Last week sometime, as I was driving home with my girls one evening, chatting amiably with them, we arrived home and I went ballistic in a sudden and furious spate of rage.  I stopped my cordial talking mid-sentence. I was really, really, pissed off all of a sudden.  Why, you ask?

Because my parking spot was taken.

I blew my top. I blew my horn.  I got out of the car and yelled at the empty street. I got into the car and sat there fuming. I used choice vocabulary.  All because of a parking space, you ask?  What the hell?

It was an emotional reaction, so there’s part of me that wants to say, hey look, I can’t really explain it.  I was just mad. Really mad.  I can tell you the rationalizations that I have for expressing so much rage.

It’s fairly simple to rationalize this reaction.  You have to know something about my geographic location:  I’m live in a neighborhood in the city of Philadelphia, in which day after day, our particular streets are usually pretty empty and there’s ample parking. This is not true of many neighborhoods in my city, but it is true here. Usually, if someone is in “my spot” I just park a few feet down from there.  However, it’s February, and our street is still extremely cluttered with a foot of snow that fell several weeks ago.  There are two spots on my side street, which are clear of snow, and which are MY SPOTS because I spent several hours clearing them.  Shoveling heavy snow and ice to make it possible to park there.

The custom around these parts is not to park in people’s spots. It’s just considered bad manners.  People will put out chairs, or other obstacles to make this clear, most of the time.  I had recycling bins out to mark our spots.  It turns out that my husband hadn’t put them on the street, however, when he had gone to work, so someone had parked a big pickup truck right in the middle of my hard-earned parking places.

What particularly made me angry was the fact that a driver of such a large, rugged truck with its large, rugged wheels really should not have had much trouble parking on the un-claimed, poorly cleared, icy areas on the other side of the main street.  He or she did not need to park on my clear, dry, parking spots. Yes, spots. For this truck had not only taken up ONE space, no indeed. He or she had parked in such a way as to block BOTH of them. It made me unreasonably angry.

I had my tantrum in front of my two girls. My girls rarely see me angry.  Sure, there’s the occasional spat with my husband.  Or I get peeved about politics or other idiocy. But they hardly ever see an example of my on a full-on, furious, demon-like rampage.  I was beyond agitated. I was loud, and outrageous. I wrote a nasty note, which my seven year old read over my shoulder.  She commented that she wouldn’t say the note out loud as it evidently contained a word which she’s not supposed to know, let alone use.

Smart kid.

But now, it’s quite a few days since my tantrum, and I’m thinking it all over, trying to see what part of the human condition is illuminated by all that noise and bluster. I simply didn’t need to make such a big deal over having to park somewhere else. There was another place to park, after all, even though it was trickier, further from home and covered with a dangerous, slippery, pile of ice.  But I did, because I just felt like I had to, express that rage.

I’ve gone through a range of emotions while processing my own “bad” behavior.   I was self-righteous at first, because I am a hard worker and I shouldn’t have had to work for some jerk to take away my hard-earned prize. I was embarrassed, after a bit, because of making such a fuss.  But now I’ve come to the new rationalization, that I did myself some good that evening.  I let myself and my kids know that when I feel, really feel mad, that I can express that emotion.

I can let it out, and then let it go. Let it out, people.  And then let it go.  That’s is the moral of this blog post.

It appears that Americans are gardening more now than they have in the past 10 years. (This is according to a survey conducted and published in the journal Random Musings, Vol. 1, issue 1.) What are we all growing? I think that it’s safe to say that most people are keen to grow their own tomatoes, and I am no exception. I have been wondering what varieties to try.

Last year tomato growers up and down the East Coast of the US suffered mightily by excessively wet weather that led to a tomato disease called BLIGHT.  There are two types: EARLY and LATE. And the name of the this plant disease is pretty misleading. The blights are not the same fungus, but actually two different ones.  Either way, EARLY and LATE BLIGHT are bigtime plant killers that affect both potatoes and tomatoes.

I anticipate that BLIGHT will come again this year. Why? Because it is necessary to take certain garden sanitary precautions to prevent its return. With all the novice tomato growers out there, they are unlikely to bother. If they don’t their ground will harbor blight spores. Which are airborne.

So to protect my crops, I’m looking into preventative measures. For one thing, healthy soil with good drainage. Another is to plant my tomatoes in the sunniest locations available to me.  Finally, I aim to clean out my garden beds and mulch with fresh mulch.  As a last resort, there are organic copper-based anti-fungal sprays which can also protect plants from the blight.

