Sunday, September 25, 2011
Hello, hot wheels.
Well, it happened again. Chris went and got me something that I totally don't deserve.
This time it was a new car.
I've never had a new car.
Ever.
In fact, I don't think I've ever owned a car that cost me (or my dad) more than $2000. That's how I roll(ed).
So when we went down to Mile of Cars to test drive the Hyundai Accent, and when Chris turned his poker face on, and when we battled back and forth over pricing and tinting and financing and interest rates, and when Chris, cool as a cucumber, leaned back in his chair and said, "Okay, I'll sign right now," I was NERVOUS.
And when I got in my brand spanking new car with only 8 miles on it, I seriously felt like throwing up. Because this was a brand new car. How does one just drive around in a brand new car?
Somewhere on the long ride home, I began to feel the teensiest bit more comfortable behind the wheel. Comfortable enough that when Chris and Ryan left for a concert tonight, I hopped back in and drove down to McD's, just so I could go through a drive thru again (my windows stopped rolling down sometime around last Christmas). And then, upon realizing I'd left my house keys in my house when I'd dashed down the stairs with only my brand new car keys, I had to get real comfortable in that car, driving back down to Bonita to collect a spare key from Kayla and David. (Thank goodness David never returned our key!)
So I'm home safe and sound now. Chris just got home from his concert, too. I tried to tempt him with a late night drive, but he's too tired from his concerting. But he did just find the ice cream I stopped to get on my way to the drive thru this evening. So I believe we'll be eating ice cream in bed momentarily.
Life is good.
This time it was a new car.
I've never had a new car.
Ever.
In fact, I don't think I've ever owned a car that cost me (or my dad) more than $2000. That's how I roll(ed).
So when we went down to Mile of Cars to test drive the Hyundai Accent, and when Chris turned his poker face on, and when we battled back and forth over pricing and tinting and financing and interest rates, and when Chris, cool as a cucumber, leaned back in his chair and said, "Okay, I'll sign right now," I was NERVOUS.
And when I got in my brand spanking new car with only 8 miles on it, I seriously felt like throwing up. Because this was a brand new car. How does one just drive around in a brand new car?
Somewhere on the long ride home, I began to feel the teensiest bit more comfortable behind the wheel. Comfortable enough that when Chris and Ryan left for a concert tonight, I hopped back in and drove down to McD's, just so I could go through a drive thru again (my windows stopped rolling down sometime around last Christmas). And then, upon realizing I'd left my house keys in my house when I'd dashed down the stairs with only my brand new car keys, I had to get real comfortable in that car, driving back down to Bonita to collect a spare key from Kayla and David. (Thank goodness David never returned our key!)
So I'm home safe and sound now. Chris just got home from his concert, too. I tried to tempt him with a late night drive, but he's too tired from his concerting. But he did just find the ice cream I stopped to get on my way to the drive thru this evening. So I believe we'll be eating ice cream in bed momentarily.
Life is good.
Saying good-bye to the white demon, before he Hyundai guy took it away.
Hello, new guy on the block.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
1 year, 2 days...
J: Babe, will you rub my back? For just one minute?
C: No. Why do you always ask when I'm in the middle of something?!
J: I ask when my back hurts.
C: Your back always hurts. My back hurts too, you know.
J: Awwww, it does?
C: Stop! Don't rub my back! I don't want to feel guilty for not rubbing yours!
C: No. Why do you always ask when I'm in the middle of something?!
J: I ask when my back hurts.
C: Your back always hurts. My back hurts too, you know.
J: Awwww, it does?
C: Stop! Don't rub my back! I don't want to feel guilty for not rubbing yours!
Monday, September 19, 2011
Lessons learned.
Today when I got to my classroom, I was greeted by Student T with: "Miss Jordan! Why didn't you tell me I was doing so good on my math tests!"
I've been tutoring this girl in Algebra for awhile now, but she's only had to take a couple of tests for the course so far. And none of them have been passing. And none of them were recent. So I had no idea what she was talking about.
So I asked, "What math tests are you talking about?"
"The CAHSEE tests," she replied. "Mrs. Ramirez told me you said I was doing really good."
With the beginning of the school year, our classroom has started doing CAHSEE prep workshops for the tenth graders, and I knew she was in the math workshop, but I had no idea they'd taken more than one practice test so far. I did know they'd taken one. The first day of the workshop, last week, I'd looked over the list of grades for the first test to check up on my set of kids. T was the only one of my kids who'd had a passing score, and I'd mentioned it to Michelle in passing.
