Don't look back.
Been in a windstorm of old emails, calendars, advice from my ADHD accountant, and 1099 forms. Manila file folders are flopped open arcing the floor around my computer chair, and swirled atop my bedspread a.k.a. credenza. No more excuses. I've returned from my trip and must get to business in the tax shack. Take me right back, Jack.
School kiddie tummies are spewing station Farragut North and Farragut West with several days of unhappy aftershocks, and many loads of washing. My little dog Toto, too-- Alas, my granddoggy had gastroenteritis last weekend. That's bad news if you only weigh seven and a half pounds. I don't think I'm in Oregon or Kansas any more, and I'm paying no attention to the man behind the curtain. Oh, wait! That man is my accountant wizard.
anniversary of an outbreak of tornadoes in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. We had a school tornado drill recently, with whistle blasts and kids scurrying into the windowless lunchroom. Doing it for real is still on the minds of the staff a year later.
- Fire alarm = get out of the building.
- Tornado alarm = get in the building.
We teach and reteach and reteach anew. Get out to the playground, and the preschoolers are playing "tornado". They gather in the playhouse, then shout "tornado" and go running to the far end of the playground. "Wait," I say, "that is not the safe place to go." No amount of reteaching and redirecting can compete with shrieking and running. Okay then, maybe Mother Nature is culling the herd. A few minutes later the kids are playing a new game of Devastator Transformers. When naptime begins, they are still bending and slashing their hands and arms like living Happy Meal movie tie-in toys, or high school cheerleaders.
Besides napper Transformers, we have Velcro stunt men in class. Bouncy houses and trampolines are notorious causes of kid injuries. A boy in a Velcro stunt man cape can wipe out on his training bike and need lots of biggie Band-aids. Two boys in capes can wipe out the whole school Band-aid budget.
Over in the meadow in a cozy, wee den, Lived an old mother beaver and her Little beavers ten. "Beave," said the mother, "We beave," said the ten, and they Beaved all day in their cozy, wee den.
After beaving and gnawing and googling etymology sites, it seems to beave is to work hard.
And now I gnash my teeth having once more failed to reach the beaver dam part of this blog trail. Full speed ahead.
© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder