My Favorite Things!

I'm trying to make today a good day.  I truly am.  It started off with my usual waking up at 4am, and then getting the java brewing in the Keuring.  After, I race downstairs to throw a load of laundry in.  All is good.

What did I do next?  I make the mistake of checking my work email.  A scathing electronic correspondence greeted me at my screen, and then another with a question that will leave me unnerved throughout the weekend.

Note to self - stop checking work email over the flippin' weekend!  It does me NO GOOD!  I need to take the weekends to just relax and escape from it all.  I truly do.

So, to refresh myself I'd like to list some of my favorite things.  Yes, I need to improve my mood.  I used to make lists when I was younger.  Here goes things that I love, albeit it's a materialistic list.  Of course I adore my family, friends, and pets.  Isn't that a given?  Presented below are the those items that make me smile, perk me up, and just get me out of a funk.

-venti caramel macchiatos with whipped cream
-young adult books
-Volvos
-moonstones
-happy text messages (I actually save them and re-read them like letters)
-postcards
-fountain pens
-stuffed animals, especially mice!
-gnomes
-good luck charms
-bread with butter and jam/marmalade
-Burdick's chocolates and dark hot chocolate
-Ticonderoga pencils
-my Chromebook baby, which I miss :(
-my Gama-Go wallet.  Love Gama-Go!
-iPhone (I've become such an addict to the CrackBox)
-cookie cutters (ah, see above the new additions to my collection!)
-my cobalt blue Kitchen Aid mixer
-Pandora radio

So, the list could go on and on, I'm sure.  Tell me what you love.  Share!  Please do!  Make me happy!

xoxo MausiGal

The End Is Near

Right now people are starting to wonder.  I have an apocalyptic title to this entry, and then above my banner seems Biblical.

No worries.  I'm jamming out to Kei$a, drinking my second cup of coffee at 5:23 am, and was just chasing my cat, Avi, to see him run up the wall.  Life is good.

So what's the scoop?  I have a month left of the intense life I've been living for the past year of graduate classes.  I decided last February to dive into completing a Master's +30 program to move up the teacher's ladder at my school.  Most people do this over a period of years.

I decided to do it in about a year.

Far be it for MausiGal to do anything half way, right?  I began last February with a course in dealing with difficult parents.  Right away I loved being back in the classroom as a student.  But I discovered one thing about myself.  As an adult learner I strive for perfection.  I need that 4.0.  I was the same in graduate school when I finished my master's degree five years ago.

I am currently in two graduate classes - a Spanish one at Merrimack College and a poetry workshop at Rivier University.  Both places have amazing professors whom I enjoy.  In one class at Rivier I did not score my blessed 4.0.  And that killed me.  That class - Contemporary Drama -  was probably the toughest class I've taken in my academic career.  My final project involved a Finnish play in which a psychologist dressed up like a dog and gave therapeutic sessions.  Hmmm...  And then he walked around naked.

Last summer I took three courses, during which I had one intensive week that I had to finish two major projects.  Luckily my boys were with their dad, as they didn't have to witness that madness that ensued when my neighbors were playing music and I was trying to write about a Midsummer Night's Dream at 7am on a Sunday.

Yes, and then autumn came.  I had a therapist tell me not to do this, but I didn't listen.  I worked full time.  I was a single mom.  I took three classes.  And a part-time class on being a mentor in school.  I was assigned to Mentee.  I ran two clubs at school.  I kept dating.

Oh my gawd.

Is it any wonder I'm addicted to caffeine?  The only life I've known for the past year is getting up at 4am, studying, coming home, doing more work on either school or grad school, taking little breaks here and there to either blog or send out a few postcards.  My weekends tend to be like this, unless I escape.  Escaping is good for me; it allows me to become the person I am and get a reality check when I'm not working on all this stuff.  I do need to step away from it all to gain perspective, even if it's just watching a movie or going out for Pelligrino with a friend (thank you, Preppy Girl, for the night we had a few weeks ago - you were just what the doctor ordered).

But on April 30th it's over.  My classes have a royal send off with a poetry reading at Rivier.  I'm a bit nervous, as I feel my poetry this semester is so adolescent.  It's as if I'm channeling Taylor Swift in rhyme.

