Four more days until our anniversary. Absolutely flew by (although one of my colleagues today said "this is your second anniversary, right? so that person has clearly been working too hard this year in order to make one year equal two). Whomever says the first year of marriage is the hardest...well, maybe they shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.
But we did and we're glad about it. It doesn't hurt that things like anniversaries allow you to do things like go on little trips to celebrate your anniversary if you feel like it, so we are. Back to Moab! (Which is nothing like "hie to Kolob.")
Due to Honeymoon 1.2, we had unused plane tickets--it's the trip that keeps on giving. We're leaving tomorrow and I almost can't stand it.
I will be able to stand the 99 degree heat. And the breakfasts. And the tacos. And the view. And the husband.
(Maybe him most of all.)
Princess Euphemissy is no ordinary princess. Some things about her are quite princess-like: she has fancy dresses, incredible hair, and she lives in a castle made of delicious cake. But the truth about her is…she’s not very nice. In fact, she might best be described as an Evil Princess. Even so, she’s considered mostly harmless in the Province of Proverbs—until an ill-fated birthday when all of her gifts turn out to be tea cozies instead of precious jewels. Trouble starts brewing and knees start knocking when she puts together her band of garden henchmen and sets off to reclaim what is rightly hers, wreaking havoc in the towns of Don’t Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch, The Early Bird Catches the Worm, and All That Glitters is Not Gold as they make their way to the Diamond in the Rough Precious Jewel Repository.
Any bets on when I'll start writing the script?
I am turning cartwheels in my mind. They are perfect, occasionally one-handed and often aerial.
Because, you see, I am a true wonder, like a perfect piece of chocolate cake found where none had existed before.
I had nearly one million things due on June 1st. And exactly one million of them were freaking me out. Furthermore, all one million of them involved some element of persuasive and/or artistic writing (not seen here). One of the million included an outline of a workshop I'm teaching this summer for other teachers and was to include drafts of specific exercises to include during the workshop.
I finished the outline/handout/master's thesis (complete to including specific references and explanations of links to arts-based educational standards as approved by our state) and ideas for expanded learning. But no exercises. And this is because part of the whole point of the workshop is to identify unconventional (to classroom teachers) moments for drama to be incorporated into existing classroom structures. And how do you write up an exercise prior to having the discussion and invention of it? You tell me, Almanzo Wilder.
I decided it was a no go, sent in my outline and a weary-plea to the powers that be. And this is what I got back in response:
I think that this is dandy, and agree with you that writing up the actual examples you use in the session afterward makes perfect sense. The point of the session is to get the teachers identifying the common "moments" when drama can be incorporated. Your outline is clear, great delineation of the [arts-based standards] w/ teachers and student actions. Also, I like the questions you include and your playful language throughout the handout.
Okay, so maybe the person who wrote the above email is truly the piece of chocolate cake, but I get to eat it!
...or, y'know, something with a metaphor that is neither mixed nor confusing.
(Insert actual piece of chocolate cake here.)