Storage

Song…for the moment: “Very Loud,” Shout Out Louds

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I packed up all my teaching things today. I got the same feeling as when you pack up that box of things that remind you of your ex. You don’t really want to put those things away, and everything you put in burns a little and makes your tummy sad. I’m not saying that I’m shoving my teaching in the back of the closet or burning it up as to never be reminded of it again, I’m just saying that (as to no fault of my own) my dream of being a teacher right now isn’t working out, and this once promising career is leaving me with no choice but to look elsewhere.

Hopefully things will quickly turn around and I can go back to my favorite thing ever, spending every weekday with kids and making learning fun. But until then, I will rewrite my resume until something else comes around to fill the temporary emptiness.

Allison’s Got Talent

Song…for the moment: “Don’t Stop Believing,” Journey

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It seems that as of late I am constantly being asked what I’m good at, what my hobbies are, what talents I possess, and so on. My answers to these questions have been rather vague and usually end up in me saying, “I don’t know,” or admitting that I haven’t got many great skills. This began to make me feel quite distressed, and I decided it would be a good idea to make a list of the things I’m really great at because there has to be at least a few things. The following list was compiled by myself and my sis, Angela. Please read it with a New Zealand accent, at least to your best abilities.

I am great at:

• snapping off of my nose
• making a gumless smile to try and attract foreign men
• speaking in horrid fake accents
• creating the Sydney Opera House out of a simple dinner napkin
• claiming famous men to father my future children
• making my mom us the phrase “Oh help!” while simultaneously rolling her eyes in reference to my silly antics
• turning a boring snack into delicious works of smiling art
• annoying my sister
• annoying my sister so much she finds it funny and then laughs so hard she cries, gets stomach cramps, then nearly throws up (this is one of my most proud talents)
• reading children stories to my peers
• making mac&cheese from the box
• not moving much when I sleep. I also do not snore, talk, or drool.
• making up my own soundtrack to accompany my life
• choreographing great dances to use anywhere I please
• being Julie Andrews without the musical talent
• creating monster noises
• singing The Beatles so much and so loud that my voice disappears
• flirting horribly, which then also makes me great at creating awkward situations
• wanting to do talented things, but never quite succeeding

And finally I am great at:

• not having any useful talents

This list has already made a positive impact on my life and has motivated me to be great at even more things. If you have any suggestions you would like to add to my list of things I know how to do really well, please, let me know.

Haha, hope you enjoyed!

Gumbified

Song…for the moment: “Fame,” Irene Cara

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On my latest expedition to San Francisco, I purchased a lovely green fellow that I thought was so adorable as a child. No, I’m not talking about that little Leprechaun, I’m talking about Gumby. That’s right, our little claymation friend who was full of adventures. So with my new buy, I plan on taking Gumby on many more adventures. His new home is in my purse, and he will be featured in many new and exciting poses and pictures.

I know this is thrilling news, but don’t get your knickers all bunched yet. Gumby and I haven’t quite made it around the world in this past week, so I’ll give you a preview of some of our times together so far.

If you would like to be reminded of the greatness of Gumby, check out this website:

Gumby World

Fine Print

Song…for the moment: “Fools,” The Dodos

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I’ve been finding myself a little, well, bored lately. With work not being guaranteed as a substitute and babysitting usually only happening for a few hours in a given day, I’ve found myself with quite a bit of free time…much more than I would like. So with that free time I’ve been catching up on my leisurely reading. Recent reads include:

Eat Pray Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert
Driving with Dead People, by Monica Holloway
Running with Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs
Reread half of the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder
And I’m currently on…A Long Way Gone, by Ishmael Beah

As well as reading books, I especially enjoy spending time in bookstores. And this past weekend I was more than happy to go to City Lights Books in San Francisco. City Lights is a “literary landmark” known for the Beatniks, or Beats. The Beats “legacy of anti-authoritarian politics and insurgent thinking continues to be a strong influence in the store, most evident in the selection of titles” (http://www.citylights.com/). City Lights is also recognized for it’s great Beatnik poetry section and is considered to be one of few truly great independent bookstores.

