Tag Archives: yoga

A Charming Tale of Rainbow Snot

28 Oct

Much like mice that harbor bedbugs, children are the carriers all things bacterial, viral, and otherwise bad for health. Plus, they give me heart attacks. Since I started teaching preschool (again) (mistake) barely two months ago, I have been sick with a variety of illnesses afflicting nearly all parts of the body…including heart attacks. I’m fairly sure that I’ve had up to seven heart attacks a day since September.  Oh, and did I mention that I’m not even technically teaching?

Oh, okay, let me clarify. I’m assisting. And by assisting I mean things like this happen: the actual teacher and I are standing within equal distance of a child with rainbow mucous streaming down her face. Actual teacher says to assistant teacher, “Oh, could you help her wipe her nose?” (oh, by the way, why me?) No. Because helping her makes exposure to the rainbow snot plus the possibility of being covered in it a sure bet.  Not to mention that I am already internally vomiting by seeing it slugbubble out of her nose. No.

By “help her” actual teacher means “do it for her” which means? Now I am contaminated. Because even though I feel like saying a big fat overemphasized “NO!” I do it. And while I wipe and cringe, rainbow snot germs crawl into my pores, disperse through my veins and hitch directly into my lungs where they send out all of the rainbow army into every area of my body that can produce and store large amounts of phlegm. Plus I have three heart attacks right then because I know what is happening. I know what that freaking rainbow snot army is up to.

It doesn’t matter how many times I scrub my hands. Or how many times the little ones scrub their hands. The concept of germs with children does not compute. If they can’t see the germs (i.e. the snot, the pee, the poo, the GERMS!) it does not require washing. The only thing kids believe in that they can’t see is Santa Claus. Because he brings presents. But invisible germs make you sneeze and cough and feel yucky?! No way.

So the wee one in question is finally coerced to wash her little fingers and pat them dry…and ahhhhhhhh, she snakes one little pointer finger back up the nostril it came out of and for good measure the other hand trails back down the rear end of her little fuchsia corduroy pants with the pink satin hearts on the back pockets. Adorable. Great. More whooping cough. More boogers. More e. coli. Thanks. I always need a little e. coli and a heart attack with lunch.

And here’s the real thing of it. The preschool where I work is on a lovely piece of land out in the country in a rustic home and it is truly magical. The beauty of the surroundings plus the organic home cooked lunches make it rather pricey. So the children attending have parents who let’s just saaaayyyyy, can afford it. And most of the mom’s are stay-at-home. So, if their child is sick enough to stay home the only thing that is interrupted, seriously, is yoga. And mayyyyybbbeeeee tea with the girls after reaching proper consciousness at yoga class. At other preschools where I’ve taught, a child’s sick day can cost a parent’s work day. That, I get. Other arrangements still must be made but…but in the current preschool…conjuring up stories (or, benefit of the doubt…a medical information error…) about how your child’s fluorescent snot is not contagious to get out of bringing your sick child home with you when only your yoga class will be disrupted??? Seriously. Moms. Seriously.

Oh, and more importantly so I am not the total naysayer…with warmest appreciation, I thank the moms and dads who keep their sick kids at home. They are learning how to care for themselves by watching you care for them!

So yes, I rant. I rant for the week’s pay I lost from BOTH jobs because those who send their children in sick.

Simultaneously, I make some decisions. I have to do something to make money. But accountability is key and this I know is true: children are not my thing; I can do without the germs and heart attacks.

What I do know is: for the rest of my life the very most important things for me to practice are writing, publishing, and performing poetry, listening, learning, reveling in silence as a form of communication as well as learning to choose words that matter when I speak, making connections, riding my bike, seeing the world, and being creative…thinking larger than my immediate horizons.

And also? I don’t do “kid” posts. This is the last one. You’ve got my word.

