How the Grinch tried to steal Christmas

The Grinch tried his best to steal Christmas this year. He didn't mess around. No Sir. First, he booby trapped the bathroom. He slicked up the tub so when I stepped in to take a shower I was six feet of arms and legs up in the air and flat on my back before I knew what was happening. I'm well padded in the behinder region so no harm no foul on that one. Nice try Grinchy. Next on the list was making the store so busy Mama Joe couldn't get home until almost 3:30. We were supposed to be in CA by 6:30, but with a nearly four hour drive, that wasn't going to happen. Besides being behind schedule, the drive was made even more pleasant by the bickering boys and a carsick dog. We were all carsick by the time we got there, but the dog was the only one to throw-up. Thanks Foof, for the foul smelling final two hours. We made it to our destination in one piece, if not a little tense, and enjoyed Christmas Eve with lots of relatives. Oh, but did I mention I was finishing one of my Christmas gifts while we were driving to CA? No pressure, I just needed to crochet a simple pair of mittens. It's not that I put it off until the very last minute. It's just that the first pair kept growing. They were like arm warmers by the time I was done. It's possible that I miss-read the pattern. Maybe.
Christmas morning went well. The dinner disaster was all mine. Just remember to check the expiration date on your yeast when making a triple batch of rolls. If you want them to rise beyond the size of golf balls, that is. Otherwise feel free to make fifty hockey pucks. I did.
So he tried his best to steal Christmas, but the Grinch didn't know what he was up against. There's no competing against this guy:

I'm An AUNT!

He's finally here! Quentin Lee Marquez, 6.14lbs, and 20.5 inches. They were doing yard work yesterday and having babies today. Crazy kids.

He-man Women Hater's Club

Remember the Little Rascals and their He-man Women Hater's club? I think Ross and some of his cronies are trying to re-create it at Santiam High School. Their version: The Santiam Man Club. Ha! I think they need shirts or badges at the very least.
I believe it took no less than three meetings of the man club before it was infiltrated by the superior sex. (That's right, I went there.) I know for a fact, three girls were given honorary membership to the latest meeting of the "club."
Actually, the whole thing is pretty cool. Ross and two other teachers decided to use their Fridays off to take some of the "fall between the cracks" type kids on day hikes. They hike two to five mile trails into various lakes and waterfalls a short driving distance from the school.

Here are some pictures from their escapades.



These first two are from Square Pond on the Pacific Crest Trail.


These two are from this December at Silver Creek Falls.

Cheers, Man Club. :)

Goodies

The secret to candy making is this:
If you can make it look pretty in it's package, it doesn't matter how it tastes.



Are you with me?

So even though the snickerdoodles are burnt, the truffles are questionable, and the fudge is...well, a little grainy, nobody should notice.

Right?...Anybody?

Rite of Passage

Or is it Wright of passage?

Anyway, the guys tell me I graduated into a real PE teacher this week. I am now allowed into the inner circle. (I'm not sure I want to be here. Those guys tend to stink up their inner circles.) It only took me three and a half years. Had I known all I needed to do was make a kid throw up, I would have "arrived" a lot sooner.

Christmas "baking"

It's the process and the tradition, not the outcome of Christmas baking, right? Right? I had a long weekend of Christmas "baking," but not much in the way of results. I have about three less pounds of butter in my freezer - three more pounds on my hips...okay booty. It's important to taste test at every stage...several times. So far I also have one batch of rocky road, one batch of penuche fudge, one batch of pecan clusters, and six loaves of bread. Two burnt pots, no successful toffee, a dirty floor, sticky counters, a sink loaded with dishes, and tired feet. But I think I'm ready to go back for more - baking, not taste testing. Maybe both. No. Yes. We'll see. Ahhh!

5 days

Only five days of work left until Christmas break! I'm not counting...yes I am.

