The Missing Chicken Pot Pie

"Daddeeeeeeee, where's my chicken pot pie?  I want my chicken pot pieeeeeeeeeeee."

Diego was throwing a tantrum.  It was one of those tantrums that his teacher would be shocked to see; I'm told that my first grade students who behave wonderfully in class still behave this way at home on occasion.

"I don't know, I'm looking for it.  It isn't in this freezer, and I checked the garage freezer.  Be patient.  Let me check this one again.  Maybe its underneath something in here."

As I rummaged behind the frozen peas and underneath the ice packs, Diego stopped in mid-cry.  "Oh!  I just remembered.  It's in the car."

"The car?  Why is it in the car?"  I wondered out loud.

"It put it in the middle thing last week when we went to the grocery store.  And I left it there."

"Oh, boy.  Let's go look."  We went back to the garage, opened the back door of the car, and I pulled down the armrest.  As I opened it,  a deadly gas hit me in the face.  Chicken pot pie gas.  Chicken pot pie gas that was formed during the hottest week of the year, during which the inner temperature of my car surpassed 130 degrees.  Every day.

"Oh!  Gaaaaaaaa!  Yuck! Awww!"  I gagged.

Diego looked, sniffed, and said, "Oooooofffff."

He thought.

And then he continued his tantrum.  

"I still want my chicken pot pieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

Alameda Homes

Alameda is an island community in the East Bay area of San Francisco.  Near Oakland, Alameda has been described as the "midwest of the Bay Area" and "Mayberry."  It truly is like stepping into another world.  A dear friend of ours lives in Alameda, and opened her home to me last week when I took Amelia to her university.  The home below was built in 1908 and has withstood multiple severe earthquakes.  During the 1930s, it was divided into several apartments.  Our friend lives in one of them.

Captivated by Alameda, I took a walk with my camera.  Come with me and take a look!

The GOP's Got a Boehner

From the headlines:

House Republican leader John Boehner called on President Oba------wait a second, his last name is really Boehner?  OMG could he possibly have a worse last name?  I don't think so!  Oh the jokes that must have been made at his expense!  I can just hear them now.  Hey John, did you pop a Boehner?  Where's my math book cuz  I've got a Boehner----ma Wednesday to fire his economic team. But his comments also offered a glimpse of what the would-be House Speaker might do differently if the GOP retakes the House in November.

Stream of Consciousness Blogging: A Mellow, Sexy GPS

The world as we know it has changed here on Wisteria Lane.  As shown in the previous episode, Amelia is now living in San Francisco and studying political science in preparation to go into civil rights law.  Even though she has been gone for extended periods of time visiting her mom since she was seven years old, the house feels different.  I don't hear her slamming closing doors or taking a shower or playing her music or blow-drying her hair or telling Diego to be quiet or playing her violin or coming home long after I have gone to bed.  

I've been feeling a sense of gratitude for some of the modern conveniences that we enjoy now compared to when I went away to college.  When I wanted to talk to my parents, I had to call long distance on a land line, but keep it very brief because of the expense.  So I wrote letters.  I wrote a lot of letters.  It took two days for them to be delivered and then if my mom was quick on her turn-around I might get another letter three days after that.  Now, of course, long distance costs nothing.  Email and texting cost nothing.  They're so fast and easy and efficient.  And gratifying.  Those instant responses make a parent feel much more at ease!

But you all know that already.

I also used a GPS for the first time this week.  I got a new phone--an Android--and I thought it was nice that it came with GPS but I didn't think I would really use it all that much.  Schlepping around San Francisco in unfamiliar parts of the city sure was easier with GPS!  It saved my hiney a time or two.  Although I have two complaints about it--first, it turns itself off for no apparent reason, which can be highly annoying if I'm about to make an important turn but can't remember exactly where.  And the second thing I don't care for is that it only has one voice:  A computerized, nasal sounding female voice who doesn't know how to pronounce Spanish words.  For example, she kept saying "Lake Merst" instead of "Lake Merced" and "June-ippi-row Sarah" instead of the name of the famed monk who was a key force behind California missions and settlement in the 1800's,  Junipero Serra.

I really would rather have a mellow, deep, sexy male voice tell me where to go and where and how I should get off.  

But alas.

When I said goodbye to Amelia the final time this week I was wondering if I would cry.  She kept asking if I was going to cry, too.  But I didn't.  She didn't.  I just fake cried and said in my whiney, upset crying voice, "Fine, you just go now and live your life.  Without me."

Another case of me using humor to deflect my true underlying emotions.

But then again, I am so thrilled that she is so thrilled that is very hard for me to not feel more thrilled than sad.

While I was gone --while I was sick--our school had a very big surprise.  California State Superintendent of Education, Jack O'Connell, stopped by our little school for a surprise visit.  Out of the thousands and thousands of schools in California, he stopped by our little school, just to see what our award winning school was like in person.  And I missed it!  He called our school "an oasis."

And now it seems that this particular stream of consciousness has come to an end.

I'm Suzanne Whang.  Thanks for watching.

Mimi Moves North