Wheatzie

I hate field trips.  I’m simply not a kid at heart. Several years ago, I brought my sons to a neighborhood birthday party for one of their little friends.  There was a bouncy house. Normally I love bouncy houses because it gives the helicopter parents like me a chance to slip a few feet away to the adult drinks table and relax while still being able to keep a close eye on the kids, who are having a blast with friends while getting some good old-fashioned exercise. However, this day, one of the parents tried to grab my arm.  “Come on, Lisa!” she said.  “Let’s get in!” I recoiled.  "Yuck," I replied.  “Why?” She gave an exasperated puff.  “Because bouncy houses are so fun !” “Erm…no thanks,” I said. “I’ll be over here at the wine slushy table with the other sensible adults.” She stood there for a few moments looking at me, willing me to come with her, but when she saw that I was rooted to my spot, unblinking, and that I would last longer in...

I get up between 4:30 and 5 AM every weekday during the school year, and officially the reason is because I like to write during that time, but just as important, it’s because I like to feel superior to everyone else for the rest of the day. “Oh, you got up at 6:00 today?” I’ll say with a self-important flare of my nostrils to anyone who makes the mistake of chatting with me about their morning.  “It must be nice to be able to sleep in . I get up by fiiiiiiiiiive .” See—even now, that part isn’t even important to the story I’m about to tell. Not important at all. But I take any chance I can to mention that I get up at 4:45 each morning because I like people to know that I’m better than they are. So yesterday morning, around 5 AM or so, I was at my computer at the kitchen table, hard at work at yet another of my unpublished novels.  (My nephew asked me one time, “Aunt Lisa, why do you keep writing novels that never get published?” Instead of answering, I threw all of his ...

I do not use a cane. I do not wear clothes that look like that. (Except that the t-shirt in this drawing is so hilarious and so perfect for me that, when the student artist who thought it up showed it to me Friday afternoon, I had to set down my actual cup of coffee so that I could throw my head back in laughter and run across the hall to my co-worker who owns a cricut and ask her to make me one to wear on casual Fridays.  Of course I’ll post a pic when it’s done.  Glad you asked.) I do not look like Sloth from The Goonies or like one of those people who are really top-heavy with little stringy pencil legs (not that there’s anything wrong with that).  I also don’t have the facial features this particular student artist was referring to when he approached me in my classroom while I was sitting at my computer entering grades and said, “Turn this way…I’ve got to make sure I get all 5 of your chins.” But I think that was the whole point. And that’s talent. I’m...

Who says classroom bulletin boards have to be complicated, time-consuming, have anything to do with the students, or give anything more than the slightest vague nod to the subject(s) that you teach? Sometimes I just make them all about me. For this one, I “repurposed” a page from an old wall calendar. If you know me at all, you know I’m not a big repurposer.  In fact, I think the only thing that happens when people get all repurposey is that we end up with piles of “repurposed” trash that we’re supposed to call works of art randomly dotting the otherwise unblemished terrain. “What is that?” “Oh, it’s repurposed art .” “But it’s not.  It’s a non-functioning robot made of old rusty beer cans that I have to walk around to get into the restaurant.” Who thinks this stuff is a good idea?  And why does trash supposedly look better piled up and glued together on a corporate lawn than in a landfill?  That’s what I want to know. My older son, Jay, seems to thin...

 I found this on my desk at the end of last year.   "This is you, Wheatzie:  a layered steaming pile of poop." Sometimes the weight of their love almost stifles me.

Truth be told—and this will be relevant later— (Relevant to what?  Well, nothing but this silly story, I guess, but you’re already here, so) Truth be told, I AM actually a teacher. But Amazon doesn’t technically know that. Except that everyone knows your phone listens to you and reports to the FBI, so maybe Amazon does know that.  Hmmm. Anyway, I am a teacher (have been for almost 22 years; more on that in another post or several), but I was NOT looking for “teacher clothes” when I was playing around on Amazon the other day.  I wasn’t really looking for anything, in fact.  I just happened to pass by my phone on its charger while I was on my way to peruse the refrigerator for a snack, and I thought it sounded kind of fun to get on Amazon and buy something. I do that a lot.  It drives my husband nuts, but I swear, it’s so fun.  It’s like Christmas every day when the mailman comes!  So there I was, eating pepperoni out of the packet while sw...

I don’t know why everyone always complains about the DMV. I had the most fun visit there today.  It started in the waiting area, where half the people were wearing masks and the other half were not, but every single person in the room joined in the jovial conversation over the insanely ridiculous mixed messaging we've all been forced to endure whether we give credence to it or not. “I haven’t consulted CNN yet this morning,” one hilarious elderly white-haired lady said from behind her mask.  “What’s the rule today? Are we allowed to wear them at half-mast if we’ve had our first dose of the vaccine?” When it was my turn to renew my driver’s license, the girl behind the desk asked me questions while she entered my updated information into her computer. “Still 150 pounds?” she asked innocently—just before we both erupted into giggles because yeah right. “Something like that,” I replied.  “And as for my hair color, I always ask if you guys want the fake or the real....