Postal

There's this little Post Office near where I work that makes me feel like I've stepped into an episode of Seinfeld or some other bizarre reality every time I walk through the door. It is where the term "postal" was coined. I don't go there often if I can help it, but when I do, the women behind the counter never fail to be grouchy (they honestly scare me a little), and the very room seems to be angry. The converted office space is just kind of thrown together all gallywampus (it's a Rogue River term). I always want to clean and organize for them while I'm waiting in line. There used to be a sign on the front door that read "Yes, this is a real Post Office." Everything in the room comes with a sign printed off on computer paper. Hanging from the ceiling on a rope: "Begin line to left of counter." Evidently, lining up is really confusing for people because there are lots of signs about that. "Wait at yellow line." "For the privacy of our customers, don't cross line until called." "No talking on cell phones at counter." Then there are the other random ones around the room. "Do not allow children to handle cards." "No food or beverages inside." I mean, all of this stuff makes sense, but do you really have to post dingy looking signs telling people what should be pretty commonsense? Maybe people do need it spelled out, but every sign they post is negative.
I especially like the memorabilia for purchase. Instead of "Life is Good" t-shirts, they have "Life is Crap" shirts. I'm not even kidding. All of the postal workers were wearing them. No, not really. They also had "Aprons with Attitude" hanging around the store. These had uplifting quotes like, "If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen." I'm not sure if the store is grumpy because of the personalities who work there or if the people who work there are grumpy because they have to come to work each day in such a grumpy store.

There was Thanksgiving Day...

...and then there was Turkey Day.

Turkey and grouse that is, and Youk is thinking he'd like to bite that bird's head off.

The boys all went hunting the day after Thanksgiving, and my boy brought back the bacon...turkey. Although, we're still a little unsure if he actually shot it or if they just picked it off the grill of the truck. Story has it, they did a lot more "hunting" from the road, than actual tromping through the woods - kind of a glorified Sunday drive.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was a family affair as usual. We spent the holiday at my aunt's house and feasted in fine fashion on fancy foods until we were full.
Here's a look at some of the spread:


"Bobbi and Ross, say cheese...y." You probably presume we planned this perfectly peachy pose, but it was impromptu.

Following dinner was a delicious, delightful, and delectable dozen desserts.

Dad needed just one more taste.


Obviously baby bellies all around. Mine was a turkey baby. Mom's was a potato baby. Shae's may have just been a boy baby, but I'm betting a buck that her belly was bursting from dinner too.

Her baby will be here in six weeks. So we practiced our breathing together too. Except Mom, we're not really sure what she was doing, but it makes me laugh. It's a little cartoonish, and it's my favorite.

That's all.

More about Turkey Day - not to be confused with Thanksgiving (Jessica) in my next post.

mouse in da house...again

Eeeeew.
Jessica, I just want you to know that I spotted your little desk buddy this morning. He left a few little treats for you. I heard him scurrying around, and I watched him run right by our strategically placed trap. I think we might have to step up our play to the next level. No more Mrs. Nice Guy...Gal - that really doesn't roll off the tongue quite as nice does it? But you get the point. "Here mousey, mousey, mousey." I'm going hunting...

The Big Apple

No. Not that big apple.



This big apple.

Remember I have man hands. Those apples are huge. The one on the left is 1.25lbs. The one on the right took my thirty minutes to eat.

Amen.

HA!

Mary had a little lamb...

...and I ate him last night.
I've never really had lamb before, but we went to some friends' of Ross last night for dinner and they made lamb stew. It was pretty good. I just had to be careful because I knew if I thought about little Lamb Chops, I'd manage to gross myself out too much to be able to enjoy the wonderful dinner and company.
I did that with apricots once. My sister bought some of these all natural, shrively, dried apricots that had a funny blackish color to them. They reminded me so much of the cadaver toes in my anatomy class that I couldn't stomach them. I got scratched by that same cadaver's toenail when I was a teacher's assistant in that class. I died a thousand deaths after that one. We were trying to flip the body...but maybe that is too much information for a family friendly blog. I'm not really sure how I started with Mary's lamb and ended here. It's hard being me. :)
Happy eating.

evis·cer·ate

Eviscerate - 1 a : to take out the entrails of : disembowl b: to deprive of vital content or force 2: to remove an organ from (a patient) or the contents of (an organ)

I learned this word recently during a staff meeting. It was the first time I ever remember hearing it, and it was used so repeatedly (we won't discuss the reasons why here) that I added it to my vocabulary by the time the meeting concluded.

