeks of doing EXACTLY as he said, my whole body was a rash. I was waking up itching (Remember the basement at Aunt Carolee and Uncle Harvey's house, mom, where you would scream at me in the night to stop itching?).It was horrible. The sores, when I would step down on my feet after a night of "healing," would pucker and bleed. So painful. Not even pretty shoes could dress up these feet. So, today I went to the doctor and she told me that I have a "raging staph infection" that has moved throughout my body (hence the rashes all over). I got a HUGE shot in my ass while there and 4, count them 4 medications to take, 2 creams and a partridge in a pear tree. I elected not to buy the partridge because it wasn't generic. The medicine tastes horrible (I can even taste it with wine!) and the medicine burns my feet like they are on fire, smoldering.

How many times have I seen Bette?

The Divine Miss Millennium, 1999:
Houston, TX (November), 1X
Dallas, TX (November), 1X

Kiss My Brass, 2003:
Dallas, TX (January), 1X
San Jose, CA (February), 1X

Kiss My Brass II, 2004:
Las Angeles, CA (February) 1X
Grand Prairie, TX (November) 1X
San Antonio, TX (November) 1X
Minneapolis, MN (December) 2X

The Showgirl Must Go On, 2009:
Las Vegas, NV (April) 1X
(June/In Planning) 2X

The Showgirl Must Go On

For 90 minutes, Bette Midler raced back and forth across the truly colossal Colosseum stage. Her patterned walk was all but manic, her jokes tart, punching and bawdy. The show had 20 leggy chorines and of course, 3 fabulous Harlettes. As Bette exults however, “The best thing is, not one of them is a French-Canadian circus performer,”referring to the ubiquity of the Cirque du Soleil brand in the city. I had enough of that after one show. I think there are 4 at all times in Las Vegas!

She performed all of her standards — “Do You Want to Dance?,” “From a Distance,” “Hello in There,” "Hero," "Glory of Love," and “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy". I think because the city was once a refuge for the oddballs Ms. Midler’s Delores DeLago character, the wheelchair-riding mermaid with the odoriferous lounge act, was right at home. "Do You Want To Dance" makes me think of a deep connection with someone. The song, to me, is so sexy, long, and passionate. "From A Distance" was marked with deep, heartfelt emotion for which she ended by covering her face, as if God was ashamed. The song always gets me because I too think he is sometimes ashamed. "Hello In There" reminds me of my grandpa whom I love so deeply and am slowly watching become a lost soul. The song reminds me of this fragility. How can people who have had the most wonderful and interesting life experiences be lost. Will the stories ever be lost too? I want everyone to live forever. I wanted to immediately call both my grandparents and say I love them, because I do. "Hero" makes me think of those that have an unending belief in me, who despite any transgressions on my part, continue to think I am wonderful. In turn, I think they are my heroes. I put my arm around Jody during that song and I thought of Diane. Both have been there always, through thick and thin. "The Glory of Love" made me cry because that is Mitzie's song. I've sung it to her for years. As she ages, the song's words, "You've got to give a little, take a little, and let your poor heart break a little..." are all about my little, black aging puppy. The thought of losing her is like losing a child, a 13 year old child. As she gets older, I worry and I fret. Thank God, "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" is just pure joy. No lamenting, no pining, just perfect 40's inspired Big Band, which I love. The jokes, raunchy and wrong, fill the space in between. It was joyous.

So, for me, Bette Midler's The Showgirl Must Go On is my life. It is the epitome of the ways I feel and think, know and love. She sings the words that I want to, with the emotion I feel and with the deep understanding about life. Each song is a jewel and each joke a piece of candy. I already need to go back and laugh and reminisce again. Bette Midler reminds me of who I want to be.

Las Vegas, Baby!

