Lenkaland

So February has been rough around here.  My husband most likely has three days left to work.  He works at our local county government, networking computers and backing up files like . . . all the government stuff.  California is in a terrible budget crisis so the budget-crunchers (whoever they are) decided to cut workers from the county.  They are imposing the bump-down strategy.  Everyone is offered the position below them on the seniority ladder (although . . . who does the work at the top?).  Anyway, the bottom rung is bumped off the ladder.

About a year ago, he got pormoted to a new department.  No one told him he lost his senority and he risked everything to make the move.

Nope, only now do they pull convoluted Memorandum of Understanding rules that say he has no right to previously held positions.

All month, I keep waiting for the news to change.  Someone to leave.  New funding allocation.  Something.

Nothing.

And the scary part is we have our of our health benefits through him.  I work part time, on disability, and have nothing.  We are . . . on a rough road.

Hopefully I’ll have better news in the next few days.  But time, as they say, is running out.  And the stress around here is unbelievable.  Deep breath.  One day at a time.  As ever

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Yesterday Anika found my old Palm from the late 1990s.  She reminded me about my other late-great gadget, the Palm Tungsten.  She used the color Palm while Ian played on the monochrome Palm.  They shared great-grandma’s chair again.

She happily showed Ian how to draw on the touch screen.  Amazing to see the kids with these museum-pieces of technology.  I remember the Palm Pilots as gifts, the big new breakthrough of those times.  And now they are glorified sketch pads.

Ian learned how to climb onto the step-stool and reach into the silverware drawer.  We’re in for a few years of crazy-forks

Then our Super Superbowl Party.  Mom and Dad and Paul and Mila came over. We feasted on traditional Superbowl treats like Giovanni’s Tasty Wings.

And non-traditional international delicacies

Grandma worked all morning for delicious dolmas

Then I served up Chlebicky, Czech sandwiches.  Yes, our family likes anchovies.

Anika pulled out boxes of dress up.

Fairies and princesses and a prince served tea at halftime.

Anika cheered for the colts because they were horses.  She was so disappointed when the tide turned against them.  Then she reflected on games.  Someone must lose.  And it’s about having fun along the way.

We sure had fun.

My adorable niece.  Another angel among us.

Good times with Grandma

We ended the evening with a rousing game of Jump Over the Couch.  Ian perfected the head-first technique (onto a tall pile of pillows).  Super-fun Superbowl.  We can’t wait for next year’s game!

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We carried home your art.  Cleaned out your cubby.  Gave big hugs to your teachers.  And now we’re home for the summer (except for going to school to clean Mama’s classroom but that doesn’t count, really).  Kindergarten is memories, now.  Memories of hobby horses at recess.  Your favorite was the black one with a white blaze.  You called it Black after the Black Stallion which you pronounce stayon.  Recess was kitty games and horse games and running away from boys.

Your year was fun and wild and sweet.  You were brave and strong and playful.  You made friends with everyone.  You started writing letters, letters strung into words and you said you would write stories like Mommy.  I am so lucky to share this year with you.  I’ll never forget the fierce hugs at recess as I brought my class outside and saw you there.  You came running and swept into me like a summer storm and I could barely let you go.  You were ponies and fairies and Star Wars princess this year.  You were a chocolate cupcake with pink frosting.  You were the blue sky.

Your brother was born on the first day of school.  You have carried him in your heart and in your arms this year.  He sees you and breaks into fearless happy grinning, trying to jump out of my arms to get to you.  And you introduce him to your friends.  You protect him when kids are eager to be close.  You want him to stay in class all day.  You have welcomed him into the world with a beautiful, graceful guidance.  He is so lucky to have you for his big sister.

You loved art and stories this year.  Though you would not let me help you with reading skills.  We practiced letters with Go Fish games and books, but you pull the book from my lap with quick determination.  “Let me read it my way,” you say.  And I must admit, your way is often more colorful and interesting than the words printed on the page.  You loved Little Fur Family and Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed (which you read for Royal Reader) and Go Dog Go.  You know your letters and sounds now, and soon you’ll be choosing whether to read those printed words or whether to keep on making up your own stories. Or both.

