Field Trip

Well, It's official. I have lost my mind. I am leaving my school at 10:30 in the morning to board the "old" school bus to take 27 freshman geography students on a field trip. I guess it's true, the "OA" has me and now I have lost what little brain cells I didn't burn through at an Aerosmith or Snoop Dog concert. By the way, my older cousin by two weeks, who just got sprung from the "big house" informed me that I suffer from "OA." That's his nice way of telling me I'm old. "OA" means "old age" and it seems, he took a couple of sensitivty classes down at the pen and he's trying out his cell-block psych on me.
PS. The field trip was a success. I took 27 students to the zoo and brought 27 students back to school. No animals were harmed during this adventure, but the CiCi's Pizza will never be the same.

Rah Rah Girls

Well, it's official. I did something terrible in a previous life and I am currently being punished in this one. I am the Booster Sponsor for the pep squad at the high school where I teach.
I've been teaching for eleven years and was the yearbook sponsor for eight of those years and spent two years as the seventh grade class sponsor at the inner city school with the reputation as the worst school in the parish. The school wasn't that bad and the children were by no means bad enough to earn that label. Changes in administrations both at the school and "downtown" helped create an uncomfortable situation that was trying at best for learning, but I digress.
Any ways, at my new school , which by the way, I love, I am the Booster Sponsor. It is my job to see to 36 young ladies' (they don't like be called girls, but one day ten years down the line they'll dream of someone calling them girls.) needs; wants; marching skills; dancing abilities; hair emergency needs; uniform fits (too tight, too loose, too long, but never too short); shoe locations (never where they're supposed to be); football player adoptions; basketball player adoptions; regular boyfriend adoption jealousy issues; and any and all other drama events. Oh man, I'm tired.
I think when I thought about my mid to late forties, I hadn't planned to be on a school bus with 37 screaming, singing, giggling, crying, girls on an extremely old and suspiously sounding school bus tearing through the dark Louisiana night on our way to a football game in a town I can't pronounce and it shows no bars on my cell phone.
Wish me luck. I'm getting old and I don't know if I can adapt enough to set up house at the new football field, but I just know my boosters will be beautifully dressed, marching proudly with their heads held high and their boobs thrust out catching the eye of every football player on field. We can only hope it's our team's eyes their catching. Yeah Rah!

Thank God My Head Didn't Fall Off

Today is the 20th anniversary of the day I broke my neck. Yes, I know, it's obvious I had a head injury. HaHa. Now everybody knows where I get the ideas for all the crazy shit in my head. All kidding aside, I am probably one of the luckiest people on the planet. What are the chances I could live through a head-on collision in a convertible Volkswagen and live to tell about it. Not only live, but suffer no major permanent damage. God was definitely looking out for me on that day.

One of my good friends and I were on our way to the outlet mall in Shreveport, Louisiana, when a drunk driver decided to drive down the middle of the highway. I'm not sure about a lot of the details of that day, but I remember the "drunk car" perfectly. It was a white Ford LTD with a burgundy landeau top being loosely steered by one tore-up redneck. As I tried to dodge this monster car coming at me, I ended up being run off the road and spinning out of control across the on-coming traffic and flipping ass over head to land in a ditch beside the railroad tracks. I know the car flipped three times, because I had three separate fractures in my neck. If I close my eyes and get real quiet, I can still see and smell the grass on the side of the road as it came toward me. Lucky for me, the parish EMT's were having disaster training four miles down the road and they were to the wreck in an instant. I was also lucky it was lunch time for the workers of Caspiano Plantation, because they saw the entire thing and came running.

When the three men from Caspiano Plantation got to me all I could think about was the fact that the car was still running. I just knew that any second the car would burst into flames and I would have a lot of explaining to do to God. I knew the car was going to explode, because they always do on television and in the movies. Once again, lucky for me that's usually not the case in a car wreck. After the plantation workers cut my hair (it was wrapped around the roll-bar) they dragged me to a nice grassy area and tried to ease my worries by telling me I didn't look too bad except for the huge swelling area on the back of my head and neck. It seems that's a sure sign of a broken neck - that and the fact that I couldn't move my head.

When the EMT's got to the scene their first thought was to put me in a helicopter and fly me to the nearest hospital. There was only one thing wrong with that plan - I'm terrified of flying and I refused to ride in the copter. I know, it seems that my fear of flying would have been outweighed by my fear of permanent head, neck, and back injury, but no - I was still scared to death of flying. I opted for the nice safe ambulance and a ride to the local Catholic hospital. I kind of knew there was something bad wrong with me and I wanted to be as close to God as I could get. I figured that nuns would be a good place to start. Once again, lucky for me the Catholic hospital was Shumpert Medical Center and they specialized in head and neck injuries.

