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174/364/2015 On Dining Rooms, Crafts, and NOT Being Politically Correct

Last Thursday night, before the kids even left, I started tearing out my dining room. I worked on it Friday, spent Saturday, Sunday, and Monday elsewhere, then spent yesterday with the cousins and then in class. I was exhausted and hit the sheets before 9pm. This morning, I finished in here. As in, it’s done except for steam cleaning the carpet. I am well pleased.

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And this afternoon, because the whole goal of the open shelving was to see what I have so I can use it, and because this one puzzle hangs two inches over it’s assigned space…. I’m going to put it together on my cleared table.

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Also, in case you see this post and we aren’t Facebook friends…you need to read what I wrote there this morning:

Anger is a tertiary emotion. One of the elements is usually fear, which is a response to a threat of some kind. Now, if we as white society have learned to fear the “angry black man,” maybe we need to ask why he’s angry. What of his have we threatened? His life through race related crime? His pride through systemic discrimination? His family by rigging the economic system in such a way that he cannot earn enough money to support his children except by turning to crime?

I think somehow, we’ve become convinced that being politically correct means we don’t talk about race in “polite circles.” “Politically correct” has become a way for white people to pretend that race and sexuality and all those other differences among us don’t matter. We can pretend not-white is equal to white male heterosexual. Clearly it is not.

I’ve been challenged this week, as I have been challenged multiple times over my academic career. “What are you going to do about it?” And I think my answer is that I am done being politically correct if it means couching my opinions in language that ignores the effect of race on what I have to say.
I think, also, that I will remind myself and my white friends that while we may rant about the racial, sexual, and whatever else kind of violence happens in this country, we sit in a place of relative safety. Especially the heterosexual males among us.

Maybe, just possibly, people who are darker than us and people who are not male or not heterosexual aren’t overly sensitive and looking for discrimination where it doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s really there, everywhere, and we in our whiteness don’t see it because we perpetuate it with our own willful ignorance. We should probably be ashamed of that.

28/365/2015 Oh my aching back. And hand.

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I am changing some things up today. I now have to carry the DSM, which is printed on lead leaf, with me on Mondays in addition to my lunch, my water bottle, my tablet which has the materials for my other classes, and the sundry personal items I need to make it through a 15 hour day. With the two books on the right, my backpack weighs enough that my back stayed tight Monday even when I wasn’t wearing the pack. No good. I’m switching to a smaller planner/personal notes book and a standard notebook for class notes.

As for pens. That DSM prof plans to finish his 3 hour class in 2 hours each week. He does this by speaking faster than JFK. And giving out loads of information not in the text. And his tests are open book open note. That aqua pen does not glide. I have to push and pull it. And writing quickly makes it illegible. And I have good pens. That one, and its package mates, are gone.

BTW, I thought the pack was heavy Monday. No, it’s heavy TODAY with all these notebooks while I make the switch. At least I had the sense to ditch the DSM this morning.

People can be so disgusting

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This is the bush at my bus stop.

Headed home for the weekend

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I’d get more reading done if this lady in the front of the car wasn’t reciting her litany of health issues and medications so loud I can hear it in the back.

I’m all about peaceful coexistence

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Until this happens.  Watch me devise a way for a mouse to die.

Cheesy

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I love these little not-quite cheeses.  They are so cute and little and covered in pretty red wax.  I feel classy when I pack them, look at them, eat them.  But, then…I look at the amount of garbage I made for four bites of food.  And I just have to ask myself if that’s legit. 

No.  No, it is not legit to create this much garbage for not-really cheese.  I’ma have to start buying actual cheese and slicing it myself.

February 6-8, In Which We Do Different More Stuff

February 6, I didn’t go nekkid.

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I did open a $4 bag of chips to find it one-quarter full? WTF? Not like I need to eat chips anyway.

potato chips

February 7, also dressed.

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February 8‘ likewise. What is with all this following of social norms?

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And folks, it was cold on a couple of these days. I almost needed the best patagonia down coat, but I made do with the one I have.

This entry was posted on February 12, 2013, in cass rants.

January 14 and 15, In Which We Have Lice and Blisters

This is what I wore Monday. I really like the whole suit. I took this picture before I ran the children to school for yet another head check.

sweater Jan 15

My boy passed, but the two girls still had live varmints. I brought them home, stopping by Walgreens on the way to pick up the stuff I had used on the boy and treated them quickly, hoping to get them in class so I could get to class myself. I took them back to school, and although the nurse found no active lice on their heads, she would not let them go to class. Angry and frustrated does not begin to tell the tale.

But, I decided to make a fun day of it until my mom got off work at 2. I figured we would go to Target and Burger King. I drove into Wilmington. I drove all the way to Target. And reached in my backpack to get my wallet, only to discover that I had left it on the table with the box from the lice shampoo. Back home. Get wallet. Back to Target, where I bought nothing. Then to Burger King, where I bought lunch times three. Then to Kmart where I bought candy for the girls and a water for myself, and then I let them sit on the merry-go-round while I sat on the bench and we just enjoyed the beautiful day. And it was beautiful.

And I really hope that my kids remember that we had shopping and lunch and fun, and not that they had lice.

I did make it to school for my last class, which was meeting for the first time. It’s a three hour once a week writing workshop class. Then I did what I do every Monday–homework.

monday nights

This is what the library looked like at 7pm, as I was making a list of all my homework assignments, in due date order, for the semester. Except that changed today, when I got to Positive Psych and was greeted with a modified syllabus. It’s basically just spreading the reading out instead of the clumpiness with which it first appeared. We also found out there will be mandatory articles each week, in addition to what’s in the syllabus already. Oh, and a mindfulness/meditation journal. And a gratitude journal later this semester. This is the third class which requires a journal this semester. Have I mentioned I am still doing the morning pages? Well, most days. You know, when I don’t lose an hour on head checks.

The entire day was not lost however, because I came home to these. They are absolutely stunning in person, and they fit. And they have straps, so they will stay on my feet!

new essies

And that was Monday!

Tuesday, I wore this. I’m not in love with this skirt and I think someone else may appreciate it more than I do.

outfit Jan 15

They maybe can buy it from the thrift store with these shoes, which originally came to ME from a thrift store. I love the look of them, but I walked out of them more times that I can count today, and ended up with a couple of blisters. They are outta here!

shoes be gone

I spent another hour this morning at the elementary school, getting the girls rechecked. Yep, the same ones that didn’t have lice at 10am yesterday. They were inspected, and inspected, and inspected. And I also got to meet with the school social worker, because this has been going on so long.

When I got home, from school and errands, I discovered that I had missed my last book delivery and have to go the post office tomorrow. I nit-combed three heads. I tried to fix the washer which has decided again that it is not receiving communications from the control panel–though how it can tell me this I do not know, since I have to start the diagnostic process by pushing buttons on the control panel.

And I found out that the school nurse at the elementary school is also the school nurse at the middle school. I found this out because my middle son told me how he got pulled out of class today to have his head checked. And so did his brother. So, basically the school nurse used her knowledge of what was going on in one location to single out students in another location for head checks. No referral, no scratching, nada. And they were clean. Of course, I had been telling her that the elementary school students were the only ones in my house with a lice problem for…since it began.

Yeah. I am a bit pissed that my kids’ right to privacy and the sanctity of their persons were violated this way. And the more I think about it, the angrier I get. Someone in authority has touched my children without just/probable cause. That f*cking infuriates me.

I better go take a shower now, before I start writing scathing emails to the school board.