Kites

No, not the kind made from plastic, paper or cloth and wood with string that a person will spend ages putting together (unless it's store bought - then good luck getting it to do what you want) only to have trouble getting it launched into the air, eaten by a tree or hung up on telephone poles, light stands or anything else that makes them hard to recover.  I'm talking about the birds, though I suspect people got the idea of kites from watching birds.  Where I live, kites (the birds) are in abundance.  I was sitting having tea with my elderly neighbour and we watched the birds as they swooped and soared over the river, catching an air current to glide on, occasionally putting some effort in maintaining momentum.  This is not a bird I would see if I were at home.  The birds at home that move the same way are usually hawks or the occasional eagle.  Kites are a relative of those same predators, so it makes sense they would have the same sense of energy efficiency when it comes to hunting.
Which brings me to three other birds that seem to be common in pretty much every part of the world I've lived in - robins, crows and pigeons.  Robins I don't mind, they all sing the same song though they might look slightly different (some have red breasts, some don't), crows are crows.  They scavenge, caw, and are a noisy lot, will eat your veggies before you and are pretty much a nuisance, though at least they will eat roadkill and are garbage machines.  Pigeons I've never got.  They really don't serve any useful purpose that I can see, poop on everything, multiply like dust bunnies and are very hard to get rid of.  They're everywhere doing the same thing in pretty much every part of the world - except the extreme areas like the arctic and antarctic, and I'm sure if there was a way for them to adapt, they'd be there too.  I don't know who the bright bunny was that thought raising pigeons was a good plan, as obviously some got away and have since overpopulated the world.  I'm not sure they'd even be good for eating if anyone was despirate enough to want to eat one, but they are in plentiful supply.
Speaking of eating, I think I need to make some lunch.  NOT pigeon, but a nice roast beef sandwich would go down well right about now.  Hmmmm.  Back to the whole food thing again.

Food

"Food, Glorious food, wonderful food".  This comes from a musical that the elementary school I attended many, many, many years ago (well, it was a long time ago) put on.  It was a version of Hansel and Gretel.  So what made me think about it now?  Well, I confess, I was watching Julia & Julie and of course it's about food.  That, combined with the fact that I have to think up something for supper, got me thinking about food.  All of the really great conversations I have with friends and family revolve around food.  If we aren't eating, we're at least in the kitchen talking, and preparing something to eat.  Conversations with friends and family that aren't even near each other (I skype with my sister often as we are on different sides of the planet) somehow turn to food.  Before the winter break I had people I work with over, and I made dishes that my sons and I used to eat at that time of year.  I spent time explaining the dishes and why I made them.  It added a different flavour (so to speak) to the gathering and made it seem more 'homie' - not to be confused with the slang term. 
Growing up, the best memories I have are all connected to food and the kitchen.  We would spend days preparing for friends and family to come by Christmas eve and for breakfast and supper Christmas day.  When we were little, my sister and I were put to work doing simple things.  As we got older, we were given more complex tasks, like slicing and dicing without including any of ourselves in the effort.  Our grandmothers would come over and there would be much baking and sauteing and saucing and - well you get the picture.  There was also a lot of laughter and chatter that made it all seem like fun, even though it was really a lot of work.  Not only did we all get involved in food preparation, but we also polished silverware (no wonder I have a distinct dislike for fancy silver tea services) which was truly a task and one I personally am glad I no longer do - or ever did as an adult, for that matter.  I can still remember the slimy feel of the purplish-blue silverpolish and how we had to get every little swirly knob and decorative froof absolutely spotless.  A lot of work for something no-one seemed to really pay any attention to.  When Christmas eve came, the table was stretched to its maximum length, the silencer (not the kind you put on a gun - the cloth that went on first - though why it was called that I have no idea), then the table cloth and often a lacy one on top of that (though why we didn't just put a plastic table cloth on instead is beyond me - would have saved all the stain remover and laundry soap mom had to use to get the barbeque sauce and mustard stains out).  No matter, that's what was done.  Then the best china was washed and dried by hand (this is pre-dishwasher we're talking here), and set out along with all the silver knives, forks, spoons, serving utensils and teaspoons.  Finally, came the food.  Salads (at least three kinds), cold cuts of meat, cheeses, mini sausages cooked in barbeque sauce (hence the stains), caseroles (at least two), home made buns, butter, and of course - dessert (my personal favourite).  Friends would come, visit, eat, visit, leave, until usually quite late at night.  There were a few families that ours hung out with once a month, and each family would take turns hosting.  This, of course, involved the kids playing someplace in the house while the adults visited in another and the moms and dads taking turns supervising.  Naturally, food was involved.  Lots of food.  All kinds of food, and we all ate, and ate, and ate (what else can you do with food really?).
Now it's tea or coffee and whatever is at hand (cake, cookies, cinnamon buns ...) and friends or family and sometimes both friends and family.  Gone are the days of the big feasts, and I can't say I'm sorry.  It's much nicer to have a slice of cake and a cup of tea with great conversation than cooking till you drop and then are too tired to eat anyway.  No matter.  Food is still glorious food and conversation is still great conversation - as long as it's in the kitchen (or an equivalent) and shared with good friends.  Now, I have to go poach an egg.

