So I'm home -- like, home-home in upstate -- for the first time since I moved, almost two years ago. The house has changed a bit; improvements include skylights in the wooden living room, and also, no more dial-up internet. THANK GOD.

So I'm here. Ithaca is dreary and gray, but it wouldn't be Ithaca if it wasn't spitting rain the moment we drove in. At least there's no snow on the ground at the moment.

Mom and Dad's cats are tiny! I'm so used to Lilly, the hugest cat in all the land, that I forgot then when cats can run and play (and kill wild things) in vast fields like the ones around our house, they end up all skinny and whatnot. Very different from our apartment-only cap, who only hunts bottlecaps and prefers flopping to dashing.

And now, to write a novel until Mom gets home from work.

Here's a hometown anecdote for everyone, from my drive home ten minutes ago.

You know when you see a deer right by the side of the road, and realize that if you were going faster, or it had jumped out, or any number of other factors had been different, you would have hit it? The momentary panic/relief thing? I just totally had that happen to me.

Except replace "deer" with "cow".

In other news, you want to know how awesome my life is? Today I got up, went to work, stayed there for thirteen and a half hours, and am now going to bed, so I can get up and go to work tomorrow! You so wish you were me!

This has come up twice in conversations with friends in the last 30 hours or so, and so it's been on my mind; this post will probably be long and rambley, and possibly won't make any sense to anyone who didn't grow up in Newfield or a comparable town. There's no real point to it, and writing things with no thesis bothers me, so I apologize for that in advance.

( Girl from a small, white town meets the concept of diversity. )

>to my former students: the wheel of time stops for no one, and time has
>come for me to retire. i feel so fortunate to have had a job that i love,
>and for that, i have you to thank. thank you for keeping me young (in
>spirit, at least!). thank you for your hard work and constantly giving me
>new ways of looking at things. thank you for the time you were willing to
>give to me and various projects we worked on. thank you for making my job
>productive and fun at the same time. thank you for letting me be a part
>of your lives and for enriching mine. i can only hope that i have made a
>difference, and as always, you all have my best wishes for happy and
>fulfilling lives. sincerely, byron williams

Didn't I tell him specifically when I graduated that he was not allowed to retire, ever, under any circumstances (including death)? Because without Mr. Williams, how will students understand functions and fractions, let alone calculus?

Anyone who has heard me talk about high school knows that Mr. Williams had a huge impact on my life. He was my math teacher for four years; because of him, I took two extra years of math--he wouldn't take no for an answer when I said I didn't want to, and no one in her right mind disappointed him. He made math interesting and understandable, even to people who hated it and otherwise wouldn't have understood it.

He was the best teacher I have ever had, in my entire life. Period. End of story.

He was also the National Honor Society faculty advisor, and used that as an excuse to go out of his way to never get a teaching award. We awarded them, and he removed himself from the ballot every year. Which was ridiculous, because every single student and teacher knew he was the best and deserved the recognition.

He was the only teacher I have ever loaned a CD to, and one of the few I emailed after gradutaing. Most of my best memories of high school are from his class.

My brain just can't comprehend the fact that now, students at Newfield aren't going to have him as their teacher. It might not feel like the end of an era to anyone else, but I can't imagine how different my high school life, and the person I am now, would be without having had Mr. Williams' class.

Well, I'm home safe. The ride was long, but not as long as usual because the train actually (gasp!) ran on time the (gasp gasp!) whole way! Also, because Liz from the library lives in Syracuse (she has a Wegmans' shoppers club card. Kickass, yo.) so we sat together and gossiped and whatnot. That was fun.

Meanwhile, I've glanced at the damage in my room but haven't investigated totally yet. A lot of the ceiling came down, but it's been cleaned up so it's less freaky looking than I feared. There's plastic pinned up over the gaping, gaping hole and my stuff has been piled in the opposite corner of the room for me to sort through and get rid of most of.

So really, that's the news from my corner of the world. Valentine's was nice, and I must say, raspberry white hot chocolate? Best. Thing. Ever.

First, mad props to anyone who gets the title quote. (Can I say things like "mad props"? I don't think I can.)

As for what it refers to...

I may have occasionally whined in here about how my room at home leaks and how irritating that is, in terms of destroy the ceiling of the room, as well as the floor; making it impossible to clean (not that I tried very hard...) and generally being a gross pain in the ass.

So Mom just signed on to IM me that the ceiling in my room has collapsed. Or at least, a significant section of it has. They rescued some of my stuff, but basically my job over break is now to clean out everything and box it up, and clearly I won't be staying in there, I'll be in the guest room.

Should I point out this is the second room in under a year where the ceiling has fallen down?

Yeah, Mom and Dad are moving as soon as my last tuition check clears next year.