So why the banner?  It's been my motto that I've kept with me all these months, all these years.  The words are from my dad - "Keep the faith."  I don't think he has any idea how strong these words are to me.  And "Just know?"  My own addition, for everyone else.  Just know it all comes together in the end.

Crimson Day!

There are some things that really make me happy  Driving into Cambridge is one of my all time favorites, and today afforded that opportunity as I was able to attend a Teachers As Scholars program at Harvard University.  Wowsa!  Zooming down Route 2, as I crest a hill seeing the skyline of Boston is such a rush.  Yes, I adore the lakeside of Vermont, but the feel of being int he city beats to my heart as well.

I was an hour early so I was able to hang out at the amazing Burdick's Chocolates.  Sipping on a dark hot chocolate while the cafe was nearly empty was so relaxing.  I needed a day like this after the few weeks I've had.  I've been up, I've been down.  I've joked in postings here about the large amounts of caffeine I've been drinking - not so funny.  It adds to my anxiety.  Springtime for me only brings on depression (a topic for another blog post), and I'm trying to come to terms with that.  While people are talking about tulips and daffodils and bunnies and added sunshine, I want to go to bed and cry.  But today, sitting in Burdicks, I felt a confidence and strength that I haven't felt in a while.  Once again I was KRISTIN.

I started to think back to one of the best times I've ever had at Burdick's - meeting up with a former student/cheerleader from my times at St. Edward High School in Elgin, Illinois, my first teaching job.  I'm still in touch with MissMolly, who has impressed me with her ability to live around the globe and become the most amazing person, never once losing her zest for life.  I want to continue to live like her - once again an example of the student instructing the teacher.  When she contacts me on Facebook I can't help but smile.  Her energy transcends the miles!  When she calls me "Coach" I am once again brought back to the gym, having her challenge me on some silly topic during cheerleading practice.  My hair was blonde, I was in my early twenties, and had no idea what life would hold.

The early morning city always holds so much friendliness.  I prefer it to later in the day, when everyone is lost in their own selves.  As I wandered around the streets of Harvard Square, I talked to a few of the delivery men, greeting them with a "Good morning," and making small talk.  Perhaps they felt bad for me, as suburban  Mausi Gal didn't take her coat, thinking this thirty something degree day was going to reach the fifties!  Not so.  The chit chat and basic familiarity was a nice start to the day.  My primary thought was how I want the kidlets to experience this.  They need to see the city in its innocence.  I also began to ponder on a book I read while in college - The Shape of Content.  Everyone should read this.  Appreciate everything for what it is.  Experience everything.  Go.  Do.  Live.  Oh, how I forget this!

The class?  My topic was "Fearless Teaching."  What can I say, except that I was taken out of my comfort zone from the minute I tried to use my iPhone to walk there (of course I got lost), and then had to do exercises in pairs with my eyes closed.  It's a two part class, so next week I get to return.  We learned a number of activities, theatrical in nature, which we can incorporate into the classroom.  Although I consider myself an extrovert, when it comes to being forced to connect to people I get anxious.  And this class made me anxious!  At one point I had to be led around the room with my eyes closed by a partner, led only by her voice.  I have an issue with differentiating sounds, so that added a difficult dimension to the activity.  I so wanted to cry.  But my partner was so kind.  I have to remember that - people are generally good.  They will help you.

Following lunch with another teacher (also a wonderful person) I had time to wander around Harvard Square alone.  I visited my favorite store, filled with postcards and stationery, of course:

Black Ink is amazing.  Not only do they have a plethora of paper products of which I'm addicted, but they offer little items that would make the best surprises for my four year old niece and nephew, MissEmma and DrewBits.  I had to keep my wallet closed as I browsed around the store.  I finally settled on a magnetic Scrabble kit for my classroom, postcards for Postcrossing, and a book titled, "The Tiny Book of Tiny Stoires."  All I can say is this - buy this book.  It will make you think.  It will make you cry.  It will make you laugh.  The words are the smallest of stories, all wrapped up in a few sentences, but oh how they will grow in your imagination, and either haunt you or fill you with inspiration or glee for hours afterwards.

