Searching for our next meal

Rach and I went to St. Louis yesterday to see Alicia Keys. I had been looking forward all week to not simply the concert, but to eat a good meal at a restaurant that doesn’t have an apostrophe s after its name (i.e. Chili’s, Applebee’s, Chevy’s, etc.). So we walked into a restaurant downtown and both of us almost immediately realized we made a mistake. However, once the hostess asks how many are in your party, I always feel locked in. There’s no turning back at that point. It was a dim, candlelit place, which I know from past experience means expensive. In addition, we’re dressed like people heading to a concert. The rest of the people there looked like they were on route to a juvenile diabetes benefit at the Four Seasons. Sure enough I opened the menu, looked at the prices, and tried to figure out how we were going to get out of the place for less than $100. I don’t know if it was the sticker shock, but I couldn’t find a single thing on the menu that I was hungry for. (If I’m going to pay $47 for a steak it better be the size of the Gateway Arch.) The waitress came up and took our drink orders. You know you’re at some ritzy place when they ask you if you want spring or sparkling water. Honey, just bring me the one that’s not going to put an extra $6 on my bill. Just as the waitress starts to walk away she looks at me and say “Eww, you’ve got something in your hair.” As I reach up to remove the leaf, twig, or soon-to-be-maxed-out credit card, she says “Oh no, don’t touch it.” After asking for directions, I make my way to the restroom to discover a three-inch long pile of bird crap in my hair. By the time I got back to the table I was so embarrassed that I just wanted out of there. I made up some lame excuse involving Chex Mix or Nicole Richie or pickles or the crisis in Darfur. I was so frazzled I can’t even recall what I said now. Anyway, we got out of there and headed to our second choice.

The other restaurant was located inside Union Station and both of us remembered eating there another time we were down there. We checked in at the hostess stand and waited a couple of minutes for them to clean a table for us. We were seated and saw a waiter frantically moving from table to table. Another guy came over to take our drink order and brought them over quickly. And this is basically the end of the story because in the 25 minutes that followed no one came to take our order. We kept trying to make eye contact with both our original waiter and the water boy but it was no luck. Finally we just got up and left. I’d like to say that the third try was something more glamorous than the food court but it wasn’t. Rachel headed to Subway and I went to some generic Mexican place. I was so hungry by this point that I would’ve eaten a baggie of clipped toenails. I ordered the #5 meal, a taco and a quesadilla. The man gave a curt “No. Nachos only.” Are you kidding me? I gave him a simple “no thanks” and just resigned myself to eating some lousy chicken strips at the show. As I sat down and watched Rach eat her sandwich the man yelled over “I have beef taco and quesadilla.” I’m not sure where it magically came from, nor did I care at that moment. I said that I’d take it and I have to say it was one of the most delectable (albeit greasiest) meals I’ve ever devoured. I guess the third time was the charm.

At the concert it was the weirdest mix of people. To our left sat an old couple who I’m still not sure why they were there. I mean the man was so old that I wasn’t sure that he was going to make it through the entire concert. The last thing I needed was paramedics crawling over me using the defibrillators to try to revive him right in the middle of “My Boo.” Sitting directly in front of us was a white haired gentleman and a woman who at first glance I actually thought was Yoko Ono. She wore a floor length kimono and sipped delicately out of a water bottle the entire show. A man two rows in front of us kept using his camera phone to take pictures of women’s rears when they passed him. I just imagine him with a scrapbook at home, cropping all of his pictures from each concert he goes to. As he finishes he sits back in his recliner and compares them all: “Well the tush at Alicia Keys wasn’t bad but it can’t compete with that Beyonce booty back in ’06.”

Before the concert started they had a DJ come out to warm up the crowd. His name was, follow me on this, DJ I-ROK. Get it? I Rock? Uh huh, that’s about as creative as it got. When I think of DJ’s I think of the guys behind the duel turntables moving the records around with their hands to make a really cool sound. (That description officially made me the whitest guy in Scottrade Center last night.) Instead this guy just let like 25 seconds of a song play and then proceeded to yell over it. To make matters worse he said the same three things over and over: 1) Make some noise St. Louis!; 2) Who’s ready for Alicia Keys?; 3) Say yeah! Hell yeah! At one point he said "Let's go back old school" and I've never felt more elderly in my life as the opening beats of "This Is How We Do It" echoed throughout the arena. Um, ya that was on a mix tape I made my senior year of high school. I am now officially old school. Ne-Yo opened the show and the best thing I can say about him is that he comes across as a second-rate Usher. I was so bored during his set that it puts me to sleep even thinking it. Moving on. The concert was really top notch. The girl has an amazing gift and I was thrilled to be there. However, she isn’t a dancer and forcing her to do some awkward choreography is just ridiculous. She’s in her niche when it’s just her and the piano. When those two are in unison it’s pure magic. Brilliant.

