Angelinos On Ice

The sun is shining, and it is 75 degrees. People are bundled in coats, scarves and hats. Only in Los Angeles, I chuckle to myself as I help Jacob lace up his skates. I am wearing a t-shirt, and I'm already sweating. Still negotiating Jake's laces and pretending to listen as he instructs me how to tie them, snippets of conversation fall into my ears:

"I haven't been ice skating in 17 years!"

"I've NEVER been ice skating!"

"My skates are too tight..."

"No, they're supposed to fit that way."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really..."

It's then I realize a hideous experiment is about to unfold: we are about to put a snowless city's inhabitants on a makeshift ice rink in the middle of Pershing Square. Only after this thought do I fully understand why giant signs yelling "SKATE AT YOUR OWN RISK" are everywhere, and why children clutch their parents with excitement-but-fear in their eyes.

All too soon, the death shoes are on everyone's feet and it is time to go. Time for me to fall and crack my teeth. But first, a surprise: Jake is holding a hand in the air, expectantly, in my direction.

This kid NEVER wants to hold my hand. Here he is though, waiting for me to take him skating.

Feeling mom-like in a good way, I lead him out and quickly learn that he has no idea what he is doing. Fortunately, neither does anyone else. For the first 15 minutes of the hour skate session, young and old alike clutch the walls and gingerly inch their way around, exclaiming over the fun of it all and holding digital cameras perilously outward to capture the moment. I take up a position on Jake's other side, and try to coach him as he slip-walks across the ice.

Did I mention I'm going to be his step-mom? Did I mention that this is the first time I've watched the kids all by myself? Did I mention that after we told them "we're engaged!" it was wierd and awkward and silent? Yeah, this kid will not fall. This kid WILL NOT eat it on the ice on my watch. There is more riding on this afternoon than Kaitlyn or Jacob know about, at least in my mind.

At first I'm trying to help him, and he's not listening. Jake is caught in the fun of the moment, the slippery-ness and laughter of it all, and does not seem to care. I wait 15 minutes, and then his competitive side kicks in; he wants to be better than the other kids, better than me. I model how to do it, give analogies and imagery, everything I have been trained to do. We lurch laps around the rink, refining his abilities. We stop twice to loosen and then tighten his skates. No fewer than five times he pitches forward and grabs my arm (catching me completely off guard), putting all his weight on me. No fewer than five times I hold up my 7 year old boy with one arm, balancing and somehow not falling. To borrow from Dave Eggers again: "I am America! I am the Olympics!"

After 45 minutes we have had enough, mostly because our ankles hurt. We amble to the benches and de-skate. Again I fuss with laces, and while I am at his feet untying knots he says it:

"Those other kids didn't know what they were doing, but I did because you taught me. Thanks for teaching me."

I fight tears the whole way home.

Why I like Going to Nature Mart

First of all, it's only a block and a half away. So I feel very eco-awesome while walking there, especially since I usually bring my own bag. Yes, I get all smug in a Los Feliz kind of way, which is fun for someone like me, who originally hails from the Midwest and usually feels like the short, awkward girl in the room.

Second, there is always an assortment of characters to pass and smile at. Today I nodded at red-suspender-and-high-top-wearing-with-crazy-hair dude, and he gave me a similar chin bob before continuing past me.

Third, when you get to the store, everyone is nice. It doesn't matter that it's late. Who cares that it's crowded with people buying their last-minute tempeh patties for dinner, and the staff is busy re-stocking the shelves. People smile, and say fun foreign phrases like "please", "thank you", and "excuse me". Health food makes happy people, and I have seen the proof.

Finally, the cashiers all rock. After being told off by a defiant 8th grader today, slogging through masses of students who all have a lame excuse why they didn't do their homework, and sitting through cynical yelling of teachers at our afternoon staff meeting, I was pretty drained. So while digging through my wallet, I had to stop and look up when the cashier ACTUALLY asked me "How was your day?" (not the usual "how are you" said quickly with no eye contact or empathy, but a real question!) When I looked up, he was smiling at me. Since there was no one else in line, we chatted for a minute. Mind you, this is not a fluke. Every time I go to this store, the cashier takes a minute to shoot the breeze with me. Huge plus.

