May 31, 2009

I have a bit of a confession. I love primary. Even more shocking, I love teaching the Sunbeams. They are wild, unpredictable, hardly civilized balls of energy.

This week I found them absolutely hilarious. Some weeks I'm completely exhausted. Last week I taught the lesson was "I am thankful for my ears." I didn't quite know what to do, so I had them listen to Peter and the Wolf while they colored. Now they want Peter and the Wolf every week.

Today we were thankful for tastes and smells. We had popcorn, cookies, and lemon slices. Yum.

A few of my sunbeams are moving, and I am too. It's time to move on. Maybe they'll put us back in nursery. I love it almost as much as I love sunbeams.

May 27, 2009

Changing Addresses...Again

If you haven't heard yet, it's official. Jesse got a one year position at Bates College in Maine! (He was told that it will turn into a tenure track position the following year, so we might be able to stay.) Wow! It's super exciting, super stressful, and super how does one dress for/drive in/live in snow?! I think Jesse's going to be a little freaked out when he sees how pasty white I get in the winter. It's not pretty and he's only ever glimpsed it in pictures (plus I have claw bangs and braces in all of those pictures).

Anyway. I bought one way tickets for me and the kids at the end of August. Jesse will go a little earlier and set up our new digs.

And now it's time to purge: send Enzo his birthday present (months late), go through my fabric (heartrending), and decide whether to sell or donate all our accumulated and outgrown odds and ends.

And poor Jesse has to stomach so many expenses, it's pretty painful. New(er) car (desperately need one), rent (cheaper, but this is our first place out of school so no utilities and super high speed internet thrown in), and moving (even if we take no furniture, it's muito caro).

Well, we have a couple of months left here in socal, and I for one am going to relish every moment. Pool, beach, sun, friends, neighbors. Yay!

May 26, 2009

Did you see this cool video of how Jorge Colombo drew the New Yorker cover this week on his iphone with the brushes app?

I'm almost tempted to get one. Too bad at&t has horrible coverage at our house, and dropped us a bunch when J was in Maine. No iphone for me.

May 14, 2009

Jesse's going to Muji! (on the way to Maine for a job talk)

It's my birthday eve, I should be writing my paper, so do I need any other reason to write in my blog? (finally, I know. It's just so hard to write when my life is so...predictable/boring/un-newsworthy)

But there is a little bit of news. J is flying out to Maine for an interview. And since we're getting so good at the interview process, he asked to make his own reservations (that way he has no one but himself, and me to blame for the 5:47 am flight out of Maine) so he can layover and visit El Capitan E and A and maybe even my baby bro Ben. And, he will go in with E to work, but not enter his workplace until he enters Muji next door, buys me lots of things like a calendar, a planner, stationery, face scrub, I mean scrub face (black tube), and maybe a snack or two. Do they have clothes in that store? I love their clothes.

Anywho. We're really excited that he's flying out to Maine. A job would be great (and if he gets it, we can all fly there through JFK and I can go to Muji and cry and shop and eat those little chocolate frosted rum cakes that I pretended didn't have any alcohol in them because I can't really read katakana and it could be just some weird Japanese thing since I'm pretty naive when it comes to alcohol).

And I'm already meal planning for the four nights he'll be gone. There's a bbq on Saturday-sweet! Sunday is a day of rest, right? So what's more restful than cereal for dinner? Monday is family night-dollar theater and happy meals. Tuesday-Trader Joe's frozen something or another because I have to take my final. I've found that the best meal plans are ones that involve little or no dishes when Jesse's gone. I actually have to wash them when he's not here. It's rough.
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