Walking into the store, I was greeted by that paper smell and rows upon rows, and shelves upon shelves of books…SO many books! They are all stacked side-by-side, the way in which you really have to piece through them to find what you want or stumble on the unexpected. The rows are set up close together so you have to snake around people to get where you want, just like high school when cliques clogged the hall in between classes and getting around everyone became an art before the bell rang. Upstairs is the poetry room, where you find corners to sit and read political banter in prose from the Beats. Downstairs is a great non-fiction section with an even more maze-like way of getting around. I immediately fell in love with their children’s section. Everyone who knows me understands my enjoyment of children’s stories and has probably experienced me reading them a book or two from my entire bookcase dedicated to kids books. Here I found a series of books I know I should own. I’m not quite sure why I haven’t found these before because they have been around for quite some time. They are children’s travel books by Miroslav Sasek. Beautiful illustrations accompany unique cultural tidbits of various cities and countries around the world. I of course picked up the one on London and have since ordered it.

Reading is an amazing thing that simply uses paper, ink and our minds to realize more than we can imagine on our own. I haven’t been doing it enough, so I’m happy for this free time to see more than just with my eyes.

If you would like to visit City Lights, the address is:
261 Columbus Avenue at Broadway,
San Francisco, CA 94133
Phone: (415) 362-8193
Open daily 10 am to midnight

Pedal Faster

Song…for the moment: “Bicycle Race,” Queen

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My sister and I pushed our bikes on to the front driveway. Out Styrofoam helmets covered in Lisa Frank stickers were already secure on our toe-blonde little heads. “Please Dad? Please? We’ll just ride around the block and come straight back.” I must have been 6 or 7, making my sis 4 or 5. “Around the block, that’s it,” Dad said while he worked between the front and backyard.

FREEEEEDOMM!! We were off. I remember constantly turning around to make sure Angela wasn’t too far off, always telling her to stick close. I had to take care of her on this outing, after all, I was the older, more responsible and mature sister. When we started to round the third right turn we realized out bout of liberation was almost over. I wasn’t ready to ride back into our cul-de-sac, and therefore neither was Angela. “Let’s turn around and go back the way we just came.” Sis had a look of worry for about a second then was all in. “What are we gonna tell Dad? He’s gonna be mad.” Being the genius that I was I decided we were going to tell him there was construction and we had to turn around.  Real smart…it wasn’t like Dad hadn’t already driven to Home Depot ten times that day and wouldn’t have noticed the “construction.”

I remember pulling into the driveway believe our adventure was a success, then Dad came around the corner of the house. He had been looking for us down the street. “Where were you?! Why didn’t you come right back?” I don’t recall if we got into trouble or not, I assume we had a strong talking to and sent inside, probably to our rooms, but I don’t really know.

What I do know is that after riding my friend’s beach cruiser around St. Helena, I want a bicycle. Feeling the wind in my face and regaining that sense of freedom I felt when I was so much younger. Yup, a bicycle should be in my near future. Unfortunately the one I want is sitting outside of the store Toss, and I know the price tag is quite hefty (I’m honestly too afraid to find out just how much it costs). It’s a beautiful, all white beach cruiser, with a white basket, mirror, and bell. My favorite part is the seat, so very English.

We’ll see. Maybe if I start getting a steady paycheck and move to a less mountainous living situation. Fingers crossed…

Molars and Bicuspids

Song…for the moment: “Amsterdam,” Peter Bjorn & John

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So the other week when I was home, my fam bam was dog-sitting two decently aged canines. The one, Sara, had the most horrid snaggle-tooth I’d ever seen. She constantly looks pathetic with her bottom teeth jutting out the side of her mouth.

Watching her reminded me of when I was in London a year ago. I was walking down the street with three friends, close to Trafalgar Square if I recall correctly, and some older gent was trying to sell flowers. “Buy a flower for the lady?” he called out. I shot him a smile. He nearly jumped at me and shouted, “Are you American.” My answer was obvious. “Wow!! Great dentist!” he said with great enthusiasm.

I guess that’s going to be my fall in becoming British…my teeth are too nice to be disguised.

I’m Not Cheap. Just Frugal.

