a night capper

Over Christmas break I allowed myself the guilty pleasure of blogsurfing.  It started off as something innocent enough, but now I'm hooked.  But what really got to me more that anything was the nagging question of how these women were able to balance everything.  So many moms are pretty crazy cool (myself excluded), working moms even more aplaudable.  I really don't know how some of these ladies manage their time so efficiently.  I constantly feel like I'm barely treading water trying to keep my head up and hold my breath in time for the next wave.  It's February, and I'm just figuring out some teaching organization/self preservation that I should have had August of our first year here.  It stinks reinventing the wheel. But, sometimes, it has to be done.  Anyway, if you've been reading the blopsplurt, you've read how consistency is difficult for me, however I'm pretty pumped that my new year's resolution is still going strong.  This year, I decided to go small.  So many moms have told me that they've just had to learn to "let go" of some of their notions of orderliness.  As you might know, I tend to go against the flow (if something's easy, I invent a new way so that I don't get bored) so my nyr is to "control" one aspect of my life.  My goal has been to make my bed in the mornings, silly I know, but hey, you've gotta start somewhere.  Now it's not always neat, but the sheets and covers get pulled up and the pillows moved to the top of the bed--pretty good if I do say so myself.
I may never get a genie in a lamp to grant me my wish of having two extra days off so that I could do all of the miscelaneous catching up, tidying up, tying up of lose ends I need, so until then, I'll pull the sheets up in the morning!

Dunking time, or lack there of

Car duty is the poshest duty of all.  I'm not sure if it is really coveted, but it just might be.  This year is the first time that I've been at such a high rank.  The first days of school I started on duty and I instantly fell in love with it.  The best part is greeting slumber-filled students and their in-a-rush parents or drivers with a resounding "Buenos Dias" or "Dobre Utra" or a peppy "Good Morning".  However, yesterday was more special than most.  I received my first perk: a pack of Oreo's.  Now , don't get any crazy notions like these were double stuffed, or pink and red, or any other funny business like that.  These were the original originals; not two, but six whole cookies.
**aside: They've just begun selling them here since Christmas.  It was so cute, they had little gals dressed up at Silpo (the supermarket) with samples of the cookies and milk.  When I took just a cookie, she motioned that I was supposed to dip it in milk.  My mind wandered to where that label-less milk had come from, so made the choice to smile and nod and savor the cookie instead.  Normally, in the States, I wouldn't choose to buy Oreos, but when in Ukraine, "Why not?"**
Back to the package at school, I felt awful when I offered one of the last ones to the other Spanish teacher (a lovely "Mexican" speaking Ukrainian for whom I'll need to devote an entire post algun dia) and she told me that she had never tried one before.  AND, I STILL DIDN'T HAVE MALOKO!  I taught her the classic twist and lick.  Now if only Reese's were here, because there's not just one way to eat a Reece's!
Also on the topic of slam dunking, Rawly loves to dunk just about everything.  This evening he was so cute as he was reluctant to let go of the ball (baseball and Christmas ornament) after he put it through the hoop--but he was so proud of himself that he kept clapping after doing it!
And for the hat trick, Rawls's new obsession is trowing his dirty diaper into the trash can.  He points and hollers and says, "ball, ball, ball" until we pick him up and take him to the trash bin in the bathroom.  How silly was I ever to let him do that in the first place?

I think that I've lost my steam, sorry for no cute Rawly picture posts...

math, freshman year

My memories of math freshman year are so vivid.  I'm not quite sure why, but it's more so than most of my other memories.  You know how smells often trigger nostalgia?  That's how it all started; here's a little background (probably too many details, but I promise I'm trying to leave out the non-important ones!)
A friend from college was stationed in Ukraine when she served in the Peace Corps after graduation.  This winter was the 50th birthday of her host dad so she bunked with us for a couple of days on either end of her trip.  On her way back, her bags were bursting at the seams with eccentrically Ukrainian "goodies".  She unloaded a few things on us, like a maroon and white teddy bear hand towel--oh so stylish, a Christmas mug, and a tattered angel (the second two are displayed in our "china" hutch.) As she sat on the floor trying to cram everything in and not break the huge "Cossack" bottle of Vodka given from her host dad to her dad, she offered, "Hey! Do you guys want some smashed Nutrigrain bars." As she chuckled at herself, "I'm sure they really sound appetizing!"  It was no matter to us, we always graciously accept any "Americanski" food.  Besides, we are pretty ingrained not to let food go to waste; thanks, I believe, to our parents:)
Opening up that strawberry granola bar, smashed be that as it may, took me back to the second from the back row seat where my friend Michael and I would always switch our snacks: his strawberry nurtrigrain for some little Debbi snack.  I definitely got the better end of the deal!
Thanks Michael and Shareece for letting me mooch off that yummy goodness!

Blogruption

The first part of high school freshman orientation was held in our auditorium.  The student council did some skits about how to succeed in school and the alternative.  Generally, I'm not such a fan of sketches that try to instill a value--but I remember it because I had to look up a word I didn't know, but I knew it was bad and I didn't want to do it from the sound of things.  That word was PROCRASTINATE.  Growing up, my parents always told me that I was slow as molasses (which, interestingly enough, I also didn't know what that was!)

But, I'm as bad as I've always been.  Ever since I could remember, I've always wanted to be a good journal writer.  Unfortunately, as with most things, I lack the "ganas" (the drive) to finish what I start.   Let's take a trip down memory lane...Exibit A: Stitched wall hanging for Maleesa--started around grade 10, finished by graduation.  Exibit B: Venezuela Missions Trip--like every trip I go on, I skip pages to go back and fill in the day's stories--almost never happens.**This is where Blogruption comes into play,  I've had lots of ideas I wanted to share, so a post was made, but never finished.  In the past I was able to sneak these in, but now instead of the date that they were started, they're organized by post date.**Back to Exibit C: Ken's quilted jean blanket circa 2005--it still has pins in it, all completed, just waiting for the binding.  I believe two or three kind souls offered to finish it for me, but that just wouldn't be the same.  Exibit D: (this a little one's better) Blaine's jean "toddler" blanket--born in March, started in October, finished before we left for Ukraine in July, he was only  a year and a half...the perfect timing for a sturdy blanket if you ask me!
If high school year book taught me anything, I hope that it was to write kind of alright (at least to not overuse meaningless words like "fun"--off track), although I'm afraid that in my efforts to capture my thought, I might blogblurt (better than blogburping I suppose:) So here goes nothing, let's see how many entries I can cram into tonight.

Still shocked after over a year

The Spanish Embassy is putting on a conference for teachers of Spanish as a foreign language; today my two colleagues and I jumped in a taxi and headed downtown to Chachenkco University to take part.  The conference has been great.  But what I can't get over is the facility.   On our breaks we walked around in search of coffee and a potty (I honestly only used the latter because it rhymed.)  What I noticed were that there are the same cliques as in any school.  My favorites of the day were the green and black weave braids near the coffee machine and the Metallica shirt red streaked hair girl who let us have her table.  It wasn't the impressive vaulted ceilings, the hallway that appeared to be filled with smoke (which wouldn't surprise me), the worn imprinted concrete stairs, or even the coat deposit, it was the bathroom is what blew me away.  Yep that's right, one bathroom for three floors, squat-over-a-hole toilets, no toilet paper, no paper towels...and we thought one-ply paper was bad.