Friday afternoon, we were picked up at the Vegas airport by Jody. After a brief drop off of luggage at the pyramid shaped Luxor (referred to hereon as the Smelltor), we headed to Whole Foods Market to turn in Loretta's recipe in hopes of winning a meet n greet with Ms. Midler herself. They were having a salad contest, best one, wins a meet n greet. After brief pictures at the famous sign, off to walk the Strip. I am still unsure f they call it "The Strip" because it is long and a strip of hotels and casinos or if it because of the sex everywhere. We visited a couple casinos and then bought tickets at the half-price ticket stand for KA. I wanted to see LOVE really bad, but Loretta was in a a drug induced haze and wanted to go back to the Smelltor and Jody had seen it a few weeks earlier. So, KA was Jody's pick and KA it was to be. We hit Bellagio and their indoor botanical garden. My mother would have died to smell the Hyacinth and see the tulips all glowing. At KA, the music was amazing, surround sounds of glorious humming and perfect noting. The stage moved on hydraulics and at one point, lifted vertical and tons of sand poured into the pit. So cool. Jody and I then headed to the PURE nightclub where Perez Hilton was supposedly having a party. It was "list only" but after much ado, we did get in. Pulling Jody past where you pay (without paying), we hit the biggest wall of people and the loudest, ear shattering music I have ever heard. Pure my ass. No one could move. People were everywhere. Pushing and shoving to move anywhere was key. We basically made a forced circled around the joint and left. It was horrible. After the ordeal, Jody and I each had a cocktail (white russian and a vodka tonic) in Caesar's Palace (to the tune of 31$). By the time we got home it was about 4am. At 9 Loretta rose as did I. Coffee and apples for breakfast and then we headed out again. This time to see Loretta's pick, Popovich Theatre. Oh yes, we saw the cat, dog, scary clown, and bad magic spectacular. Loretta loved it. There were cats pushing baby carriages, and dogs sitting in desks like in school. Cats taking cues and direction. I must admit it was nuts! I needed a huge margarita just to get through the bad dancing, magic and clowns. The animals were cute and fun. After heading back to the Smelltor and primping, Bette was on for Saturday night. That because it was my favorite (of course!) and because it was the best show ever, it will be in another post. At 9:45 the show was over and Jody and I perused the Bette Store as we waited for Loretta to pick us up. WE met her across the street from Caesar's at the only place with a curb. It just happened to be in front of a mass of sick men attempting to had out naked pictures of the women they were prostituting to "be in your bed in 2 minutes or less." It was a park of a Cambodian slave trade, I swear. Gross. Hoping in the car as if we were celebrities, we went downtown on a self-made neon light tour. Awesome lights like the cowboy shone everywhere. Wedding chapels lined the streets for 24 hour wedding needs. You can get your dress, flowers, music, the room for the honeymoon and the pastor for 100.00. We tried to go to get a $6.99 steak at this totally old-school casino that wreaked of smoke and sex, but the wait was 25 minutes and we gave up, instead eating pizza. The hotels/casinos all smell of smoke. It is gross. I need to wash everything I brought, including the suitcase! Home by 1am, we celebrated Jody's birthday with cupcakes and I hit the lumpy, smelly bed. By 6am, Jody was up and headed back to LA for work by noon. Loretta and I slept a little more, got showered, and headed out to get Bette goodies at the Bette Store in Caesar's, see the Bellagio Warhol exhibit (Loretta ended up not going to the actual exhibit, but I did!)and the fountains, and the LOVE bar at the Mirage. After the walk back to the Luxor, it was time to leave. A cab ride and then a flight that got in at 1, and I was at home with the doggies. Stay tuned for the Bette Show posting!

I'm a head in a blankey, I'm a head...

I head to Las Vegas tomorrow and am excited to see the lights, hear the clinking of the coins, and most of all, see the Divine. Totally cool. Now, I haven't packed and haven't gotten everything together. I certainly don't take after my mom. She lays her suitcase out for a week. In fact, I think my grandma does too! It skipped a generation I think. I return in the dead of night like 1:30am! Since no one loves me enough to pick me up that late/early, I will will be driving my own car. The Harlettes, Bette Midler's backup troupe of singers and dancers are having a contest at Whole Foods in Vegas. The person with the best salad recipe gets tickets and a meet and greet. What are my chances? Are the stars collaborating to say, go, try, you are already in town the Saturday they are doing it. You have a good friend who is a cook...figure it out! So, off I go.

Driving car: $30
Doggie Sitting: $45
Staying at the Luxor: $100
Having a damn good time in Vegas: Priceless

I have promised my mother for weeks that I would show the curtains Diane and I made (okay, mostly Diane) for the new house. They are great. I should give a shout out to my buddy Sherry who had the fabric we added to lengthen the curtains. Aren't they awesome? Also, for mom, the bedding. Oh yes, and the new couch too.

September 11, 2001: Do you remember?

As I was heading to get certified as a substitute in Austin, NPR was blaring through the speakers of the car. Because I was, as usual, running late, I entered the car, coffee in hand, and raced to the training. The whole time driving, this strange short story about a plane hitting the World Trade Center in NY was being told. I thought, "Huh, selected shorts doesn't usually play on a weekday." A red light. An insight. Oh my, God, it isn't a story. Entering the training, I asked if anyone had heard if a plane had hit a building in NY. We turned on a rolling TV cart just in time to see the second plane hit. We would watch transfixed and horrified for days. So far away we were in Texas and yet, so close.