To the lady who did this, I just dare you to try it again. Evicerate. Evicerated.

Butt heads, butt cracks, and Butterfingers

That pretty much sums up my Monday. Well, except for the Butterfinger part. I just needed a third word that started with butt. I'm not kidding with the heads and cracks though. I can tell you that for sure. My butt heads were at their best, or worse, if you will during class today. And I had a butt crack stare me full in the face twice today. Count it - twice. I could give you more of the disgusting details of how my big boys can't keep their britches up, but it makes me gag, and I feel inclined to spare you a similar reaction.

On a more cheerful note, HAPPY (belated) 50th BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!
That's her on the right. The baby, not the woman - just to clear up any confusion.
I wrote her/sung her, her very own birthday song yesterday. I think I could write her another one right now. Yes, I do feel a song coming on. Watch out Mama Joe, here it comes!

Happy 50 years and a day.
I hope your next 364 are so gay (as in happy).
You've grown up incredibly fast.
Knowing you all these years has been a blast.
I remember when you were tall.
Now I stand next to you, and you seem really small.
Enjoy eating your ice cream and cake.
But save me a bite for goodness sake. (At least save some ice cream for me. Sheesh.)

I guess it is more of a birthday poem than song, but I am just leaving it open for future additions. You know, I wouldn't want to use up all of my rhyming talent in one sitting.

Foot-in-mouth syndrome

Who hasn't been in the position where a compliment goes wrong? I mean, it happens to everyone right? Right? I've been there...more than once. My most recent recipient of such a compliment was yours truly, Ross-hole. Not that he wasn't as deserving of the non-compliment as he was of the intended one. ;) It does go to show, however, that my foot-in-mouth syndrome knows no bounds.
Yesterday I was visiting some friends from college. One of whom is a few years younger than me, but she and I connected with through cross country. In the running realm, I feel very comfortable around her, but she is much more socially with it (translate: well dressed, well versed in current events, well spoken) than I am. So in social scenes, I always feel a little out of my element.
Okay, so that's the background I was coming from when I was talking to Ross later that afternoon. We were walking the dog, and I basically told him that I really appreciated that he wasn't like my well dressed, well spoken, well versed friend and I could be comfortable around him. Yeah, that sounded like a compliment to him too, and you can bet he didn't give me a chance to remove that foot from my mouth for even a second. He just handed me a shovel.
What I meant, Ross, was I appreciate that I've always been able to just be myself around you. I've never had to fake it, and you still choose to date me, and that is something.
Happy almost two-years of dating........sucker. ;)

Persistently Dangerous

For four years my high school has been named persistently dangerous. I don't know all the details that qualify us for this label. I do know it has something to do with the number of students expelled, weapons confiscated, and maybe the number of fights recorded or something along those lines. In addition to a lot of negative publicity, the label has given us a worse-than-it-already-was reputation within the community. Truth be told, I've never felt unsafe at the school, and while I know they happen more often, I've only witnessed three or four fights in my almost three and a half years there. So with this shadow hanging over our school, we were very proud to find that we qualified for a rather large grant because of our persistently dangerous designation. Not only that, but we were the only school in the entire state that qualified because we were so persistent in our persistently dangerous designation. If you're going to do something, do it well. That's what I say. Go big or go home.
With this grant just about in the bag, we weren't sure whether to be excited or disappointed this week when we heard that our school was finally taken off of the persistently dangerous list. If it means we will no longer qualify for a million or more dollars, I know of a couple kids who could help us out.
*This just in: all expelled students to return to McKay.*

Pioneer Woman

So I've been following this blog ever since last spring when my co-star, Jessica, got me hopelessly hooked. I blame any decline in work productivity on her. The blog is http://thepioneerwoman.com. I am on the site so often, I almost feel like I know the family. I also feel a little like a stalker. It's shameful really. In real life, I'm almost convinced we could be best buds. She likes to cook. I like to cook. She likes animals. I like animals. She has severe sweating spells when confronted with stressful situations. I am the queen of pitting out when I teach. Or meet somebody new. Or have to speak in front of a group, drive in the city, or call somebody besides my mom on the telephone. See, we're really very much alike. Anyway, she just published a cookbook. This cookbook is not only full of good recipes and funny anecdotes, it's full of step by step photos and instructions. It's awesome. Mostly, because while I love to cook, I love to mess a recipe up. With pictures each step of the way, I might make it through a cake recipe without forgetting to grease the pan, a steak recipe without drying it out to shoe leather, and an egg recipe without making it look like something that's just been pulled out of the garbage disposal. This is very good news. :) I'll let you know how it goes. If you decide to check out the blog for yourself, just be warned, it's very addicting and don't say I didn't tell you so.

