The Other Night...

Our neighbors were fighting. While I don't like to eavesdrop, the amount of noise and angry swearing made us nervous there may be violence. So I put a cup to the wall and listened.

I know. Bad Erin. Then, when the guy went out the front door (visible from our peep hole) I too had to follow. I saw (through the door peephole) him shirtless, drunk, angry, and trying to take a huge couch down the stairs. It was a sort of I'm-drunk-and-crazed-I'm-leaving-and-taking-the-couch kind of move.

We live on the second floor so as he drug the couch down the stairs (ripping the couch in the process and creating enough noise to ensure that the entire complex was listening) she ran out after him, crying, and begging him to stay.

It was very noisy for a while and then it appeared that he left and she left shortly after. I wasn't quite sure, because the peephole only gave me so much visual information. But I wondered about the couch. There was NO WAY IN HECK that he could get that in a car by himself and leave. So shortly thereafter, I went outside and down the stairs to see if there was a couch in the middle of the parking lot. Instead I found two police cars instead of a couch.

I talked to them. Confessed that I was curious. Got some info. Apparently several people in the complex called the police. Then I went back upstairs.

SO THE NEXT MORNING at 4:30 am we heard the two of them (apparently they made up) trying to get the couch up the stairs. Had it not been spring break, I would have walked outside told them they were insanely rude and that people needed to wake up early to work. But since I wasn't one of those people, I stayed in bed and just got angry to myself instead. When James and I left the next morning for errands, the couch was halfway on the stairs, halfway on the walkway. We had to squeeze to get past. Hours later, it was still there.

So I decided I had had enough and went to the front office to tell on them. I walked in, and Rennee (the manager, whom I adore) comes out somberly from her office.

"So, you probably heard what happened last night."

She nods, still very somberly.

"Well, Mike still has yet to move the couch."

"Mike?" she said confused, "But they said it was YOU!"

Yes, so people in our complex thought the entire ruckus was caused by James and I. Apparently, they didn't look out their peepholes. And apparently, they really don't know my sweet James at all. If anyone was to be shirtless, crazed, and to angrily throw the couch down the stairs, it'd definitely be me.

So our question is: Do we knock on everyone's door and say "It wasn't me. It was THEM!" and point to apartment 232? Send out a flyer?

We have no idea.

Frozen

I think I may have given up on living just a little. Today at the grocery store, instead of the tons of produce I normally buy, I bought a bunch of frozen pizzas and frozen individual dinners. Szechwan chicken, spicy fajitas, and of course, salisbury steak. Sorta gross, but sorta necessary too if I want to feed my husband.

While I felt pathetic, life is just way too crazy to cook these days. I'm at work about 9 hours a day and then come home to plan and work as long as my eyes are open. It doesn't leave much time for cooking. In fact, it doesn't leave much time for anything (except complaining, which I excel at).

I've tried. In fact, I'll call James up and ask him how he'd feel about whole wheat pasta with a creamy homemade tomato garlic sauce, fresh parmesan chicken, and a nice salad with juicy grape tomatoes and my homemade balsamic vinaigrette. He'll get excited, quite naturally.

And then I'll call him up about 15 minutes before he's set to get home and enjoy the above meal and say, "I've just put a frozen pizza in the oven."

He's so sweet about it too. No complaints. He just happily eats whatever I give him (expect tofu pasta-- a mistake I will not repeat). I just hope I feel like cooking again one day.

Please, if you have easy and FAST recipes, please send them my way! erinthornhillreeder@gmail.com

I've Gone Private, Kids

After school a couple days ago a student asked me if I had read his comment on my blog. Jaw dropped and wide eyed, I turned around, ran straight to my computer and made my blog private. Sometimes I hate google. But only sometimes.

Disclaimer: The comment is sweet and full of errors for which I will take VERY LITTLE responsibility because I am, of course, his history teacher and not his English teacher. He may spell things wrong but he can tell you perfectly the causes of the Civel War and give detailed descriptions of the battles of Gettiesberg, Vixberg, and Bool Run. Just ask him.

Car

I got my car back yesterday. I finally feel like it's all over. Mostly.

On Friday, about 11 days ago, a kid (gang member) who I had written up for flagrant disrespect and disrupting my classroom was expelled permantently from the school. He was so angry that the principal called me and told me to keep my classroom door locked all day and not leave the building for a few hours. It was my prep day as school is only M-Th and kids come in Friday for make-up work. This kid showed up for make-up and was told he'd been written up and that it was the last straw. His stack of office refferals was too high and he was already on a behavior contract.

It was all a little intense and crazy. I called James and left a mssage telling him about my exciting mornng and that I had to be locked in the building. By the time he called me back, everything had changed. A couple hours after the incident, I went to my car, and found the handle ripped off & dents ALL OVER. I was stunned. Anger and then the tears. So many emotions. Fear being one of them.

The police came. I filed an insurance claim. I took my car in. Got a rental. Blah blah blah...

The weekend was crazy. I was afraid of what was going to come. Would this kid try anything else? Would my former gang bangers flip out and go shoot him? I was nervous to go back to school on Monday. I even had a dream that my rental had gotten vandalized and that one of my favorite kids was lying dead next to it. A bit scary.

Reality was that nothing happened. Teachers and staff kept it low key and so students dropped it quickly. I have gotten back into the groove of teaching and I really love the vast majority of my students. It's been so wonderful since then, actually. I just am extra careful when I get in and when I leave.

Pantless

My pants actually started coming off in front of my morning American History class on my 9th day of officially being a real life teacher. Needless to say, I've retired the pants. My husband told me after I shared the incident with him that he " always hated those pants" and that they were "way too baggy."