You brought a stuffed animal to school every single day of kindergarten (thank you Teacher Linda!).  Mostly cats and puppies, but hamsters too, and horses, and the robot-duck.  You brought them in baskets with blankets and told me all about their day alongside your own.

You were so excited to see Buttercup’s baby chicks that hatched in class.  Buttercup the fluffy white chicken was such a good mom with all of you five year olds so curious about her.  I remember those little chicks nestling under her at one day old.  A chick peeking out from under one protective white wing.

Animals visited for real.  A kitten and a puppy and a hamster that escaped and it ran over your leg and scratched you a little, but that was okay because you still want a hamster.  Sorry, not going to get you a hamster.

Forever I’ll remember your beauty and your creativity and your delight in everyday kindergarten.  Growing seeds.  Paintings on the wall.  Books to read.  Ladybug of the Week.  Calendar.  Weather graph.  “I think I’ll pick windy today because there is a lot of wind, right Mom?”  I’ll remember your serious noticing of the world around you.  The way you started writing cards for me and Daddy.  The way you said, “Pick me up at 2 o’clock.  No, 3 o’clock.  Why are you here so early, Mom?”  And how you fell asleep in the car driving home almost every day.

Even you, in these last days, have said, “Why?  It goes so fast, Mom.”  And yes, it goes way too fast.  You are a first grader now.  And as I tuck you in you smile up at me and say, “Can you believe it?  I’m in first grade!”

And no I can’t.

And also of course I can, look how ready you are . . .

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Be glad if your child does not attend a California public school.  Be glad if you do not work for a California public school.  Or a county in California, or the State of California.  Be glad if you pay your own health coverage or your childrens’ health coverage.  Be glad if you do not have an emergency in California, say a fire or earthquake in your neighborhood.  In fact, be glad if you are not in California right now.

Things are bad.  Really bad. Billions of dollars bad.

And the money must come from somewhere.  So the theory is that government trims the unnecessary spending.  Just as families change their lifestyles to fit a budget, so must the state.  All right.  Except the cuts come after years of cuts, and any family cut down far enough will find themselves living in a cardboard box beside a ditch.  Any school kids want a nice color-the-walls classroom?

The cuts are so massive, millions of dollars for the county, millions for school districts, and the only real spending on that scale is salaries.  People.  There is no 2.5 million dollar paper-and-pencil budget in the schools.  So class sizes go up as teachers are laid off.  Two classes of 30 children saves a lot of money over three classes of 20 children.

For the state workers, they get mandatory furloughs and/or reduced hours.  Yet the workload remains the same.  The population that is being served has not changed.  So those workers must accomplish more in less time or let tasks slide.

Then, as positions are cut, that work doesn’t disappear.  Just because a position is eliminated doesn’t mean that their work disappears.  So those with jobs, the lucky ones, must pick up that workload and somehow fold it into the already reduced hours.  A friend has a difficult choice right now.  Her department has been slashed so much that her forty hour job now takes about fifty hours because the support staff is gone.  She is supposed to work 30 hours a week.  She can either do mediocre work or quit.

Oh, and she hires lifeguards.  Not something you really want someone to skim through.

Another money-saving strategy is to slash a high-paying position.  Then go to that person and say, “You can leave, or you can take the position lower on the payscale.”  That person takes the lower pay, bumping that worker down and down until the one at the bottom ultimately loses their job.  So the department keeps the high ranking skills, yet pays everyone less.

Needless-to-say, morale is threaded with barbed-wire anxiety.  We don’t know what will happen next.  We cannot plan for the next school year because we do not know what will happen with the budget.