Jet lag

Ever had one of those days where you have no idea what planet you are on, but you know - sort of - that you vaguely have to do something that might be important?  That you have a headache reminiscent of the last big bender you went on, but didn't have a drop of anything that might remotely be described as alcohol related, but you wish it had been so that you'd have an excuse for having such a painful head is the feeling you have at the moment.  Your brain is generally mush when it comes to actually thinking, and you are going on autopilot hoping the horse/car/bus/taxi will find its own way home because you don't believe you can.  Fortunately, many of us manage to wade through the day that feels like heavy sludge and get things done, though how is another matter.  Hopefully no one actually asks you what you did that day or how it turned out because in fact you truly have no idea what the heck they are talking about, and really wished you did in case it was something really good.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is jet lag.  Your body and your brain are not in the same time zone, the same place on the planet or even on this planet.  At least that's how it feels.  Your eyes are puffy and red, your nose is plugged and your head hurts, but it's not the flu or a cold.  I've experienced jet lag a number of times.  Fortunately I've had time to recover, get lots of rest and let my body and my brain get back into sync, but every once in a while I have to go to work the day after I get back from wherever it is I've been and as such am expected to function at the same level as I would if I hadn't travelled.  The only good thing about this combined with any non-thinking job is that a person can do his/her work without having to expend too much energy.  Just don't fall asleep in front of a group of students/board members/politicians and you'll be fine.  Now I need to head off to try to put my brain back together, get mind and body coordinated and then go back to work tomorrow knowing I did something worthwhile - I think.

Speed dating for schools

I haven't been on here for a few days because I've been at a recruiting fair for teachers.  Well, actually it was a recruiting fair for schools looking for teachers, which adds up to about the same thing.  When I described the sign-up process for teachers with schools, one of my sons said it sounded like speed dating, and he's not so very wrong.  It is a lot like the phenomenon.  You get two minutes or less to introduce yourself and hand in a resume, then book an appointment for an interview.  If the school happens to be in a country that is very popular (this year it seemed to be Switzerland), you line up and hopefully all the interview times haven't been taken by the time you actually get to the table.  Then the games begin.
If you think the Olympics are wild and crazy in terms of events, you've never experienced a job fair of this nature.  Think of it, 500 teachers, all in the same boat - so to speak, competing for the gold (or a job depending on how you want to look at it) in a variety of venues (in this case schools).  Some win, some lose, some have personal bests (offers that might interest you but you finally decide not to accept for whatever reason), and in the end you come away with a gold (the job you really want at the school you really want), silver (a job you want in a school that maybe wasn't your first choice) or bronze (a job in a school because by now you are feeling despirate), or just come home (and start the process all over again - somebody must want you - somewhere - please?!).  Now that you've signed up, the next fun event is the interview.  Herein lies the true challenge.  Are you at your top form?  Do you have all the requirements for the job?  Do your references make you glow in the dark as opposed to just glimmering?  To continue the analogy of the Olympics, this is the real test in your event.  The schools, who have half an hour or less to decide your fate, will gush over your resume and references, show a great deal of enthusiasm, and in the end hire someone else.  Why?  It's one of those mysteries much like judging in a skating competition.  Very subjective, very quirky, very mysterious, using some formula that even the best minds in the world would have trouble solving and would give a supercomputer a nervous breakdown.  Which brings us to the next question, why bother?  Why not just go online, apply and have a Skype interview?  Saves everyone time, money and hassle.  Some schools do.  It's a good way to find who they want without all the rush and race, however, many schools prefer - still, to do marathon interviewing.  Candidates are no different, wanting to make contacts - forgetting, of course that in a week or less the directors have forgotten your name, and have seen who knows how many others at who knows how many fairs.  In one day, you literally race from one interview to another and by the time you get to your last interviews you're so exhausted you have no idea what's coming out of your mouth.  So the final question for this blogger is, would I do it again?  The answer has to be no.  It's an experience, but one I think I can firmly say I'll pass on.  Until next time.

Sneezy

Dopey, Sleepy, Grumpy and the rest of the boys in the band have made themselves at home in my body.  It's allergy season still, only right now it's more intense that usual.  Mostly it's because it's very dry here and getting dryer so the dust (you remember the dust) is worse than usual.  Combine it with the pollution and you definitely become at least three of the seven dwarfs all rolled into one.  When I was a child, I thought the names of these short people was something Disney dreamed up to amuse and entertain, never realizing he was actually describing how a person could feel.  Now I know differently - or at least I interpret it differently now that I'm all grown up (or something similar). I was supposed to go out tonight with a couple of people from work to see one of our co-workers perform.  I understand she is an excellent jazz singer.  Unfortunately, by the time I got home and had supper, my eyes look like rivers of red, my nose is itchy and plugged and I'm sneezing all over the place.  Guess I'll have to put off seeing my co-worker for another time.  Instead I'll be putting drops in my eyes, blowing my nose and taking anti-histamines to help with the itchiness and watering.  I wonder if Snow White ever had to deal with all this instead of dancing and singing and whistling her way through things.  What's more, I wonder how long Prince Charming was able to handle all that "cheerfulness".  No wonder her step-mother became such a witch.  I would be too if I had that much merry happy around all day every day - especially feeling the way I do right now.  And what happened when we weren't watching?  Did little miss sunshine continue to sing and dance and whistle when she had PMS or a cold or the flu?  How did the dwarf's handle that? Was Doc able to sort things out, or not?  Did Snow ever lose her temper and burst into tears at the drop of a hat or become a fire-breathing dragon like the Queen?  Did she make Prince's life hell once a month and how would we know?  What about the mirror on the wall?  Did it continue to tell her she was the fairest, or did it finally start telling it like it is, especially when she wasn't at her 'best'?    This inquiring mind doesn't really want to know.

