Greetings Infidels, it is I Moses the cat. I have hijacked the humans blog while she is busy cleaning my cat sized toilet. I am guessing by the gagging noises shes making, she is either retching on a fur ball or she has discovered my recently dropped meadow muffin, oh this is to funny I am dying with laughter as my human is dying from the fumes. While surfing the interweb the other day I noticed there is a cat calling himself "grumpy cat" well mr grumpy cat you have nothing on me I was born an asshole, I will die an asshole or so the human tells me. I am guessing you all want to know what has been happening here in "the love shack" ugh I think I just puked a little saying that.
Well as you all may know "my god" proposed to the human back in December. All the shouting and jumping up and down woke me from my nap. I waddled down the stairs to see what all the fuss was about and saw the human dancing like nobody was watching, so I decided to let her know I was watching and her dancing skills suck. I reached out ever so carefully and swatted her leg. The horse aka Maverick didnt seem to like that so much and he chased me up the stairs. I swear I heard him yelling "run fat boy run" I will get back at him later, perhaps when hes sleeping. Back to this wedding ordeal, the human is busy making plans as is "my god", hes really getting into this I often ask him if he knows what hes getting himself into, but because he doesnt speak cat he just thinks Im being extra friendly and pats me on the head and calls me a good boy. Ugh there goes 20 seconds of my life I will never get back.
Spirit the "golden child" now has two pipsqueaks to play with from what I gather from the human they are here to stay and I will just have to live with it. The one named Violet is like Dolly Parton's coat of many colours but she leaves me alone, I guess I can handle her. The kid they say is oriental looks kinda funny, bright blue eyes with a white coat that looks like the human spilled her double double on but again she leaves me alone so not to much I can do. Besides "my god" told me shes "special" so I have to be extra kind to her, its not her fault she cant hear me yell SCRAM thats my food dish, or beat it kid Im trying to take a poop. Personally I think she may have dipped into the humans bottle of fireball, she kind of wobbles when she walks and her head moves from side to side. The human used to do that quite a bit but now tells me shes getting to old for that and now sticks to pop.
I guess your also wondering about Ella, the cat whos afraid of everything. Well we are still arch enemies, she just makes it to easy not to be. God forbid if I look at her as I swagger on by, she begins to hiss and runs for cover , so of course I have to chase after her. Now the new dog the humans just had to adopt chases after me, she tells me even though shes old shes still got pep in her step. I run as not to make her feel like a geriatric but whisper in an evil voice, my precioussssssss I am so getting back at her, I will wait until shes not looking and with a couple of hand gestures I will take the fur right off of her butt. Of course I will have to wait until Maverick is nowhere around when I do this, he is very protective over his lady friend his sloppy kisses to her make me want to retch and yack up a fur ball into the humans shoe.
Well the human is done cleaning not only my toilet but hers as well so I had better get off of the computer before she catches me again, last time she caught me watching kitty porn and well that went over like a lead fart, she banned me from the computer and made me listen to country music. Something about "Heavens just a sin away". I was yowling I surrender just turn that crap off, she thought it was funny and jacked it to Jesus. So there you have it, I am still a miserable asshole making everyone's lives hell, but as the human and "my god" say life wouldnt be the same without me.
May you be so blessed to have a cat with so much attitude and so little time and may it make you so happy you can say "I am so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust".
Disclaimer, no animals were harmed in the making of this blog.
Subscribe To Rainbows and Fairy Dust
Posts
All Comments
Friday, January 11, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
A Teacher's Love, Elementary My Dear
Hello and welcome back, seeing as this is the first blog entry for 2013 I hope I don't disappoint you. By now you should all know the drill but in case you have forgotten or perhaps this is your first time reading my blog I will give furthur instructions. Thats right it's time to sit back, get comfy and grab your favorite beverage of choice and join me on an epic adventure of "A teacher's love, elementary my dear"
My first day of school will be one to go down in the history books. Picture it, a terrified kid being hauled out the door by her mother and oldest brother. Kicking and screaming arms and legs latched onto the door, an hour later they get me out the front door only to find themselves repeating the process of getting me in the car. I cried the whole way and begged to just be able to go back home but no amount of begging was going to get me out of this horrific state, no ideed. We are soon at the school, my mother is thinking of FREEDOM and I am thinking I am being sentenced to a lifetime of prison, my mother bless her heart reminded me it wasnt a life time, it was only 12 years.
