Tomorrow's Small Town forecast: SNOW.

The Weather Channel is calling for snow and rain tomorrow here in Small Town—right now, at 9:00 Saturday morning, I'm calling for bullshit. It's raining very heavily now, with plenty of thunder and lightning, and I'm enjoying the sounds. Small Town is still in a drought, so we need all the extra precipitation we can get.

But I'm still not buying the snow thing. It's a wait-and-see approach here at the Happy Kitten Cottage. Of course, if it does indeed snow, there'll be pictures posted for you here on E&P.

Oh hai! Heer r moar kittehs!

Your tech advice, please.

This summer, I'm taking my Special Topics class on country music to the Web. I'm hoping I'll be able to make a few more trips around the South to country music's landmarks, such as the Hank Williams Museum in Montgomery, and all the wonderful places in/around Nashville. While I'm there, I want to get video footage of all the wonderful stuff so I can put it into podcasts for my students.

What kinds of digital video cameras do you readers have/recommend? I know I'll get a lot of use out of it, and am looking for something that's compact, connects directly to my computer, and has pretty good image quality. I could spend up to $300 on it.

Looking forward to your comments!

How to FAIL in Business without Really Trying, Part 2—EPIC FAIL Week #29

You'll recall the EPIC FAIL post from last semester in which a young man in one of my Regents' Exam classes was arrested for stealing Oxycontin pills and selling them to a large number of D2U students. It was kind of sad, but mostly funny—talk about not thinking your business plan all the way through!

Several weeks after my student's arrest, I happened to pick up a copy of a small local fishwrapper. It's full of local events, preachers' columns, sappy Christianesque poems, and the like. Once in a while, an actual local news event will be featured on the front page. (I like looking through it for the flea market and estate sale ads.)

At the grocery store one evening, I picked up a copy of the little birdcage-liner publication. The headline caught my eye—for once, it didn't look like "Gospel Group to Hold Benefit Singing and Cattle Auction" or something like that. Those pictures sure did look like mugshots.

Three mugshots: Allen*, Timmy*, and Jonny*.

All three arrested in the Small Town/D2U oxycodone bust.

All three my former students.

The Colonel called later that night, and I told him what I'd seen on the front of the little paper.
ME: Can you believe that? I mean...damn.
COL: [laughs]
ME: All of those guys are my former students.
COL: And what a good influence you had on them!
ME: Oh, kiss my ass.

Wednesday kittehs

Okay, people, I hear some out you out there are having a shitty, shitty week so far. I hope these kittehs will cheer you up and get you through the day.

I must be doing something right.

Last Friday, I found out that I'd won the 2008 Division II University Part-Time/Temporary Full-Time Teaching Award. Hooray! I'm very, very excited to have won.

In other news, the book is coming along pretty well. My creative process seems to work best when I'm not actually thinking about the novel; for example, I had a great idea just pop into my head while I was driving to work this morning. It's sort of like how an icicle forms—drop by drop, the book gets more and more toward a finished whole. And it's taking a lot longer than I'd expected, but that's fine by me. I'd rather take a long time and write something good than write a piece of crap within an artificial time frame. This evening, I'm reading of a part of the novel at a D2U Creative Writing get-together. It sounds okay so far.

Myrtle Mae Monday will return next week

My home computer has been in the shop since last Wednesday, so I've been stuck doing real household activities while at the Happy Kitten Cottage. You know, like, uhh...cleaning. Yeah, that's it, cleaning.

The computer repair people just called, though, to let me know it's ready to go. I'll pick it up this afternoon, and will soon be able to post on all the exciting news happening around these parts. Hooray!

DJ, I've got a request.

Play "Spin That Kitteh" one more time!

I Can Has Cheezburger? is always full of WIN!

All right. You get an A.

A student brought me a homemade breakfast burrito yesterday, along with a link of real boudin from Louisiana. "I felt bad taking up your lunch hour so you could help me revise my paper," he said, "so the least I could do was make you some lunch." And it was one of the best lunches I've ever had.

Kindly Remove Your Head from Your Anus—EPIC FAIL Week #28

Tuesday's Intro to Lit classes did not go well at all.

I'd assigned Alice Walker's "Everyday Use" and Tillie Olsen's "I Stand Here Ironing"—two stories often covered in first-year literature classes, and two of my all-time favorites. The stories had been on the syllabus since the first day of class, and I even reminded everyone last Thursday what we'd be reading for our next class meeting. "I think you'll really like these stories," I told them. "They're not simple, which means you need to read through them at least twice, but there's so much you'll be able to take from them."

Tuesday arrived. None of my classes went well, but the 9:30 bunch was by far the worst.

