The Sandwich

So today was the day of our annual field trip for the 6th through 8th grade...

They were planning on forging the three hour round trip drive to Honeyman Park in Florence Oregon.

Having not been included in the initial plans for the excursion, I entertained ideas of getting things done around the school and preparing for the rest of the week as well as taking on additional duties supervising the students that were to be left behind at the school.

When the time came I decided I wanted to be part of this celebration and join the crew, even though it entailed a grueling bus ride and many screaming children...
In preparation for our departure I realized I was not dressed for the event, in my spring skirt and light shirt... So I wandered out to my faithful car to see if I could at least acquire a coat or jacket for what would surely be a cold day at the coast... Finding no such attire among the plethora of outfits which are casually strewn about my car I wandered back inside in search of another option.

I found my way to the office, and in a manner which I had done on more than one occasion asked our head secretary if I might barrow a school sweatshirt for the day. She rose out of her seat and procured the keys to a locked cabinet that contained the $35 sweatshirts that were reserved for students.

Now wearing a sweatshirt that was three sizes too big for me and looking thoroughly ridiculous, I was ready for my trip...
Having not planned on attending the main event I had also not packed a lunch for the outing...
I had only a brownie to my name and thought it might serve well as a bargaining chip for my lunch.

I learned quickly that sugary snacks and winding roads did not mix.
Feeling queazy from the start I tried to distract myself throughout the journey...

After arriving at the park and releasing the students to their posts at the lake and park I went about my mission to secure any form of sustenance to calm my stomach and regain my energy. I found my way to the concession stand and stumbled upon the free coffee reserved for visitors. Stumble was also the key word to describe my attempts to carry two coffees and a Nalgene clean across the park back to the picnic tables ending with me spilling coffee down my brand new sweatshirt.

Thankfully, one of my fellow teachers was kind enough to share his sandwich with me...
Finding that this still left me hungry I glanced around, knowing from experience that we often brought more sack lunches for the students than we needed...

The hunt continued until it was again time to set off on our return to school.

Helping to organize the students into their groups I scouted around picking up trash to help clean up our area.

Off in the distance I saw a table with a paper bag and orange Gatorade. Having known the students who used this table earlier, I asked if they belonged to someone in the group.

Finding that the articles were abandoned I set off to throw them away before boarding the buses...

On my way I was met by a small child who looked up at me and asked if I was about to throw away that perfectly good Gatorade... He asked if he could have it, and seeing as it was about to be tossed out I told him it was fine with me...
On my walk to the trash can I glanced down to see that I had stumbled upon the very bag lunch I had been looking for, and after noticing an abandoned sandwich and apple inside I added them to the pocket of my stolen sweatshirt before throwing the bag away.

Mr. R was also helping to clean up and lifted the lid of the trash can to help me.
As I was tossing the bag in, the little apple rolled from my pocket and fell on the ground.
After picking it back up, Mr. R mentioned that if it was bruised that I could have his apple, since he had a spare.

Moments later I am back with my students when Mr. R. walks up to me holding a familiar beverage and plainly asks if I had given away his orange Gatorade and stolen his lunch...
He said it had been the second time today that he had to get his drink back from some kid...

I mentioned that I still had his sandwhich in my pocket, and possibly from not hearing me, he patted me on the shoulder and said it was an honest mistake.

I found it funny that I had taken his lunch and given away his drink, then dropped his apple on the ground and had him offer me a knew one, which happened to be the very same apple I was holding...

I then rode the rest of the way home with the sandwich in my pocket, feeling slightly guilty and confused by the whole event.

On the bright side, I now have a sandwich for lunch tomorrow waiting in my fridge.

Adios MJ

The Count Down

Just a week and a half away from the end of school...
The sun is shining, the fans are on, and the kids are squirming in their seats as they look towards the door.
We are finally in the home stretch, and though it is the same amount of time as every other school, it is always harder to see that when everyone else got out two weeks ago.