I tucked and rolled out of that burgandy K car I was running for home when my brother swooped me up by the back of my pants and promptly handed me over to the teacher on duty and said"have fun shes all yours". I was greeted by the principal his name was Dale Horncastle, a gentle giant I later found out but at the time he scared me to death. He took me by the hand and said you will have fun here, you will learn how to read and make new friends. I replied, I already know how to read and I already have friends, casey and finnigan keep me company. He laughed like I was the next best thing to Lucielle Ball and told me he would take me to my teacher. Off I went carrying my little Sesame street lunch box tighly clenched in my fist and a dont mess with me kind of attitude. Long of the short, grade one was an epic fail, Miss Sparkes told my mother I was a bright child but lacked social skills, this still makes me laugh. The person who had more tongue then a mounties boot(as my father liked to remind me about so much) couldnt stand being away from her family. Keep in mind I was the youngest of 9 kids. Sheltered I was but anti social I was not, I just didnt like to be away from the only people I had ever spent time with.
The second year of grade one was totally different, I no longer carried my sesame street lunch box oh no I was way to cool for that, so I opted to use a brown paper bag like all the cool kids, mostly my older siblings. I didnt have to be drug to school that day I was no longer young and naive. I also found out I had Mrs Love as my teacher and that made all the difference in the world. Soft spoken, gentle and she soon discovered not only could I read but I did it well. She made me her reading buddy and I got to help other kids, boy did that feel good. From the moment on the sun rose and set on my beloved Mrs Love. She used to keep her roll of masking tape on her wrist, for easy access I realize now but when your 6 years old it was the fashion statement of the 80's if it looked cool on Mrs Love, it had to have looked just as cool on me. I saved my allowence and bought,,, my very own roll of masking tape as a badge of honor to my idol.
Change has never been my friend, back then it could set me into a whirlwind spiral. I walked into class one day all set to tell my Angel of education that I had read "chicken soup with rice" to my nannie after supper and never missed a word. But instead of my strawberry blonde idol greeting me with "theres my smart girl" I was greeted with the dreaded" SUBSTITUTE TEACHER". Mrs Love had to have an operation Mrs Hickey told us she would be back in a few weeks. After watching soap operas with my nannie I knew often times "operations" meant you never saw the person again or they came back but looked different, even then my imagination ran wild. We made her get well cards and mine had hearts with blurred spots where my tears dripped, that was the longest two weeks of my life. When the day came where she was well enough to come back to us I hugged her (mindless over the fact she just had surgery and was probably sore) she was probably thinking this kid needs help but all I could think about was my hero was back and life could go on.
Mrs Love taught us great songs, who who who who said the owl whos afraid of halloween was my favorite, we had to make owl eyes where you flip your wrists and make circles with your hands,I was a pro at that. She taught us never to run with scissors and never eat glue. She also taught us "In Flanders Field" She even took me to the grade 6 class and had me recite it to those kids who in the mind of a 6 year old were not only giants, they were super cool. 30 years later and I still remember all the words to who said the owl as well as in Flanders Field and I can still remember the bittersweet feeling of knowing in the fall I would be going into grade two and would have to leave my strawberry blonde angel of education behind.
Grade two was an exciting year, there was a brand new teacher and I got her. Barb Young believed in magic and imagination. We had a teepee in our classroom as well as a "cave" this cave was a long table with paper all around it, you could go in there and read, it was a magical place which can only be descibed as getting to see Mr Dress up's tickle trunk. On Halloween she made us all caramel apples, its safe to say we were the "popular kids" on the playground that day. Everybody wanted to be your friend even if it was only to get a small smackeral of that delicious caramel apple. Mrs Young was tall and blonde, soft spoken and kind and she saw my potential and always made me feel special.
Grade three well here was the beginning of what my parents refered to as the "rebel year". I had Kathy Brown and I was on cloud nine. Mrs Brown now Mrs Bowen had a passion for pink peppermints and her favorite red pen. I soon found out the red pen could be a good thing or usually during math class for me, a bad thing. If you did well you got a nice big red smiley face, if for some reason you didnt do so well again in my case with math you got a sad red face with words of encouragement to try your best the next time. I later found out Mrs Brown loved her pink peppermints so much because,,,, she was a smoker !!!! Yes past students of Alexander Gibson Memorial School, the jig is up I saw her one day in the school yard puffing away with a contented smile on her face, its no wonder why she was always so calm after recess and lunch. In my eyes that just made her even more cool, kind of like seeing a teacher wear jeans or seeing them at the grocery store. Mrs Brown taught me cursive writing and she also taught me its never wise to take the fall for someone else. You see there was a teacher who was so strict that her name alone had you shaking in your boots. And one winter day a friend of mine whipped a snowball and hit this teacher upside the head. When she turned around the kid was gone and there I stood. Frozen unable to move, and for the first time in my life,,, speechless.
