More Summer Stuff

On Monday night, we had a dinner that helped to squeeze some more out of the last days of summer. We made beer can chicken and basil, tomato and bean salad. (I know that I've written the recipe for this salad someplace, but I can't find it in any of my archives).

When Stein went out to start the grill, he realized that we were out of gas and ended up cooking the chicken in the oven. This was the best idea since the rain started shortly after that. We have had so little rain this year, that the sound of the rain outside while I was making the salad made me feel so happy. (Sorry Karen, I know the sound of rain doesn't make you happy lately).

Here is a picture of the finished chicken product:

And here's a picture of the basil, tomato, and bean salad:

We had 2 tomatoes clinging to their vines (our tomatoes were not very good this year), and some basil that was still there. Freshly picked, and perfect to squeeze out some of the last drops of summer. And the bowl? We always put this salad (and tuna salad) in this bowl for some reason. Do you do that? Certain things go in certain bowls? (I guess we're all creatures of habit).

This bowl was one I got from my Great Aunt Ann. It has a crack in the side of it, but I just can't bear to throw it out. I silence the food safety voice in my head screaming, "BACTERIA! IT'S HARBORING BACTERIA!" when I fight the urge to throw it out. I love this bowl. It's a well-worn bowl that I like to look at and think about all the things that were made in it. I get nostalgic like that.

Sorry

Thanks to those of you who were concerned about me and my statement of "getting disappointing news" on Sunday. I didn't mean to be vague about it, I was just searching for a reason why I was feeling so melancholy. You all know me, and I'm typically not like that. So when this happens, I try to find an answer.

The disappointing news was that I didn't get a job that I interviewed for last week. It was a job that I felt very qualified for, unlike some of the others that I felt under qualified for and had to flub my way through the interview. I felt relaxed during the interview, and was confident that I would be the one they wanted for the job. But in the end I wasn't who they wanted, so now I am Marion the Librarian.

I also found out today that I won't be team-teaching with my friend Mandi after all. The principal said that she can't have 2 subs in the position, so after this week, I will be flying solo. Despite the overwhelming amount of work to be done and kept up with, I am going to give it the old college try and see if I can handle it. If it becomes something I can't handle, well, there's always regular subbing. Again, not my ideal, but it's a job.

I am feeling surprisingly calm about the whole thing. I don't know if this is the calm before the storm, or if I am just accepting it all. Either way, you don't have to be concerned about me. But I appreciate your concern, I really do.

The Last Drops

Yesterday I tried to squeeze the last drops of summer, since I can feel fall closing in on me.

It was a funky weather day - rain early in the morning, sunny skies mid-morning, sprinkles in the afternoon, and blue skies and sun in the afternoon. In between all of this, I watered the flowers (and what little herbs and tomatoes there are still hanging on to their stems), straightened up a little outside, and tested out the hammock.

In the busyness of our summer, I didn't use the hammock at all. Not once. The hammock is one of the places that I love to nap in the summer. A cool breeze underneath you, the sun on your face, a little rocking motion to lull you to sleep.

So yesterday, in an effort to check off one more summer thing, I stopped and enjoyed the hammock. I hope that there will be more warm days this fall to enjoy it some more.

Melancholy

That's about the only word I can use to describe how I'm feeling today. I think it's a mixture of that Sunday night feeling, hearing some undesirable news, and coming off a pretty fun weekend that's making me feel this way. I'm not altogether sad. Just somewhere in between sad and happy.

I've been pretty silent about my working situation with hopes that it would turn out better than it has. Before I go on, I have to say, that I need to be thankful that I am working. I am thankful. But when there were chances out there for other things, and those things didn't come through, I can't help but feel a little bitter.

As for what I'm doing? Well, I must be good at the long-term sub thing. Because that's what I'm going to be doing for the next few weeks, or months (the time frame is indefinite at this point). I have been asked by the principal at the school I've been working at to fill in for the media specialist. That means that I am responsible to teach library and/or computers to EVERY class in the school. Easy, huh? Yeah, not so much. I am currently working with a retired media specialist, so we are doing a little team-teaching to get through the schedule. In the next few weeks, the plan possibly entails my friend Mandi taking over for her, which would be great. Mandi and I have worked together in a team-teaching situation for almost a year now. We work well together and complement each other.

In the meantime, I am trying to find a balance between tying kindergartner's shoes and challenging the Fifth graders. If you ever thought that teachers wear many hats, this position multiplies those hats by about 20! It is truly a juggling act trying to plan for 6 grade levels, while keeping the curriculum, skill levels, and interests in mind.

I am excited and challenged by this new position. It is definitely not my ideal, where I would have my own classroom, but it is something that is long-term and can be added to my resume. I am grateful to be offered this position, am thankful that I know where I'll be everyday (for a while) and look forward to learning a lot along the way.

Marion the Librarian? I'm going to give you a run for your money.

Stolen Words

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I have been speechless, thoughtless, whatever you want to call it. Yet, even when I have the slightest thought that I can expand, that thought is quickly snatched up by another blogger whom I read. I may have a passing thought one day, and think, "Add it to the mental list," only to be reading one of the blogs I read a day later and see the same words on their page. A day late and a dollar short, I guess. Lately it's been the story of my life.

Take, for instance, the sunlight. This year, for some reason more than any other year, I have been really attentive to the light as it looks during various seasons. In the height of summer, the light is bright, unfiltered, and endless. And now that fall is near? It's hazy, filtered, and is about to set when it feels like it. Stein and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast Monday morning at an outdoor table in front of a great restaurant. I noticed that the light just hung around doing its job. If it were summer, the light would've been blaring and brash. If anything, it just seemed different. I even mentioned this to Stein as we walked to our car, our bellies full of yummy breakfast. And then, days later, on Gluten-Free Girl, what do I read? Her Ode to Light, or her discussion about how the light has changed literally and figuratively in the recent months since her daughter was born. (Karen, you're right about her switch in perspective by the way...)