Mile madness

We ran the mile in PE today. Today and yesterday actually, except for one class. We were dodging rainstorms, and one class lucked out. I love watching students run the mile. For some of them, it's a cake walk, for others it an insurmountable (sadly enough) challenge. It's the ones that are really working for it, that I like to watch. They get so pumped up and excited when they're done, especially if they've improved. Some of them do really well. I don't know why "the mile" seems like such a daunting task to these guys, something about being on the track makes them feel like it's a really long way to go. The truth is, most of them run that far for our warm-ups in the gym each day. Maybe it's the timed component that gets them. I used to always be nervous for our PE mile and a half in middle school. These guys have to run under 12 minutes to pass. It's kind of dumfounding how many can't do one mile in that amount of time. I tell them my mom can run 26 without stopping at 8min/mile. They don't believe me, but it's true. Some of them can do it, they just choose not to. They don't want to sweat or be uncomfortable. I wonder how many people really aren't capable of passing. You should try it, and if you don't pass, you should consider talking to a doctor about possible health risks. This has been a public service announcement from the emergency broadcast network...no, not really.
Signing off and stepping down from the soap box...again.

Did you hear the news?

I'm going to be an aunt. I just want to make sure that everybody knows that. Aunt Bobbi, Aunty Bobbi, Favorite Aunt Bobbi Boucher. Yep, just kind of rolls off your tongue doesn't it?
We got to throw a baby shower for mi hermana this last weekend. It was her first one so far, and it was a blast. I thought it was a blast anyway. We'll see how I feel about it after I come down from my sugar high. :)

Baby Marquez should arrive in just two and a half more months, but if he holds out to something closer to three, we could share a birthday. Don't worry, Shae, I'm not actually wishing that one you, I'm just pointing out the bright side of what could potentially happen. Here's where the shower took place. We call this The Carriage House. That's because it's a carriage house. See how the name kind of fits?

The party was a tea party, and though Baby Marquez is going to be a boy, I'm sure he won't mind. It was only women in attendance after all. (Aren't the tea cookies the coolest thing ever? They were made courtesy of my awesome friend, Stacy.)


We ate lots of food with lots of lovely ladies.


The only thing we didn't eat was this delicious cake made by one of the Marquez family friends, who, we discovered, is also a fabulous game show host. She was on top of her game for baby bingo which was good because I'm telling you, those ladies were trying to get away with all sorts of shinanagans. I'll tell you right now, overalls do not count as bibs.


All in all, the games were fun,


the family and friends were plentiful,

and the day couldn't have been nicer.
Now if that baby would just hurry up and get here...

Maximum punishment.

I got an e-mail the other day at school that was priceless. Especially the second paragraph. I'll let it speak for itself. I did change the names to protect my student's privacy.

Dear Mrs. Bobbi Wright, (Evidently I'm married.)

Kim has politely asked me to write you a brief email discussing our daily workout routine at tennis practice. As you may know, my name is Phin and I'm Kim's private coach. We conduct practice between 5:30pm-7:00pm on Mondays, 3:30-5:00pm on Tues-Friday. Our daily workout routine varies and is chronologically scheduled per session. However, we usually start with a warm-up jog (3-5 laps) around the perimeter of Chemeketa Community College tennis courts. Followed by footwork drills which is more sprinting from baseline to baseline. Then forehand/backhand volleys on the wall. We generally spend between 20-30 minutes on our warm ups. Thereafter, we dive into our practice sessions, the girls are serious and ambitious to improve. At the end of practice, we warm-down with a combination of footwork and cardio which we call "firedrills". Really keeps them warm during this time of the year :) Last but not least, the best part of their day is when they can finally stretch out and conclude their strenuous workout.

