Heart of Dixie says . . . Blackened Bloom
It’s been that sort of day. The kind you don’t want to write about because you don’t want people to think you are a whiner. So I won’t give you the details of my day, only that I was tired and cranky and probably PMS-ing.
So I g0t home and remembered that there was a used blooming onion in the fridge. I was starving – which only added to my cloudy mood. I proposed to put it in the toaster oven and eat it as a pupu (or appetizer as you haolis say). (I’ll explain the Hawaiian thing later.) I log on to facebook and BOOM! I have a blackened blooming onion. Time flies when you open that facebook page.
“Is something burning?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess it is. Good thing you like things burned.”
But now I feel better. I was hungry, so at least that part of my crankiness is gone. I still rather feel like whining, however. Until last year I was an at-home mom like my cuz. I tended to complain that moms didn’t get a lot of at-a-boys from working at home, which is true. Ah, but now I’ve been through a couple of jobs while trying to find my way in the world. I’ve decided that I “sho” don’t like teaching high school, or even middle school. Not really sure how I feel about community college, except that I don’t particularly like grading papers (but that’s not really news). Now I have this job that would give me huge at-a-boys if I would just stop working long enough to write reports about what I am working on.
Now, as a wife and mother, I don’t think spending time on a report rather than . . . say . . .picking up the kids from school . . . would have gone over really big. I’m sure no one wanted a report that said, “Today I spent 3.75 hours making sure you had clean, folded, ironed clothes. I think they were more interested in the clothes (when they weren’t complaining that I mixed up whose was whose). In fact, I think if had known that I could have wasted as much time on reports at home as I wasted at work this week, I could have watched “The Biggest Loser” without guilt (that I was wasting time). I am, alas, just used to doing the work, not quantifying it.
Even as a teacher, I never said, “I graded 30 sucky paper for 8.5 hours this weekend.” They were more interested in getting them back from me, really. I never said, “Prepared lecture on ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ and ‘Barn Burning’ for 6.25 hours.” It would have been excruciating to stand in front of a class and say, “Well, I really have no idea why the Snopes are so messed up. Y’all are dismissed early.” Reporting on the work seems a whole lot less important than doing it in that world.
Nope, I haven’t done much quantifying in my life, and I will admit that I don’t like it. To me it seems like a waste of time. But then I’m not the one who decides who should stay and who should go if the money should dry up. They need numbers to crunch to make those decisions. The thing that disturbs me is that there is no way t0 quantify revision, but that’s another blog.
So, the bloom as blackened (and soggy and not-quite-right), but it was food. It was spicy (like a good life – the one I have now), it was paid for (like my car), and it was about 48% complete. It took about .25 hours to eat, and this post took about .50 hours to write. I will now, enjoy my “family” for the next 2.75 hours when I will take off my make-up and get ready for bed. I will prepare Thanksgiving left-overs for about .30 hours, eat them for about the same (no credit for eating), and finish off that hour with washing up. Good night and happy calculating. 🙂