The blight sounds serious and it is serious. Apparently, the great potato famine in Ireland was caused by this wide-spreading destructive fungal infection, as it affects both potatoes and tomatoes alike. Growers beware!

Today was a beautiful summer day. I spent a lot of time outdoors, and created a new raised flower bed, where I planted purple shamrocks and white impatiens.

I know there’s a lot of work to be done, but I’m feeling so much better thanks to summer being here. There’s still some big challenges ahead but I feel like I can face them.

I seriously have to wonder if I should continue my teaching job. On the one hand, I do enjoy it. On the other, it sure did give me a lot of stress this year. Annoyingly, even though my performance was evaluated by the community, I STILL have not received an evaluation from Personnel. I did hear from them verbally (”You have nothing to worry about…”); nevertheless, I feel really annoyed that I haven’t been given my evaluation letter or any official feedback.

If they weren’t going to take my evaluation seriously, what did I need to have so much stress and anxiety about?

And sadly, it really all boils down to one family. One cuckoo family can have such a horribly big negative impact on my psyche? That seems really unfair. If not for this one family, this one child’s problematic behavior, would I have spent the last month of school feeling like a mental patient?

The relief I feel is truly tangible. But what about next year? I can’t help but ask myself… is that kid coming back next year? Rumor has it that he might not. Of course, there’s always conflict, in any job. Could be anyone, any kid– and I have to be strong enough to handle it.

If this was trial by fire, then the question is whether I am now forged by fire, or just burnt out? I will think about this, more.

Yesterday I managed to put more plants into the ground, in spite of the hungry bunny patrol that has once again hopped through and under the fence around the garden. Damn those cute little bunnies!

Apparently they like petunia blossoms, as well as little baby sunflower plants. The “sonic spike” which buzzes every 30 seconds apparently has no effect on bunnies. Well, it was worth a try. I think I might have to go with a hot pepper spray on the ornamentals to deter bunnies. I’ve also started to add a layer of chicken wire around the fence, in hopes of closing up the holes a bit more, making it more challenging for the little critters to enter the garden.

I’d LOVE to be able to just go and do more garden work, but the club where my community garden is located is not yet open full time. It is only open on the weekends until June 22, or thereabouts. So far, I’ve put in 3 varieties of tomatoes (Early Girl, Roma, Yellow Pear), four varieties of basil, three peppers, cucumbers (seeds just sprouted!), sunflowers, petunias, marigolds, cauliflower, watermelon (seeds), green beans, yellow wax beans, and swiss chard (seeds). I’ve filled about two thirds of the space!

I also have eggplant and okra which I’d like to grow, as well as cantaloupe. I also want to add nasturtiums, but don’t have any plants or seeds as of yet. I read that nasturtiums are good for protecting / helping melons. I would really, really, really like to see my melons succeed this year – both cantaloupes and watermelon. As I recall, the bunnies are pretty fond of watermelon vines as well as the tender petunia flowers that they gobbled up so far.

My mind could get full just on garden thoughts alone.

Yet there’s so much more going on in my brain right now. There’s tax issues to be resolved with the city (again?!?). There’s summer camp, which I’m running for two weeks, (one week from now, yikes!). There’s shopping to be done for Carla’s horseback riding camp (she needs some low boots.) There’s the never ending housework — and the house currently is a real wreck. UGH!

There’s so much, I’m overwhelmed. I do wish it was just time to think about the garden and nothing else. There’s also the yard and the hedges, and the gardens at home which need attention. I’d happily give it to them, too, but for the other house work which needs doing.

I also have to get a large amount of book-keeping, billing, and bill paying done for the small biz that I am putatively running. You can’t pay bills if you don’t send out the billing, and you can’t send out the billing if you don’t enter the book-keeping information. And you can’t keep track of bills if you don’t enter the expenses into the computer! ARGH!

Nasturtiums. I need nasturtiums.

I went to PennDOT today to get my photo taken for my driver’s license.

Now, I know, and you know, that driver’s license photos are always unflattering, right? But PennDOT is kind and wise, or maybe just kinda wise. They let you see your photo before it is printed on your license. You can do it over if you don’t like it. As much as you want.