Let me close with a public service announcement. Take it for what it’s worth. Ladies, the next time you go out to a concert please don’t leave the house dressed like a hooker. If you stand in front of the mirror and you can see your nipples or vagina, then guess what? So can the rest of us. Thank you for your consideration.

Set List
As I Am Intro
Waiting For Your Love
Where Do We Go From Here
You Don’t Know My Name
Teenage Love Affair
Heartburn
Sure Looks Good To Me
How Come You Don’t Call Me
Butterflies
Goodbye
Prelude To A Kiss
Superwoman
I Need You
Wreckless Love
Diary
My Boo
Unbreakable
Like You’ll Never See Me Again
Feeling You Feeling Me
Go Ahead
A Woman’s Worth
Lesson Learned
So Simple
Karma
Thing About Love
Fallin’

Encore
No One
If I Ain’t Got You

T.G.I.F.

It's Friday and after today's crazy day the weekend couldn't come soon enough. First, my student teacher has been doing a unit on communities. Today she was talking about the various occupations that people have and the responsibilities of each. As the lesson came to an end she went back over the various occupations and asked students to vote on the one they were most interested in. When she asked who was interested in being a pilot several of the boys' hands went up. However, it was kind of strange because one of the boys is legally blind and can't make out anything on the board without the help of a special video camera. I think it's great that he has such lofty goals, but several years from now if I'm boarding a plane I don't want to look in the cockpit and see him there reading the airplane manual in braille.

In a couple of weeks we're having a Mother's Day program so we're starting to make a few things to give to all of the moms that day. Today the students made a Mother's Day card that resembles a tic-tac-toe board. In the center of the board they were asked to draw a picture of their mom, while the other eight squares were left blank for them to write in words that describe their mom. The most popular responses were loving, friendly, and helpful. One of the boys was really struggling to fill in his last square so he asked me "Can I write down boobs?" Um, no.

For another activity they were given the word "Mother" and had to write words or phrases about their mom that started with each of the six letters. I saw several heartwarming sentiments such "Most amazing mom in the world" and "Helps me with my homework every night." Awwww. A boy had finished a few of the letters but was having trouble coming up with something for T and R. Finally he asked if could jot down "Tiny butt." I responded with a simple "Are you kidding me?" as he cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West. And if he hadn't annoyed me enough he then asked "For R can I write 'really sexy'?" I tried to explain that this was his mom that he was talking about and that the comment was inappropriate on a number of levels. He finished by saying "So....can I write it down?"

Keith and Carrie

Last night Rach and I went to the Civic Center to see Keith Urban and Carrie Underwood. It was a great show from two really talented performers. My dad and stepmom had also purchased separate tickets so from our seats we were trying to spot them. We found them sitting one section over from us but on the other side of the arena. Now my stepmom is far from a fashionista. She’s like the anti-Carrie Bradshaw. Her wardrobe basically consists of stone washed tapered jeans, white Reeboks, and a lavender Hanes Her Way sweatshirt. Last night she changed it up with a mango colored top. Rachel and I started cracking up because as the lights went down for the start of the show her sweatshirt actually glowed in the dark. It was a sea of black except for a fireball in the middle of section 12. It was like trying to spot Waldo in a group of habit-clad nuns. Not too difficult. At the start of Carrie’s set she slowly rose from beneath the stage. Now I still think of her as the small town girl tenderly singing “I Can’t Make You Love Me” at her Idol audition. Well she’s come a long way from Checotah, Oklahoma. As she appeared onstage she was wearing a tight black shirt, almost nonexistent black shorts, and tall black boots. Rachel leaned over and said “Look at her butt.” Oh, um, yes, I, uh, hadn’t noticed. There was a 50-something woman in the row ahead of us who sat completely still during Carrie’s hour-long set. It was a whole different story when Keith took the stage. She skyrocketed from her seat and began doing something that I can only refer to as making love with the air. She was gyrating in ways that would make even the Pussycat Dolls blush. It was a sight to behold.

