I havent been posting because my brain has been missing. Coming down to the end of the school year with a very difficult class, a more difficult principal, a husband dealing with some major job-related depression, and the general insanity of a four year old; we decided to decrease our stress by planning another cross country move.

It will be so peaceful to pack up all of our stuff over the next few weeks, locate jobs while living in a hotel with a weirdo kid who wakes up at 6am for the sheer joy of being obnoxious and three cats who want to whine at us or sleep on our heads, and to do all this back in Colorado – a bare hour from where we lived 5 years ago – well, i know i’m just overwhelmed with joy and relaxation.

oh no, wait. not that. the other thing.

SHEER STRESS.

Seriously, though, this will be a good move for us. Brandus is miserable here and I hate my boss, and frankly, I can be put down pretty much anywhere and i’ll adapt without too much bitching about it. my issues with colorado mainly consist of hating to drive in active snow and a deep loathing of having to scrape my windshield. I can deal. Or i’ll whine and make brandus scrape my windshield and drive me places. it will all work.

plus, half of our stuff, believe it or not, is still in storage in co. we put it there when we moved to alaska, and then have never wanted to spend the money/time to go back and pack it up and bring it here. Especially after we’d been here six months and brandus declared himself violently opposed to this place and all it stood for.

so. come hell or high water, here we go again.

I suffered through AP English in high school, which taught me some semi-useful things about books:

1. If you have to study it, it somehow becomes boring.
2. If the person you’re talking to is telling you what the author intended, they’re probably wrong.

Read the rest of Rusty Bicycle Pumps and A Jane Austin Education at BlogHer.com.

I am very excited to say that something I’ve been working on for a while is finally up today.

Skye of Flooded Lizard Kingdom also runs Heroine Content, a blog dedicated to “feminist and anti-racist thoughts on women kicking ass.” It’s an awesome blog, and I was very thrilled to get asked co-write a review of one of my favorite action movies, Ninja Assassin, with Skye.

The review is HERE, and I think it’s a pretty even look at the movie.

And we might discuss Rain’s abs a few times. Maybe. But we definitely profess our undying love for the character of Mika.

Check it out, and please comment! I’d love to know what you think!

One of my least favorite quotes has been doing the rounds again. It always always ALWAYS pops up around Mother’s Day, and I have to remember that biting people is bad manners, questionably hygienic and could get me arrested.

“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.” ~Tenneva Jordan

I hate this quote. I hate that mothers are both expected to sacrifice everything for their families, and that many mothers who like this quote happily turn themselves into martyrs. And the fact that it’s never mention if all 4 of the other people are her kids, or just..people. So mothers are expected to put themselves last for everyone?

What is wrong with a mother having pie? What’s wrong with teaching your family to share? Saying this once is going to mean you’re forever banned from pie around those people. They’ll eat it all, because you don’t care for it.

Dammit, people, SHARE THE FUCKING PIE.

In meetings at school, I constantly have people looking over my shoulder or coming up to me afterward asking, “what are you making?”

I get strange looks and laughs when I shrug and say, “I don’t know,” and unravel whatever I have created.

I began crocheting almost a year ago. I taught myself after I taught myself to finger knit, using online tutorials and the occasional advice from a friend.

I don’t crochet to make things. I’ve tried, and I’ve got a half completed scarf that will never be finished, and a handful of patterns for potholders to show for it. But the product isn’t the point for me. It’s the process.

I need something to focus on besides the meeting, and I need something to do with my hands. In the past, I’ve created grocery lists, epic boxes upon boxes of doodles, and have sewn and repaired several cloth diapers, felt toys, and wee folk art gnomes. When I found crochet, it gives me something to do – something that is quiet, doesn’t bother anyone, and as long as I stick to one stitch, something effectively mindless to do that nonetheless takes concentration. Weirdly enough, this helps me focus on the meeting instead of finding myself asleep in a puddle of my own drool.

And then I unravel all of it, and start over.

Because what I’m making doesn’t matter, so much as the process of making it.

I try to remember this, both working with my students, and while playing with Voldemort. If we plant flowers and plant too many seeds per hole, does it matter? If I let Voldemort help me bake cookies, and he adds too much sugar, does it matter?

It’s the process. And the learning that takes place with it. Too many seeds means too many flowers, and some might die. Too much sugar means we might not be able to eat the cookies.

So we unravel the problem, and start again.