The teacher grabbed me by the hood of my coat and marched me to her classroom and opened the desk drawer where she kept the strap. She grabbed my little hand and just as she was about to come down on her rein of fury I jerked my hand back causing her to hit her own hand. BIG MISTAKE, just sayin. My young life flashed before my eyes because I knew I was going to get it even worse the next time. And then my Angel of Mercy came into the room. Mrs Brown stormed into that room and demanded, not asked why I was being punished. The "warden" told her why and my hero said I cant believe she would do that I was saved and I learned a valuable lesson. Next time you whip a snowball make sure THAT teacher is not on duty. Confession time, yes Mrs H, it was ME who threw the snowball and I laugh every time I think about how your corporal punishment came back to slap you on the hand. I didnt say every teacher was great, just the one who taught me.
Grade 4 was an exciting time in my life, I was introduced to the beloved works of Lucy Maude Montgomery, Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary, compliments of Mrs Kathy McBride. She used to read to us so well that I often felt that I was Ramona Quimby, Anne of Green Gables and Fudge from tales of a forth grade nothing. Mrs McBride told me I could be anything I wanted to be I just had to try. All those years that have passed since I sat her in classroom and I can still hear her telling me that. She was pregnant that year for her daughter and because I already had 2 nephews and two nieces I was a pro in that catagory, not only did I know where babies came from, I also knew how they got there. Again everybody wanted to be my friend but I told them to go home and ask their parents, most likely much to Mrs McBride's relief.
Grade 5 came along and I had my very first male teacher. Brian Cornell was larger then life and a fountain of of information. He would bring in a cassett player and pop in a tape of waves crashing, birds singing and tell us to put our heads on our desks, close our eyes and listen. After a brief meditaton he would get us to write about what we heard. Needless to say I kicked butt in that class and once again failed miserably at math. Mr Cornell told me I showed great strength in writing and encouraged me to do so each day. Once again all these years later and I am happy to report I am doing exacly what that fine man told me to do.
Grade 6, my last year at Alexander Gibson Memorial School and I am proud to say I was taught by the legend, the larger then life,,, Maggie Gibson. Oh how I loved that gentle lady. She used to do spelling bees with us and the first kid who could rattle off the word got a gold star, bot did I feel special. One of my favorite memeories of Mrs Gibson was on one hot day before school was done for the summer, she gave my friend and I $5 to go to the store next to the school to buy lime popsicals for every kid on our playground. We thought we had the world by the tail that day and everytime I eat a lime popcicle I am taken back to that hot day in the 80's when a teacher reached into her pocket and gave us something so special.
I've kept in touch with these beloved teachers of my youth. Mrs Love is now retired and a proud grandmother. I still call her Mrs Love as I find it very strange to call her anything but. She is and always will be my strawberry blonde angel of education.
Barb Young is now retired and not only taught me her first year at AGMS but taught my oldest son Austin her last year before retiring. She told me it was like going back in time teaching him as he was so much like me. He too thought the sun rose and set on Mrs Young.
Kathy Brown now Kathy Bowen, still has a passion for pink peppermints along with her cigarettes, years later at a Y's men function we laughed so hard over that story we both choked on our cigarettes. I still remember never to lift my pen until I'm finished writing a word and I've also learnedwhen your croakin for a smoke, pop in a pink peppermint.
Kathy McBride is now retired and also a grandmother, the daughter she was pregnant for while teaching me in grade 4 also went onto become a teacher and taught my youngest son Isaac in middleschool. Isaac informed me Miss McBride was AWESOME, you know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Brian Cornell also is retired and when I see him he always asks if I still write everyday, I like to think he would read my blog and say she still has a way with words and she still makes me laugh. Thank you for introducing me to writing, I cherish it deeply.
Maggie "the legend" Gibson has long since retired but her words live on in my heart"treat others as you would have them treat you" A smile is the best gift you can give, its free and it makes everybody including you happy"
May you all have had the pleasure of having a teacher make you feel extra special and it make you so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows, and fart fairy dust"
My first day of school will be one to go down in the history books. Picture it, a terrified kid being hauled out the door by her mother and oldest brother. Kicking and screaming arms and legs latched onto the door, an hour later they get me out the front door only to find themselves repeating the process of getting me in the car. I cried the whole way and begged to just be able to go back home but no amount of begging was going to get me out of this horrific state, no ideed. We are soon at the school, my mother is thinking of FREEDOM and I am thinking I am being sentenced to a lifetime of prison, my mother bless her heart reminded me it wasnt a life time, it was only 12 years.
