Mrs. Cleanest

Hey, germaphobes! If you were ever going to visit my house, now is the time. I have the world's cleanest dog and the world's cleanest house right at this very moment. The process of de-fleaing our little Daisy dog entailed spring cleaning on steroids. Every inch of carpet, every throw rug, every pillow, dust ruffle, mattress pad, couch cushion, bath mat has been vacuumed and/or washed and/or thrown in the dryer at inferno-grade temperatures and then vacuumed and/or washed and/or dried again. And maybe again.

The dog herself has been dipped and medicated and dipped and brushed and dried and scented. She is a delicious little ball of beige fluff decked out in her new hot-pink collar.

So, come on over and breathe in the smell of freshly washed linens. I just hope you don't mind if I check behind your ears first.

Cut It Out Already

Florida is a great place to be a dermatologist. Continuing on my spring break fun-fest, I had something cut off my face yesterday. I am trying to determine if it looks more or less horrifying with the Band-Aid on it. My choices are: exposed red divot over my left eyebrow, or bandage that won't exactly stick on the right way over my left eyebrow. When I left the doctor's office, I had a circular Band-Aid on it that looked like a bull's-eye. Right now I'm rockin' the red divot look. If you see me out and about, try to pretend you don't notice it. Maybe if I wear lipstick today, that'll distract people. Or I could try some asymmetrical emo bangs that come all the way down over my left eye. Bright side: This could be the beginning of a new fashion look for me.

My Dog Has Fleas (and other Spring Break adventures!)

Chaperoning 13 high school students on a trip to New York City is full of pressure. Even when the kids are wonderful (which mine were), you've got 13 humans with 13 sets of needs. On top of that, my own personal children back in Florida were kind enough to keep updating me on the home front.

Leah: Informed us of a hold on her account at college that needed to be cleared before she could register for fall classes. Me: "What's the hold? I thought we were all paid up." Leah: "I locked myself out of my dorm room." Me: "They charge for that?" Leah: "Um. A few times. But don't worry, I wasn't completely naked!"

Jonathan: His friend's dog ate his wallet that was given to him by his girlfriend who bought it while in Italy. And the dog ate his driver's license, too.

Amy: She called about our dog. "Daisy has bugs on her!" Me: "What do you mean bugs?" Amy: "Live bugs! Crawling on her!"

Meanwhile, back in NYC...JetBlue lost one student's luggage, apparently forever. Another felt the flu coming on. Three didn't get off the subway fast enough and got lost on the mean streets of Central Park West. (Watch out for nattily dressed doormen and highly paid nannies from Sweden!) None of them was dressed warmly enough. And it was practically mandatory that someone had to be lactose intolerant.

Though our journey to New York for the Columbia Scholastic Press Association convention was a success, my long-awaited reward of spring break (which started while we were on the trip) did not work out as planned. Did you know that fleas in Florida have developed a tolerance to Frontline repellent? Ha! Well, I sure do now! The bugs Amy spotted on our 12-year-old, inside-the-house Daisy turned out to be the Super Bowl of flea gatherings. We got home late Saturday night, and Sunday morning I was up giving Daisy a flea bath while Ricky vacuumed and set up fogging canisters around the house.

I guess I'll get to rest eventually. It's only about nine more weeks until summer, right?

Newsies knows its audience

Idea for a Broadway show: Gather a bunch of handsome, athletic, young (or young-looking) men who can dance masculinely and athletically while singing and winking flirtatiously at the audience. A hit? I think so! The distinctly high pitched cheering and squealing coming from the audience at the end of the big numbers and the equally high pitched cheering and whooping at the end of the show would indicate that someone had a really, really good idea on this one: Newsies The Musical.

Let's see. Who really adores Broadway musicals? People who adore cute boys adore musicals, that's who. Someone noticed that Billy Elliot was doing well in spite of the fact that no one has any idea what the heck the labor/union plot is in that show set in a coal mining town in Northern England. Just what are they complaining about in those British accents anyway? No one knows! But look at those adorable boys!