Solutions?  If they were easy, we wouldn’t be in this mess.  But I hope we can start thinking beyond cuts.  Or cutting money and services alone.  For example, let’s cut State Testing.  Those booklets, procedures, and reporting sheets cost millions.  Let’s hold fundraisers, a bakesale for the State of California.  Because really, the schools that depend on State Funding will hurt the most.  Schools where families do have funds to supplement the cuts will get through this with less impact for kids. Your creative ideas?  Post them here and I’ll compose a letter to send to State Officials.

Time to think outside the box.  Cause that cardboard box by the ditch doesn’t seem so third-world anymore.  Seems like it might be closer than we thought.

Oh, and what are your front-line stories working for state, county, education, etc.?  How is your life, or your childrens’ life, changing?

Hope hoping for brighter times.

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Great article in the New York Times here. Play for kids, even at school!

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I don’t really know how to structure this post.  I started an inner-musing about Twitter-stories contained in the limited characters, and how those short snapshots open doors to wider stories.  Mine starts with a few simple words.  Deepest sympathies to . . . and Send good thoughts to . . . so I click on those and read through posts that may be important or mundane, until one stands out, like far from my sick child.  So I go to the poster’s webpage.  And my heart simply breaks.  Shatters. 

Two families, both burying young children, little Maddie and little Thalon.  I did not ‘know’ either family before these tradegies.  And the world is steeped in sadness.  I  ache for their losses. 

For awhile, the blogs were haunting.  A silence that I knew was false because posts on the social networks shared terrible news.  Instead, the blog shared a hospital entry.  Pray for our baby.  Then, a picture from a few days before, a week before, where a baby is smiling or playing or pensive and it all crashes down.  Our incredible fragile sense of security.

Perhaps the stories woven through these blogs, these journals online, even the social communities, are bigger than we ever realized.  Perhaps by the white lights of these monitors we will reach one another in ways we never dreamed possible.  Our compassion will wrap around the world and the walls will fall.  We will share our stories.  Our grief.  And a family that we never ‘knew’ becomes our own.   

Today I look to the clouds and I see new angels.

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I was so happy with how this skirt turned out!  It’s very simple.  The main fabric was about 3/4 yard.  I bought a yard and cut a few inches off to sew Anika’s Mama/Daughter skirt (finishing that soon).  The trim fabric was a half yard.  And I found decorative bias tape with embroidered detail for the hem.  Perhaps I’ll add a close up of the hem later.  I cut both pieces in half and sewed them together, then cut a slight A-line to them.  I sewed a casing for elastic along the top and the pretty bias tape along the bottom and, ta-da!  My fancy new skirt.

I think I’m hooked.  We have a great fabric store locally for these great prints and more, but I’m curious if anyone has online sources that they love.  I’d love some more eclectic fabrics.  Also, if anyone’s interested, maybe I’ll do a walk-through one day.

Happy happy Easter!

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New frontiers in LenkaLand. I joined twitterfeed to post blog entries to Twitter and Facebook, which hopefully won’t lead to too many duplicates with Twitxr and Youtube posts.  The entire spiderwebbing of aps is starting to boggle me.  Aps being a word that I didn’t know two months ago, yet it feels entirely common today.  Aps are the applications that link these services together.  For example, I use the Flickr Ap (or Widget) in WordPress to automatically post my pictures on my website.  It’s quite a knotted little world, really.  So, the breakdown of what I have going on today:

LiveJournal and WordPress for blogging/web site (WordPress is better with the Widgets so I can post Flickr pictures and Twitter updates straight to my website)

Facebook and Twitter for social networking and quick posts

Twitxr to post pictures right away into Facebook and Twitter, and Flickr for organizing said pictures

Youtube for videos

Now Twitterfeed for automatically posting links from blogs to twitter and, thus, Facebook.

It’s incredible power and incredible bewilderment .  Linking them all together isn’t difficult.  There’s usually a link to aps or widgets on the page.  Now all  I need is an ap to organize all of my aps

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No torture!  Hurrah!  Let us be the shining light.

I am a proud American again.

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