Dream

Dreamed that I drew the card of a wisewoman looking for employment. olliesmama drew three cards representing three different kinds of wisewomen, representing her, amberfox, and iroshi. And they were evidently looking for someone to relocate and help them out.

There were other things going on in the dream too, involving lots of kids, and dogs, and swimming pools, and rain, but that was the thing I woke up remembering because I had to.

Still morning

Dragged self out of bed.

Came to school.

Zombied through lab.

Missed most of Sandstrom's battle with his firewall. (Problem: not allowing DNS info through, and not able to get anywhere online because of this.)

Slept/read, finishing the end of Take a Thief.

Invited whatsuphx18; he's the one from the GSU meeting who I was sharing palm files with.

I think I'll wander now, and prepare for Lit.

*sigh* Focus, memory

As is totally not surprising, Little Fayoumis is not remembering what people tell him to do, and is not doing his work unless constantly reminded to do it.

This is at school, too.

Joyyyyyyy.

Well, that's better.

He's perfectly capable of sitting down and doing something, including homework, without stopping, if he understands it and is thinking about doing it rather than about how hard it is and how he doesn't want to be doing it.

We had a horrendous time with tally marks until I finally put aside the homework sheet, and got him started on understanding the concept in the first place, which was the key. Once he got it, he was off like anything. And then he colored the animals and he cut out pennies and pasted them how they were supposed to be, and now he's measuring alligators with Lego blocks (we don't have any unifix cubes, sadly, which is what he was supposed to use at school).

Now he's having a delightful time.

I've been telling him that yes, this is what he should be doing when he's doing his schoolwork, and good job doing it now.

Fayoumis food

Well, we kind of have a balance of erg at the moment. I started making more of the truffles (I make the centers first, of course) and he was curious about the whipped topping. I gave him a taste, then he decided to go for more -- without permission, and with grubby hands.

He had to wash, not lick, his hands clean before standing in the corner.

On the other hand, he made his own sandwich, and is happily munching on carrots -- with blue cheese dressing, as we're utterly out of ranch dressing. I told him that it was different before substituting it, and told him that he might or might not like it, and if he didn't, he didn't have to finish it (I prudently gave him a small helping) but he had to eat the carrots regardless.

He's happily munching the carrots with the blue cheese dressing.

I do plan to give him the bowl from the truffle centers for dessert. I think he'll enjoy that.

Hear ye, Hear ye! Little Fayoumis now has more ways to miss "making his day"!

Little Fayoumis's behaviour at school is measured with a simple catchphrase: "Did you make your day?"

This involves good behaviour, following the rules, not shoving in line, not saying bad words, not hitting, sharing, doing as told, following instructions, and the like.

• Perfect behaviour: his day is totally made, and it had damn well better stay made.


• Pretty good behaviour: his day has been made.


• Okay behaviour: his day has been made.


• Questionable behaviour: his day has not been made, but he still has a chance to earn back certain things.


• Bad/unacceptable/abysmal behaviour: his day has not been made.

I've introduced a new criterion. Not only does his general behaviour have to be up to par, but he must also do all of his school work at school. Today, he brought home one homework sheet, and three sheets of undone schoolwork. Half a sheet of undone schoolwork, I could see. Even three sheets of half-done schoolwork. But three sheets, only one of them half-finished? No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

So. He must now do all of his schoolwork at school in order to make his day. I've told him so, and in such a way that schoolwork is distinct from homework. Homework, you're supposed to do at home. Schoolwork, you were supposed to have finished at school.

I'll write a note to his teacher and stick it in his folder.

Ahhhh.

Marx is now home. Yay!

As I'd contemplated, I made myself a chocolate Irish cream milkshake. Good stuff, that.


Good book, good milkshake, and I may well be crashed out before ten. Go, me?

Shopping, wardrobe (Queer Eye for the Bi Girl)

For those who know me locally, they know that these days I am more often than not seen wearing all black, from neckline to wrist to ankle. In Phoenix, Arizona. In the summer.

As a concession to the brilliance of the sun, I wear an enormous pale blue floppy hat, with a slightly darker blue band, and a very large and silly floofy ornament-thing. (It's not a flower. I don't know what else to call it.) The hat is made of plastic fiber, and it's from the dollar store.

My shoes match it, being pale blue canvas sneakers.

I am what one might politely call 'unique' in my appearance, in summary.

My new school buddy is a fashion-conscious British gayboy. He is threatening to take me out shopping to get me clad in a pretty new flowery sundress -- or else new shoes and hat, both black, to get me color-coordinated.

Ordinarily, I delight in shopping. Somehow, though, this strikes me as sinister in some way...