For a while we were having a problem with the dog needing to go out at the most horrific times at night. This wasn't problematic in October or even November, when the nights were still warm and I forgot this is Vermont. But now the nights are cold and she goes through her routine -- walking to the window, paws on the sill, next to the bed to shake, over to the door, perfect silence for a second as we tense wondering who will get stuck with the chore. Quiet whine. The inevitable groan. Sometimes I pretend to be asleep.

We watched some Twilight Zone; Kris couldn't keep his eyes open. We were sitting, then suddenly laying on the couch. I talked to myself -- he was out in about three minutes. I tried to move to see better but he just pulled me closer. If that happens every day for the rest of my life, I'll be happier than most.

We went to bed, his comfort with me wrapping him like a blanket, enabling him to sleep. I wrestled with AWAKE until nearly 1. How I hate going back to work.

But, seeing his sleep-smile gave me such peace.

Banking on snow days is just a bad idea. And yet I do it. With the holiday break being so short this year, a slight lack of sleep, and with us being the only folks to go back to school Monday, my body is simply not used to the idea of back to work. As soon as L sent the email ending, "Do you think we'll have a snow day tomorrow?"(we're getting snow!?) I started with my constant check of weather.com. Last night I kept checking the weather channel. Now it's 6:02 a.m.; I'm wondering where the snow is.

Contradictions. I can't stand when people contradict themselves. I'm convinced that it's because they like to hear themselves speak. Last night at a meeting, R went on an 8 minute rant about leaving something out of a report we were writing. 8 minutes. I timed it (he's a little much). Not 20 minutes later he went on for 11 minutes about why we should put this same something IN the report. And when questioned for going against his word he JUST KEPT TALKING. It was so frustrating and completely obvious that he had NO conviction. And that really bugs me.

I woke up at 12:34 and again at 1:23. Of course I found this entertaining AND decided to take it as a sign of something. And of course that "something"was a snow day. The second time I woke up I had to pee... made my way to the bathroom, looked out the kitchen window and saw the heavenly dust pouring down. At 5, after the alarm went off, the plows were so loud I thought they were in my room. Yet as I look out, there is nothing, the streets are clear; so to school I must go. Why?

It doesn't feel as if one week ago I snuggled in bed watching Kris leave for work, loving that I was not the first up as I always am. I miss being the one to not have the poking noises of the alarm clock wake me but instead the touch of a hand on my shoulder through blankets. The dog stays in bed with whomever gets up second; I miss seeing her peek up at me under the blankets, her eyes saying, "isn't it nice to do this? Isn't it nice to stay in bed?" Now, I wake up Kris.

Last night as we tried to sleep, the drama began. It's a fairly regular occurrence with our neighbors upstairs. I slept through the start, but Kris was awoken. Peter screamed over the phone, "Amanda!" And yelled at her for not being home. "It's past 1 a.m.!" They have a newborn. I think he's two weeks old. Peter ran down the stairs, started the car and soon after left, returning shortly with the oft drunk mother of his newborn. They fought, and we realized they had left the baby all alone. What hope can a child when he's born into that?

One night at McNeill's: A three hour scenic drive to Brattleboro. I drank Porter, he had the Oatmeal Stout. Later, the IPA.
"Too much hops.-
"No, it's too many hops.-
"No, it's too much... you can't have ONE hop, it's a collective plural. You can have HOPS, but not A HOP.-
The man standing next to me agreed, "Yeah, it's just hops, she's right.-
"Too much hops?-
"Wait, that sounds wrong... too many hops, I think.-
"No... just like rain... too much rain.-

Later, as we played darts, he came back over. "My girlfriend agrees with you: too much hops.-

I got sucked into the evil vortex which is MTV. The channel offers shows that, no matter what the topic, are addictive. "Meet the Barkers"was on and because I'm pop culture illiterate I had no idea WHO they were, but I could plainly see WHAT they were: in love in a way you don't often see. From saying it, to being goofy, from random hugs to writing their names in cement, they were totally in love (privately). "I want THAT..."because the drama usually attached with love is too contradictory And now I have it. Yup, life is good.

Ever notice that when you watch the weather channel they constantly speak in the first person plural? We this and we that. We've got snow here in Missouri. We've got rain here in Idaho. I don't know about you, but I'm not in Missouri NOR Idaho. This bothered me so much once I looked up where they are based: Atlanta. Not some strange time/space portal which enables them to be everywhere at any time. This may explain why as I sit here it says it's sunny in Bennington, yet as I look out my window it's snowing.