Thanks, James. Information that would have been helpful that very morning while getting dressed.

So I'm in class. By the way, my new job is teaching at a really awesome charter high school. It's a school full of former gang members, kids from crazy sad backgrounds, high poverty, all sorts of crazy business...and these kids are awesome. I love it. Challenging, but I leave everyday feeling like I make a real difference.

Anyways, it was jersey day for spirit week so I wore my Liverpool F.C. jersey, some old baggy trouser pants I've had for years (and loved) and red chuck taylors. These pants had previously given me trouble cause the zipper was starting to not stay up at all and I would constantly find my zipper wide open. A normal person would have retired those pants once this problem started, but clearly "normal" is not in my resume.

Well, I'm in class and all of the sudden my kids start dying. I mean, rolling on the floor laughing.

"Tell her man."

"You tell her."

SOmething no one wanted to tell me. Hmmm....the baggy pants...crap. I look down and not only is the zipper down, but the button is not fastened and me pants are actually falling down. One wrong move, they would have slipped right around my ankles.

I turned around amidst an uproar and zipped up and buttoned the pants realizing that (a) my entire class saw my g's and (b) that I really wasn't embarrassed at all. I was actually a little in awe of how NOT embarrassed I was.

I quickly just drove them on to the lesson and the next thing on the docket.

One student asked why I wore grandma underpants. I told him that I wasn't going to waste my sexy stuff on them.

I love my school!!!!!

Blessings from Heaven

I was coming home from my run this morning when the heavens, quite literally, poured blessings down on me. Maybe "chucked" blessings would be a better word.

In any case, I had just ran across the main road near our home, dodging a big white truck when I heard the distinct noise of lots of crap getting thrown into the streets. Living in a neighborhood where the residents normally fling whatever trash they have from their passing car or as they peddle their bike, I was at first super crazy ticked. I have spent A LOT of time picking up trash in the street and on the sidewalk near our house. I hate people who litter intensely. Almost as much as I hate the person that leaves the coupons in my mailbox, but that is an entirely different post.

So I turn around to see boxes of Special K snack bars in the road. My eyes then turned to the truck speeding off and the large crate of similar boxes. The guy had no idea that he had lost boxes. As usual when I see stuff in the road, I scurried to pick it all up before the next wave of traffic hit. Another man with a buzzed head and few missing teeth was also running towards the mess to help me in my efforts.

"He has no idea he's lost these!" he declared.

"And he wont know until he's gotten to wherever he's going," I started.

We both paused, our loot at our feet as we stood on the sidewalk.

"Wanna split them?" I said said with a smile.

Needless to say, he was all about my idea and we both parted with grins the size of footballs, though one was noticeably less toothy than the other.

Now James I are are pretty dang poor at the moment (see earlier post) and have actually had a hard time affording any groceries after our bills have been paid. It looks like I have a full time job starting in January (more on that to come) with a salary and benefits, so this is certainly temporary, but I have to admit, we've struggled to make ends meet and put food in our bellies. Seriously, this was such a huge blessing!

As you well know, James and I live in the ghetto. While I would normally look at food strewn across the street as something to avoid, I actually watched the boxes fly from their crates in the back of this truck and watched them fly across the street. It's like it was timed perfectly so that I would pass the exact right spot at the exact right moment. It's like the heavens tapped me on the shoulder and said: "Hey, want a snack?"

I haven't been home 30 minutes and James has eaten two bars already.

Sick

At home sick, ding the following activities:

1. Knitting James a tie for Christmas. He never reads this, so I'm not worried about spoiling the surprise here. What'll probably spoil the surprise is that we live in a 600 square foot apartment. It's hard to keep secrets. And, by the way, the tie is amazing. Looks a lot like this:

2. Popping Zicam every three hours.

3. Watching every episode on hulu.com of Modern Family, The Office, 30 Rock, and Community. I'm so grateful we don't actually have TV. I'd get nothing done.

4. Not writing my Master's Thesis and not trying to figure out standard deviation for my data therein.

5. Trying unsuccessfully to not eat all the super cheap Halloween candy we bought for trick-or-treaters.

Other than being sick and stressed (see number 4) life is pretty dang great. James is absolutely lovely. He really is. I never wanted to be that cheesy blogger who is like "My hubby is so amazing blah blah blah my life is so great blah blah blah my kids are so cute blah blah blah" so I guess that's why I haven't written lately. Because my hubby really is great. And it makes my life pretty great, despite stress and a totally blown immune system. Being sick isn't so bad when you've got someone who wakes up with you every time you do in the night trying to make you more comfortable and gets you medicine or tea or whatever, even though he has an 11 hour work day waiting for him when he wakes up and then visits with the elder's quorum presidency. He's adorable. But I'll stop now.

I have been knitting up a storm. I just learned and have been making pretty rad stuff. I'll post pictures soon (or not soon, let's be honest). We're pretty poor right now until I start making $ after my master's and student teaching stuff is done. So we're making our Christmas presents. We don't want to give crappy cheap gifts (what we can afford) so we're going to make stuff. And while the recipient might find them "crappy," homemade crap always trumps store-bought crap. No contest.

We're living on love and James' intern salary. He's a school psychology intern at a school here in Mesa. He is basically the school psych there, but gets paid like a 16-year-old working a summer job at Baskin Robbins. He'll finish his doctorate in May (ish). I'm finishing student teaching and my thesis (in theory...). I'll graduate with my masters December 16th from ASU. I've heard it said that a diploma from ASU is like monopoly money. So there you go.

Happy October!