My mom says she won't forget the day Kennedy was assassinated. I won't forget this day, the day I thought was a selected short.

Can I vent?

Las Vegas: I have wanted to go for months. There was a plan to go with 3 of my bestest friends over the new year. I was so elated to have those I enjoy the most planning to come with me to a new place, where my most favorite icon, Bette Midler was/is playing at Caesar's Palace. New Years at such a fun place? Priceless. We didnt go. The tickets were bought and the humms...began. So, we canceled and Bette sang on without us. Now, after many months we are planning to go again. But the "Christmas Presents" promised in Bette memorabilia have lapsed and one friend has bailed. I am left with the other two who have rather differing ideas of travel. One, high end luxury. One, low end tent life. Me? I just want to see Bette Midler. I want to stay at the hotel where she lives in hopes, that she will walk by as we sip cocktails. Yes, I know there is only a .001% chance of seeing her there, but there is a chance. I have a feeling that the chances at the Motel 6 Las Vegas are less, as is true of the fancy Luxor. We surely can't afford Caesar's, so who cares? So, fuck it all. This month is crazy with travel, to the point of it almost not feeling fun. This weekend, a conference on Friday, Saturday and then to Austin for one night. Back to SA. Then next weekend, Vegas. Back to San Antonio Monday at 1:30am. Then, the following weekend, San Diego for another conference. Too much. How can travel, one of my most favorite thing, sound so not fun?

Softball

I had the pleasure of playing two games tonight. The Texas Tech Team was missing one girl, I was one girl with a mitt and a beer, and thus, I was crowned the pinch. I got to hit and played catcher. My knees are hurting even now. But, what fun! We did well at our game too and won, 10-5. After a loss last week of 21-2, we were elated and celebrated with beer at the clubhouse. It is nice to play though, not only because I love ball, but because there is literally NO competition. Dropped a ball? Yeah! Way to run towards it. Went through your legs? Ways to charge it! My competitive nature is learning, and I like it. Plus, it is hard to be competitive when you are bad at something. Is there ever someone who is competitive at something they are horrible at? Insight: If kids arent good at reading, they will never want to compete at it. Accelerated reader sucks.

Anyways, just got in, thought I would drop a hello to the world. Off to bed.

How many conferences is too many?

This year all of the proposals I sent out, were accepted:
Kappa Delta Pi
NRC
AERA
CRA/ALER
ICL

That is a lot of work! Should a professor hold off on some proposals and only do one or two? It is hard to know which one or two to choose. I really need to stop. I want to write, not propose. So, now how about only AERA, CRA, and KDP (CRA is Jackie's favorite, AERA is mine, and PDK was already accepted)?

Alas, away from work and school and its in-separatable-ness, Loretta and her cat Clarice were here for the week. It is weird to have someone in your abode when no one is normally here! For example, on Tuesday I awoke and went to the living room to eat oatmeal before work. Looking at the clock on the mantle, I added an hour, knowing that I had not reset the clocks in the house when the time changed the weekend before. I thought to myself, "Self, you sure got up earlier than you thought!" I know you know where this is going. I was an hour late getting to work because my dear housemate had changed it. It was so nice to have her here though. I think I should get a 1950 era wife-someone to take care of the kids (Cita, Mitzie, and Baby Zoey), make dinner when I get home at 10, and bring in a second salary. I think it is harder to find a man that does it (although I know there are some). It is perhaps easier to find a wife. Im sure that is a bad thing to say being that I am straight and single.

This weekend I wrote my paper for AERA, graded, emailed students, watched too many episodes of the addictive America's Next Top Model, and went shopping at the mall. Now, it is back to work. Boy, weekends, while fun, have a way of disappearing on ya.

Dora the Explorer and Eric the Fisherman

I have a most beloved friend who made such an interesting commentary in an email to me. After She has spent her life devoted to kids and school, thinking and learning she wonders what to do about those teachers who don't care, don't want to work in a space fraught with emotion and hard labor. What do we do with the % of teachers who act as the proverbial "glorified babysitters?" How will we ever be professionals if those who work within the profession deprofessionalize us? Good question.

So, who had a good spring break? My brother. Here is the glory. The glory of love.

Spring "Break"

The National Reading Panel (1999) describes vocabulary instruction as one of the pillars of an effective reading program. so, I wonder, why is it that we call the week schools let out a Spring Break? I mean, it isnt a break. Break is a misnomer. It is a word that should be reserved for only students who are in the early years. For all school personnel, it is NOT a break! Instead, it is a week to which more gets piled on and one is left to conteplate how they will get it done for which they feel guilty when they don't work, but want a break. It is, for those like me, the time when employers attempt to see which teachers can manage their own time wisely and therefore catch up. What a crock of shit. Spring Break.

So, I am up in Dallas now. I drove in this afternoon from Austin. I spent almost the entire drive talking to my best buddy Jody in LA. Can you imagine a 3 hour phone call? I must admit I hate the phone and I spent the entire journey with it pressed to my ear. You know it's bad when you start changing hands because you arm is tired! I do love hearing all about her crazy life in LA. Just in the last few months there has been a roommate who is crazy (even knocked all of her own teeth out), jail time, a new car, a new boyfriend, a house fire, her sister's pregnancy, her grandfather's first date....the list goes on. I swear it is so entertaining.

Now I am here and my mother is "watching her shows." I guess she has line ups for every day of the week. She is addicted to TV. Tonights agenda was a 2 hour Dancing with the Stars (who I might add arent big stars). Two hours of any show is too much for me. Plus, my tastes are much more inthe line of Intervention and Law & Order. But anyway, the Carrollton home has gotten high speed internet/ No more dial up! So, in the least I can get online now. Did you know that when you call about dial up (which she had until about a week ago) the technical service doesnt even know how to help? It is so antiquated! I am glad she has updated, to say the least.

Zoey has become a little fatty girl. According to Aunt Loretta's baby scale (used for her 7 pound cat), she is up to a wopping 18.75 pounds. I think everybody, other than Mitzie, will be on a diet soon: Cita, me, and Zoey. She was so good today though. Not only did she sleep the entire 4 hours here, but we went to an elementary school field and played ball without her leash and she stayed around me, not running anywhere. So good.

Now, I am going to go get something to drink and settle in to do some work.I must get on my students' blogs soon. I think I will tomorrow. (wink). I also will be handling grandparent stuff.

To Do Lists

To-Do Lists are necessary for the teflon brain I have. The problem is that when one is diligent about writing things down so as not to end up in a teflon-caused problem such as a missed meeting, one must be able to cross things off the list to make room for new things. So, what is one supposed to do when the list keeps getting longer and things only theoretically get crossed off? Let me give an example to illustrate the point. A student asked me to write a letter of recommendation. I said I would and that she should follow up with an email as a reminder. Hint: Never ask a teflon disabled professor "to do" something in the hall. She won't remember. Luckily, I am aware of my disability and always respond to send me an email. So, her rec letter got added to the to do list. I wrote it and saved it to my desk top (time spent: approx. 45min). BUT it remains on the to do list because it is not yet printed and sealed. A couple of days later, it gets printed on letterhead with the logo in the right spot (time spent: approx. 20 mins). Then, I file it in her folder as not to lose it (something else teflon disabled people do is forget where something is). So today I got an email from her. I put the wrong grade level in the letter. One word, not two: kindergarten and not first grade. So, now the whole letter must be redone (time spent: another 25 minutes). So the "yes" I gave from the hallway is worth over an hour and has remained on and off my to-do list for a long time. Dont get my started on articles. Revise, resubmit, revise, revise, read, read, edit. Ahh!

Also, while I am in complaint mode, I have spent all morning grading annotated bibliographies. After much angst, these people STILL dont know: 1) how to do an APA citation; 2) how to save their work on a CD; and 3) that grading these things takes as long as it does for them to write them, especially when their writing is so error full. But I press on because I want them to be good writers; I want them to see their errors and get better. It is how I learned. If I give them papers at the end of the semester, they dont get redone and sometimes, dont get picked up! All my hard work sits in a crate waiting for their person to get them, with all the hours of writing I did to show them, for them to learn. Dumb people. I think I did the same thing.

Yesterday I got down on my hands and knees and cleaned the utility room floor. It gleamed until this morning when muddy Zoey came racing in after her hullabaloo in the backyard. You know, she is so damned proud of her poop. Maybe I should add that to my to-do list so I can cross it off and be proud of my accomplishment. No- Damn. Id have to add it on there every fucking day. Ahhh!

Mitz is going in next week for another blood test on her liver function. The money on this sweet pupper is crazy. But. of course, I will do what it takes. She is the love of my life.

Off to make some soup as it is cold here.