Arch-Nemesis

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting on the couch minding my own business, when suddenly there was a buzzing sound in the window behind me. I assumed it was one of those big, fat spring flies that gets in the house, concusses against the window in a futile escape attempt and dies. I didn't even look to see it. I just kept pinning. Pretty garden pictures, make your own limoncello, DIY wasp trap, mini soup-can cakes.

Today, I heard it again, and turned around to see. It was not a fly. It was a yellow jacket.

Yellow jackets are one of the few bugs that scare me. I hate them. I rolled up a magazine to smoosh it on the window, but it kept moving into the blinds. I didn't want to squish it in the blinds, because they are awful to clean. So I remembered the DIY wasp trap and made a makeshift one out of a wine bottle.

The dang yellow jacket has been sitting on the outside of the trap for the last three hours.

Which leads me to believe that it is, in fact, not a yellow jacket, but a tracker jacker sent to make me crazy and then kill me mercilessly. So I named him Jack. And we taunt one another while I wait for him to crawl into the darn wine bottle filled with delicious wasp-enticing juice and he waits for me to slowly go insane. He might be winning.

My Secret's Out

Last week a student's cell phone rang in class.

No big deal. Say you're sorry, ignore the caller, and let it go to voice mail. Right?

Or alternatively, answer because it's your Gram-Gram.

Then your Spanish teacher yells at you for a while until she feels you are sufficiently chastened. She uses words like professional, respect, and dumb-dumb head.

All of a sudden, another student stands up and points at her! He says, "Mrs. S! What did you do? You just got mad, but you didn't get mad! You are a robot."

That's right, my little friend. I am.

And you'd better be thankful I'm so self-differentiated, or else all y'all would be rocketing through the trapdoor in the floor into a lake of hungry piranhas after being smacked upside the head with your mobile telephone device.

Lies!

I try not to lie. At all. This last week has been truly tempting. Read the stories and decide for yourself if you'd do the same in my place.

Student: Mr. N said you're turning 42. You look really young!
Me: Um, thanks.

Me: Leche is the word for milk. You can't tell if it's masculine or feminine just by looking at it, but it's logical. Therefore it is...
Student: Feminine!
Me: Good! It's feminine, so use la for the.
Student B: Wait - why is that logical?
Me: because only females produce milk.
Student B: Male cows don't produce milk?

Now at this point, if I were a good person, I would have just said, "Actually, all cows are feminine. Male ones are called bulls. Female mammals are the ones who produce milk." But the lie (stolen from a devious coworker who regularly tells his students this) slipped on out:

Me: Yeah, the milk of male cows is poisonous. You can't drink it at all.
Student B: What?? I had no idea!

So ultimately, this is a story of how I lied to innocent children. And during Lent too. And liked it.