Quite frankly, I'm not sure why a detailed log of our practice would excuse Kim from missing two days of your class. If she's scheduled to be in class, in my opinion, there is no excuse to be absent or tardy unless it's an emergency or illness. If I were you, I'd exercise the maximum punishment. However, I do know that Kim has not been feeling well lately and have missed two of my sessions this week also. Please feel free to contact me directly at your earliest convenience if you have any further questions or inquiries regarding our tennis practice.

Kindest Regards,

Phin Pham

Okay, so just to note: first of all, Kim was ill all week and therefore missed school (thank you for not coming and sharing it with all of us) and second, she's a top notch student who, before these absences, had 100% in the class.

So little to say, so much time...

Haha. It's true though. Ask Ross. Or pretty much anyone. I use a lot of words to say not much of anything. It's pretty sweet.
To the point: marathon pictures.

Pre-race - you can tell because I'm still smiling and Mom looks like she's freezing.
"Ohhh, I'm so happy. It's mile twelve and I can still find some joy in this." Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But seriously, take a look at Mom's muscles in this next pic.
Well, they show up better in the blown up version, just trust me she has some serious definition in this shot.

Uhhh ohhhhh. Somebody went out too fast. Somebody is cramping from butt to toe. Stu-Pid!

Ohhh, somebody is still smiling at mile 21. I don't think I like you very much right now.

Okay, now I like you. Short stuff. And you too Gigi. Nice work Ladies. :)

Buh-bye.

So much to say, so little time...

It's the time of year when I'm being pulled in two dozen different directions, or so it seems. Consequently, my blog is on the back burner. Not to worry, I haven't forgotten. I've just been saving up my stories, and one of these days I'm going to explode with nonsense all over this blog. Here's a quick re-cap of what's been going on in the not so wild adventure of my life.
*I was a bridesmaid in a wedding for only the second time in my life.
*I wore make-up for the first time in my life.
*I ran a marathon with my mom. She almost beat me again. Almost.
*I burnt 28lbs of apples in the process of making applesauce.
*I mulched 28lbs of apples.
*I had a student break his arm in my class.
*I bought new spatulas.

Yep, we're livin' the good life here in Salem, Oregon. Wish you were here.

It's the little things

It's the little things in life that really rock my world. Why is that, you ask? Or maybe you don't, but rest assured, I'm about to tell you. The little things are like my foundation. They keep me grounded. So it was with great grumbling and gnashing of teeth that I conceded to the fact that one truth I've lived by for so many years was in fact a misunderstanding. You know that little calendar song that helps you remember what months have 31 days and what months have 30 or less in the case of February? "Thirty days past September..." you know, that one. Well, I never learned it. I couldn't quite keep it straight, so I didn't try. I prefered the mountain/valley approach that they also taught you in second grade, where you use your knuckles to count off the 31 day months (mountain - aka first knuckle) starting with January, and the less than 31 day months (valleys - aka between knuckles). Well, somehow along the way, I missed the fact that you had to put two fists together. I thought you should count across one hand and then back again, thus making 31/30 every other month. Then two days ago, my world came to a screeching halt when, for various reasons, I had to double check my knuckle math with a calendar. That's when I discovered the July/August phenomenon. Why? why? why???? do two months in a row have 31 days? What was the stinking point of that? Now I'm all screwed up. All my life I thought that the months rotated in perfect and natural harmony. 31. 30. 31. 30. But noooooooooooo, somebody had to throw in the double 31. Oh dear. I am really having a break down over this. I think I need some mineral water.

No joke!

I heard the funniest story the other day. Funny in the "I can't believe you're serious" sense. A fellow teacher, who we will call Mr. Rogers, had the strangest thing happen to him the other day after school. His students were outside the school building, and as he walked toward them they started heckling him in a good natured high school boy sort of way. As he got closer the heckling continued. Then, from out of nowhere, a boy walked right up to him, and bit him in the boob. I mean he literally, bit his chest. And it hurt, so I am told. Mr. Rogers was so stunned by the incident, he didn't say a word. He just continued to his car and drove away, all the while thinking, "What the heck just happened?"
Really. What goes through a kid's mind that would make him walk up to a teacher, and not only bite him, but bite his chest?
Awkward, and so weird, but so funny.