*(oh p.s. thanks to www.accessv.com/~shawgrp for the rockin’ 1980’s Rainbow Brite Image)

DIY Graham Cracker and Beer Mega Dinner

11 Aug

Some nights call for a light dinner.  If you find that a sound proof room, punching bag, and serious kickboxing gear is still required after yoga:  Lost Coast Brewery Tangerine Wheat Beer and graham crackers are your friends. Below I walk you step-by-step through making DIY Graham cracker and Beer Mega Dinner.  If you carefully follow each step the first time, next time is as easy as riding a bike!

figure 1

Ingredients:

  • 1 6-pack Lost Coast Brewery Tangerine Wheat beer (note: if you feel like feeling crappy, choose another beer.)
  • 1 pkg. Graham Crackers

Materials:

  • “Church key” or other beer opening device
  • paper towel
  • your fingers
  • a bad attitude and/or irreconcilable ennui

Preparation:

  • Beer:
  • Open
  • Drink
  • Note:  I use the old school device pictured to the right. This dazzling piece of airtight construction was procured straight out of my father’s silverware drawer where the not fine not silverware resides.
  • Graham Crackers:
  • Open
  • Crack off a graham
  • Eat
  • Repeat

Suggested presentation: See figure 1, above. Use paper towel to wipe a clean spot on the table, then place graham on clean spot. Place beer nearby.

Final Note: for these particular evenings, I prefer using crappy lighting (see photos). It accentuates the overall feeling of crappiness so that the flavors of the meal really pop.

Bon Appetit! Buen Provecho!



will someone please get me OUT of food service? part II

27 Jul

okay. i am totally blessed in completely ungodlike, nonreligious ways. or so i think. how do i know?

condensed backstory: i believe that people believe in whatever higher power makes ideas of life and death safe and comfortable. and those beliefs don’t need to be tampered with by well meaning trespassers.

that said, i don’t join in prayer or say amen when people are praying around me nor does the opportunity arise. i don’t go to church. i moreso believe in the practice of yoga yet still don’t say namaste at the end of class. why. well, because the word translates, “i bow to you”. and i have my hands together like prayer in front of my  heart and i’m already bowing reverently. i’m doing it. why say it…redundant, you know? actions speak louder than words.

and yet, i still think i’m blessed:

three times in my life older, hip, successful, eclectic women have seen my potential, taken action and proposed offers i could not refuse. and to these women, i will forever be grateful. they epitomize the (ironically, biblical) story of teaching how to fish rather than handing out fish. they’ve afforded me opportunities with which i launch out of living or work situations from which my soul is being sucked…usually in its entirety into the vacuum of a parallel universe where parts of it are no doubt being dissected in a laboratory and tested on rats. buuuutttt…i need my soul here for now as i’ve things yet to accomplish.

so i’ve been grumbling for some time now about getting out of the grocery store. wanting to write and be published. employment is slim. i’ve applied for jobs i’m way overqualified for and haven‘t gotten them. like, dog walking. conversely, i’ve applied for jobs i’m a titch underqualified for and understandably haven’t gotten calls for those either.

so when this colorful woman i happen to be friends with from the coffee shop seeks me out at the grocery store while i’m working, hands me her card, offers me a job at her absolutely magical in-home preschool and then tells me that she and a friend are also brainstorming about another creative entrepreneurial venture (which i shall keep under wraps at the moment) and she’d like me to be in on it because I am “artistic and interesting” and she hates seeing me at the grocery store with the life being sucked out me…the freaking opportunity siren sounds and i know i’m blessed.

then when she tells me stories about traveling the world, sometimes with no money but it ends up okay because she’s innovative. and that she has only ever worked for someone else just once in her life but it has always worked out and she has always had plenty. she is following her heart. nurturing her life. she’s officially appealed to my inspired nomad writer heart and i know that being true to my talents and giving back with my actions is the only way i will thrive.

someone will get me out of food service…i think i am leaping off this hobo grocery train!!!

*[p.s. for those of you dying to know, the italiano will be out of the shop by friday!!! can’t wait.]