Song…for the moment: “Apple Scruffs,” George Harrison

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To some, the idea of wearing someone else’s clothes after they’ve decided they don’t want them anymore is disgusting. I suppose it is…somewhat. But I try not to think of those things and simply look at the “beauty” left in them that others can’t see. Yes, I’ll admit, I have bought a lot of crap at thrift stores, but I have also struck gold. Where else can you find Christian Dior for a dollar? Lovely chairs for pennies? And winter coats for what equals a mere 20 minutes of work? Nowhere I tell you! Nowhere but those somewhat grimy shops that all smell the same: Goodwill, Salvation Army, Thrift Smart [RIP], Savers, Dorcas, and all those other wonderful consignment shops.

The whole point of this is that I heart thrift store shopping, and because I like it so much, that’s pretty much all I did this weekend. My sis came up for a visit from the heat and we started our Friday off at Thrifty Manor, owned by the Catholic Church in St. Helena. I found two dresses, a vintage nightgown, a lovely painting, and some navy blue flats. Money spent: $30. Saturday was spent at Lolo’s Consignment on Main Street. I found a great mirror I’ve hung in my stairwell, and some adorable black sequined bow earrings. Amount: $30 (pricey for me).

Sunday was spent on Haight Street in San Francisco, THE heaven of all that is thrifting. Yes, it’s a bit pricier than our stores in Arizona, but the things you find there are amazing, even if all you do is look. I only bought one thing on Haight (which is slightly disappointing); a boyfriend type blazer with vertical navy blue and white stripes at the Goodwill. Total: $7. The weekend ended with a great cup of Green Tea Chai at Lava Java with my sis and a sense of accomplishment. Why can’t life always be this rewarding?

I think I love thrifting so much because there is this whole thrill of the hunt. Finding an item before someone else and then figuring out how to make it work. Asking yourself, “Can I really pull this off?” Miserably failing at times, yet epically succeeding at others. It’s a treasure hunt with different gems for everyone. I wonder if I make a whole blog dedicated to my thrift store buys and experiences if anyone would read it?? Hmm…just a thought.

I’m in Love!

Song…for the moment: “Sweet Disposition,” The Temper Trap

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LOVE. The feeling is intoxicating. Knees go numb. The stomach gets crumpled and knotted. That goofy grin couldn’t be chiseled off. Whenever that name is mentioned, giggles seem to emanate from the toes.

These are the feelings I have because, well, I am in love. However (or maybe I should say “Unfortunately”), I am not in love with a person. I am in love with a place, a whole country to be more specific. Which country? Great Britain/The UK/Jolly ol’ England. The fog winding through the streets, the bustle of the people on the tube, the flats stacked side by side; the atmosphere makes me feel like I could fly, like I’m so independent, like I belong. Maybe it was my love for coats that made me first fall for this place, or maybe it’s the dreamy accent that made my hear first flutter, or perhaps it was growing up on the Beatles and Monty Python that made me think this place was for me. Whatever it may be, the point is I am in love with England and I should, in all reality, be British. Now I’m not saying God makes mistakes, but I’m pretty sure I was born in the wrong continent.

At this point, I would like to follow my heart to the land of my dreams, but what would I be risking? Teaching credentials are different, so I would have to go back to school, which I really don’t mind doing, but it’s stinking expensive there and I feel it would be hard to find a place to live and work. Could I truly survive there on my own? Going in blind? Can I do this alone? I want to say yes, but I’m just not sure. We’ll see.

Love makes you do crazy things…but I’m not sure I’m ready to get my heart broken just yet.

Decisions, Decisions…

Song…for the moment: “Very Busy People,” Limousines

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After finishing Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince opening night at 2:45am, I drove home for 2 ½ hours of sleep, only to wake up and drive to Las Vegas, Nevada. Yay! Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps (though I desperately needed to). Unfortunately for me, this trip was not to gamble away what little money I have left, instead I was there to interview for a teaching position I’m really not sure I would want to take.

