I truly do want some coffee, but with the onset of a cold that I’ll be cussing during the duration of it, I am drinking hot water. With a lemon slice. Too bad it’s not something really tasty. In fact, it’s…what’s the word? Sorta gross. Definitely gross.

As it’s Friday and my week has included the death of a former student and the high energy of my boys I knew the inevitable hitting-a-wall was on its way. This one is a sturdy brick one that showed no mercy.

I sneezed 8 times in a row when I hit it.

My throat is closing up.

Watery eyes are making my mascara smudgy.

Everything sounds muted and I am forced TO TALK LOUDLY AND HAVE STRANGERS LOOK CLOSELY AT MY EARS FOR THE HEARING AID I’M SURELY WEARING.

There are things clogging up my nose. Maybe this is what’s in store for me this weekend.

If I could just run full speed at this wall and have it knock me unconscious for the weekend that would be great. Humanitarian, even.

I’m going to have a make-out session with some throat lozenges and a hot towel.

I’ve come to some realizations…

My feet are big but my sons are bigger now and that somehow comforts me.

This time of year I crave a clove cigarette and some hot apple cider but I know the clove cigarette will burn my lungs and not really be as tasty as I want it to be.

The reason I didn’t join NaBloShoeMo is that I felt guilty about buying more shoes because, for the love of grape jelly, I already had at least 30 pair from last year.

That didn’t stop me from buying them this last year and consider photographing them. I could be talked into that.
A cold turkey sandwich on wheat bread with some tomato isn’t on the menu soon enough. Come on, Thanksgiving!

When I consider baking cookies and taking some to my hairdresser because I see her each week makes me a total hair whore.

It’s been sixteen years since I got my braces off and I still run my tongue over my teeth when a student tells me they just got theirs off.

I won’t ever stop caring for and loving the students who cross my path. It’s worth it to give my heart to them.

My daughter will owe less than twenty grand in loans after college and that number seems kinda reasonable.

If I watch The Philadelphia Story I can’t help but say, “My, she was yar” about anything beautiful. I do this for about three weeks.

Getting me through some rough times…

…excellent black tea from Teavana.

…coveting these pretty shoes.

…drooling over this camera with that lens and this flash.

…hugs from my not so little boys.

…anticipating a commissioned painting from this artist.

…re-reading this little gem.

…watching this series that completed my 7 year set.

…listening to this song, even the Ben Folds version.

…reading your words from yesterday’s sad, sad post.

Thanks.

When my job is good it is very very good.

When it is bad my heart breaks.

Today a former student died. He was murdered in his home.

He was 18.  Just a baby.

We are all devastated.

Goodbye, Carlos. I wish I had done more and I always will.

This is onerous. I hate it.

As dispassionate scribblings dictate, it’s time for some links. And some answers.

1. Belinda erroneously believes that the Black character in an ensemble cast always dies. Not true. Smoking Aces left my boyfriend Common alive as well as Alicia Keys. So there.

2. I’m sad. I got this fabulous invitation to be flown to San Francisco and make coffee for a How-To video back in September and I couldn’t go. Something about being a “supervisory administrator” and “homecoming” and “we need you” so now I’m forced to watch Erin’s new project for BlogHer and cry big, fat, juicy tears.

3. Tricia asked me a question on this post which led to this post and then she left this comment:

I’ll have to read this again when I have more time to ingest it… I know you took no offense at my question, but I was thinking about it the other way- Does the question or fact of your racial heritage get ‘thrown at you’ (these being the important words here- I don’t know how to italicize in a comment- but hey I spelled italicize right on the first try!) often?

I think it’s a bit of a different question.

So here is my answer to that one:

Yes, it gets thrown at me. For instance, in dealing with a student who is Black I might be asked to “deal” with them because (this is awful, terrible) sometimes the White teachers seem afraid to deal with them or get told off for asking. However, I get “told off”, too, but I can sometimes couch the counseling of that student in different terms that they might respond better to and that’s precarious in and of itself. Yes, the Race Card is always there and I can’t help but to think of things in racial terms that others might not think of without my prompting.

So we’re having this discussion of allowing students to wear hoodies in the classroom but the problem as I see it lies in the fact that students have these and almost nothing else with long sleeves to wear. Let me clarify: many of the Black students own only these (in my noting them while walking around my school) and if we say they can’t wear them in the classroom then we’re limiting them. But we’re also punishing them by writing detentions for wearing them. It’s an ugly, stupid rule and I hate it.

Another one was when a student had her braids ripped out of her head by her parents when she misbehaved on a field trip. She came to school in a bandana and refused to remove it because she was so embarrassed so she was made to sit in the In House room until she followed the “no scarf” rule. I’ve had to go on and on about Black Girl Hair Issues to no avail, but I truly believe that any color girl would have done the same thing. I just hate that it was a form of punishment for her by her parents and then that we punished her again. Rules are rules I’m told. Which is why I hate them. Some of them keep us safe, but we honestly could have had some compassion for the child.

Ok, that just got really long for an answer and I feel that I’m no longer making sense on the issue.

Oh, and another thing! I hate it when sentences start with, “Ok, so you’re Black. Answer this question for me…” and yet I put myself in positions where non-Blacks don’t show that much-needed empathy because they’re trying so hard to UNDERSTAND, BECAUSE I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND.

Now I’m really not making any sense.

4. Sometimes people write things that hit you between the eye. Ouch. Others write things you’ve actually done before and you wonder why they wrote about it so well. Could be that you I just don’t make much sense sometimes.

5. And sometimes you jump from post to post and find gems that make you giggle and want to be friends with complete strangers.

6. Dealing with lint? Look no further. This product that someone sent me was met with an “ehh. big deal” smirk on my face. It’s basically tape. I could do that. But NO. I couldn’t cut it into squares that fit into my purse perfectly where I can take them out, take off the backing and viola! Lint removed! Sheer genius.

7. Need a super-duper snack during these days before Thanksgiving that make you feel smug about eating healthy? vegan? gluten Free? Look no further. (Who writes this drivel? And these were the brilliant words of the ad writers of my youth.) But the Cinnamon Sugar Soynut Butter from Simple Food is pretty darn satisfying on a graham cracker. You might just finish the jar in one sitting. You might. I wouldn’t. No no no. I would NOT do a thing like that. It might take me two sittings. It’s worth it to buy a jar for the cute little saying on the side:

Sing it when you chomp!

Cheer it when you chew!

Ask all your friends,

“What’s food to you?”

8. So, what did I think of the new Chevy Malibu? Here’s my quick-and-dirty: the outside looks fabulous, I liked the V6 better than the others, that was my first hybrid driving experience and it didn’t disappoint. However, the materials used on the interior felt a little low-end to me. I realize why they asked me to drive it, though: I have a new driver in the family and my opinions stemmed from my concerns about being 15 and doing this confounded driving thing for the first time. To wit: I want them to change the speedometer from jumping 20 miles at a time because even though the average person can calculate that 70 is, indeed, between the 60 and the 80 I thought that a new driver has too many other things to think about and that it should be made plain. Much better review and great pictures found here by my buddy Andrew whom I met in Memphis.

9. Lest you believe that I’m hanging on to Soynut Butter, lint remover, and finding great new blogs and that that is what is making my mouth turn upward these days into a semi-smile, I have a secret: I’m trying a new make-up for a company that also wants me to model it for them. Model? Me? WHATWHATWHAT?

I’m hanging on to that mostly because I missed out on making coffee in SanFreakingFrancisco. And because it made me feel pretty when I was asked.