I tucked and rolled out of that burgandy K car I was running for home when my brother swooped me up by the back of my pants and promptly handed me over to the teacher on duty and said"have fun shes all yours". I was greeted by the principal his name was Dale Horncastle, a gentle giant I later found out but at the time he scared me to death. He took me by the hand and said you will have fun here, you will learn how to read and make new friends. I replied, I already know how to read and I already have friends, casey and finnigan keep me company. He laughed like I was the next best thing to Lucielle Ball and told me he would take me to my teacher. Off I went carrying my little Sesame street lunch box tighly clenched in my fist and a dont mess with me kind of attitude. Long of the short, grade one was an epic fail, Miss Sparkes told my mother I was a bright child but lacked social skills, this still makes me laugh. The person who had more tongue then a mounties boot(as my father liked to remind me about so much) couldnt stand being away from her family. Keep in mind I was the youngest of 9 kids. Sheltered I was but anti social I was not, I just didnt like to be away from the only people I had ever spent time with.
The second year of grade one was totally different, I no longer carried my sesame street lunch box oh no I was way to cool for that, so I opted to use a brown paper bag like all the cool kids, mostly my older siblings. I didnt have to be drug to school that day I was no longer young and naive. I also found out I had Mrs Love as my teacher and that made all the difference in the world. Soft spoken, gentle and she soon discovered not only could I read but I did it well. She made me her reading buddy and I got to help other kids, boy did that feel good. From the moment on the sun rose and set on my beloved Mrs Love. She used to keep her roll of masking tape on her wrist, for easy access I realize now but when your 6 years old it was the fashion statement of the 80's if it looked cool on Mrs Love, it had to have looked just as cool on me. I saved my allowence and bought,,, my very own roll of masking tape as a badge of honor to my idol.
Change has never been my friend, back then it could set me into a whirlwind spiral. I walked into class one day all set to tell my Angel of education that I had read "chicken soup with rice" to my nannie after supper and never missed a word. But instead of my strawberry blonde idol greeting me with "theres my smart girl" I was greeted with the dreaded" SUBSTITUTE TEACHER". Mrs Love had to have an operation Mrs Hickey told us she would be back in a few weeks. After watching soap operas with my nannie I knew often times "operations" meant you never saw the person again or they came back but looked different, even then my imagination ran wild. We made her get well cards and mine had hearts with blurred spots where my tears dripped, that was the longest two weeks of my life. When the day came where she was well enough to come back to us I hugged her (mindless over the fact she just had surgery and was probably sore) she was probably thinking this kid needs help but all I could think about was my hero was back and life could go on.
Mrs Love taught us great songs, who who who who said the owl whos afraid of halloween was my favorite, we had to make owl eyes where you flip your wrists and make circles with your hands,I was a pro at that. She taught us never to run with scissors and never eat glue. She also taught us "In Flanders Field" She even took me to the grade 6 class and had me recite it to those kids who in the mind of a 6 year old were not only giants, they were super cool. 30 years later and I still remember all the words to who said the owl as well as in Flanders Field and I can still remember the bittersweet feeling of knowing in the fall I would be going into grade two and would have to leave my strawberry blonde angel of education behind.
Grade two was an exciting year, there was a brand new teacher and I got her. Barb Young believed in magic and imagination. We had a teepee in our classroom as well as a "cave" this cave was a long table with paper all around it, you could go in there and read, it was a magical place which can only be descibed as getting to see Mr Dress up's tickle trunk. On Halloween she made us all caramel apples, its safe to say we were the "popular kids" on the playground that day. Everybody wanted to be your friend even if it was only to get a small smackeral of that delicious caramel apple. Mrs Young was tall and blonde, soft spoken and kind and she saw my potential and always made me feel special.
Grade three well here was the beginning of what my parents refered to as the "rebel year". I had Kathy Brown and I was on cloud nine. Mrs Brown now Mrs Bowen had a passion for pink peppermints and her favorite red pen. I soon found out the red pen could be a good thing or usually during math class for me, a bad thing. If you did well you got a nice big red smiley face, if for some reason you didnt do so well again in my case with math you got a sad red face with words of encouragement to try your best the next time. I later found out Mrs Brown loved her pink peppermints so much because,,,, she was a smoker !!!! Yes past students of Alexander Gibson Memorial School, the jig is up I saw her one day in the school yard puffing away with a contented smile on her face, its no wonder why she was always so calm after recess and lunch. In my eyes that just made her even more cool, kind of like seeing a teacher wear jeans or seeing them at the grocery store. Mrs Brown taught me cursive writing and she also taught me its never wise to take the fall for someone else. You see there was a teacher who was so strict that her name alone had you shaking in your boots. And one winter day a friend of mine whipped a snowball and hit this teacher upside the head. When she turned around the kid was gone and there I stood. Frozen unable to move, and for the first time in my life,,, speechless.
