Now that you know I'm trapped; sense of elation

Today I quelled the fear that my blog fodder will dry up after leaving the tutoring center. I discovered that as long as I live with myself, there will be no shortage of moments to write about – and I have intermittently bleeding foot and swollen thumb to prove it.

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But first, the latest BCLC update:

The children all have a weird mechanical pencil fetish. I don't know if I'm blocking this from my childhood memories, but I don't remember being obsessed with them. The pencil adulation has caused many loud moments "WHO HAS 0.5 LEAD???!!" and fights "Christian stole my pencil!" etc. So I shouldn't have been surprised when I brought in a mechanical green pencil and got nonstop comments and mini gatherings. Here's the kicker:

Christian (age 9): Where'd you get it from?
Me: My aunt.
Christian: (huge shock on his face) You still have an aunt!!?

I refrained from telling him that I, in fact, have all my aunts, and several great aunts.

And then two days ago I was placed in sole charge of the children because my boss had an event and my co-worker had nonstop personal tutoring sessions. This was also the day that my body decided it was sick of walking in the sun and I started flashing hot and cold like the menopausal mom on "That 70's show." My stomach decided to kick in with early scurvy symptoms – which really shouldn't have surprised me seeing as I always lost a few members to scurvy on Oregon Trail – possibly from eating really funky (non nutritious) food for several days. (My real life scurvy, that is. Not Oregon Trail.)

I slumped in my chair, threatening the miscreants with my cell phone ("If you don't sit down, I'm going to call Miss Esther) and trying to help 6-year-old Katie with her reading homework which she refused to do until I gave her a "birdy" – pouring water into her upturned mouth. Ashley kept wandering over and offering to tell me pointless stories (I'm being very literal) and then started stealing the other students' stuff for fun. During snack time I looked up to see Evan and Dylan crawling on the floor from out of nowhere and Nathan Vo announcing that everyone should watch him stuff a bunch of spicy hot food into his mouth. Brian began shouting Spanish swearwords and asking me what they meant...and on.

To be honest, it was all rather amusing, minus my body planning a mini revolution against itself.

I ended up telling kids off for stealing, stalking, and stabbing (with a pencil) so there were some nice poetics going on with the alliteration.

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Today I had this conversation with Daniel:

Daniel: I'm on the list???!
Me: Yes. You called me a skank, so you're on the list.
Daniel: But I don't know what it means!
Me: Don't use words you don't understand.

Charming.

**

And now for something entirely different.



The Exploding Glass Incident

I was really excited to make a simple Chicken Parmesan recipe for dinner tonight. I had wanted to make it last night, but hadn't let the chicken thaw long enough, so I postponed it until tonight, figuring the anticipation would improve the entire experience.

Everything was going rather well (unlike the semi-clothed hot oil incident from a couple days ago) until I realized I was missing the mozzarella cheese which seemed like an important, if not vital, ingredient. Luckily, after pan frying the chicken for a few minutes, the recipe calls for a half hour bake time, so I was able to fly to Vons, grab some cheese, and make it back in time. This was a decidedly minor mishap, and I was well-pleased that my night's mistake was so minor. Cue: Ironic foreshadowing music.

I arrived home with a few minutes to spare, threw some mozzarella cheese into the oven, started my broccoli in the microwave, and stuck some bread into the toaster (which only toasts one side, but I'm not picky.) I pulled the chicken out of the oven and put it on the stovetop. I stared at the bubbling sauce in the dish, thinking it was odd that it was still bubbling and I didn't even remember it bubbling inside the oven. (Cue: Ironic foreshadowing music intensifies.)

I removed one piece for my plate and left the other in the glass dish. I was then distracted and walked away from the oven when I heard a BANG and turned around to see that the glass dish had, in fact, exploded. (Cue: Gasping soundtrack.)Yes. It didn't break; it burst into a million pieces, projecting them across the entire kitchen. Turns out I had forgotten to turn off the stovetop, which had been heating for half an hour. Also turns out glass doesn't like extreme heat.

Though I was startled, I was completely unharmed until I started to clean it up – barefoot. Bad life decision no#23. My feet worked as a sort of improved broom; until a glass bit embedded itself into the sole of my foot. (Naturally, I didn't notice this until later when I realized I couldn't put my full weight on my right foot, and tried to squeeze the piece out, unsure if my foot was bleeding from glass inside it or from me jabbing at it.) In the mean time, I was methodically picking up glass and dumping it into the trashcan. Problem was, I was using a paper towel and grabbing large pieces of glass, which managed to cut through both the towel and my thumb, creating a mini geyser of blood. It was all very artistic, the blood blending in with the marinara sauce on the glass filled paper towel.

Halfway through the cleanup process, I realized that the kitchen was becoming extremely smokey. My initial thought was that it was from the explosion, but I realized that it had gotten much worse since then. I looked over to the toaster in the corner and saw that it was still cooking my "toast" – which were actually both completely charcoaled on each side, so it had managed to cook bread evenly for the first time. (It's the little things.)

I then decided to move my plate of chicken to the table. Setting it down, I leaned a little on the table, tired and hungry (it was 9:30 and I hadn't eaten since brunch), forgetting that our table is highly unstable. We use weights on one side to keep it up – and I was leaning on the other side. It began to collapse under my weight, and I grabbed it as it pummeled toward me.

Finally finished with the cleaning, I grabbed the pieces of chicken, examining them closely for bits of glass (remembering warnings of glass getting into your system and cutting up your insides as it gets digested.) When I found glass on both pieces, I decided that the warnings had probably been exaggerated and I looked up information online. The Yahoo community had no clear consensus, but a man who brought up potentially negative ramifications used the term "eternal" bleeding instead of "internal," so I ignored his advice and went with the lady who signed off as "nurse" and said that a little glass swallowed isn't a problem. I'm hoping "nurse" isn't a 'Little John' type nickname that she uses for online clout. I'm also hoping that the man actually did make a mistake when he warned of "eternal" bleeding.

Today's Article: Is about a glass eating fraud. The second to last line is the best.

Today's Life Lesson: Well...let's not.