So, replace faces smeared with coal dust with faces smeared with newspaper ink, move from Northern England to New York City, and swap the British accents for the old-timey "dems" and "dose" of the Big Apple. Disney has even managed to give us a strike we can understand while humming along to the score.

Newsies, I tip my plaid newsboy cap to you.

Actual video of the Evil Squirrel!

Since my daughter Amy is a teenager, she always has on her person enough technology to launch a satellite into orbit. Therefore, filming a quick, impromptu video of her mother's arch nemesis was no problem. Because of Amy's alert reaction while she was taking our dog out one morning, I now am able to share with all of you the infamous Evil Squirrel who continues to torment me ever since the Tumbleweed Incident. No daughter has ever given her mother a better gift.

I suck at relaxing

In my last couple of posts I have indicated how overworked and overwhelmed I have felt recently, but I have a confession to make. I suck at relaxing. Just now I was sitting outside by the pool in a lounge chair that  rocks and swivels for gosh sakes, but I just couldn't do it. I was listening to my iPod, but my brain was composing this blog post. The Kaiser Chiefs were singing: "Love's not a competition, but I'm winning." I have a corollary of that: "Relaxing's not a competition, but I'm losing."

What's the opposite of zen? My family. Yesterday I took our cockapoo Daisy out while I checked the mailbox, and I noticed my neighbor calmly wiping down his car while his extremely large, furry black dog Einstein lay like a statue near him in their driveway. When little beige fluff-ball Daisy noticed Einstein, she began barking like a lunatic while doing that bull-like kicking thing with her back legs that dogs do when seeking a throw-down. Einstein's reaction? Not a blink, not a flinch, not even a tilt of the head. Slowly, very slowly, the tip of his long silky tail started to swish back and forth just a bit.

Daisy: Bark bark bark bark bark kick bark kick bark!
Einstein:
Daisy: Bark bark bark kick kick bark bark bark kick!
Einstein:

I feel completely responsible for Daisy's high-energy behavior. You will never find me calmly wiping down my car in my driveway. I've noticed this disposition disparity when I'm at school as well.

During my lunch period, there's a smattering of students who like to eat lunch in my room. I looked up one day this week and noticed a girl sitting with her head face down on the table before her, arms splayed up around her hair.

"Is Susie dead?" I asked whoever was around.

"No, she's just sleeping," someone answered.

"How can she do that?" I asked.

Another girl went over and nudged Susie, whose head immediately popped up. I was extraordinarily impressed by her ability to power nap like that, especially when she came to my class later in the day and was humming and bouncing as she entered the room. She was entirely not dead!

Maybe someday I will develop the ability to relax, to do things like power nap or wipe down my car or sit in a lounge chair for an extended period. But in the mean time, all I have to say is: bark bark bark kick bark!

March Madness, Journalism Teacher Version

Wait! What? Huh? Where am I? When am I? How did it get to be...is it really...March 13? No, I am not experiencing an alcohol-induced blackout. I am experiencing the aftermath of a confluence of deadlines never before seen by mankind. Yearbook final deadline: March 11. Newspaper issue No. 6 final deadline: March 11. Oh, and my formal observation by my administrator was scheduled for: March 11.

Next up: chaperoning 13 teens to New York City for the Columbia Scholastic Press Association annual convention (March 20-23). Then after that, taking 60 kids to Orlando for the Florida Scholastic Press Association state convention (including going to Disney's Magic Kingdom) in April. Each of these trips has been preceded by mounds and mounds of paperwork that was due: March 1 and/or March 15 and/or still in progress.

But now that I've partially snapped out of whatever stupor I was in, I'm starting to focus again. I guess I can finally do that laundry. And attend to my bills. And walk the dog, who, I think, has been waiting weeks to go out. And, if I recall correctly, I think I have some of my own personal children. Yup, I think there are three of them. And a husband.

Family! Home! Are you still there?! I'm done proofreading for the moment!