Mildly annoying that we won both of the items that we allowed J to bid on at her silent auction. One item, a fleece blanket with horses printed on it, is rather nice for J. She has been wearing it around the house like a bathrobe. The other, a giant popcorn bowl containing a bunch of junkfood and a couple of DVDs seems like a colossal waste. J, however, is delighted with the whole thing ~ and now we owe the stable another hundred dollars. I'm reminding myself it's a good cause.
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I've been missing B since the semester changed. I hadn't seen him since the end of January. But today he passed me in the lobby of the school, and waved and grinned and shouted, Hi Ms P! Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me! This is our standard greeting now. I said, Hi Bryan! Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me! even though we were much too far apart to actually touch one another.
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At soup group on Friday it is my day to provide the main course. I decided on spaghetti and meat balls. Meat balls are not something I'd normally have much to do with, but the soup group has a lot of testosterone-ish men in it who like their meat. So I've spent the last two nights rolling and cooking a billion meatballs and simmering pots of sauce. All that's left is to figure out how to make thirty two portions of spaghetti that are ready at the right moment. It's not something I have much experience with (or interest in), preparing meals for big groups of people. But I only have to pull it off the one time. Shawn and J hovered around the kitchen, watching me with amazement, and demanding samples. They didn't know I knew how to turn on the oven.
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7 comments:
Trying to prepare spaghetti so it can be carted elsewhere and served tasting perfect is indeed a challenge -- and I am not sure how you did that.
You and Bryan are cool and obviously are attuned to each other.
Those damn words that I have to decipher at the bottom to prove that I am not a robot is a challenge. Am I not a robot? We'll see.
I love meatballs! I think that's mostly because I love meatloaf and meatballs are like little meatloaf hors d'oeuvres, which is really perplexing because I rarely eat meat. Maybe I like meatloaf because it doesn't have the texture of meat, and neither do meatballs. None of this is relevant to spaghetti, per se, but it's what your post made me think of.
Aside from my above 'aside', I have to say, I'm curious about how the "don't touch me" greeting between you and B evolved. Must be a therapist or drama thing. In fact, if I could get away with it, there are many times I would like to substitute "Hi" with "Don't touch me."
my 'non-robotic' phrase is: ityse epiza. Now that's kinda fun to say...
Jerry, I asked the internet how to do that and it told me to cook the spaghetti at home for eight minutes, drain it, and store it in freezer bags. Then boil new water and drop it in for the last two minutes right before serving it. And it really did work, except that I made about ten times too much. So I sent the leftovers home with kids whose families could benefit from it.
Bridget, I think the meatballs were very similar in taste and texture to meatloaf. And I agree with you that it's nothing like regular meat... which is odd. My lovely student, Bryan, is autistic and he does not like being touched. He says it feels like electricity on his skin. When he was in my class he used to pull up his chair right next to me every day and greet me that way, Hello, don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me. Yet would sit very close to me, trusting me not to. And I started saying it back to him so it just became our weird little thing. Sometimes now I say it to Shawn in greeting too. Heehee.
I really have no experience cooking for a crowd. Even for parties, I make lots of smaller dishes.
That's probably a better idea. Don't think I'll try that again. It was exhausting.
I love Brian.
I had a pupil once who had a mixture of Autism and ADHD, and quite a nasty combination for the poor chicken. I didn't really feel I had made in-roads. I went away feeling I hadn't as well. But one thing which became a catchphrase and continues to be is, 'Go away! Go away! Stupid, stupid, stupid teacher!' I used to roll my eyes with H and ask, 'What has stupid, stupid, stupid teacher done now, eh?' It was rare that you felt the lights were on, but I swear a little smirk went across his face as he shoved his battered Pokemon toy in my face.
I had not had spaghetti in months. I have had it twice in the past week. I was not aware that you were exuding such powerful spaghetti vibes across the waters. But obviously you are.
xxx P
Wow, autism and ADHD. Hard to be anything but a stupid, stupid, stupid teacher when you're dealing with that. I think it's just as frustrating for them as it is for us. Haha, who know I could exude spaghetti vibes. How weird and wonderful!
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