(But hear my voice -or Samuel L. Jackson’s– when you come wandering into my classroom with time on your hands while I’m staring at the computer wondering who needs strangled next.)


His Samuel L. Jackson impersonation.

Tomorrow is the last day of school. It has been a glorious and terrible week of exhaustion, panic (failing students panicking, not me), and universal done-ness. Tomorrow my colleagues will have an adult meeting with adult beverages and ramble on about their own done-ness.

I am not done.

If I can get the publication kids done, that’s a positive step, but that rarely happens in time for attending the adult meeting.

I am never done.

Miles and I will just leave this here. Whoever wrote it didn’t get the quote quite right, but it is my favorite desktop graffiti. Found during yearbook camp– yes, that’s a thing- that I attend and teach at during the summer.

Just another sign of my not done-ness.


“Say ‘what’ again. I dare you.”

May the Fourth Be With You…and also with you (is what I think Jedi church sounds like)

Lurk inside the shower curtain I will.img_7841



Pleading Leia: Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope. (Birdie says it with her eyes. That’s commitment.)


My nerd research team said that Yoda and Leia never met, but THEY’RE IN MY BATHTUB! (Don’t ask why. Just accept that it worked out that way.)


Today’s award goes to Olivia Wigglebothum: Least Cooperative Yoda.


No Jedis were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Seriously, this was like 5 minutes of their evening and then there were snacks. Birdie didn’t even get out of her napping position.


Am I supposed to laugh or cry?

Laugh?: Wednesday morning I put on a pair of jeans and found $26 dollars in the front pocket! No idea why. I could not figure out when I wore them last, or why that much cash was there. (This may also be a comment on how efficiently I do laundry.) I took that windfall as a sign that it was going to be a good day.

Cry?: Friday morning I woke up to some cat spit and grass bits in the hallway. Somebody couldn’t handle their fresh pot of greens, but a little cat spit is easy enough to deal with at 5:45 a.m.

Cat spit is one thing, a poo on the kitchen rug is another. I had to stare at it a really long time because it was the perfect shape of a really dense hairball. A hairball would make sense in combination with cat spit and grass bits, but something wasn’t quite right. It was poo.

While cleaning that up, I discovered that I had narrowly missed stepping on two tiny poos at the kitchen entrance. I understand the random dingle-berry that gets stuck to someone’s furry haunches, but the poo of intent raises too many questions. Who pooed in the first place?! Is someone sick? Is someone angry? Was the bathroom full and the poo couldn’t wait? Did the rug need dominated? I DON’T KNOW! People at work said this is why you’re only supposed to have ONE cat; it eliminates doubt.

Poos resolved, I proceeded with my morning routine: fed everyone, took a shower, got partially dressed, finished most of a cup of coffee, stumbled back to the kitchen to put coffee in thermos.


The previously pooed on rug was now smeared with vomit while a second pile dripped on the cat tree. I gave up on the rug and threw in the washing machine; too many bodily fluids to just wipe up before a school day.

I wish I could say that this is where it all ended, but that afternoon I came home to ants trailing across the kitchen to the front door. Much like one of the cats, I then lost my shit.


Cry rainbows, drink wine.



The worst poem ever: Can I Go to Bed Now?

Spring time sunshine, evening golden glow through my windowsBringing the yard to life, the yard that I put off mowing…unlike my neighbors. 

Put off because two monstrous gray clouds followed me around the neighborhood this evening 

Never mind the cracks of bright blue, surely these bring rain. 

However sunlight remained. 

And is still here even though




Guilt that there is daylight still,keeps me awake and mostly clothed. 

Even though I have descended onto the couch and am pinned down by a blanket

Which is pinned down by a cat because 

Despite the persistent sunlight

My house is cold and the cat likes this particular blanket. 

My mind says “You are tired. Go take a bath. You deserve it.”