"Okay," I began. "Which of these stories do you want to cover first?" I often let students choose the direction we take in class—seems to make them feel more connected to the works we analyze. It was unanimous: they all wanted to cover "I Stand Here Ironing" first.

"Great. Now, we were talking about whether our parents are responsible for our successes and our failures—how about in this story?"

Silence. Uncomfortable silence. Students staring at their open books.

I tried a different direction. "Well, let me ask you this: who's telling this story?"

More uncomfortable silence. More staring at open books. This class is generally kind of reticent, though, so I tried again.

"Was there anything you didn't quite 'get' about the story? Anything that just confused you, and you need it cleared up?"

Stony silence. Shifting in seats. Leafing through pages in textbooks.

"Okay. How many of you actually read the assignment?"

Two hands out of 25 went up.

I sighed deeply. This wasn't at all how I'd hoped the day would begin. "Be honest. Why didn't you read? Was it too hard? You have three major science tests coming up? You're hung over? What?"

Silence for several minutes. I stared daggers at the non-readers. Then one hand went up—that of one of my notorious 13th graders. "Well, umm...I didn't even know it was on the syllabus."

I almost replied, "And if you'd actually read the goddamn syllabus, you'd would've known."

How I wish now that I'd actually said that.

Some guys bring flowers.

But not the Colonel. He brings me interesting stuff for Valentine's Day:


Like this hubcap off a '63 Plymouth Valiant!


And the horn button off a 1950s heavy-duty GMC delivery truck! More office decor! Hell yeah!

COL: I'm probably the only man who brings his sweetheart junk for Valentine's.
ME: And I'm probably the only woman who says, "Oh, baby! Junk is awesome!"

He also gave me a full-body massage for Valentine's. Not a gift certificate. Gave me one himself. Mm-hmm, it was a very nice celebration.

ME: Do you remember the days when a woman wasn't properly dressed without a hat? Like, didn't leave home without some kind of hat?
COL: Oh, yeah. I even remember the days when my dad wore a hat. That's how it was.
ME: Those were the days when people, women especially, knew how to dress.
COL: Mm-hmm.
ME: I love those old fashioned hats, like from the '40s and '50s. [pause] Do you think a woman could get away with wearing a hat these days?
COL: I think a woman oughtta be able to get away with whatever the hell she wants.

He's my kind of guy.

Ask Mom™

Thanks to your generosity, folks, we have a big list of Ask Mom™ questions, enough to last us for several weeks. Mom will answer as many as she can each week; she's kind of short on time now that she's back to modeling part-time for an Awesome Methodist College (AMC) drawing class. (And I imagine you'll have some questions for Mom on what it's like to be an art-class model...at age 59.)

All righty, here we go!

Dear Mom,
1. What charities, if any, do you support/volunteer with?
2. What's your favorite kind of cookie, and can you supply us with a recipe?
Thanks,
Xtine

I know you asked three questions, but I'll get to the third one next week, heh-heh-heh. Pixie and Kitty are in SO much trouble.

1. Sweetie, I don't volunteer for anything. I know better. But my favorite "cause" is animal care. I don't contribute 'cause I'm basically running a shelter here at the Happy Kitten Farm (HKF). "Aw honey! The little thing will starve/get run over/be cold/be lonely!" says El Seebeno. So we've got four dogs (each over 40 pounds) and 13 cats (6 permanent indoors, 3 in/out, 4 permanent outside). But if we had more money, El Seebeno and I would give every month to the Humane Society, or ASPCA.
2. How the hell can I just pick one cookie recipe?!? Mother of GOD! [sigh] It's a sacrifice, but I picked two.
GINGERBREAD COOKIES
1/2 cup shortening*
1/2 cup brown sugar (packed)
3-1/4 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. cinnamon (what?)
1/2 tsp. ginger (wait a minute...)
1/8 tsp. cloves (ya pussy!)
---&#%*@*&%@$---
(ahem!)
1-1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. cloves
(Now I'm happy.)**
3/4 cup molasses
1/4 cup water
Cream the first two ingredients together; sift together the next six ingredients. Alternate dry & last two ingredients (mixing well after each) added to creamed mixture. Roll out dough 1/4" thick and cut out shapes with a cookie cutter...or make your own design with a knife.*** "Look Mom! I made a gingerbread garbage truck!" Put cookies on lightly-greased cookie sheets and bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes.
*If you use melted shortening, COOL IT before adding!
**I use a LOT of cloves in my cooking...reminds me of the four wisdom teeth I had pulled in 1981 that all went dry socket. Ah! The good old days!
***There are tons of cool cookie cutters out there; hobby and craft stores usually have them.