Long vs short

Interesting idea.  A competition between long and short.  The question is:  Long vs Short what?  Are we talking coats, hair, pants, skirts, dresses?  How long is long and how short is short and who should wear them/it (whatever it is that is either long or short)? I've had both of everything listed above.  Short skirts, dresses and pants (aka shorts or capris), short hair, long hair, in-between and Ican'tmakeupmymind hair.  The length of my clothes depended on what era I happened to be in.  When I was so much younger, you know, back in the days of the dinosaurs a century ago, short things were very much in, and I had a very skinny body to wear them on, but time, age and way too many cookies, large meals and children changed my shape and my hemlines accordingly.  Funny how that works.  When I was in school (remember we're talking the days of the dinosaurs here) skirts and dresses could be no shorter than the middle of your knee.  Why this was so, I have no idea.  Either some fashion guru or somebody's mother thought that was the ideal length.  Not too short, not too long - kind of like the inbetween hair.  Then came the "revolution".  Hemlines got higher, thus making skirts and dresses considerably shorter.  School policy, unfortunately, did not keep up with the times and I know a number of girls who were sent home to change because their dresses were too short (actually looking back the skirts were above the knee, but long enough to cover bum and upper leg, so I'm not sure what the real issue was, but there it is).
Guys didn't get off any easier.  No jeans, no shorts to school unless they were below the knee (what's with the knee thing anyway?) short hair, ties, and dress slacks.  Mind you if you happened to go to a school where there was a uniform, it didn't really matter since it was the UNIFORM.  I still see students in uniforms, but the girls wear the skirts so short I'm surprised there is actually any material there.  Which is fine because they are very young and can get away with it, but in the winter I wonder just how warm they are with so little on.  Mind you, when you are young you don't think of those things - well, unless you are my mother and then she was of the opinion that it didn't matter what you wore or how you looked as long as you were warm.  She got my vote on that.  Still does, although these days I live in warm countries, so now it's more a matter of keeping cool.  However, what goes around comes around as the saying goes, and at my age I'm back in fashion.  My skirts and dresses are once again at mid-knee length, though I do wear shorter shorts and jeans, as do many of the people I have worked with.  However, I will balk at wearing very short dresses and don't care if the fashion experts, or somebody's mother says it's the rage.  So the question still remains, long vs short what, and to that I add, who cares?

Flipping houses

So the headline said, "should you flip your house?".  I don't know.  I guess it depends on how strong you are.  Is it like flipping the matress on your bed, or pancakes or crepes?  How about doing a chef-y thing while sauteing your veggies?  Does it work the same way?  Sounds kind of like a bad joke.  You know:  How many people does it take to flip a house?  Well that depends.  Are you flipping it on it's roof? It's side and which one (because sides are much easier to flip a house on to than fronts, backs or roofs)?  or just spinning it around for a change?  I've never actually tried to flip a house.  It might well be because I'm not superman, or superwoman or even Xena Warrior Princess (who can do just about anything so could probably flip the house as well).  I've had students write that a character moved their house, implying that the character actually picked the house up and moved it.  I'd love to see that.  I know houses can be moved - by big trucks, on huge flatbeds, taking up the whole road in the process, but I've never actually seen a person move a house.  Maybe I should have tried that.  I could have folded my house up into a small box like shape, tucked it into a suitcase, and unpacked and unfolded it when I got to wherever I was moving to.  No fuss, no muss.  Everything I need for living all tucked away in a nice carry-all just waiting to be unfolded as soon as I found a big enough space to do so.  All the amenities I was used to with me, instead of belonging to the person that bought my house.  Now, instead, I make due with whatever I get in whatever apartment the school I'm at has rented for me - not always stocked with the standard washing machine, full stove (with a large enough oven to cook a turkey - or at least a big chicken in) or dresser/more than one closet.  When you move as often as I have you learn quickly that if it doesn't fit in a steamer trunk or five suitcases and a plastic bin, it isn't worth taking.  So instead of flexing my muscles flipping a house, or picking it up and carrying it to someplace else, I'll dig out my suitcases and plastic bin and pack up my world to move on to the next adventure in living.  So don't strain any muscles flipping your houses.  Just get a friend to help you turn the matress over instead.