After a frightful stay in the emergency room where I came to the incorrect conclusion I was paralyzed (I was touching the sand-bags on my neck thinking they were my shoulders and was freaking out because I couldn't feel it) I was fitted with neck braces, screws, rods, and other assorted metal headgear, shot full of morphine and demorayl and sent to a room. Man, who ever discovered morphine and demorayl deserves one of the best seats in Heaven. These are some wonderful drugs. After about ten minutes, I didn't have a pain in my body or a care in the world.

When the neuro-surgeon came to see me the next day he showed me my x-rays and explained I had three compound bursting fractures of the spinal column. I had fractured C-1, C-2, and C-3 vertebrae and was his first patient to live through that type of injury. Not only was I alive, I had no neurological damage and was able to walk after three days. The nursing staff, doctors, and nuns of Shumpert called me the miracle girl and explained just how lucky I had been. It seems that the higher up on the spinal column you break, the more things to go wrong. I should have been dead or at the very least paralyzed, but instead I was going to be okay. I stayed in the hospital for only three weeks and except for the occasional crick in my neck from a bad mattress or a change in the barometric pressure, I'm doing fine. I guess it's true, God looks out for fools, drunks, and babies. Just call me God's little lucky fool.

The World of Reality Shows

Well, it has happened again. I am stuck watching a stupid reality show. I swore I would never watch another one of these damned shows after I devoted way too much of my time to the latest season of American Idol. My neighbor and best friend, Debby, managed to talk me into watching Idol and it took control of my tv viewing life, not to mention the effect it had on my real life. I found myself planning my activities around a television show on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Some of the teachers I work with decided to take dance lessons on Wednesday nights and wanted me to go with them. It sounded like a great idea, until it dawned on me that's the night the Idol results are aired. I even went so far as to take notes on the singers performances and compare them with other twisted little Idol viewers. To top off my Idol sickness, I was devastated when Chris was voted off the show three weeks before the finale. I just knew he was going to win. He was my version of the perfect idol - a bald - headed hard rocker. I even found myself sad when poor little deaf elf-looking Elliot said goodbye the week before the finale. When the season ended, I swore off reality shows. Well, that plan has been shot in the head with my discovery of So You Think You Can Dance.

My newest obsession, So You Think You Can Dance is the brainchild of the evil genius who invented American Idol. These guys are raking in money hand over fist with this latest show. Now they have an addictive show going year-round. I don't think Dance is as popular as Idol, because so far I haven't had trouble voting. I've been able to get through on the phone each time I've called to vote, unlike my luck with Idol. To top off this new habit I have, I'm starting to get attached to the little dancing people, and the majority of them look like little bitty people. I just love the little ballet dancing elf, Justin and Yuri from the Ukraine or Croatia or where ever the hell he's from is too cute to watch. I can only hope that the two of them do well in the show, so I can continue to feed my habit. On the off chance they are both eliminated soon, I can always get my reality show fix with Rock Star which to me is American Idol on crack.

Whatever happened to the good old days of television viewing? I used to be quite happy watching police dramas, Jerry Springer, and wrestling. At least then I knew all the people were actors and all the action was fake.

June 12th

Today is my birthday and my birthday has always been very special. Not special because it was the day I was born on, but special because of other things that have happened on June 12th. Below are a few "Special June 12ths"

• 1922 Hubs Pruett of the St Louis Browns struck out Babe Ruth three (3) consecutive times.
• 1935 Louisiana Senator Huey P Long made the longest speech on Senate Record - 15 1/2 hours with 150,000 words.
• 1942 Anne Frank received a diary for her 13th birthday. Millions of school children read her diary - The Diary of Anne Frank yearly.
• 1944 Nick Picinich married Clytie Frazier in the rural southern town of Dry Prong, Louisiana.
• 1960 Cynthia Omanda Picinich was born and went home to live with wonderful parents.
• 1997 The United States Department of the Treasure introduced a new counterfeit resistant $50.00 bill.
• 2006 David Emory Laird got fitted for angel wings.

Today at 6:10pm, in his own bed in his own home with his wife and children surrounding him, David Laird lost his battle with cancer. His body may be gone, but the memories and love he left behind will never die.

I like to think that there were several people waiting in line to welcome Mr. Laird to Heaven. I know my daddy was one of the ones in line. He was the one probably talking to everybody around him and not hearing a word they were saying to him. Mr. Laird will know how to communicate with him. Pa (Mr. Laird) will tell Daddy a joke and Daddy will laugh even though he hasn't heard a thing he said.

Here's a joke for Pa: Boudreaux's buddy came over one night and saw that Boudreaux was working on a jig saw puzzle. Over the next few years when the friend came over to visit he would see that Boudreaux was still working on that same puzzle. After the fourth year, Boudreaux was all excited and wanted to show his friend the finished puzzle. Boudreaux told his friend, "I think the box was mis-labeled, it says Jig Saw Puzzle for four to eight years. It only took me four years to put it together."