But there is sunlight so

I can tally all the minutiae of the day that started at 5:40 a.m. before the problematic sunlight

The rush to work to give the two hour standardized test that can only happen on iPads which can only function with wifi which is not made by sunlight

The off kilter sense of the day with a shortened class schedule because of the two hour test

All classes but the one class. Oh that one class. 

And I am just



But probably not as tired as my friend who had yet another cancer treatment today. 

Who is probably glad to see and feel the longer lasting sunlight. 

Not so tired that I can’t make something new for dinner -shrimp and broccoli- while 

Maintaining a constant loop of an imaginary conversation with a student who claims she is skipping my class because we are doing presentations. 

We aren’t even doing them yet. 

It is exhausting because I don’t feel like fighting a battle that I will lose. 

I feel like ignoring the bullshit of teenagers because they think

Sunlight shines out of their asses. 

It shines out of the sky and is still here which means

I should be grateful for another sunny day and not




And wondering if the cat wants to get high on the nip 

So that we can both go to sleep after the sunlight leaves. 

“Sorry about your vagina” Part 2: Maybe your vagina needs a t-shirt?

I’m not very good at protesting things unless child-like whining or loud profanity counts. Also I’m not very good at understanding why woman have to continue to fight so that their reproductive organs aren’t constantly batted about as political whipping “boys.” I mean if we’re going to be archaic, let’s burn some motherfuckin’ witches while we’re at it! Clearly vaginas are full of witchcraft.

I’m great at sarcasm-see above-, and at imagining evil fantasy plots that I should not put into writing as they may be used as evidence in future court trials.

I’m pretty-okay at making silly, angry drawings for greeting cards. However I am not okay with walking away from the daily news with a sane mind.


No April Fools, March was Women’s History Month. With no sense of irony, Evil Anderson Cooper Impersonator broke that tie for the vote

Fortunately, I have friends who are more politically astute than I. Their arguments do not revolve around “eat shit and die, evil empire!” Yea, I would have wreaked havoc on the Death Star.

My squirrel friends at Squirrel Den Studio have found a way to rise: the Pussyhat Pussycat tee. With every purchase they make a donation to WEDO.


Under that pussyhat, which sidenote I have had for years because…cats, there is all kinds of witchcraft and nasty woman. It’s called hot yoga hair.

The Den made me a racer back version because I’m like their unspoken, unrequested (they did not ask for this post) super model.

Check them out on Etsy for your squirrel, dog, and feline needs.


These shirts help make donations to animal shelters.

Beware the Ides of March and Groundhogs climbing trees!

Remember when your English teacher (possibly me) put all that emphasis on the soothsayer screaming, “Beware the Ides of March” at Caesar? Sure, it was one of many omens that were noted by everybody BUT Caesar. Then Brutus and friends synced their cycles and got stabby together so clearly the soothsayer knew what up.

Turns out the ides just mean the middle of the Roman month.

Beware of what your English teacher emphasizes!

On that note: Personally, I like to point out that the play opens with the Feast of Lupercal where Antony and friends are racing around naked while the crowd whips them with goat skins. Fertility y’all! This is the shit kids need to know!

This may not be as disturbing as soothsayers, naked goat skin whipping, storms, or ghosts roaming the streets, but things are getting weird at Grammie’s house this week…again!

She’s mad that her nemesis the groundhog is back. He looks quite plump. (But not plump enough for good eatin’. Gpa says they are not a tasty.)


She may have to up her game this year….


Dogs and cats living together! Groundhogs climbing tress! Mass hysteria!!!!

Beware the hogs of March!


Spring Forward Cooking Tips

Pumpernickel grilled cheese. (Pumpernickel translates to “the Devil’s fart.” Favorite bread name ever!)

Could be burnt. Could be fine.

Who can tell?

Not me. I was still awake at midnight (Thanks, time change! You dick.) having imaginary conversations. I have the brain power of a deranged turtle cat.


Now that you’ve seen this, you will make it. POWER OF SUGGESTION!!!!

Hint: cut your grilled cheese into strips for dipping purposes.