I will end with my favorite, which made me think of Kidlet A and Kidlet B as they grow older,
"Your heart has a little empty corner.  You won't even know I'm there - I'll be very quiet."

xoxo Mausi Gal

Sugar Mama

Far be it from me to do anything half-hearted.  Go, go go!  I'm  now on a mission to make THE BEST SUGAR COOKIES EVER for my niece and nephew for Easter.  Yes, in the memory of Aunt Eleanor's wonderful treats from my own childhood, I would like to continue the tradition of those crispy, delectable goodies on that Sunday afternoon after a dinner filled with foods I was forced to eat.  Oh my, there was a time in my life when I didn't eat and was stick thin skinny.  I was tempted with these sugar cookies as a way to get me to eat a regular meal.  I just never ate - had no interest at the young ages of five or six.  Who would want to waste time on creamed salmon when they could go torture the neighborhood boys in the fort made on the swing set?

Sis-in-lawSBUX (we met at Starbucks, hence her forever nickname) is also a baker.  She's a kitchen hottie.  She makes amazing cakes.  I adore her.  Sis-in-lawSBUX made this rockin' cake for her son, DrewBits, that was his favorite digger truck (what is a "digger?"  Um...  I don't know the official term.  It digs things.  Deal with it.)  This cake even had chocolate rocks.  So, when I scored a coupon from King Arthur Flour in Vermont I texted her right away.  Who else to share the wealth?  Ten dollars off!

And we shopped.

Sis-in-lawSBUX was very good.  Limits were kept with her.  Me?  Not so much.  I went on a sugar spree.  Whee!  See photo at the beginning of this post.  Kidlet B commented, "So, have enough sugar for a third world country now?"  But MissEmma and DrewBits need colors!  Colors!  Their sugar cookies have to be pretty!  Light blue and bright blue. Brilliant green and spring green.  Pink!  Granted, three of the bottles in the above photo do belong to Sis-in-lawSBUX.  So I'm not all that bad, right?

I also picked out the cutest little cutters.

Each one is about two inches big.  Petite little sugar cookies.  Ah, c'est bonne!  Je parle le francais tres mal.  I need to speak French, because for some reason I see that I have a lot of French readers on this blog.  I love France.  Their madeleine cookies are succulent.  I need to find madeleine pans.  Perhaps I can use my 15% off coupon that came with the King Arthur Flour box for that.  Excelent.

I'm off to try a new recipe for these little bits of love.  Time to get out the parchment paper, Cabot butter (from Vermont, of course), sugar, and flour.  This will definitely be a sugar high without consuming one caloric bite!

Ritual de lo Habitual - Part One

I have a lot of addictions, let's just start off with that. Hence, this is the first part in a series of those wonderful random things that dominate my life. Some you will relate to, some you'll laugh at, and others you'll find downright strange.

Like Kevin Spacey making a latte with me from his own personal, gold, Italian espresso machine. Yes, a combination of two obsessions. But I digress.

Caffeine. Sweet, sweet, java. How many cups a day?  Right now at 7:23 pm I'm sipping on my eighth cup of the day, not including the venti salted caramel mocha (shown above).  I justify it this way - there are worse things I could do.

After all, my venti salted caramel mocha costs $5.30.  Do the math.  That's equal to two and half wine bottles of Two Buck Upchuck at Trader Joe's.  Can I stand in front of my middle schoolers drinking the blessed vino?  No.  Can I teach Spanish while slamming down the almighty bean?  You betcha.

The wine will make me goofy and silly and sad and moody, all within a five minute time frame.  Just ask anyone who knows me.  Caffeine will send me to the moon and above - zero to sixty and stop on a dime.  This is a no-brainer as to what my beverage of choice should be.  Forget the booze.  Pass the carafe and cream.  Hold the sugar.

I even went as far as working for Starbucks, originally applying on a lark.  I put on the application that my nickname was the "JavaMom."  The bonus of the job was all the coffee I could drink while I was there and a free pound of coffee a week, plus a company discount.  Heaven!  My only reason for leaving was to go back into teaching.  I met my future sister-in-law at SBUX.  I'm still in touch with a few of my fellow baristas.  Gosh, I love that place.  My collection of Starbucks mugs at one point spanned the globe.  I've kept special ones, like this one from Delta Gamma sis Lola when she lived in Okinawa:

Confession - someone gave me a collectible Starbucks green apron from a financial conference, and I wear it all the time when I bake.  I feel like a barista again, so super cool.  Yup - I even have the obligatory Ecco clogs on at the same time.  Man, do I look rockin'.

