It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

It was Karaoke Valentimes Jam.

Thanks to Dr (To Be) Manasra, who lugged himself, his lady and his karaoke equipment up from Long Island to the ROC city, we were able to host a rockin' rock-out last Saturday with our bad selves and twenty-one of our closest compatriots. The results, I think you'll agree, and as these photographic exhibits attest, did not disappoint. My singing probably did, although I did get props on my "Angel of Harlem"--eat your heart out, Bono--and personally I think that my duet with my favorite Laotian social studies teacher candidate on "My Pony" was the highlight of the night.

Of course, I was not in any condition to judge, if you catch my unsubtle drift. At any rate, enjoy the photos, and get ready for the DVD, due for release whenever I get my lazy self in gear. Hope these satisfy in the meantime.

Hum some R. Kelly with me,

TR

Snow Day, Part III

Wow. Talk about a roller coaster of emotion. We've been through it all in Rochester this week.

On Sunday, they announced a big storm coming. Could be up to a foot. And there was much rejoicing. We started making plans, mostly to sleep in.

The rumors continued on Monday. Yesterday there were contradictory announcements over the school PA: School will be probably be cancelled. But it is not cancelled now. Check the news. At 4 a.m.

By eleven o'clock it had, incredibly, stopped snowing. Despair, resignation and depression set in.

When the dog barked at 1:13 a.m., and I got up to chase him around the house, I couldn't resist: I checked on the interweb for cancellations. Nothing. Consternation abounded and recriminations flew.

I went back to sleep and had uneasy, anxious dreams, in which I chased a large snowflake that the wind tossed playfully, but wouldn't let fall to the ground. I moaned in my sleep and gnashed my teeth.

And then, the moment of truth. My lady awoke at 5:00 a.m. and looked out the window. "Whoa--we're snowed in, dude. The Mini is buried up to the wheels." Sweeter words were never spoken. The internet listing bore out the lovely fact: it was, without further dread or doubt, a snow day. Not a cold day, like the two last week or the one the week before. It is cold, of course (not 5 below, but nevertheless). But this one is the real deal: white stuff all over (and not my dandruff, which is also all over).

So here I am. It's 8:37 EST on a Wednesday. I am finishing my breakfast and blogging. I am not feverishly finishing planning a math lesson; not feverishly waiting in a long line at the copier, silently cursing the other teachers who waited till the last minute to get their duplicating done; not hollering at small, bundled up children to WALK, PLEASE as they tear down the hallway in slick snowy boots.

Now, before you completely cuss me out since you're working today and I'm at home (unless you, too, are a fellow maltreated and underappreciated educator of America's youth), let me offer this one fact: I am also not in bed and not sleeping in. This is due to three reasons: first, and indirectly, I've already had my coffee and I'm wide awake. Second, my dog is being wild and biting everything in sight. Third, and most important, my lovely lady requested in sweetest tones that I haul my butt out of bed to make her coffee, dig out my car, and chauffeur her to work. Which I did. Cause it's Valentine's. And, let's face it, cause I love her. And I'm a pushover. And I'm a Puritan, which means I actually feel guilty about being home on a weekday, regardless of meteorological causes.

So. Now you're updated on today. As for recently, pretty much the same old. Sixth grade student teaching placement is going well. That is to say, I'm still standing, four weeks in. I have never had more admiration for Messrs. Effinger, Rocha, Enlow, etc., who had to deal with us on a day-to-day basis when we were that tender, infuriating age. Oh, yeah, and our long-suffering parents. I would just like to say, Mom and Dad, I'm sorry for everything that I said or did from 1992 until 1995 or so, give or take 18 months. Whew. Feels good to get that off my chest.

The march in our nation's capital last month was marvelous, thank you very much. Below are some pictures of our time with our marvelous and gracious and lovely and generous hostess, Annie McCrannie. Thanks, friend, for your kindness in showing us about and taking us around. It was a pleasure and a joy to catch up with you, and we are very psyched to take you up on your offer to visit for a little longer next time. Until then, remember us fondly. (That goes for everybody.)

Contemplate a nap with me,

TR