The Other Daughter

When I was twelve years old we had new neighbors move into the house at the end of the street. The Laird's were an Air Force family and Mr. Laird had been transferred to England Air Force Base in Alexandria, Louisiana. At the tender age of twelve, I had no way of knowing this family would become more than neighbors, they would become part of my family.

Of course the normal neighbor kid stuff occurred: I met the oldest daughter and thought she was the coolest "grown" person I had ever known; I crushed on the older brother; I broke the youngest daughter's arm - by accident! We were playing "Blast Off" and she was incredibly light and aero-dynamic - she sailed through the air; and the middle daughter and I bonded and to this day, thirty-five years later we are still best friends. We will be friends for ever and ever because we know way too much about each other to ever try and sever the bond :) It's kind of like Lucy and Ethel meet Thelma and Louise. We always said we would probably be old spinster women living on opposite ends of the same street. It's true, I live on the corner of Moser Drive and Debby lives at the end of Moser Drive, and living in between us is one of the sweetest men God ever had the joy to create. David Laird, Pop, to his children and grandchildren, has been one of the constants in our neighborhood for the past thirty-five years. "Brother Dave" never met a stranger and never met a person who wouldn't benefit from his endless repertoire of "Boudreaux Cajun" jokes.

Whenever a holdiay would roll around I would usually gravitate toward the end of the street and spend part of the day with the Lairds. This happened so often that Pa started calling me "the other daughter." I never knew how much I needed to be "the other daughter" until my own father took ill. While Daddy was in and out of the hosptial over the course of two years, I found myself turning to Pa. The Laird house had never been a Coca-Cola house until one day Pa noticed I drank Cokes. After that day, whenever he went to the store to pick up grocery items for his family, he always made sure to buy Coca-Cola Classics for "the other daughter."

As time wore on, it became obvious to all who knew me that I was having to prepare for a life without a father. When Daddy died on September 16, 2003, I transferred a lot my feelings to Mr. Laird . At family gatherings he always made sure "all" his girls were present and accounted for. When I was grieving over Daddy and at a loss of what to do and where to go, I knew I was welcome at the end of the street. Pa lead by example. He extended his hand and love to someone who needed a father firgure and his family graciously accepted me.

It's hard to lose your father. My heart cries for Debby, Teena, Linda, Richard, and Scott. My heart breaks for Mrs. Laird who is loosing her friend, husband, and mate of sixty-one years. I grieve all who knew David Emory Laird and I grieve for those who will never get a chance to meet this wonderful man.

Listen to this joke: Boudreaux goes to the doctor complaining of a terrible pain in his arm. He tells the doctor " Doc, oh it hurt when I lift my arm above my head" "What should I do?" The doctor looks at him and says "Don't do it!" :) I Love You Pa from The Other Daughter

The Movies - Part Two

Here's a list of the best movies (in my opinion) of all time:

Jurassic Park (Any and All)
Gladiator
Jaws (The Original Only!)
Holiday Inn (Bing Crosby sings and Fred Astaire dances)
Robin Hood, Captain Blood (Errol Flynn and Olivia de Haviland were cute together)
You've Got Mail (Tom Hanks, need I say more?)
Philadelphia (See Above)
Coal Miner's Daughter (Who knew Sissy Spacek could sing?)
Pirates of the Caribbean, Chocolat, Edward Scissor Hands (All Johnny Depp, except Secret Window - It scared the piss out of me!)
Dracula (Any and all, even the cheap, tacky, campy ones)
Moonstruck
Men In Black (First One Only)
Torch Song Trilogy (Harvey Fienstein in drag is hilarious.)
The Princess Bride
Cinderella (Rodgers and Hammerstein's with Lesley Ann Warren)
Troy (Naked Brad Pitt Butt :) and Gorgeous Eric Bana)
The Godfather (James Caan was hot!)
The Poseidon Adventure (Shelly Winters was cool.)
The Mummy
Stargate
Sergeant York and Friendly Persuasion (I love Gary Cooper.)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (First and Third, the second one sucked.)
James Bond (All Sean Connery and a few Roger Moore)
The League of Extra-Ordinary Gentlemen (Sean Connery)
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Burl Ives and Paul Newman are wonderful.)
A Christmas Story (You'll Shoot Your Eye Out!!)
Disney's Jungle Book (Look for the Bear Necessities)
Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club (It was the 80's, What can I say?)


I'm sure there are more wonderful movies, but I'm tired and my mind has drawn a blank. It's time to go watch a show.

Going To The Movies

I have nothing poetic, note-worthy, or even highly amusing to write about today. I just got the idea to talk about my favorite movies.

