Other person: I need a broom.
Me: I didn’t ride mine here today so I can’t help you.
Everyone else: *crickets*
They love me, really.
Other person: I need a broom.
Me: I didn’t ride mine here today so I can’t help you.
Everyone else: *crickets*
They love me, really.
This weekend we’re attending a family reunion in Anglesea. Just before lunch was served, we sat in a room full of relatives and listened as one of our cousins shared a reflection on relationships among family.
He said, “Think about tthe friendships and relationships you have. Consider the negative, the strained, and the unhealthy…”
“Never mind about the unhealthy,” I muttered. The cousin sitting beside me laughed.
“Can you imagine if they all went Marie Kondo on me?” I continued.
“Does she bring me joy?”
“No, she brings sarcasm, snark, inappropriate humour and painful honesty.”
Seriously, I’d be here with maybe three people.
A memory that has become a family tradition.
I love a good family story or tradition, especially one that gets etched into the conversation patterns and banter for years to come. A moment of humour or a funny experience becomes part of who we are, both individually and collectively.
One of those stories half belongs to our great friend, Lindsay. He is a super nice person, and we’ve been friends for at least twenty years.
On one particular occasion maybe fifteen years ago, maybe more, he and I were outside doing some work on the farm that my husband and I were living on, and where Lindsay was a regular and most welcome visitor. I can’t remember what were talking about, but I remember this part of the conversation vividly.
We laughed. We told my husband the story. And it stuck. We still “do the routine” at least once a week. It honestly never gets old.
Monday was one of those days. After the lines were said and the laughter was had, I thought for a while, as I have often done before, about how clever a comeback it was.
I also thought about exactly what I am full of. It wasn’t much of a surprise to me when those thoughts began to turn into a poem. That’s what my thoughts do.
You can read the poem titled ‘Full’ at WordyNerdBird Writes.
This is what happens when you marry a book nerd.
We live in a small town where my husband knows absolutely everyone.
This morning as we drove down our road, he commented on a block of land that sold recently.
Him: Somebody named Finch bought that block.
Me: Was it Atticus?
Him, suddenly doubtful of his local knowledge: I don’t know.
Me: Never mind. Probably wasn’t.
This is what happens when you don’t read anything but live with a book nerd. Poor bloke.
There’s always at least one in every group who doesn’t follow instructions.
Last Friday, I gave my History class an essay question half a week in advance of their assessment task.
They were to prepare a plan and notes to use while writing the essay in class this week. I advised them that they could use their handwritten notes and their textbook while writing, but they were not allowed the use of any devices. All the information about the task was given to them in writing as well as my explaining everything in class.
I expected that today, when the students came to class, they would be ready to start. Happily for me, most were.
And then, because nothing ever goes smoothly, this happened:
Student A: “Can we type this?”
Me: No. No devices.
Student B: “My notes are at home. Can I use my iPad?”
Me: “No. No devices.”
Student C: “Can you write the question on the board please?”
Me: “I gave you the question on Friday.”
Student C: Yeah but I didn’t write it down.
Me: That makes me happy.
Bemused, I wrote the question on the board.
Student B: “What page is it in the textbook?”
Me: “Do you mean the pages you were supposed to read and study last week?”
Student B: “Yeah.”
Me: Speechless, I allow The Eyebrow to speak for me.
All the kids except two commenced writing. Students B and D, though? They’re still reading the textbook.
Today I received the most beautiful photos…
Today I received the most beautiful photos from a friend whose young niece was reading my book to her.
Adorable – AND smart! She knows good poetry when she sees it!
That’s raising her right. A+ parenting!
It’s been a funny old day in Australian politics.
On the front page of the national newspaper today was a picture of Tony Abbott, Prime Minister of Australia, being “bunny-earsed” by some kid at a reception for the Diamonds, the Australian representative netball team.
I really enjoy this picture, because it looks like it’s Bill Shorten, Leader of the Opposition, doing it. That would be funny, too, although perhaps a bit harder to justify as an innocent prank. The second picture definitely shows that it’s a kid’s arm behind the PM.
Personally, I think someone should give that kid a knighthood, or at least a medal. With one gesture, he has summed up the feelings of many Australians. Moreover, it’s humorous and typical Aussie larrikin behaviour, without causing any harm or any significant disrespect.
Let’s face it, giving someone bunny ears in a photo has been the Australian way for generations. How many years worth of school photos do we all have where someone is doing the bunny ears, or crossing their eyes, or wearing someone else’s glasses? Those are the things that make actually getting those photos taken worthwhile.
It’s also a reminder that we are very privileged to live in a country where we can meet and mingle with our national leaders without getting tasered or spear-tackled to the ground and, in the case that we should survive that, arrested. I can’t imagine being able to get close enough to Vladimir Putin, or Kim Jong Il, for example, or daring to “bunny ears” either one of them. And taking on the POTUS bodyguards? No. No thank you. I’ll be good.
Australia really is a great country. It’s a great place to live, especially if you’ve got a bit of a sense of humour and don’t take yourself, or your politicians, too seriously.
A conversation overheard today, in my office, between two English teachers:
Teacher A: “I’m looking for my blue ribbon. I was sure I left it in here, but I can’t find it. Looks like I’m going to have to go to the shops.”
Teacher B: “Oh! I have blue ribbon!”
Teacher A: “Oh! What kind?”
Teacher B: “You know… riboon…”
Teacher A: “And what colour?”
Teacher B: “Blue…”
Teacher A: “How much have you got?”
Teacher B: “I dunno, a length…”
Me: “You two ought to be teachers. You’ve really got that communication thing going on.”
Teacher A: “If you tell anyone about this… I’ll…”
Me: *smiles innocently*
*opens laptop to write blog entry*
Today I was driving in town with LMC. She was hinting heavily that she wanted to go into town and look at some shops.
I said, “We’re going down Howard Street.”
Bemused, she asked, “Howard Street?”
And I said, “Yes, Howard Street…” and as we crested the hill and she realised it continued into the main street of town, I said, “Howard you like to go down the street?”
She rolled her eyes, and then she said, “Actually that was pretty good. Did you make that up yourself?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Just then.”
She smiled, thought for a moment, and said, “How odd.”
I smiled too, because that is possibly the word-nerdiest thing she’s ever said.
I’ve just discovered and followed a wonderful blog where a contemporary pop song is reworked as a Shakespearean-style sonnet. By “just discovered” I mean that I followed a link that a friend posted, and ended up spending an hour there reading the sonnets.
One might expect that the spirit or intent of the songs might be lost, but these sonnets remain true to the tone and message of the songs they are based on.
I don’t know who the author is, but this poetry is absolutely brilliant.
Find Pop Sonnets at http://popsonnet.tumblr.com/
Not only is it clever poetry, it’s something that can break down the barriers between Elizabethan and 21st century English.
I’m definitely going to use some of these with my classes.