Which I now remembered.
I looked at her a little bewildered. After all, I hadn't even been the one to grade her test. It wasn't my workshop. I do make it a habit to tell my kids when they do a great job on projects and assignments though, the ones that I grade and go over with them. So I wasn't sure why she was so upset I hadn't told her about her grade from a different teacher.
I tried to explain. "It's not that I was keeping it from you, it just wasn't my test, or my class. I didn't grade it, I just looked at the grades after...."
She just kept looking at me.
I stopped trying to explain myself. "You know what? I should have told you what a great score you got."
She nodded, grinned, and headed back to her seat.
So now I know. Even when they don't seem to care, they do. And even if it's not my workshop, or my assignment, or even my kid, I should be looking for every single chance to encourage their work. If all kids got as excited as T did about a passing grade, life would be much better at the Woodman classroom.
I've been tutoring this girl in Algebra for awhile now, but she's only had to take a couple of tests for the course so far. And none of them have been passing. And none of them were recent. So I had no idea what she was talking about.
So I asked, "What math tests are you talking about?"
"The CAHSEE tests," she replied. "Mrs. Ramirez told me you said I was doing really good."
With the beginning of the school year, our classroom has started doing CAHSEE prep workshops for the tenth graders, and I knew she was in the math workshop, but I had no idea they'd taken more than one practice test so far. I did know they'd taken one. The first day of the workshop, last week, I'd looked over the list of grades for the first test to check up on my set of kids. T was the only one of my kids who'd had a passing score, and I'd mentioned it to Michelle in passing.
Which I now remembered.
I looked at her a little bewildered. After all, I hadn't even been the one to grade her test. It wasn't my workshop. I do make it a habit to tell my kids when they do a great job on projects and assignments though, the ones that I grade and go over with them. So I wasn't sure why she was so upset I hadn't told her about her grade from a different teacher.
I tried to explain. "It's not that I was keeping it from you, it just wasn't my test, or my class. I didn't grade it, I just looked at the grades after...."
She just kept looking at me.
I stopped trying to explain myself. "You know what? I should have told you what a great score you got."
She nodded, grinned, and headed back to her seat.
So now I know. Even when they don't seem to care, they do. And even if it's not my workshop, or my assignment, or even my kid, I should be looking for every single chance to encourage their work. If all kids got as excited as T did about a passing grade, life would be much better at the Woodman classroom.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
An Overdue Family Birthday Dinner Post
Chris' family came down in late August to celebrate my birthday with us, and my family came over, too, for a barbecue. Chris made his famous turkey burgers with special sauce, we had pumpkin pie (my favorite special dessert), I got to try out my first ever set of trick candles (those things do not go out!), and Jack and Sawyer had a ball playing with the leftover tissue paper and birthday bags. Good party!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Sewing woes.
I have been in a battle royale with my sewing machine for many, many hours.
I have one productive thing to show for it:
An infant headband for one of our upcoming shoots. And really, the only thing the machine did for me was attach the ends of the lace. Which I could have done by hand. Faster. But I'd finally gotten the thing working, so I wanted to, you know, actually use the machine for something.
Right after this, the bobbin thread got tangled and I had to pull it all out. (Again.)
Sigh. Sewing machine, I know I would love you, if you just gave me opportunities to use you. You keep being a thorn in my side at the beginning of every project, and three hours later we have gotten nowhere except frustrated.
Just thread your needle. Just keep the needle threaded. Just keep the bobbin happy and untangled. Just pull the bobbin thread up.
It's very simple.
I have one productive thing to show for it:
An infant headband for one of our upcoming shoots. And really, the only thing the machine did for me was attach the ends of the lace. Which I could have done by hand. Faster. But I'd finally gotten the thing working, so I wanted to, you know, actually use the machine for something.
Right after this, the bobbin thread got tangled and I had to pull it all out. (Again.)
Sigh. Sewing machine, I know I would love you, if you just gave me opportunities to use you. You keep being a thorn in my side at the beginning of every project, and three hours later we have gotten nowhere except frustrated.
Just thread your needle. Just keep the needle threaded. Just keep the bobbin happy and untangled. Just pull the bobbin thread up.
It's very simple.
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