I have no time (which I'd like more of) and an abundance of money (which I don't really need) because I get called to sub so often lately. It's an odd sort of problem to have. I guess the subbing pool is super-slim all over the area. It does require a certain type of availability to sub--you have to have nothing else going on, be ready at a moment's notice to jump into a classroom and possess the flexibility to handle any lesson plan or group of kids placed into your capable hands.
Yesterday I agreed to work all morning, but by the time the little nippers finished their morning prayer and calendar review my gig had turned into a full-day deal. My duties included going outside with the kids for recess in a howling and bitterly cold windstorm. To brace myself for the lengthened day, I jogged across the street to grab a fortifying cup of coffee and a snack at the local gas station. I returned to face the classroom duly armed with my coffee and snack pack o' roasted almonds when I remembered the one kid with the severe nut allergy and blast it all, no snack for Green Girl. Only caffeine.
Also noteworthy: I sharpened over a hundred pencils as part of my day o' subbing. Then I made a big mess of emptying the shavings into the trash.
You know how I have a guy for almost everything? Apparently I do NOT have a guy for helping me construct my greenhouse. I don't have anybody--and it's a two-person job. So my greenhouse is sitting in the shed waiting to be assembled while the days pass and grow colder and my frustration mounts.
Team Testosterone is gearing up for deer hunting (opening day is Saturday) and I'm looking at my last weekend alone with Mr. G before he joins his dad and brothers out in the woods. That makes me feel more verklempt than giving up the pretense of Santa Claus on Christmas morning.
I'll leave you with this final quirk: Mr. G loves sports. He watches a LOT of football on TV and plays Madden on the Wii. His favorite team is Baltimore (little traitor!) and Sunday's loss totally bummed him out. He licked his wounds by playing Baltimore against Chicago on Madden the next morning before school and changing the ending on his own. But that's not the quirky part of Mr. G's football habits. Before the games when they have someone sing the National Anthem, Mr. G stands right in front of the TV with his hand over his heart until the song is over. And if you're in the room with him, he tells you to stand up, too. "Out of respect," he reminds you with a stern stare. Cute pint-sized patriot.