Oh yeah, and their prices are actually very competitive. I've blown off Albertson's to go there for staples, in addition to getting my decaf green and vegan cereal. People of Los Feliz: Shop At Nature Mart!

That is all.

This is Who We Are. This is What We Do.

So I went to school here.

I chose MSU because of its excellent education program (2nd in the nation; suck on that California elitism), its true "college" atmosphere, and its flute professor, who is a true artist and the teacher most compatible with my style. It was a wonderful time in my life, full of new friends, midnight study sessions, and of course, the marching band.


When I was a sophomore I decided to audition for MSU's drumline. The Drumline at State is also world class, and I worried that I would be laughed out of the building. But I went, and I'm glad I did. Two years as a cymbal player flew by, and I can honestly say some of the best moments of my life occurred as a member of that group.


However, being a part of the group that roots for MSU football has its downside.


Our team is wildly unpredictable. We can upset the top team in the nation and make them cry. We can have a 20 point lead going into the 4th quarter and lose. We can kill a school one week, then turn around and get our butts kicked in the next. It is truly a labor of love to root for this football team. Week after week, I watch friends update their facebooks to say "Go Green!!!" only to be replaced a few hours later with "I'd rather lose as a spartan than be anything else". And so it is on the weekend we play our biggest rival that I once again pull on my school spirit like a protective shield, and utter the following battle cries:

Go State! Beat Michigan!

Ann Arbor is a whore.

We'll get 'em in basketball season.

Last year, this year

Last year: Moved to a new state and began teaching at a completely different school.

This year: For the first time in my whole teaching career (including pre-public school service) I have a schedule that I am familiar with in a school I am familiar with. No one changed anything (traditional to block or block to teaming or what have you) and as a result I actually knew what was going on from day one.




Last year: Our school was brand new and nobody wanted to be there, especially the oldest students who felt ripped out of their old school, where they were supposed to be the BMOC's (Big Men On Campus).

This year: Everyone gets that we're here, we do great things, so deal with it, it's all good.








Last year: had to figure out how to deal with R's two kids every other weekend when I'm used to having my grown-up time. Many tough moments and times when I simply had to leave for a few minutes.

This year: I am now annoyed that we are skipping a weekend with the kids and would like to talk to their mother about it personally. I especially want them for Halloween!








Last year: Only about 35% of students turned in the first homework assignment.

This year: 90% of my students turned in their first homework assignment.

Last year: had to pass the CTEL in all its mythified glory.

This year: Passed! and now working on BTSA :( but I have a feeling I can square that away pretty easily.



Last year: had a car that needed to go to the shop every 2 months like clockwork.

This year: I have a new baby, and I'm thinking it's going to be very reliable.







As you can see, most of the major stressors have been taken care of. I expect next year will be even better, and the next, etc. I think my life is approaching something close to what you'd call "settled". I'm very okay with that.

School Starts Tomorrow

If all the students on my roster show up, I will have 241 of them.



That's a lot of names to learn.

Apparently I get to meet my favorites twice...

This was true of John Krasinski; I met him at the Away We Go premiere (and I am biting back the urge to post the photo yet again) and then saw him a mere 6 days later as I was driving to school.

I also met Dave Eggers that night. For those who do not know, he is my favorite author. He writes the way I think, and the way I suspect he thinks, with long rants and strange comparisons, and when he talks, he blinks and shifts and grabs at his hair the same way I do on the podium trying to get a very important concept across to my students. These are not the only reasons why I like him, but they are some endearing and relatable qualities. Also, he founded the 826 stores which is just plain cool.

Mr. Eggers has a new book out.


Skylight Books was awesome and hosted a reading and a signing.