Then, I was listening to the reports on NPR about the Republican convention and politics in general. While I never like to talk about politics in public or on my blog, this year I have been really disturbed by some of the political agendas/motivations/messages/tactics that are out there. I was happy then to read Dooce's account of the craziness of it all and her humorous approach to it all. (Well, depending on which side you're on.)

So without writing, my thoughts have been out there. I guess sometimes the blogger's got your tongue. Next time I just need to be quicker.

Grease - The Party

Thanks for the suggestions for costumes for the Grease party. Some people at the party were waiting to see what we were going to do. One person thought we would go with the "Greece" theme and show up in togas. Colin, we thought along the grease (WD-40, Crisco) lines, too, but after much over thinking, a good suggestion by Chris, and some last minute crafting, we came around to these outfits:
Coach Calhoun (of Rydell High, of course) and a 50's girl with a twist. As I started looking for pictures of poodles on the internet to use on a skirt, I remembered that I really don't like poodles. In fact, poodles are one of my least favorite dogs (sorry to all the poodle lovers out there and yay poodles international). Anyway, I digress. I decided that a lab would be more appropriate for my skirt and shirt. Here's how the skirt turned out:

I didn't see as much effort go into costumes this year as I did last year with the pirate theme. As suspected, there were a lot of people there with jeans and white t-shirts. What cracked me up was seeing some of the accessories on adults and then later worn by kids:

At one point during the party, our nephew Eric dumped some water on Stein and then ran off. Stein got permission from Matt (Eric's dad) to catch him and throw him in the lake. After Stein chased Eric around the yard for a while and finally caught him, here are some of the play-by-play pictures:

In the last picture, Eric was talking smack from the water, saying, "I already had my swimsuit on, so it doesn't matter."

Eric's sister, Mia, stayed dry by sitting on Stein's lap:

It was a beautiful day to be out by the lake. We watched a great sunset progress as the evening went on:

We also had entertainment at the end of the night when the kids (and adults) danced to 50's music on the deck. What a great party to end summer. Sigh.

Block Party

I have to be honest. We're not the best neighbors. Ever since we moved here, I've been looking for reasons why, but can never come up with anything concrete. Here are some of the excuses/reasons I've conjured up in my head: Our house is situated on a street with a stoplight at the end, so it gets pretty busy with traffic. The people on our street don't really hang out in front of their houses other than cutting the lawn, or getting into their cars parked on the street. Our street is a wider street than most, so it puts us at a visually and psychologically separate place from our neighbors. We're all too busy. And the list could go on and on just to make me feel better.

Growing up in Chicago, I never had these problems. We knew all of our neighbors well. Granted, we were kids, so we were constantly in and out of people's yards and houses. We followed Mrs. Lichtenstein through her crowded, cluttered living room, past her crowded, cluttered dining room, and into the even more crowded and cluttered kitchen. It was there where we would get the cup of sugar or flour we needed to make our cookies. We knew about the triumphs and troubles of other neighbors on our street, and on the other three or four streets surrounding ours. At the annual block party, everyone mingled without caution, and every parent disciplined every child regardless if that child was his or hers. We had bouncy houses, a bike parade, three-legged races and other picnics games, and food galore. It was a great time to be a kid.

But now, when we're invited to the block party in our neighborhood, Stein and I take the invitation cautiously. We know we haven't been good neighbors, and we really don't know anything about any of them. We sometimes feel like we get the invitation out of pity. "Well, we need to put an invitation in the mailbox of that grey house. What are their names again?" I imagine the organizers discussing. Last year this was most obvious when one of the organizers came to our door a few hours before the party and apologized for forgetting to invite our whole block. Stein took it personally and told the woman that we already had plans. We then went out to dinner to pretend we had somewhere to go and to wallow in our guilt.

We have attended two of the Christmas parties. The neighborhood does a progressive-type party, where each course it at a different house. We have never made it to the first two houses, but always seem to make it to the third for dessert. It's at this time when most people have imbibed a bit too much and are feeling very sociable. It's very easy to talk to people, but you can't expect that they'll remember you the next time.

Which was the case this year at the block party. Stein and I arrived on Friday evening with trepidation, thinking that people would have an attitude because of our lack of participation in all things neighbor. Most of the people whom we had met at previous parties asked questions like, "And what house do you live in?" or "And how long have you lived there?" When we would answer the questions with, "The grey house," or "Four years," most of the people had shocked looks on their faces. Yes, we are the hermits, I kept thinking.

The party ended up being pretty fun. There have been some new neighbors who have moved into the neighborhood the past year, so it was nice to have some fresh people to talk to, who didn't know our back story of slacking. We even volunteered our house to be part of the progressive Christmas party this year. Man, were we getting neighborly.

Until the police showed up.

No joke, a police car pulled up and out came a police officer. People who were holding adult beverages promptly poured them out on the grass. I felt like I was at a college party being busted. He asked us if we had a permit to have alcohol in the park. When we replied no, he said that we needed to get rid of the alcohol. This definitely put a damper on the party and it immediately set people in motion to clean up. We quickly said goodbye to our neighbor friends, said we would be in touch before the Christmas party, wished people good luck with parking cars for the game the next day, and went home. We were on the couch watching TV by 8:00.

At least they know our names. Again. For now.