Birthday Boy

Today is DH's birthday, so we're having a red-blooded American male celebration. First up, one of the best things about Florida: spring training! Astros vs. Marlins at Osceola County Stadium (Marlins win, 9-8).

It's a gorgeous day, so we're stylin' topless:

Can you say, SPF 60?

Then it's off for his free steak at Charley's. He splits the porterhouse with DS, I split the Kansas City Strip with DD, and we still take home extra for steak and eggs in the morning.

Dessert? Well, he is a red-blooded American male. You figure it out.

Ain't It Always the Way...

Spring break, and I have a sick child. Of course. Someone always gets sick when we have a break from school. This time, it's DS. Sounds like a barking seal. So we're on our way to the doc today so he won't be sounding like a seal colony by the end of the week. Urk.

Picket Shock

We're in the market for some fence. I have lovely neighbors, both of whom have fences. That means two parts of my back yard have a fence. All we need to do is finish off the other two sides, add gates, do two small repairs, and we'll have a fenced back yard. The dog will be ecstatic. He'll have room to run and some doggy privacy, and I won't have to put up with quite so much barking in my ear when he wants to go out, like he's doing now.

So I get a couple of fence companies to come out an estimate. I'm thinking a few hundred dollars. It's not like we're fencing the whole thing, mind you. We're talking less than 100 feet total. More like 65 or so. And then I get the estimates.

$1800 FOR THAT MUCH FENCE?? Are you freakin' kidding me?? Hurricane repairs are long since over for this area. There's more fencing supply than demand. Still, $1,800??

I am so in the wrong business.

The Bed List/The Dinner List

BED LIST: WENTWORTH MILLER



I think many American women would break into prison for a shot at Mr. Miller.

DINNER LIST: CLINT EASTWOOD



Clint Eastwood is the original Hollywood badass. I think that even in his 70s, he's far tougher than a lot of folks out there. Wide range, too. Not many men could pull off The Man With No Name, Mayor of Carmel-by-the-Sea, and director of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Or win four Oscars, Best Director and Best Picture for both Unforgiven and Million Dollar Baby. This is the kind of man you want to spend all night talking to, because there's so much going on behind that Dirty Harry façade.

Bye, Bye FCAT

Testing season is officially over. The boxes are loaded and on their way back to Tallahassee. This means two things:

1. We can let out the breath we've been holding and take another so we can hold it until the infernal school grades come out in June.
2. The students will assume that they have nothing left to do for the school year.

One problem with high-stakes testing is that the chatter over the test gets so loud it drowns out everything else, like the whole point of school. That would be the learning part. If you're a student, and all you hear all year from the media is about FCATFCATFCATFCATFCAT, then why should you bestir yourself to do anything after the FCAT period has passed? Seems logical and reasonable, at least to them.

Let's extend the madness further. Teachers quality these days is solely determined by FCAT results, so why should teachers bother to do anything the last 1/4 of the year except clean their rooms and plan for next year? I mean, my total effectiveness will be determined/judged/measured by whether my seniors--who are on their fifth go-round with FCAT, by the way--pass the freakin' test. Never mind that if they're eighteen and still having issues, then the most brilliant teacher on the planet might not be enough to put them over the top. If their numbers aren't high, then obviously, I'm a bad teacher. Forget all that learning crap. All we care about is the spreadsheet.

Sorry I sound bitter, but I'm a true believer. I honestly believe that the work I'm doing is some of the most vital work in the country. I'm not compensated properly, and I know that. What irks me more is that I'm judged by numbers. Not by my students, not by what they have to say, not by what I invest in the job, not by the light bulbs that come on, not by the fact that minds have been opened wider and great questions are being asked, but by a spreadsheet. I am nothing more to my school board than my data. That's sad, considering that I produce young people as my end product, not flywheels.

But in this test-crazed accountability era, that's all that matters, isn't it? Get those numbers up. Screw whether the kids actually learn anything.

Stupid Dog

The one-two combo of DD and DM (aka my mother) accidentally let the dog out last night. Dog is one part dog, two parts bullet. He is one fast sucker. Fortunately for me, he decided to roam all over the cul-de-sac rather than play Kenyan marathoner.