As I live within spitting distance, the question was not "do I go?" but "how early do I show up?" I showed up, bought my copy, and grabbed a signing number. Before the reading I even won an advance copy of "109 Forgotten American Heroes" put out by McSweeney's.

It was lovely to be in that independent bookstore with other 20-something hipster kids, listening to Mr. Eggers read from his work, us not caring that we were packed in like sardines and there was no air conditioning. For most of the reading I stood/sat behind a bookshelf, getting only occasional glimpses of the author. That was ok though, because I had already met him in May and was just glad to be there and listen.

After the reading, I wondered if I had time to go get a bottle of water. Turns out I could have gone home, used the bathroom, chatted with R, maybe could have even squeezed in a cup of tea, and then gone back. Most people I waited with in that long line were very nice. But there's always one. I waited in line near someone with 4 books who was chatting with his friends: "hey, wouldn't it be funny if I went up and was like 'yeah, you're not my favorite author, you're really no big deal'". No, you would not be funny. You would be an idiot, and a liar, because only a fan stands in line for over an hour to get no fewer than FOUR books signed. Nobody but a perfect jerk waits all that time to put someone important down in an attempt to make themselves feel better, stop talking you idiot. I guess even in Los Angeles there are still people who are stupid about meeting someone important or famous.


After hearing this stupidity, my visit was simple. The book was signed, the picture snapped. "Hey, I'm a big fan", "thank you, thanks for waiting so long", "It's ok I live like 2 blocks from here", "haha, you could have gone home and come back", "haha I thought about it", "it was nice to see you," "you too", handshake, smile, goodnight.



Just one more "glad I moved to LA" moment.

I just bought a car...

Holy cow.

Blogging will resume when I feel slightly normal again...it may be a couple days.

The Sign

7:55 am, and my mom, dad and I are applying sunblock. A slight breeze floats through, and the mountain looms high. My mom tests her newly bought walking sticks, decides they are useful enough, and nods. We begin.

The Hollyridge Trail begins at about 800 feet above sea level, but we have to gain about 900 feet ourselves before we will be level with the sign. The actual walk is 1.8 miles each way, on a dusty trail with scrub on each side, concealing spiders, rattlesnakes, and cute little lizards that dart in and out of the shallow patches of shade created by the bushes.

I cannot believe my mother wants to climb this thing.


A word about my mom: she is easily the most stubborn person I have ever met (and when she reads that, she'll take it as a compliment). However, her knees have been annoying to her for quite some time; a side effect of having naturally bad knees (which I think I've inherited), having arthritis (which I know I've inherited) and playing catcher for a softball team in her youth. When my mom said "I really want to do that hike", my first thought was "Seriously??" Then I remembered that I've never seen her back down from anything, and her reaction didn't shock me at all.

I hiked up to the Hollywood Sign for the first time in March, with R and the kids. We thought it was a pretty decent hike (enough to wear out R's 7 year old son, which is always a tough task) and when I got to the top I looked around and thought "My mom would love this." So I told her about it. Little did I know, the very next day she began upping the incline on her treadmill, in preparation for what she later called my challenge to her.





Now, 4 months later, mom uses her walking sticks like a pro, and her face is set in determination. Every so often my dad or I will crack a joke, and my mom lets out a laugh that rings through the hills as she sets her feet toward the top. The sun climbs with us, and the heat of a sunny SoCal day begins to build.

The climb is split into 3 parts in my mind, and I try to guage the distance for my mom, let her know how much further we have to climb. The easiest landmark is the one we're aiming for, but when it's out of sight I try to let her know what's left. We move up the steep first part, and into the mostly flat middle part of the hike. We stop at every patch of shade to breathe for a bit, and enjoy the view.

Near the top of the mountain, the trail winds around back and offers a spectacular view of the valley. I point out to my parents the freeway, the cemetary, Burbank, and we manage to pick out the school where I teach.





"Not much further!" I tell my parents.

"You keep saying that!" my mom laughs, and takes a mock swipe at me with one of her sticks.