Gorgeous sunrise today.

One of the most vivid memories of my youth is more a snapshot than actual filmstrip segment. There's no sound and little context... simply temperature and texture. Yet I'm very aware of this moment. And I can see three things. The window glass with beads of rain on the outside that sometimes travel south. The tan plastic which is supposed to look like leather. The hand (mine) resting on the cool seatback. It's fall. I'm four. They've just told me, for the first time, that my father is dying. I can't remember the telling, but I remember these moments after.

I've been up for about an hour. Which is better than the past two days. So much trouble sleeping which I don't quite get. The dog usually stays in bed with Kris, but this morning wanted out of the room. She interrupted my shower; we went out to pee. Back to the bedroom doors to be with dad. But, noooooo... she doesn't want to sleep. She wants to play. I can hear the familiar music of what is usually only a weekend morning routine.

People equate power with words like LARGE and IMPOSING and HUGE.

My dog is not these.

It was winter. I remember that. And snowy. A Friday night. It was the first time Laura came over. She met Mugsy, oooooohed and aaaaaaaaahed over my apartment, and we sat down at the table. Olive tapenade, crusty bread, wine, tomatoes and Spite & Malice. We played, ate, laughed. At one point she told an embarrassing story about herself and we laughed. She stopped laughing for a moment to say, "Well, at least my favorite song isn't "Romeo in Black Jeans!-" I guess she assumed I, like most others, didn't know it. I knew and loved it. Our friendship began.

The man at the bar, like most in the bar, was not afraid to talk to non-regulars. That's what we are... non-regulars. At one point he made a generalization about Long Island, which sparked a conversation. Turned out he'd lived in Bayille. We talked about Oyster Bay and Huntington. As always I said how I missed and loved the island of my origin.

"Maybe you'll move back-
"Nah, he hates it."
"Where's he from?"
"Little Falls."
"Ah, Little Falls... that's where my family's from. But, I grew up in Dolgeville." [Note: Kris' sister lives in Dolgeville.]

What are the chances?

After last night, I don't know if he'll ever believe that I would give up almost anything to be with him. I am disgusted with myself and how selfish I can be when it comes to that job. It doesn't matter how badly I want it, I know I wouldn't do it if it meant losing him. I can't blame him for not wanting to leave this area; his reason isn't simplistic. I admire his fierce loyalty and wish I had something to which I could be so loyal. I do... him... but I doubt he believes that any longer.

As much as I love going away, it's good to be home. The Wellstone training was great, but being the dork I am, I hated BEING there with Kris, but NOT being there with him. The bed was so comfortable... one of the best ever, but I couldn't sleep because I was on the "wrong"side (I need to work on this!). It was fun to be in a new city, to try new beer, to eat out so much. But it was good to get home, see the places to which I've grown accustomed... sleep in our old bed.

There are four people at my table, three of whom have not accepted that it is winter. We are wearing pinks, light greens, dusty yellows. In a way we are morbid cheerleaders, rah rah rahing at the funeral of a fallen friend. We were fooled into thinking he would stay and defy his prognosis, but the joke is on us - he's dead. It's cold, like his displayed corpse. The new season brutally displayed: naked and frigid, wrapping his spindly death-fingers around our necks, faces and other exposed parts. He laughs at our loyalty to the warmth of our fallen friend.

The first day of pre-K my mother dropped me off earlier than the others because my dad was in the hospital. Due to his illness I was a pretty flexible kid, however I did have certain needs. A child dealing with the imminent mortality of one parent needs reassurance that the other isn't going away. She didn't kiss me goodbye, my mother. I started to scream. I was articulate and LOUD about the fact that I wanted her to come back and say goodbye. The teacher told my mother to walk away.

I've still not forgiven my mother this sin.

For weeks the dog has been sleeping through the night. Which means that we've been sleeping through the night. But not last night. She came to bed with me around 9, lounged on top of the covers while I read, and then around 1 decided she had to go out. And so I took her. She peed. But was still restless. She went out again around 3 something and slept a bit but then started in again. I reset the alarm and prayed for sleep. It didn't come. She seems to know when we're both headed for a long day.

I was wandering around my house thinking that because I didn't make an appointment sooner, I may have to go to the ER.

Kris kept asking, "are you going to go to the ER?"because I was being my usual medically noncommittal self.

"I'm going to call The Facts of Life Line to see what they say.-

"You know what they're going to say, Nancy... you take the good, and you take the bad.-

"What?-

"You take the good, and you take the bad!-

"Huh?-

"You take the good, you take the bad... you take them both...-

He's too much.