The Unlikely Sandwich

Yesterday I embarked on my usual ritual of stopping by antique stores and my weekly estate sale to wind up wandering down main street in Springfield. In my wanderings I entered a shop I had never seen.
From the outside it seemed like any other large scale antique shop, with many nick-nacks lining the windows and taking up all available space.

It reminded me of a glimpse of my future home if I continue on my path of collecting needless things, in the hopes that someday they will in fact be valuable...
But upon entering the door I new something was different...
A lady called from the counter, "Are you here to eat or browse?"
It struck me as odd, since from first glance there were no outward signs of this establishment also being a restaurant...
"Browse" I mumbled as I attempted to take it all in...

Through my winding path through this enormous building I was surprised to find vintage tables in every nook of the place, often inhabited by guests who seemed surprised to see me, having perhaps forgotten that they were in an antique store...
I went on my way making new discoveries at each turn to reveal an ice cream parlor with 50's stools clumsily bolted to the floor, not far from the man who sat at an ancient piano belting out popular tunes...

After taking it all in, I settled into the "Halloween" section, and was soon greeted by a young waitress with a 60's cart in tow showering my friend and I with bubbles and offering us drinks in mason jars....
After glancing at the expansive menu we settled on trying their egg salad sandwiches and tomato soup...

I was so surprised to find such a wonderful place in such an odd location...
The food was spectacular, the music was great, and the scenery was a new experience to be had...

I really can't wait to try it again, and will keep you posted...

Ruthy B's Antiques and Cafe....

Broken Broom Broken Home

The other day, I brought a grown woman to tears...
It was a small misunderstanding, and slightly humorous in looking back. But it struck me as slightly strange that this of all things would be our final interaction.

I walked outside, moving toward the large dumpster that stands waiting at the far end of my complex.

In my small journey I encountered one of my neighbors, wandering out of her home to do the same.

In the past few days she had been packing, her mother having traveled all the way from Florida to help her with the task.

This young woman had just moved in only a few months before, and after having some difficulty acclimating to her new surroundings and finding troubles at home, ended up splitting ways with her husband of only three years.

So seeing that her home was again empty and that she was holding a broom with a broken handle, the last of her remaining items I asked her if she was glad to be done.

She burst into tears and said, "I still miss him"

It was an awkward moment and I tried to correct the situation by explaining that I was referring to her ordeal with packing up her home and moving.

Another poor choice of words and a less than pleasing fair-well to a neighbor I never knew.

The Tank is Dirty, it's a hell of a day

Somewhere out of nothing, the sky filled with clouds and a breeze that seemed oddly out of a movie took it place among my complex.
Thunder soon replaced the overpowering breeze that bent the trees back and forth.
I was slightly unsettled by the one sparrow that took it upon himself to be the only one in the sky; then sat back and marveled as fallen leaves swirled from the roof of my home...
As quickly as the wind stopped, the rain began to fall, filling the pavement with movement and motion; creating streams and creeks where there once had only been gravel and dirt.
The strange smell that filled the air was one that I knew all too well this week... the slight fragrance of clean combined with what reminded me of the algae I had worked so hard to remove from my home...

Over the past few weeks, I have watched the steady progression of the colonies of algae that have made a strong presence in the little watery tower that my pets call their home. My fish slowly swimming in circles in the attempt to pretend they are pleased.

Comments have been made on more than one occasion, signifying that the time had come yet again to renew their surroundings and do my part to keep these fragile little things alive.

I have failed before and witnessed the consequences of my neglect and selfishness. With my beloved little ones waiting all too long for the attention they can't truly survive without.
My friends are nothing if not patient and sit hoping that guilt will get the best of me before conditions become dire..

After putting off my duties far too long I set a course to set their home back to it's intended state... taking half the water out to reveal the spires of castles that had not felt the pressure of air in months... Only to fill it back up again to see that the green cloud that was threatening the last five inhabitants held true and that all of my efforts had made little more than a small dent in the overall appearance of their surroundings.

I cleaned the filter, and conditioned the water... only to find that not much had changed...