Smoke on the Water
Jan. 14th, 2004 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omorkaToday was a half-day at the school. This meant that I got no useful teaching done. I also forgot the district tech survey was today; fortunately, it looks like we can do it tomorrow right before school.
Mrs. G was late to the faculty meeting that she told us all to make sure to be on time for. The math department made merciless fun of her for this. Then it turned out the faculty meeting was mostly about stuff that they could have done by e-mail.
Because the faculty meeting started late, the department meeting started late. Then Mr. D spent 20 minutes discussing a discipline issue that, while important, is essentially irrelevant to me. I have it really cushy this year, discipline-wise - tardies and CD players in advisory is about it. This allows me to focus on what I feel is important, for both me and the kids - but it's far too easy to forget what the 5 new teachers are going through . . .
(Heh. It's mean of me, I know, but even if she doesn't care about it, it is some small comfort to me to hear that K is having the same discipline issues that any first-year has. Even if she is using a godsdamned token-reward system to "deal" with it.)
Then, because the department meeting ran over, the team meeting started really late. We set some team norms (I didn't even insist that people meet their deadlines, just that they let me know if they won't, and when they plan to; Coach D is just absolutely thrilled that it's not *him* I'm bitching at this year), talked about goals (ubergoal: college preparation; we're going to discuss implementation goals in terms of projects and assessments as we go), and worked on how the heck DD is going to catch up. We ended at 3:30. I had to finish my test review on the fly and get it run off; I managed to leave at 4:05 and caught my bus (just barely; yes, car is still broken).
The ride was uneventful (thank the gods), despite a few raging drunks getting on around Sharpstown Mall. I switched busses downtown, dodging grackle guano, and caught the #pi bus homeward.
When I got off the bus, two things happened simultaneously: my necklace fell off, and I was hit by the smell.
That smell. The one that never totally comes out of anything, even cut glass. The one that skyrockets my adrenaline even now, almost seven years later. Smoke - not bonfire smoke, or tobacco, or even mary jane, but the smoke of drywall and carpet and insulation and treated wood. The smell that I've gotten whiffs of from the stuff that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bibulb and the MIL got out of the storage unit last weekend.
Fortunately, the necklace falling off made me stop to catch it, so I wasn't walking when the smell hit me, and so I didn't trip and fall over. I looked around, and - the west half of Cecil's was a charred mess. The blinds were even battered in the exact same way ours had been. Parts of the roof were missing, and there were smoke stains on the brick. (Fortunately, PJ's was intact; it would be a shame if even the wax figure had melted.)
I phoned the Spouse; he ran down (literally; I don't think two and a half minutes passed between my ending the call and his arrival) and we walked around together. It looks like the actual bar end only got smoke damage and some cinders, but the west end (I think the Spouse said it was the dart room) was blackened, and the second floor on that end is a burned-out shell.
Now I feel a little bad about being so miffed about his memory-lane trip earlier this week. I think the place will be rebuildable - the beer-delivery guys, who were dropping off for PJ's as we were leaving, said they plan to re-open - but obviously it'll never be quite the same. (No place ever is. Fire doesn't leave anything the same; it destroys, cleanses, hardens, perhaps even improves, but it always changes.) As soon as he got back here, he phoned the MIL to tell her about it. They're both taking it better than I thought they might.
In other, happier news: did I mention PB is my guardian angel? When we got home yesterday, there was a package addressed only to my first name (I suppose it was easier to spell that way) waiting for us. PB got me a late holiday gift - a copy of the Return of the King art book. Unfortunately, when I called to see if he was going to be at the Black Swan tonight, I got his voice mail, and he hasn't called back, so I haven't been able to thank him properly yet. Mucho chocolate at Movie Night tomorrow, I suppose, will have to do . . .
Mrs. G was late to the faculty meeting that she told us all to make sure to be on time for. The math department made merciless fun of her for this. Then it turned out the faculty meeting was mostly about stuff that they could have done by e-mail.
Because the faculty meeting started late, the department meeting started late. Then Mr. D spent 20 minutes discussing a discipline issue that, while important, is essentially irrelevant to me. I have it really cushy this year, discipline-wise - tardies and CD players in advisory is about it. This allows me to focus on what I feel is important, for both me and the kids - but it's far too easy to forget what the 5 new teachers are going through . . .
(Heh. It's mean of me, I know, but even if she doesn't care about it, it is some small comfort to me to hear that K is having the same discipline issues that any first-year has. Even if she is using a godsdamned token-reward system to "deal" with it.)
Then, because the department meeting ran over, the team meeting started really late. We set some team norms (I didn't even insist that people meet their deadlines, just that they let me know if they won't, and when they plan to; Coach D is just absolutely thrilled that it's not *him* I'm bitching at this year), talked about goals (ubergoal: college preparation; we're going to discuss implementation goals in terms of projects and assessments as we go), and worked on how the heck DD is going to catch up. We ended at 3:30. I had to finish my test review on the fly and get it run off; I managed to leave at 4:05 and caught my bus (just barely; yes, car is still broken).
The ride was uneventful (thank the gods), despite a few raging drunks getting on around Sharpstown Mall. I switched busses downtown, dodging grackle guano, and caught the #pi bus homeward.
When I got off the bus, two things happened simultaneously: my necklace fell off, and I was hit by the smell.
That smell. The one that never totally comes out of anything, even cut glass. The one that skyrockets my adrenaline even now, almost seven years later. Smoke - not bonfire smoke, or tobacco, or even mary jane, but the smoke of drywall and carpet and insulation and treated wood. The smell that I've gotten whiffs of from the stuff that
bibulb and the MIL got out of the storage unit last weekend.Fortunately, the necklace falling off made me stop to catch it, so I wasn't walking when the smell hit me, and so I didn't trip and fall over. I looked around, and - the west half of Cecil's was a charred mess. The blinds were even battered in the exact same way ours had been. Parts of the roof were missing, and there were smoke stains on the brick. (Fortunately, PJ's was intact; it would be a shame if even the wax figure had melted.)
I phoned the Spouse; he ran down (literally; I don't think two and a half minutes passed between my ending the call and his arrival) and we walked around together. It looks like the actual bar end only got smoke damage and some cinders, but the west end (I think the Spouse said it was the dart room) was blackened, and the second floor on that end is a burned-out shell.
Now I feel a little bad about being so miffed about his memory-lane trip earlier this week. I think the place will be rebuildable - the beer-delivery guys, who were dropping off for PJ's as we were leaving, said they plan to re-open - but obviously it'll never be quite the same. (No place ever is. Fire doesn't leave anything the same; it destroys, cleanses, hardens, perhaps even improves, but it always changes.) As soon as he got back here, he phoned the MIL to tell her about it. They're both taking it better than I thought they might.
In other, happier news: did I mention PB is my guardian angel? When we got home yesterday, there was a package addressed only to my first name (I suppose it was easier to spell that way) waiting for us. PB got me a late holiday gift - a copy of the Return of the King art book. Unfortunately, when I called to see if he was going to be at the Black Swan tonight, I got his voice mail, and he hasn't called back, so I haven't been able to thank him properly yet. Mucho chocolate at Movie Night tomorrow, I suppose, will have to do . . .