"No, really, we're almost there" I say, and my mom turns and books it up the trail.

At the top of the mountain, the sign is about 20 feet below where you stand, and a chain link fence keeps people from defacing the sign or killing themselves. I turn and gesture spectacularly to my parents. My mom frowns.

"Your pictures didn't have a fence in them" she accuses. I point to the very peak of the mountain, and the small scramble it takes to get up there.

My mother-- the woman with the bad knees who just killed a whole mountain in one hour-- looks, hands me her purse, and hikes up to the tippy top.





We stayed up there for about 45 minutes, taking in the view, texting and calling people (mom wanted to call her mom and casually remark "yeah, I'm just sitting up on top of the Hollywood Sign, how are you?"). I pointed out what I could of the geography.

Mom sat back, drank water, and smiled; she was queen of Los Angeles for a day.

Life has been handing me lemons...

My car went into the shop for the 5th time this year. I hope it enjoyed its stay, because I'm trading it in after this.

My cat has been into the vet once this week already, and has a follow-up on Saturday. He is currently sleeping under the bed, which worries me.

Faced with all this, and the laundry list of things that need to get done before year #4 of teaching starts, I left the apartment around 3 today. Objective: leave the house. Out of habit, I turned down Vermont, feeling the strong California sun as I went. The hum of the city usually cheers me up, and this time was no exception.

I stopped in to Cherry Pick vintage clothing off Franklin and Vermont, and was way disappointed. Almost no selection, and overpriced in my opinion. A very tattered yellow belt would have set me back $25. Nope.

Out into the sunshine again, and once there I decided it was too hot to just amble through the sunlight and traffic with no plan. I stopped at 7-11 for an iced tea, and ambled through the shade instead. Much better.

After a bit of meandering, I decided to make my way home, and turned up Dracena. On the other side of the street was a sight I couldn't resist: a child and her father armed with a table, a sign, lemons and a blender. Now really, who can resist that? I walked a bit up the street, tucked my newly purchased iced tea into my purse, and crossed back over.





While my lovely lemon drink was being prepared, I found out the reason for the lemonade stand: raising money to go see the grandparents in Scotland. With an 11 hour flight to look forward to, they had picked the lemons off their backyard tree and decided to try the concept. It reminded me of the time my brother's friends and I had tried a lemonade stand; we had a folding table set up at the end of a cul-de-sac, and so only had about 6 customers in 3 days. We had big plans to sell lemonade, pop, and various homemade desserts. Since the average age of the group was 9, the idea was abandoned after a few days and a few botched recipes. We spent more time hurriedly cleaning up the kitchen before mom got home than actually vending our creations, which I'm pretty sure no one would have actually eaten.

The girl standing in front of me now had much more mastery over the stand than we did. She squeezed lemons, poured juice, ran the blender, and even gave me my choice of staw color (I decided on purple). It was the perfect way to punctuate my bad day.





If you are in the area, I think you should head over to Dracena and see what I mean.

Bloggerprom!!!

Alternate title: Amazing-ness.

R and I got dolled up on Wednesday night for an evening of prom fun. My words will not do the experience justice, so here's the visual breakdown:

The Venue









The Food



(Didn't snag a picture of the mushroom risotto I had, but it was to DIE FOR!)



The Drinks



(I had a Prom Punch Jungle Juice, courtesy of The Liquid Muse...delicious)



There's no picture of it, but we rocked out to 80's tunes all night...fun!!



The Raffle...I won! Thank you Bloggerprom Committee!!! (Photo from Caroline on Crack's Flickr)



The Gift Bag...I don't have a picture, but truly awesome swag inside. I think I've eaten all the eats already, I've watched almost all the Big Bang episodes (when I saw the full first season in the bag I squealed, R can attest to it) and I am very excited about my samples of Pinky Vodka and Miller's Gin. And of course, the "born to blog" T-shirt is excellent :)

Thank you Bloggerprom, for an awesome event!!!

The Year in Pictures

In no particular order, my favorite images from the last year: