Type A with a side of B

I visited one of my local haunts yesterday.    It was locked up, but a friend was already inside.  He let us in and wandered around with us.  We talked about the past, the present and naturally, the future.  He expressed a genuine concern regarding my health and was quick to ask if I would be roaming around on a more regular basis.  Sadly, I shook my head and confided the purpose of stopping by.  I wanted to get my personal effects and bring it all home.

I could read his face.  He was disappointed.  He and I had been “regulars” there.  There was always something to do or organize.  This is where I profess my type A personality…  We got my room (406 to be specific) and the lump in my throat began to alert my tear ducts “It’s time.”  The custodians had packed up a lot of my things already; so at first glance it seemed bare.  It was obvious that I hadn’t been there in awhile.

I wouldn’t leave a room like that, ever.  There were empty food containers on desks, a forgotten denim jacket on the back of a chair and empty boxes strewn about.  I made my way to the front book shelves, picking up a box and some of the papers which were left on the floor and turned around.  My whole world, the one where I put in thousands of hours grading, cleaning or organizing was gone.  Poof!

My first instinct was to get started on cleaning up and putting things where they belonged (my judgement).  The Type A in me was making it’s way to the surface.  I can’t focus when the environment is not orderly.  My husband and friend stopped me and reminded me that I wasn’t supposed to be “doing” anything laborious-per my doctors.  I was just supposed to point to what was mine and they would pack it up, transport it to their vehicles and then get it home.  So I did.  They did.  We tried to keep the mood light.  They joked about my “Shakespeare Action Figure.”  I had another one for Poe.  According to the custodian, I have a lot of “dolls” and glitter and pink.

My room was once my place of respite.  The building belonged to me and Michael- if you follow the “possession is 9/10 of the law.”  for 14 years. 

Packing up 14 years of my life is not supposed to look like it did yesterday, it’s supposed to have a nice and clean entrance and exit.  

My trek yesterday was just so sad.  My heart was breaking.  I loved it all once.  The smells, sights, sounds, of the hallway were comforting.  There was nostalgia for each whimsical item in my classroom or at least a story.  I had two homes… one for 90% of my existence and the other home clean, organized and full of heirlooms, nostalgia/stories.  It’s the way I am. Period.

The doctors told me that stress is a huge factor and gets my Adrenal Fatigue all out of control.  They want me to learn how to genuinely relax and loosen up the reins on life.  Ha!

I’m supposed to drop the Type A gig and work on being a B.  Remaining Type A could & has proven to make for a very difficult existence… However,  is being Type B a liscense for being unkempt?  Do B’s care about providing a space for everyone to feel safe (especially in room 406)?  Do B’s notice the little things?  Do they react or just turn away when a rule is broken?  Are they hippies?

My garage now harbors my recently liberated personal effects from room 406.  My husband expects to have his garage back before the first snow of the season.  

I understand where he is coming from, he  doesn’t deserve to have to step over boxes and pick up things that have been strewn about.  Sound familiar?  

Right now I’m processing it all and deciding what should go where.  My Type A will get it all taken care of.  It is just me.  Period.

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Rooster Fries

It was Sunday, just an ordinary Sunday for us… wake up, clean up, go to church, meet with congregation people for brunch at a local cafe.

I was on an Eggs Benedict kick, which has since become a Veggie Omelette (no onions). I order a hot water so that I can steep my own tea. I’m becoming a foo-foo tea snob… that story is for another day.

Anyway, this past Sunday, we had a full eight top, all individual tickets, and multiple trips for our server. She and I have developed a rapport which is half of the reason I like the cafe so much.

She was going around the table to get the orders when I noticed that everybody was ordering “Rooster Fries”. I asked what the big deal was and other than listing what all is included, the folks would either sigh or vehemently demonstrate their version of how good this particular item is.

My server agreed with the rest of my table mates. She even threw in an, “I love it!” I was tempted, but I went with my usual, veggie omelette. My husband stuck to his regular order too. We usually get an a’la carte blueberry pancake to share as well.

The group “booed” our lack of adventure in dining. So I threw in an order of Rooster Fries too.

When the food arrived, everyone dug in. I decided to try the fries first… and oh-my-Lord they were amazing!