The teacher grabbed me by the hood of my coat and marched me to her classroom and opened the desk drawer where she kept the strap. She grabbed my little hand and just as she was about to come down on her rein of fury I jerked my hand back causing her to hit her own hand. BIG MISTAKE, just sayin. My young life flashed before my eyes because I knew I was going to get it even worse the next time. And then my Angel of Mercy came into the room. Mrs Brown stormed into that room and demanded, not asked why I was being punished. The "warden" told her why and my hero said I cant believe she would do that I was saved and I learned a valuable lesson. Next time you whip a snowball make sure THAT teacher is not on duty. Confession time, yes Mrs H, it was ME who threw the snowball and I laugh every time I think about how your corporal punishment came back to slap you on the hand. I didnt say every teacher was great, just the one who taught me.
Grade 4 was an exciting time in my life, I was introduced to the beloved works of Lucy Maude Montgomery, Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary, compliments of Mrs Kathy McBride. She used to read to us so well that I often felt that I was Ramona Quimby, Anne of Green Gables and Fudge from tales of a forth grade nothing. Mrs McBride told me I could be anything I wanted to be I just had to try. All those years that have passed since I sat her in classroom and I can still hear her telling me that. She was pregnant that year for her daughter and because I already had 2 nephews and two nieces I was a pro in that catagory, not only did I know where babies came from, I also knew how they got there. Again everybody wanted to be my friend but I told them to go home and ask their parents, most likely much to Mrs McBride's relief.
Grade 5 came along and I had my very first male teacher. Brian Cornell was larger then life and a fountain of of information. He would bring in a cassett player and pop in a tape of waves crashing, birds singing and tell us to put our heads on our desks, close our eyes and listen. After a brief meditaton he would get us to write about what we heard. Needless to say I kicked butt in that class and once again failed miserably at math. Mr Cornell told me I showed great strength in writing and encouraged me to do so each day. Once again all these years later and I am happy to report I am doing exacly what that fine man told me to do.
Grade 6, my last year at Alexander Gibson Memorial School and I am proud to say I was taught by the legend, the larger then life,,, Maggie Gibson. Oh how I loved that gentle lady. She used to do spelling bees with us and the first kid who could rattle off the word got a gold star, bot did I feel special. One of my favorite memeories of Mrs Gibson was on one hot day before school was done for the summer, she gave my friend and I $5 to go to the store next to the school to buy lime popsicals for every kid on our playground. We thought we had the world by the tail that day and everytime I eat a lime popcicle I am taken back to that hot day in the 80's when a teacher reached into her pocket and gave us something so special.
I've kept in touch with these beloved teachers of my youth. Mrs Love is now retired and a proud grandmother. I still call her Mrs Love as I find it very strange to call her anything but. She is and always will be my strawberry blonde angel of education.
Barb Young is now retired and not only taught me her first year at AGMS but taught my oldest son Austin her last year before retiring. She told me it was like going back in time teaching him as he was so much like me. He too thought the sun rose and set on Mrs Young.
Kathy Brown now Kathy Bowen, still has a passion for pink peppermints along with her cigarettes, years later at a Y's men function we laughed so hard over that story we both choked on our cigarettes. I still remember never to lift my pen until I'm finished writing a word and I've also learnedwhen your croakin for a smoke, pop in a pink peppermint.
Kathy McBride is now retired and also a grandmother, the daughter she was pregnant for while teaching me in grade 4 also went onto become a teacher and taught my youngest son Isaac in middleschool. Isaac informed me Miss McBride was AWESOME, you know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Brian Cornell also is retired and when I see him he always asks if I still write everyday, I like to think he would read my blog and say she still has a way with words and she still makes me laugh. Thank you for introducing me to writing, I cherish it deeply.
Maggie "the legend" Gibson has long since retired but her words live on in my heart"treat others as you would have them treat you" A smile is the best gift you can give, its free and it makes everybody including you happy"
May you all have had the pleasure of having a teacher make you feel extra special and it make you so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows, and fart fairy dust"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)