NUT & RAISIN OATMEAL COOKIES, A LA MOM (aka WILDERNESS GINA)
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
2 cups quick-cooking oats
1 cup raisins (or more, if you want)
2 eggs (slightly beaten)
3/4 cup oil or melted shortening
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 cup chopped walnuts
Sift sugar, flour, sa—Aw hell. Sift first seven ingredients together. Add oats, raisins, and nuts. Mix well. In another bowl, beat eggs, then add oil/shortening, milk, and vanilla. Add this to the dry; mix well. Then put it in the fridge overnite, tightly covered. Drop by spoonfuls on greased cookies sheets. Bake at 350 degrees about 15 minutes.

More of your awesome questions next week. Until then, do you have a question for Mom that you haven't already asked? You can submit it in one of two ways: by e-mailing me through my Blogger profile, or by leaving your question in the Comments section below. Mom will answer as many questions as she can each week—and remember, no topic's off limits.

Myrtle Mae Monday: 2/16/09

Today's Myrtle Mae Monday brings us a few random photos from my time with everyone's favorite bad-ass chicken.

And did I mention this is E&P's 1,000th post?

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Hope you're all having a happy and loving Valentine's Day—or Singles' Awareness Day, as some people like to celebrate it. It's rainy and foggy here in Small Town today, just the way I like a lazy Saturday.

And El Seebeno says for me to tell you all, "Happy fuckin' Valentine's!" So call a friend or loved one and wish him/her a Happy [expletive] Valentine's Day, E&P-style.

I'm out of town. Here are some kittehs.

[On the phone with my sister.]

PIXIE: So what's going on?
ME: I have to go to Valdosta on Friday.
PIXIE: Valdosta?!?
ME: Yeah.
PIXIE: Oh my GOD! What did you DO?!?
ME: [laughing] No, it's for a seminar.
PIXIE: But why? Why there? Wouldn't the third concentric ring of Hell have been a little nicer?!?

I'll be back late Friday evening. Until then, enjoy some kittehs.

Kinda want

I feel like this kitteh today. Anyone else in "kinda want" mode?

Welcome to the 13th Grade!—EPIC FAIL Week #27

It's the time of the semester where I finally start assigning WFs to students who've missed too many days in my classes. Last week, as I was just beginning to flip through the roll book to list names, I noticed that one student had never been to my 8:00am class. I made a note to drop her, too, along with the rest of the people in there who had used up more than the allotted number of skips.

But that same afternoon, I opened my e-mail to find this note from the student's mother. Yes, HER MAMA:

Mrs. kiTTy,

this is [student's] mother. She has been absent for the passed three weeks is because she had her wisdom teeth pulled the sunday before school started. Her brother told me he emailed you but according to [student] he has not. I due apologize for the late notice. She will be returning this Monday and should be in your class on Tuesday. Once again I am so sorry. Email me if you have any questions.

Thank You,

Mrs. student's mama

For the record: I had all four of my wisdom teeth pulled in one surgery when I was 18, and was only out of commission for about a week. If having surgery has made the student that sick, she shouldn't be in classes at all this semester. And on the other hand, maybe the student and her mama should just grow the hell up.

And get this: the student was NOT in class on Tuesday. Gee whiz.

El Seebeno's timeless wisdom

[Mom and I chat in the kitchen; Mom prepares chicken curry.]

ME: Lois says the seed catalogs are already arriving in her mailbox.
MOM: Yeah, mine too.
ME: She says she'll probably plant tomatoes, a few peppers, green beans, and some okra.
MOM: Okra? Bleeeech.

[Seeben suddenly walks in.]

ME: Seeben, do you like okra?
SEEBEN: Hell, naw.
ME: No?!?
SEEBEN: I don't like it fried, boiled, shoved up my ass, nuthin.
ME: [hooting with laughter]
SEEBEN: And I refuse to pick it.

Myrtle Mae Monday: 2/9/09

Today's posthumous Myrtle Mae Monday brings you pictures from mid-June 2008. Ernge had just brought her kittens around to the Happy Kitten Cottage, and she and her babies were negotiating terms of their new relationship with a fierce-looking Demon Chicken.

I sure do miss my bird. But don't worry—I'll eventually get more chikinz.

Another conversation with the Colonel

Weekday afternoon—sitting around at the Happy Kitten Cottage.

ME: Sorry.
COL: For what?
ME: I have to poot. [passes gas quietly]
COL: GAWD, I'm leaving. [gets up to walk out of room]
ME: [starting to chuckle] Sorry.
COL: You know, your farts would be cute.
ME: Would be cute?
COL: If I didn't need a goddamn gas mask every time you let one.

More Friday kittehs

Last week's "Friday Kittehs" post seems to have been well-received, so I give you MOAR KITTEHS! for this Friday as well. And the eternally disappointed Squirrel (aka Martha Ann) starts us off.

Scent of an Author

In a happy accident at the local arts-and-crafts supply store, I discovered the wonder that is the fragrance effusion lamp.