Unfortunately for me, it was black as pitch out there, so I'm running back and forth in the dark (he's the "let you get close enough to touch the fur, but not the collar" type) with a leash praying he doesn't bolt for the main road. He didn't. He headed toward the neighbors with me in hot pursuit. He leaps the curb...and I kick it, dead on, with my left big toe.

I hope my very nice neighbors weren't listening to my not-very-nice tirade.

I caught him, brought him back, went to bed. This morning, my toe is a lovely shade of aubergine and doesn't want to bend much.

Stupid dog, for making me look so stupid.

The Bed List/The Dinner List

BED LIST: TOM SELLECK



This is Tom Selleck the way we best remember him, in all his moustached, hairy-chested, Magnum P.I. glory. He's aged well, of course--men this good looking always do, the bastards. But there's something about revisiting a junior high crush that amps up the sigh-meter. Yep, I'd investigate him in private.

DINNER LIST: BRIAN WILLIAMS



It would be interesting to see whether Brian Williams and my brother think alike about Iraq and our continuing involvement. I don't imagine you can undergo an IED attack and the subsequent hospital stay and therapy without having some very interesting thoughts about our involvement in the Middle East. I'd be happy to pay for dinner to find those out.

Books and Cooks: Shopgirl

WE'RE READING:

I'M SERVING: NEIMAN MARCUS COOKIES

My appreciation for Steve Martin goes way beyond his "wild and crazy guy" days. He authored one of my favorite screenplays, Roxanne, and he's well-known as a thinker and writer in addition to being an actor and comedian. Shopgirl is a snack of a book, but there's a lot of flavor in these 40,000 words.

What I found most interesting was the balancing act he managed between the observatory tone and intimate information provided about the characters. It was an interesting way to experience the book, I must say. Some in the group felt that it was unfinished, as if Martin really wanted to write a longer book, but didn't. Some of the story threads wrapped up quickly or frayed into nothing. Overall, I didn't find these to be huge problems. It was a fun, light read at a time when I can't stuff anything more serious in my head, aka Testing Season.

A note about the food: since Mirabelle works at the glove counter at Nieman Marcus, what better to bring than the infamous $250 Neiman Marcus Cookie Recipe of urban legend fame? I didn't bring those--I brought my own secret recipe chocolate chip cookies, which were developed from studying several recipes, including the aforementioned urban legend. Rich cookies. Gooooooood cookies.

Chili Princess!

Today the church hosted a Geezers vs. Youth Basketball game and chili cook-off to raise money for a mission trip to the Dominican Republic. I did a new variation of my white chicken chili, and it placed third! Not bad for something I threw together this morning, huh?

Here's the recipe. You need a big Crock Pot for this one.

NOT-SO-DUMB BLONDE CHILI

1 rotisserie chicken (I used a Publix Mojo flavor--garlic and lime)
1 small onion, diced small
1 can roasted garlic chicken broth (use additional broth if you want it thinner)
2 cans chopped green chiles
6 cans Great Northern beans, undrained
1-1/4 T cumin
1-1/4 T oregano
1 T cayenne pepper
1 t garlic powder
juice of 1/2 lime

Pull all meat off chicken and shred in crock with two forks. In a large skillet, heat olive oil. Saute onion and green chiles until onion is transparent. Pour in chicken broth and bring to a boil. Combine onion/chili mixture, beans, spices, and lime juice with chicken in Crock Pot. Cover and cook on low 6-8 hours or until heated through. Garnish with tortilla chips, pepperjack cheese, sour cream, onion, etc.

Enjoy!

The Bed List/The Dinner List

BED LIST: DJIMON HOUNSOU



That's JI-mon HOHN-soo to you. Rawr to me. He is the first African (born in Benin) male to be nominated for an Oscar (Best Supporting Actor, In America), and he's up for another for Blood Diamond on Sunday. Hot and talented. Quite the combo.

DINNER LIST: MARTIN SCORSESE



Everybody says this will be Scorsese's year for an Oscar. He's like the Susan Lucci of directors now. I think what happens is the Oscar voters think, "Everyone else will be voting for Scorsese, so I'll vote for X," and it pulls enough voters off for someone else to win. He's visionary, all right, with the OCD that goes with it. Ever seen his commercial for film, when he goes into the drug store to pick up his birthday party pictures? According to him, that's veeeeeeeery close to the mark. Must be interesting to be Martin.