View and Sign Mr. Frei's Guestbook, or send msg to ktylerconk@aol.com!!
Monday, October 09, 2006
Bonus Blog
Greetings, Gentle Reader. Up for a bonus blog?
It won't be anything nautical; in fact, the boat gets trucked back up to the Adirondacks this weekend on Peg's truck, back to its home waters, blissfully past the frigging Delaware, along the bucolic Jersey shore, over the mighty Tappan Zee, and up the scenic Hudson to its winter home. It'll be odd making a 13-day journey in six hours or so, with no adoring rabble to greet me. Sigh.
So what's up?
I suppose the great domestic news here is our temporary acquisition of a foster dog...our second one in two months...this one named Jimmy. Mobey, our porcine seal-with-legs, was successfully adopted last month and by all accounts is well on his way to domestic bliss. He's lost 8 of the necessary 15 or so pounds that he has to lose to shake his "piglet" moniker, and we wish him well. Jimmy, the newcomer, is a beagle who was on Death Row, and at death's door; he'd been hit by a car and apparently abandoned and was a mess: a broken pelvis (I wasn't sure dogs had pelvises), a broken leg, and various nicks and scrapes.
Happily, Jimmy doesn't really understand that he's supposed to be incapacitated; he's the happiest and most affectionate 'lil guy imaginable, and when walking him it's like being with OJ, relentlessly looking for the Real Killer. He's beagle through and through, and when he's back on his feet (all four) again, it'll be tough to let him go. Peg, bless her heart, has the patience of a saint...and it is these hapless creatures who are blessed. It's reassuring to know that if I ever get hit by the car, I'll already be here.
School's going well; we continue to fathom the depths of great literature while endeavouring to create some of our own, brushing up on that pesky grammar and vocabulary along the way. My 6th grade football team takes an unblemished (2-0) record into its third game tomorrow. The last contest was a 50-38 slugfest where both teams gained a combined (estimated) 2.5 miles of offense, prompting the refs to call time-outs just to catch their breaths.
This past weekend was poignant in that I wrote my first Dartmouth letter of recommendation for a student I taught in my first year. Heavy, huh? He's National Honor Society, plays a piano like Mozart, and last year played (left handed!) defense for the #1 high school lacrosse team in the country...a real triple threat. Sadly, to paraphrase the Kinks, college admissions today "is a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world," and there are no guarantees. My letter is like the proverbial quarter and a cup of coffee, but we can hope.
I suppose I've finally landed from the high of the row. It lasted a long time; in fact, I received a final $45 check on saturday while at "Family Day" at school...a nice capstone to your own over-the-top contributions. But, truth be told, I earned it. I'd volunteered to be a "target" in a pie-throwing booth, and the eighth graders lined up ten deep to take their shots. Might it have had something to do with the test I gave them on Friday? Anyway, Jimmy (yes, like the beagle, and with a similar devil-may-care attitude) scored a direct hit with a Cool Whip missile; I've never before had every cranial cavity filled to overflowing with Kool Whip, and I don't recommend it. After the stars subsided, I kept hearing Fifth Dimension songs through a paisley haze. Just...weird.
I hope this blogette finds you well, Gentle Reader. As I drive the boat north, I'll be thinking of you-
xxoo
Mr. Frei
It won't be anything nautical; in fact, the boat gets trucked back up to the Adirondacks this weekend on Peg's truck, back to its home waters, blissfully past the frigging Delaware, along the bucolic Jersey shore, over the mighty Tappan Zee, and up the scenic Hudson to its winter home. It'll be odd making a 13-day journey in six hours or so, with no adoring rabble to greet me. Sigh.
So what's up?
I suppose the great domestic news here is our temporary acquisition of a foster dog...our second one in two months...this one named Jimmy. Mobey, our porcine seal-with-legs, was successfully adopted last month and by all accounts is well on his way to domestic bliss. He's lost 8 of the necessary 15 or so pounds that he has to lose to shake his "piglet" moniker, and we wish him well. Jimmy, the newcomer, is a beagle who was on Death Row, and at death's door; he'd been hit by a car and apparently abandoned and was a mess: a broken pelvis (I wasn't sure dogs had pelvises), a broken leg, and various nicks and scrapes.
Happily, Jimmy doesn't really understand that he's supposed to be incapacitated; he's the happiest and most affectionate 'lil guy imaginable, and when walking him it's like being with OJ, relentlessly looking for the Real Killer. He's beagle through and through, and when he's back on his feet (all four) again, it'll be tough to let him go. Peg, bless her heart, has the patience of a saint...and it is these hapless creatures who are blessed. It's reassuring to know that if I ever get hit by the car, I'll already be here.
School's going well; we continue to fathom the depths of great literature while endeavouring to create some of our own, brushing up on that pesky grammar and vocabulary along the way. My 6th grade football team takes an unblemished (2-0) record into its third game tomorrow. The last contest was a 50-38 slugfest where both teams gained a combined (estimated) 2.5 miles of offense, prompting the refs to call time-outs just to catch their breaths.
This past weekend was poignant in that I wrote my first Dartmouth letter of recommendation for a student I taught in my first year. Heavy, huh? He's National Honor Society, plays a piano like Mozart, and last year played (left handed!) defense for the #1 high school lacrosse team in the country...a real triple threat. Sadly, to paraphrase the Kinks, college admissions today "is a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world," and there are no guarantees. My letter is like the proverbial quarter and a cup of coffee, but we can hope.
I suppose I've finally landed from the high of the row. It lasted a long time; in fact, I received a final $45 check on saturday while at "Family Day" at school...a nice capstone to your own over-the-top contributions. But, truth be told, I earned it. I'd volunteered to be a "target" in a pie-throwing booth, and the eighth graders lined up ten deep to take their shots. Might it have had something to do with the test I gave them on Friday? Anyway, Jimmy (yes, like the beagle, and with a similar devil-may-care attitude) scored a direct hit with a Cool Whip missile; I've never before had every cranial cavity filled to overflowing with Kool Whip, and I don't recommend it. After the stars subsided, I kept hearing Fifth Dimension songs through a paisley haze. Just...weird.
I hope this blogette finds you well, Gentle Reader. As I drive the boat north, I'll be thinking of you-
xxoo
Mr. Frei