Of course, when I do this I've already had about six or seven cups of coffee, and all is right with the world.  So, baking three batches of cookies at eight thirty at night may seem a bit manic to some, to me it's just the wash of energy from an ordinary day.  Up at 4:00 am, to bed by 10:00 pm.  All by the grace of the bean.

I'll sneak Dunkin's at lunch to go for a drive from The Building Known as School, and sip on Vermont's Green Mountain Coffee Keurig K-Cups all day long.  If I'm in a bind, I will even take the free cup from Market Basket, the local supermarket.  I am not picky at times.  If I need the jolt, I'll find it.

And yes, I do chew on chocolate covered espresso beans when the situation warrants.  Yum.  Yum.  Yum.

We're a select group, we caffeine addicts.  Understood between us is that need to run to the coffee machine to get that last drop when we only have two minutes in our schedule.  The coffee shop being closed is a crisis.  Running out of half and half in a storm may warrant a nervous breakdown.  Diet coke DOES NOT just cut it.  There is no comparison.

Raise your mug high, and salute a toast.  Who cares if it's past 10 am?  Any time is good for coffee.  Iced, hot, who cares?  Bring it!

Somewhere Beyond the Sea

I am writing this on a ferry, as it takes me away from beautiful Block Island's solitude in winter.  One thing was for sure: I so needed this weekend away. To escape from Clemsville, a possible job change, multiple upcoming meetings, and expectations for my graduate classes was an opportunity not to be missed.

There is a certain solace in touristy places deserted in winter. Closed are the ice cream stands, and no lobster rolls are being served up under the heat of the summer sun.  One can walk through the  middle of the road without worrying about a car coming along, just as Breadman and I did with Miss Lulu, the doggie friend, today.  There were three eating places open, one of which was only open for dinner.  The only latte I saw was to be purchased on this ferry, and it came pre-processed from a machine.

No one was here to rush me.  For nearly two days all I did was read.  And sleep.  And talk.  And walk. And watch a very funny, "bad" movie.  Hey - every girl needs her stupid moments.

Being near the ocean always puts me at peace, no matter what state of mind I'm in.  I'll admit it; I'm a Type A personality.  I rarely stop to smell the roses.  Gawd, I hate that expression!  Roses have thorns, remember?  The last thing I want are thorns up my nostrils.  But the cliche sound of waves hitting the shore?  For me, that's all I need to make me take a step back and put everything in perspective.  I had such a moment last summer when I stopped at Long Sands in York, Maine, on the way to a friend's home.  Despite the pouring rain, I got out of the car and walked along the shore - alone.  Exuberating!  Liberating!  At that moment I knew I wanted to write again.

Today's walks with Breadman held amazing vistas like the one above.  Bluffs (or are they cliffs?  I can't recall) stood at an incredible drop, only to meet the waves below.  I was too timid to get close to the edge, not trusting myself on the earth below.  Would it simply give way from under me, like the feeling I had with so many things back home?  Was I stepping too close to the side, only to get caught up at some moment to be swept into the sea?  

While walking we came across a labyrinth - a new age attraction where one can follow a path of stones while meditating, prayer, and thinking about oneself.  

"Do you want to walk it?" Breadman looked at me, asking truthfully.  I knew he would wait.

"No, that's ok!" I quickly responded.  I didn't elaborate, for fear I would truly sound like I needed the labyrinth's calming effect.  I was aware what would happen if I tried to walk along the winding, rocky path.  I would start out trying to think good, happy positive thoughts.  

And then the best intentions would just unravel, and it would be as if I were home again. I would be thinking about all I had to do, and how I needed to rush through the labyrinth in order to check my school email to  see if any students emailed me projects to check.  I would think about the two poems I needed to rewrite for next Tuesday, and the presentation on an assessment I need to give after school tomorrow.  The Spanish movie and questions I need to do for Saturday would also top the list.  My mind would not become at ease in a labyrinth; it would merely become a grocery list of stressors.  I was much happier walking along the paths to the sea with Breadman and Miss Lulu than examining my thoughts in the labyrinth.  

Boarding the ferry home was bittersweet.  I was waiting, waiting, waiting to see the kidlets, but at the same time wishing I could have a day or two longer to experience this sweet solitude of winter island living.  Perhaps I need to keep a bit of that winter Block Island in a place in my mind, to visit on those days this week when navigating away from shore becomes too rough.