I got this one at a huge discount right after New Year's; I needed something to make my office smell better, but knew that candles and incense were too much of a fire hazard.

The idea is pretty simple: special liquid in the reservoir seeps up through a wick to a ceramic burner. Light the burner and let it flame for three minutes, then blow it out. The fragrance wafts through the room, and the whole house if you let it. When you're satisfied with the nice smell (or ready to leave), just put the metal cap back over the burner. It's about a quarter as hot as a candle, and works much more efficiently.

I'm so glad I got this. Even though a colleague down the hall has really bad allergies and is sensitive to fragrances, this scents my office very nicely. (I just don't let it burn for very long, and keep the door closed.) Since I'm not big on most potpourri and candle scents—the majority of them are food-scented, and all that does is distract the hell out of me—I got this one. It's called Hemingway. Don't know if it actually smells like gunpowder, mojitos, bullfights, or Old Havana, but there you have it.



Last week, Rory*, whose office is next door to mine, stopped in to ask about the new smell.

RORY: Hey, what's that? [sniffs air] It smells so good!
ME: Oh, thanks. It's this little effusion lamp.
RORY: That thing is awesome! I smelled it as I was walking by. What scent is that?
ME: Mmm... [picking up bottle] The fragrance is called Hemingway. I'm guessing it doesn't smell like an old man, or the sea.
RORY: [laughing] Hey, it smells better than this funky building.
ME: Wonder what an Eliot lamp fragrance would smell like?
RORY: Like a patient etherized upon a table.

Dousing that fire down the spine

A few months ago, I was dealing with some pretty serious back pain—sciatica brought on by piriformis syndrome. I'd never before had back problems, and I quickly came to see what Mom's been putting up with in the years since she ruptured two discs of her own. Back pain is not for wimps. And I am a wimp.

I was hesitant to go to the doctor for the pain. Even though I'm sure I could've used and would've been very happy with a big bottle of hydrocodone...hell, I can't teach while on that stuff, let alone drive. Staying doped up all the time wasn't an option.

So my sister suggested yoga. She's been keeping up a faithful yoga practice for three or four years now, and swears by it. Pixie sent me a couple old copies of Yoga Journal, and I pieced together a couple poses at a time.

And I'm here to tell you, folks: yoga. fucking. WORKS.

Longtime E&P reader Orchidophile e-mailed me a while back to ask how I was doing with the sciatica; we discussed back problems and how they make you willing to do anything not for those problems to happen again. I told her, "Yoga's been a miracle for me. It really has. I used to hurt six days out of seven, and now I hurt maybe one or two days out of 30."

I swear to you: it WORKS, and I am SO thankful to be able to control the pain, improve my flexibility and concentration, and grow to accept my body just as it is.

Everyone's back problems are different, and what's working for me may not work for you. But there's something about yoga and the deep stretching and relaxation it can provide, and I encourage you to give it a try. Ask your doctor; he/she might just give it an enthusiastic thumbs-up. It's worked for millions of other people.

You don't have to go to a class or buy fancy equipment, either. I put my pose sequences together based on reading Yoga Journal (print and website), and on how my body's feeling that day. I do my asanas at home, in the bedroom floor, with a set of two foam blocks and a cotton strap that I found for $11 in Wal-Mart's sporting goods section.

I don't have a lot of spinal flexibility, especially for backbends, but yoga's about not pushing beyond what you can safely do. One millimeter at a time, I get closer and closer to being able to do the full poses—and even if I never get there, the modified versions still help get all the synovial fluid moving around in my joints. (Research points to this being the reason why yoga seems to help relieve arthritis pain for some people.)

That's my story.

Ask Mom™ will return next week

We need YOUR questions, readers—and anything's game. So kindly leave Mom a question in the Comments section of this post, or send me an e-mail through my Blogger profile (at the left of this page), and ask your question. Mom will answer as many as she can.

And in the meantime—Mom's daring new hair color:





One of the benefits of age? Courage at the hair salon!

Pixie and I think the new 'do is full of WIN. Mom got the idea from the character of Susan Death in Hogfather, the movie based on the Terry Pratchett novel—Susan's hair is light blonde with a big black streak in it. Mom put her own twist on the style and color.

As Mom would say, "Bring it, people! Get off your asses and send in a question!"

Myrtle Mae Monday: 2/2/09

A replay of Myrtle Mae, kittehs, and a pumpkin.

It's MINE.

Look what I bought on eBay for my office:



I drove to Conyers, Georgia, yesterday to pick it up—and am delighted to have found an affordable vintage neon Pabst Blue Ribbon sign.

My redneck office is nearly complete! A complete overhaul of the filing cabinet's up next; I got Dr. Pepper's* permission to soup it up. Heh-heh-heh.