My first try was awful. I’d tried to smile, and it just looked like gas, or something, and WHOAH, HELLO DOUBLE CHIN! Yikes! I asked her to do it over.

The second try was better, but also looked bizarre. Who is that crazy lady, was my first thought. Then I remembered, oh yeah, that’s me. The smile was kind of rictus-looking, but the chins were a little less obvious. The hair looked okay for a crazy lady.

On the other hand, a few nights ago I went out to a party* with Drob, and I got all dressed up. I even put body makeup on my boobages. Glittery boobages! I borrowed a swanky sexy red dress and did my hair and put on makeup. I can’t believe there are people who actually do that every day! Ok, not the dress, but the rest of it. Everyone told me I looked great (hot, beautiful, pretty, awesome, etc.) That was nice. Should have gotten my driver’s license photo done that night. Of course, that isn’t possible, and there’s something wrong about getting your driver’s license photo taken when you are stumbling around, having had too many mojito’s.

Still, and anyway, it’s good to know that I can clean up nice from time to time. I had the worst headache ever the next morning, but I don’t regret it at all. It’s not like I made out with random strangers and puked on my shoes. THAT would be a crazy party.

*Fundraiser for school! Does that count? Yes, it does, because I got kinda drunk and danced around in a distinctly undignified way.

Yesterday Drob told me he was concerned that I seemed “out of control.”

Oh, I thought, you noticed?

Only, I don’t know if “control” is the right word. I think maybe slightly out of order might be accurate. I don’t really feel right. I am not getting enough done, perhaps. Or I’m finding myself in these brain loops, my thoughts disorganized and swirl from one topic to another.

Last weekend I also stayed up all night and didn’t even feel tired. I felt perfectly alert and just kept doing housecleaning. I was doing very thorough cleaning. I cleaned WALLS and FLOORS. I scrubbed down places that hadn’t been cleaned, well, ever. I took down a dirty curtain from a window, washed it, was dissatisfied with the result, and then I attempted to dye it red. It came out pink, but I like it anyway.

Was that a manic night? I wonder? I did it because my mom was coming to visit. I did it because my house seemed to be so dingy and dirty. I did it because I was worried about Lucky, and rightly so, since he died a couple days later. I wanted to get my house to a comfortable state.

Now, we’re a few days later. The house is falling apart again. I guess this house really requires a daily vigilance, and for that, I don’t seem to have the where-with-all.

Daily laundry, daily dishes. What I’m doing instead? I’m thinking. I’m reading email. I’m relating to people. I’m thinking and planning for my job working with children. I’m researching projects for the summer camp I’m going to run. I’m wondering how to get more kids to sign up for camp. There’s much to think about– and my internal dialogue sometimes prevents me from getting things done in the real world.

This morning I didn’t feel like taking a shower. I’d taken one yesterday, and still felt perfectly clean. But D wanted me to shower– we used to always shower together. (Most couples do this, right?) I just wanted more sleep. Am I slacking in my hygeine? Is this a depression thing?

My real test for whether I am having bad depression problems is when thoughts of death go through my head. This hasn’t been happening, at least not like it did in the past. I have had fleeting death thoughts, like WHAT IF kind of thoughts, which are not the same as COME HITHER, OH GRIM REAPER or the sad, self-hating kind of I DESERVE TO DIE, I AM A VILE PIECE OF TRASH…. these thoughts have been unwelcome visitors to my mind in the past.

I am glad that I’m not thinking these kinds of thoughts, as they are very upsetting. I am mostly doing pretty well. A few times recently, however, I’ve found the kind of death thought showing up that run along the lines of “Oh, dear, it would be such a SHAME if I couldn’t go to work today, like, if I got run over by a bus because my shoelace was undone and I tripped and the bus driver happened to not notice me…..”

Or, “Gee, I sure hope my kitten wasn’t actually rabid and we didn’t know it…. he did bite me three times. I sure hope I don’t die from rabies. Who would teach in my place?”

These implausible, unlikely, and uncomfortable thoughts of death are quite fleeting. But are they a symptom of my depression worsening? I guess I could ask my doctor. Wouldn’t that be a revolutionary thought?

