Zooted. Fried. Zonked. Going Into Friday and a Long Weekend Like...

My id thinks it's clever and can drag my ego and superego into a holiday weekend with oceanic dreams, but they know there's papers to grade, projects to look at, and planning to occur. The id says, "You must find time to play and, with extra time, you can be stupid for a couple of hours and chill out," but the other two recognize it all kicks off again on Tuesday and it is a marathon of tasks to be prepped for.

I will get through it, and I will run and walk the dog. Those are my salvations.

Really, I only want a Cadbury egg.

When I was a K-12 teacher, April to May was a hold-your-breath exercise of portfolios, culminating projects, senior trips and graduation. I was FRIED by those events. I realize now, however, that those experiences were preparation for what I do now which is 364 days a year (I give myself Christmas).

I'm of the ilk that the more and more they make the teaching profession an undesirable, impossible job, the more I want to counter them with possibilities, opportunities, and hope for a better world.

Ah, but this morning, I have the good and bad angels whispering in my left and right ears. I want to be on the shoreline soaking in the rays and watching the pelicans and waves. Instead, there's the pulling and resistance.

We got this. We have to!