I got to Las Vegas Junior Academy right around 11:15am after the endless construction projects the whole way up confused me so much I took two wrong freeways. I stepped out of the car (frustrated already I might add) into 111˚ weather, which is a two degree difference from Scottsdale. The landscape was brown, flat, and uglier than the desert state I’ve called home until recent years. But before I could take it all in, I was rushed to a small portable in the back of the school they call “the library.” I was greeted by 6 smiling faces, and I could tell they are desperate to fill this position. Oh! The position! Let me tell you what it consists of… The teacher will be instructing grades 5, 6, and 7. As well a teach Language Arts for grades 5-9. Yes, that’s 5 different grade levels (granted there is only one 6th grader and 3 9th graders, but still). This is by no means and impossible job, it is however difficult to plan curriculum for so many varying grades with only 3 ½ weeks plus being able to pack up my life in Cali, get it to Nevada, find a place to live, and pray that the Nevada drivers won’t put me in such a rage that I kill myself on the way there.

I’m obviously not feeling too positive about this experience, but the staff seems super supportive, the constituent churches seem to be pretty liberal, and housing would be pretty cheap. I was told I could buy a condo for $40,000. Yes, that is pretty freaking amazing, but that can’t be my reason for moving. Yet at this point in time, I need to keep in mind that when someone calls you and asks you to come interview for a job you didn’t apply for, you go and you take the job. So tell me why am I torn about this when I’m unemployed and desperately searching for a source of income?

There was one question that I was during the interview that has really stuck with me. One of the pastors asked me, “If given the choice, would you prefer to work at a public school or an Adventist school?” I know they wanted me to say that I want to teach in a Christian environment and teach about God, and blah blah blah. But I couldn’t really stomach that answer. Instead I responded, “I don’t know if would prefer one over the other. Sure in private schools I can start the day of with worship and prayer, a great calming routine to get the day started. But then I think about the kids in public schools who don’t know much about God, and don’t have the role models or support at home to live in an honest, successful, and positive way. And even though I wouldn’t be allowed to talk about religion, to be someone they can come talk to and lean on, I think it would be just as important as teaching Bible class and taking prayer requests.” That is when I realized that I want to stay where I’m at, in public school.

But so what? There’s a big difference between what I want and what I need. So do I take the job because that is what you are supposed to do? Do I learn to like this place, barren of trees but not slot machines? Do I take the job knowing I will love the kids no matter where I’m located? Or do I take a risk and hope that something opens up for me in a place where I already have friends, where my foot is in the doors of schools I could teach in for years to come, a place I already love and call home?

Baby Goes Boom

Song…for the moment: “Fascination,” Alphabeat

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Today one of my bests came over for lunch with her 8 month old and hubby. Baby dear needed to rest, so we put her in a pillow fortress on the bed. The downy walls were built with just enough height so she could see out but still feel like she wasn’t trapped. Unfortunately baby dear was not in the mood for sleep and craved the attention from those at the dining room table. About ten minutes after putting her down, we heard something fall to the floor…something not heavy enough to be a baby. But then seconds later we heard something else tumble. This crash WAS big enough to be a baby, and screaming soon ensued. Baby dear got the attention she was hoping for, as well as a very strange mark where she had fallen on the top of her head. We still have no idea what the imprint is from.

After this face-splattering incident, I began to think about all the times I’ve fallen on my head. For example, when I was two I fell backwards off our wall in the front yard while dad was mowing the lawn. Then when I was four my good friend of the same size thought it would be great to bounce me on her knee around the house…I still have a giant bump on the back of my head from where the occipital lobe and corner table collided (maybe that’s why my vision is so terrible). Or the time in 5th grade I thought it was a good idea to walk the dog while roller blading and preceded to get road burn on my chin, nose AND forehead. My latest “where face meets floor” incident happened this past fall in one of my last college courses, PE for Children. Needless to say, we were playing some dumb relay race that I apparently had too much invested in and, well, feet just weren’t keeping up, and I did the walrus slide across the gymnasium floor while my face bounced like a rubber ball from the twenty-five cent vending machines.

There have been those definite and literal face plants all throughout my life. I’ve also had my share of not actual, but feels as though a brick just landed in my face. Referring to these incidences, my mom always says, “Allison, if there was no such thing as bad luck, you wouldn’t have any luck at all.” Oh well. I believe we all go through these brain-sloshing times, and we all seem to get through them okay. I don’t mind them so much, they seem to shape me (possibly in a more brain damaged way, but whatevs), and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. And I’m sure in the end I’ll turn out just fine…otherwise the wheelchair and neck brace will be necessary.