It’s here, my week off from work. But I don’t feel happy and relaxed. I feel stressed and pressed for time. I have a bunch of things that I would like to do, and I don’t know where to begin. At the same time, I want to curl up under the blankets and nap all day. At the same time, I want to go see 3 films today, it’s the last day of the Philly Cine Fest. And there’s approximately 75 loads of laundry that need to be done. Because Carla has no clean pants to wear. She’s literally walking around the house with nothing on her lower half. And it is chilly. We had HAIL earlier for dog’s sake. And we’re out of cat food. And there’s meat in the fridge that needs to be cooked into something. And there’s a pile of dishes the size of Miami in the sink. And the living room needs painting. And the garden needs tending. And there are accounts to be balanced. And. And. And. And.

And the kids say I should make crafts with them. And go to the zoo. And. And. And.

And I have my period. And I’m out of tampons.

Code red — high likelihood of parental freak out.

Oddly enough, it’s the squeakiness of my left shoe, that seems to be irking me the most. I’m not at all flustered by the play dates, only mildly disturbed by the massive pile of dishes (oh HAI, dishes, you back again?! %^?!@@#!). I’m just a little bugged by the kitty in heat who makes a lot of those little eeping and beeping noises, and who keeps stepping on my hands as I try to write this blog post. The fact that she’s a stinky little cat doesn’t bother me, and it’s rather cute the way she demands physical affection constantly.

But my shoe. UGH. My Damned Left Shoe!

You see, I’m a very weird woman, this much my friends all know (and hopefully love, for the most part). I pretty much wear the same shoes and the same (style, size) jeans every day. (I have about 8 pairs of the same damn jeans). My shoes are Dr. Martens, and I love them dearly. But OH NO!!! I have worn out the bottom of my left shoe, and it has a little hole which leads to the air pocket (Air Wairs! Yay!), and that air pocket goes Squish, Squish every time I step with it.

I hate shoe shopping. (another sign that I am not a normal woman, right?) So I usually shop online for shoes and have them shipped to me. After all, I always buy the same brand, same size, so not a big risk. But you know what??? GRRR! I can’t seem to find the right shoes for me. Even the internet is against me.

And as I walk around trying to get things done around here (and there is MUCH to do), Squish, Step, Squish, Step…. UGH. I am going nuts from this.

Watch out world, the entropy level of the Pann household has hit an all time high, and the sound of doom goes Squish.

UGH! So much anxiety lately, so little posting to the blog.

Yesterday I actually spent about three hours working on a self-evaluation document for work. I hate how much anxiety I feel about my job. I love the job itself, especially when things go well. I’ve been doing this job for over a year now, and yet I still don’t feel relaxed at work.

Part of the problem is the work environment. I feel like I am being covertly judged by the other staff members at all times. I feel as if they don’t like what I am doing but won’t say what it is that they want me to do differently. I feel like every staff member has a different opinion, a different set of rules. Each teacher’s rules are fine for them to use, but not mine. It’s very uncomfortable, this sense that all is not right with the job.

And yet, when I sat down and wrote up my own self evaluation, I think I have been doing a very good job. If you look at the facts: kids are happy and safe. Parents — with perhaps one or two exceptions — are happy on the whole.

So what I suspect is that I am just insecure, and that other teachers are by and large NOT unhappy with my work. Again, with a notable exception. It’s crazy, but true — having one vocal critic can really undermine my sense of confidence.

I am not about to say to them that they can’t do things their way. Although I am sometimes tempted to do so. What pisses me off is that they seem to be saying that every teacher gets to have their own way of doing things, except that MY way happens to be wrong.

It’s hard to develop confidence when there is nobody helping you reinforce your decisions. When I try to find out what the rules are, I’m told that you have to make up your own. That seems really, really stupid to me, but I am game to make up my own rules if that’s what is wanted.

Except that I HAVE my own rules and certain people come along and give me a hard time because my way of doing things, my style, and my rules aren’t apparent to them.

One of these people told me recently that she doesn’t care about her evaluations because she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. She says she knows she’s bitchy and so what? If she’s bitchy to someone, it’s because they deserved it. Nice attitude, huh?

If I could try to cop that kind of attitude, what would it sound like? Here’s a fantasy conversation:

Bitchy Staff Member: Pann, OMG, you CAN’T let the kids DO that!
Me: Says who? I’m the teacher here. BUTT OUT!
Bitchy Staff Member: I would never allow that! This is ridiculous!
Me: Get out of my classroom, I don’t give a shit what you would allow or not allow. This is my group. Bugger off, bitch!

Hmmmm…… maybe I should try that!