Smaller than a breadbox

Some Day,

Some day, some blessed day, when we have a departmental staff meeting or a district staff-development event, I hope there is something to eat besides  doughnuts-bagels-pastries-muffins-cinnamon rolls-deli sandwiches-pizza-pretzels-cake-cookies-brownies or pie.  Oh sure, when the school had a holiday luncheon for the staff, the caterer also brought a green salad in addition to the lasagne, spaghetti, breadsticks and cake. But gluten-intolerant woman cannot live on iceberg lettuce and a bottle of flavored water.

If I’m lucky on the days of these communal-noshing events, Read the rest of this entry »

Piques and Valleys

So, I’ve been rather absent from bloggery lately due to spending evenings sorting through vast boxes of paper archives, moving books, applying for jobs to keep a roof over our heads, or attempting to sleep off this virus. I now have removed a cubic meter of paperness from our house, and transferred a few hundred books from one room to another. I still have the virus (or maybe a second one, as our students have not the best hygiene), but not the second job.

(Now, if anyone is looking for an experienced secondary or college tutor or after-school care for special-needs children, let me know via andreasbuzzing care of my gmail account.)

But aside from all that, there have been some thought-provoking ups and downs in the news that I don’t want to let pass before they become “olds”:

In an brief article in the New York Times, researchers from the Albert Einstein College of Medicine studied some 11,000 third-grade students, and found that Read the rest of this entry »

For the first time in 28 years

I have not bought a Valentine’s present for my husband. I am divorcing him.

Disabilities can change how the processes of falling in love, joining, living together, loving together, and separating happen.

For most disabled people, their disabilities affect how others perceive them as even being interested or capable to find love or sex. (WTF?!)

For many disabled people, their disabilities can even change whether or not others afford them even the opportunities to find love or sex. (Again, WTF?!)

Although my husband and I both have disabilities that have changed how we are employed, communicate with each other and others, parent our children, or even sleep together (literally and figuratively), the divorce had nothing to do with our disabilities.  It’s just about the usual sorts of moral failings that can lead to divorce (even after the sensible year of counselling to assay changes).

Because in the end, love and sex do not happen because people are able or disabled.  They happen because all people are people.  And when love and sex quit, they happen because all people are people.  Just people.  Like everyone else.

This post is (slightly belated) part of Dave Hingsburger’s “Sexy Bloggers” blog carnival on disabilities and love/sexuality, over at his blog, Chewing the Fat.

Rocks rolled

(Sorting through stuff, I ran across some old memories…)

Out on the mountainside
There are lots of rocks.
The biggest one is named Ed.

Ed is a metamorphic rock.
He has changed over the years,
In the beginning he was hot stuff.

Life pushed him through some changes
Adding a few wrinkles along the way.
He became a strong granite,

Dark feldspar streaked with
A white quartz of contemplative purity
And a humorous glint of mica.

Ed rolled down the mountain
Bit by bit
As the world changed.

In later years he acquired several
Flavors of moss,
As most of us do.

Got kinda scraggly looking on top
During windy days.
But otherwise a sedate being.

As time passed along,
A spruce grew by Ed.
Mary was her name.

She knew when to sway in the breezes,
When to hold firm.
Mary was host to some years of fledglings.

During the big storms,
Ed and Mary stood together.
Other times, they stood alone.

She grew taller and fuller.
They both seemed fixtures
In the landscape.

The rains wore him down a little.
One year he weathered more than ever.
–Suddenly, he rolled downhill altogether.

And although Mary knew it had been coming,
And had viewed the slope for some time,
–It was still rather abrupt.

Ed had been such a part of the landscape.
His absence was just as dramatic
As his presence.

Now Mary stands
Without the rock named Ed.
And the raindrops gather
In the depression left behind.

Out of the frying pan

Totally light-weight news here, while I take care of tonnes of paperwork and finish another post:

Dr Graham Clayton and other scientists at University Leeds used gas chromatography mass spectrometry to determine the components of French fry / chip aroma:

chip aroma is made up of butterscotch, cocoa, onion, flowers, cheese and …

ironing boards.

Requesting your thoughts, please

Howdy folks,

This morning I’m again in pain and rather stiff.  I know that many of you have rather specialised knowledge, and would appreciate your thoughts on getting diagnostics.

I have a number of conditions, both common and uncommon, including Raynaud’s, migraines, cough-variant asthma, tinnitus & hyperacussis and Auditory Processing Disorder, motor tics, and assorted neurological glitches including prosopagnosia (face-blindness) and ADHD. Getting these things diagnosed over the past decade has been wonderfully helpful for those that can be medicated, figuring out how to make accommodations for those that can’t, and being able to prove to others that I have documented reasons for difficulties, and that I’m not being lazy or stupid.

However, the crux of this post is that I also have Read the rest of this entry »

Think Pink

I read this story over at Annette’s blog, Fun With Play-Dough, and was flabbergasted.

When students at our school get suspended, they’ve usually done something heinous, like get into fist-fights, bring illegal drugs, porn, or some such.

Not like 11-year old Natasha Rzanca, who was suspended for

– get this –

having her hair dyed pink. Her mum did it; they thought it was fun.  (Because it is.)

Suspended for pink hair. WTF?!

Being remote / mis-emoting

“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
Nothing.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“NOTHING’S wrong; I’m just working on this article.”
“Well you don’t have to be so rude.”
“I wasn’t — I’m just trying to work already.”

Apparently I don’t always “emote” (physically express my emotional state) the way people expect me to. Apparently my “thinking” face looks like a scowl.

“Are you annoyed with me?”
“No.  You’re fine.  I’m just thinking.”

(But if you keep bugging about why I am/not annoyed, I will probably become annoyed…)

Maybe I should research Read the rest of this entry »

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