"Family" Portrait

This is Ross, Youk and me. You may have to allow for a little artistic license, but just a little.

I lost my head...

...and then I found it in my laundry bin. Gross.
I haven't blogged in a gazillion years or so, but I have had so many things to share with the world...all seven of you. Hehe. Most importantly is, I'm having a nephew. Yes, it's a very exciting event that I'm looking forward to with all my might. He should be ready in early January. Don't over cook that one, sister. He's going to be huge. Plus he's going to have a curly mop of hair on his head that will melt hearts. Watch out girls. I have named him Gus, but I don't think Shae and Ryan are really latching on to that one. We'll see. They may grow to love it. I've also suggested Bobby and Don. Jesse, in another original move, suggested: Jesse. We're all so helpful and full of great ideas in this family. We really out do ourselves.
What else is new? Hmmm, I have wrecked no less than three meals this week. I broke two phones (in all fairness, one was broken when I bought it). I went to bed after nine o' clock at least once. Yes, it's been brilliantly and undeniably exciting in my little world. Please, try not to yawn. Mostly I just wanted to point out that I am still among the living, but this whole work thing is taking up a lot of my free time that could definitely be spent coming up with better blog posts. Peace out.

First Day of School

Keeping the tradition that my mom started about 21 years ago, Ross and I took "first day of school" pictures. I put my game face on. Ross put his teacher face on.

Yes, yes we are a class act.

It's official.

The school year has begun. Cross country has begun. Summer vacation is over. I should probably be sad, but I'm not. I'm sad that my free time has been reduced to almost nothing, but I got a lot accomplished this summer (more on that later). Plus, I like the fall. I like the crisp fall days. I love cross country races. I like meeting my new students. I love pumpkins, and scotch tape, and new pencils. Yeah, I think I can handle this going back to work thing. I won't be bitter that Ross only has four day weeks and I have five. I won't. I won't be bitter because I only have 12 students scheduled in my 8th period class. Shhhhhhhhhh. Don't let that get out. This could be the best semester ever if that doesn't get out. :-p

Revealed

This is what was happening just after the pictures in the previous two posts. It doesn't really explain those photos - I'll leave that to your imagination. We were visiting the Marquez family reunion at Silver Creek Falls. They don't appear to mind that Ross and I aren't really related. We still seem to find our way into family events, especially those with food involved.

Uhhhhhh.

Is he:
A) getting ready to wink at the camera man?
B) wondering what he did with his wallet?
C) just discovering that his location has been compromised?
D) drunk?

What the...???

Is she:
A) trying to frighten small children and scare away wildlife?
B) participating in a breath test?
C) about to take her first bite of ice cream in over 24 hours?
D) trying to prove that she really does have the biggest mouth and largest teeth in the Mid-Willamette Valley?
E) drunk?

Row, row, row your boat...

...gently down the stream. Throw your teacher overboard and listen to her scream...
Anybody?

Maybe it was just a Rogue River thing.

Today we took a little trip down the river. In a canoe. With the dog. It had the potential to be very, very bad. That's probably what you're looking for too. A good story about how the dog decided to jump ship and bring us all down with him. Well, I regret to inform you, I will not be giving you the satisfaction. Not today anyhow. I will give you some pictures of our 12.5 mile venture down the Willamette.

See how steady we are. See how well behaved he is. Certainly, he's not planning an escape.


Why Youk, what a fine bit of drool you've got hanging from your lip.

An Osprey. Ohhhhh, how lovely.


I'm eating lunch, Youk is going for crumbs and an occasional swipe at my leg with his long slobbery tongue. We have such a beautiful relationship.


It's a boy! It's a man?! No, it's me flexing for the camera. I promise there's a ponytail there somewhere. Besides a pink shirt and a purple hat? Plus the only males you'd catch in shorts that short are long distance runners and maybe my dad (don't worry, we're working on him).

We went from Wallace Marine Park in Salem to Wheatland Ferry somewhere outside of Salem. It was a good trip. One I'd do again anyway.