Saturdays are by far our best day. It's good to be with someone who, like me, respects the fact that there's only one day that is completely free. We get up early, do anything we need to get done, and then embark on some sort of adventure. Be it something simple, like watching a movie or something more involved, like the day we headed to Brattleboro the long way, we do something. Today we don't have a plan, but tonight he gets to try my favorite restaurant for the first time. Of course it seems that this never works out.

I'm not really a shopper, but for some reason I have this undying urge to go shopping. I used to be quite the shopper, but alas, that was before I started teaching (read: when I had money). Actually, when I taught in NYC I shopped quite a bit. So, it's true, you see: teachers in Bennington do NOT get paid enough. All I want is a pair of shoes (boots) and one pair of pants and some tops. Is that so much to ask? Apparently it is because for as long as I've been dreaming of shopping, it hasn't happened.

Last night was quite random. The boys were watching football as I quietly worked on my blog and looked at some geocaching stuff. Then P emailed to say she was in town, so I called L and invited her over as well. Kind of an impromptu gathering of football fans and geocachers. Of course it was weird as P hasn't been well and L is going through some sort of transformation I don't understand. K was pissed because of how she's acting. I don't know if I'd go THAT far. We laughed the hardest when P knew the "Shithead"story.

"I forgot to tell you about this... yesterday I went to the bathroom at work. There're two urinals, a tall one and a short one -"

"They come in sizes?-

"Yeah. So I always feel it's degrading to use the short one (note to reader: speaker is 5'2-) so I go over to the tall one and I'm doing my thing.

I'm standing there peeing, and the door opens. Some dude comes in, and of course he's like six foot three. Had to use the short one." We both laugh.

Only in lives of the short do such things happen.

You can't expect people to know what to do, never mind succeed, if you don't tell them your expectations. That's one of the most ignored facts in this world, I'm convinced of it. Here, working with pre-teens and young teens, you'd think we'd understand that if we don't guide our students and explain to them how and when to do something it's not going to get done, or at least not how we'd like it. And yet people set kids up to fail. They don't communicate effectively with kids or with other teachers. And those slipping through the cracks multiply.

Yesterday, I was so angry, I couldn't write. Each day I write part of my 99 word vignette, and yet it was impossible to find the inspiration yesterday because I was simply furious. I just don't understand things right now which is making my usual way of living interrupted and chaotic. The effect ego can have on a human being amazes me, but ego and stupidity are a dangerous match. Because he who is stupid and does stupid, quickly gets in over their head. This time, though, I think I'll just sit back and watch.

I'm sick of helping you.

Thank God it's finally Friday. I don't know what my issue is lately, but the weekends don't seem to get here fast enough! I guess it's just the winter doldrums... I'm so much more motivated in fall and spring when the weather is nice (or at least predictable). But finally, finally, finally it's the weekend. I don't even have anything that exciting planned... a nap today after school (yeah, right), Dog sitting for the Ws' tomorrow-Sunday. But it's the weekend. Of course today is one week until the deadline for my UPDP application. And that's just a little bit scary.

That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes. That's not the reason I offered to do the dishes.

The sunlight is coming through the trees. I can see it out of the window. Sun on snow. This house, to me, is what a house should be. Albeit dirty, disorganized, and full of dogs with no discipline, it is the perfect home. Would be a good place to raise kids; to play with them in the gardens and yard outside. To spend summer nights eating dinner in the sunroom looking out to the woods and mountains. It's an old house, but with a little reorganization, a great deal of cleaning, and some love, it could truly be a home.

The type of ADD-inspiring anxiety I have at the moment reminds me a great deal of college... not even necessarily procrastinating, but having that horrific moment where you realize every single one of your professors has something due at the same time and even if you stagger, the days leading up to D-Day will be a disaster. Several of my students got incompletes for the quarter, parents freaked, I got a STACK of papers today. Late grades are due the same day as the application for the job I was born to do. This week is going to be hell.

Hi, I'm Lindsey from Akron, Ohio. My man used to hate getting intimate by orally pleasuring me because, quite frankly, my vagina smelled like the time I didn't realize a small cat had crawled into my car radiator and died. After my coworkers stopped dancing near me I realized I had a problem. And so I spoke to my madame, L-Des, who told me business was bad because of my vaginal odor. She told me many women suffer from this problem, flashing me a knowing smile. Then she said, "Bitch, get yo' ass some repHresh!" (Testimonial for "repHresh"(not really)).