The table was silent and I don’t think folks came up for air between bites. I know that I was nose deep into the Fries before I looked at my husband. He hadn’t ordered the fries. We were going to share the blueberry pancake and the fries at home -later.

I realized that he knew I was in oblivion and even my omelette wasn’t being touched. That would have to go home with us.

When I came up for air, I took a spot of tea and looked over at my darling husband, who was pretending to pout. The blueberry pancake had been cut in half and his eyes wandered over to the fries. There was definitely a sense of “no fairsies” coming from him.

I said that I would “just have them to take home too” (all three bites of it). Lest you forget, the halves of  blueberry pancake no longer existed.  He enjoyed the WHOLE pancake.

True to self, we walked out carrying two “To Go” boxes in hand.  One for my Veggie Omelette and one for the Rooster Fries.  We were both amused. This is life.

It’s Tough

It’s tough to watch

And I wonder

“What’s next”?

The USA Education

is a bust today.

But, can everyone

say “I did my best”?

~~~~

We know about

the original policies,

And we see the one

room school houses

The latest policies

and real academics

have no place

and have since eased,

We teach to

Standardized Tests,📝

bubbles,

number 2 pencils✏️

and a bunch of

changing rules.✅

~~~~

Teachers and staff

are forbidden

to discipline,

And yet, parents

want/ need someone to blame.

All of this is tiresome

and gets under my skin,

My mind can only see

the Federally banned novel📚

by Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (‘s)

🔥flame.🔥

~~~~

It’s not the guns,🔫

drugs💊

or violent games,🕹

It’s the kids📰

always pushing the limits

and the relentless

childish arguing🗯

for their rights

which means

calling the

“adults'” bluff.

~~~~

Therefore, empty threats,

the toys,

the distinction

and the fears

of what a child may claim

to law enforcement

and be separated

for years and years.

We all need to stand up,

learn the word “No“,

mean it,

have powerful support⚙️

and scream “Enough!”

~~~~

The USA Dept. of Education

needs a major

makeover,

Artificial Intelligence (A.I.),

Technology,

Wireless,

software,

hardware

,

upgrades

and cell…

~~~~~

However, staying out of touch,

ignoring the confrontation,

being politically correct,

loses the purpose

of the brick & mortar,

Community, safe place.

All of this

Really puts today’s students

into a decision:

real life vs. hell?

~~~~

I am aghast

at the thought

of arming school staff,

We have classes of 40+ students now.

All hyped up on sugar

and shots of caf (feine)…

I was brought up

in a different time.

Now it’s too easy to get lost

& feel contempt,

toward those who take

the class down.

This is NOT

what I went to college for.

~~~~

So this retired

Kindergarten, Grades 7-12 Teacher

implores,

With the U.S. Dept. of Education

to stop putting the future

in our past,

It doesn’t belong there.

This and those

future generations

will only

go elsewhere.

Oh!!,

And remember

that one kid

who got lost

and allowed the hate

to last?

~~~~

Won’t accept any blame.

Because it’s tough out there.

The attention and fame,

Are all sudden,

impulsive,

and wonderously

rare.

~~~~

Fifteen minutes of fame

taste oh-so-sweet.

The media’s view above

and below

cannot be beat.

The echoes of Sirens will

sound up and down

the streets.

The past

and future

finally meet.

⚡️👩🏼‍💻👨🏻‍💻 🌎🧝🏼‍♀️🧝🏽‍♂️⚡️🤼‍♂️🗽       🏰⚔️⚖️ 

I wish…

PinkLady2016 - Tomorrow

As you may know, my husband and I were lucky enough to attend the Andrea Bocelli Concert in Detroit just a couple of days ago (12-3-17). It was wonderful!

I had a great time until the show was over. You see, that is when my Hashimoto’s took over my body. I lost control of my senses and was in a black out. 😡

What I remember

We were using LYFT Car Service to shuttle us to and from the concert (Strongly recommended). I messaged LYFT that we needed to be picked up.

As we were walking out of the seating area, I kept getting dizzy and losing my balance on the stairs. My husband and the Usher were very helpful. I was also starting to sweat. Mind you, by that point we were waiting near a door which was kept open and the temperature was 32*. I was only getting…

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