I remember the first movie I ever saw in the theater. It was Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis in "Pardners." It was at the Paramount Theater in downtown Alexandria, LA in the early 60's. I'm not sure of the year, but it was probably around 1968 or 69. My little cousin, Jennifer, was with us and she was about two or three years old. She was old enough to walk, well, run up and down the aisle until the manager told us to corral her or he would call our parents to come get us. The Paramount had a balcony and a seperate area for the black customers. We also got in trouble for going to the colored section and swinging on the curtains on the stage. The more I think about it, I don't remember much of the movie, just the side antics we were involved in.

The next movie I remember is "The Godfather." Daddy and I went to see it at the Don Theater in Alec (Alexandria for all the local people) and I fell in love with James Caan and to this day will watch any and everything he's in. That's also the year Daddy started taking all four of us kids to the drive-in theater. He would load us, our lawn chairs, snacks, cokes, beer (for him and us when he wasn't looking) into his 1968 GMC truck and away we would go. Mother stayed home, as this was her time to catch her breath and relax away from us. We would start watching our movie and before the night was over, Rodney, Larry, and Jr. would have their lawnchairs turned around trying to watch the porno movie on the far screen. I usually fell asleep half-way through whatever movie was showing and I'm guessing once I was out, Daddy joined the boys in the back of the truck trying to get a look at the naked people.

When I got old enough to go to the movies without a parent, my bestfriend (Debby Laird) and I went to see "Jaws." She drove her mom's Dodge Polaris to the Alexandria Mall and we flirted with boys and tried to act like this shark movie didn't scare us. It didn't until the man's head fell out of the sunken boat and Debbie screamed and almost peed her pants. This has to be one of the best movies and one of the best startled scenes in movie history. We still call each other whenever it comes on tv and watch it together. Every time the head falls out of the boat, her breathing speeds up. Guess she forgets that part.

My daddy passed his love of "sword movies" on to me and Larry. We can sit and watch them all day and all night. Pirates, gladiators, Robin Hood, whatever; as long as there's a sword fight going on, we're happy. My mother loved vampire movies and anyone who knows me knows I love vampire movies. If it's an old Christopher Lee or Frank Langella "Dracula" leave me alone and let me watch the blood suckers.

I think I'm going to go watch a movie.... Maybe "Jurassic Park" or "The Day After Tomorrow" I just love a good disaster, dinosaur, science fiction flick.

Ooh, "Sixteen Candles" is on tv. Don't tell anyone, but I like the Molly Ringwald movies. :)

I'm Back!

I know it's been a while since I last wrote, but believe it or not, I've had nothing earth shattering to share. That has changed. School is out in three days and life is good! Now, don't mis-understand me, I love my job, it's just that summer vacation can't get here soon enough.

For those of you who don't know, I teach 9th grade English. Although, this year I am also teaching World Geography, Civics, and Free Enterprise. I made the mistake of telling my new principal I had a degree in Social Studies and English and now I am the newest Social Studies teacher at my school. It's not too bad. In fact, I like the World Geography course and the kids in my Civics & Free Enterprise class are great.

I say I'm a high-school English teacher, but the last couple of years I apparently lost my mind and took a job teaching middle school at an inner-city junior high. God, was that an experience. I also went crazy and for four months "tried" to teach 7th and 8th grade Special Ed English. I couldn't get out of there quick enough. Now, I'm happily back in the high school environment, but I digress. Summer vacation starts in three days.

I plan to give finals on Monday (tomorrow) and Tuesday (the next day) and then say good-bye to my kids for two and a half months. That's the plan. Of course, several of them will be at the school house on Wedsnesday to "help" teachers clean their rooms and pack books for the coming year. I say "help", but they mostly just want to hang out in the classrooms and talk about each other and be the teacher's friend. That's okay for some, but I personally don't need any 16 year old friends. I had 16 year old friends when I was 16 and they always got me in trouble. Chances are, things haven't changed that much.

As soon as I can leave on Wedsnesday, "I am a gone pecone." (I don't know where that crazy saying comes from, but my baby brother, Rodney, uses it all the time and I just love it.) I'm going to call Amtrak on Wedsnesday afternoon and book two seats on the train to Philadelphia and make arrangements for the dog to go to the dog hotel and then I plan to sleep for about two days. Ah, summer is looking good.

Oh no! I just looked at the school calendar and school starts early this year. We lose two weeks of vacation. Summer vacation is shrinking and it's not even here yet. This must be some kind of government plan to turn teachers into regular people with "real jobs." This isn't right! Something must be done! Of course, it won't be done during the summer. Everyone knows, teachers can't function in the summer. Wait until September and then the shit will hit the fan.
Hope you have a great summer!