Carrie Underwood Set List
Flat on the Floor
Wasted
Get Out Of This Town
The More Boys I Meet
Just A Dream
Jesus Take the Wheel
I Know You Won't
I Ain't In Checotah Anymore
Last Name
Don't Forget To Remember Me
Twisted
All-American Girl
So Small
Wheel of the World
Before He Cheats

Keith Urban Set List
Once In A Lifetime
Where The Black Top Ends
Shine
Faster Car
Raining On Sunday
Stupid Boy
Used To The Pain
You’re My Better Half
Making Memories Of Us
You'll Think of Me
I Told You So
Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around (with Carrie Underwood)
Days Go By
You Look Good In My Shirt
Tonight I Wanna Cry
Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me
Somebody Like You

Encore
Got It Right This Time
Better Life
Everybody

Instinctively rancid

This morning I was in the hallway testing one of my students. He was asked to read two pages of a book and then I would ask him questions about what he read to check his comprehension skills. The book he was reading was about animal instincts, traits that they are born with. After he finished I asked him to tell me some examples of animal instincts. He sat completely still and silent for a moment before he began in short, measured sentences. "Dogs...chase...moving...things...like...cars...and...tennis...balls." It was kind of unusual because while he's a shy kid, he doesn't usually stammer along when he talks. I finally asked him if he was alright and he dissolved into a sea of giggles. I made out the words "I farted" as he gasped for breath. It was like when someone tells you a wave is coming just seconds before it crashes down on you. Almost immediately the hallway smelled like a sewer. I kept waiting for Donatello, Leonardo, and the rest of the ninja turtles to come bursting through the walls, wielding their numchuks in hand. His excuse? "My mom made fajitas on Saturday so I've been doing this all weekend."

The secret alliance

Two months ago I got a ticket for leaving the car on the street during a parking ban. I honestly didn’t know that it was supposed to snow. The next morning I climbed into the car to find a ticket for $100 sitting under the driver’s side wiper blade. I kept putting off paying it because it’s not like I have $100 lying around to pay for my stupid mistake. Two weeks ago I received a summons in the mail to appear today at my hearing. I figured I’d go down to the police department, plead my ignorance, and maybe just maybe they’d let me off.

I’d never been to the new police department that’s been open for the last several years. My mom used to be the police chief’s secretary so I knew my way around the old city hall. The new center is a sprawling complex that includes the police department, city jail, sheriff’s department, county jail, and most of the additional departments of the city. I wasn’t sure where to park so I just found a spot and pulled in, making sure I was parked within the yellow lines and not in an unauthorized zone. That’s all I needed, another ticket while I was inside trying to get out of a ticket. As I was heading towards the nearest door, I noticed another woman who had just gotten out of her car next to mine. She was wearing a t-shirt that read “If my music is too loud, then you’re too ugly.” I’m still not sure what that means. “You here for the traffic hearing?” she asked. I admitted that I was and asked if she knew where I was supposed to go. She instantly transformed into a tour guide, pointing out what every building was. All she was missing was a microphone in hand and a red wind breaker with her name stitched onto it. I’m guessing she’d been down there (i.e. locked up) a few times.

As the two of us strolled inside hand in hand, I was told to sign in, take a number, and wait for my number to be called. Looking around the room, you could see people practicing what they were going to say to try to get out of their tickets. It was like sitting around with a bunch of people all getting ready to audition for a bit part in “My Name Is Earl.” A guy in his mid-20’s was sitting across from me loudly relating the events of last night. They shut the bar down at 4 a.m. and headed for a late night meal at Hardee’s. If the thought of drinking 17 Coors Lights isn’t enough to make you puke, thinking about adding a Jalapeno Thickburger on top of it should do the trick. In fact, I think the guy was still drunk.

An older gentleman sitting to my right told me that he was there because his truck was in the tow-away zone at Wal-Mart. I assumed that he was just sitting there waiting to pick up his wife at the door or something logical like that. Instead he later said that he parked there to run inside and get groceries for the week. He was so surprised when he came out a while later to find a $250 ticket on his windshield. Uh…duh.

As each person came out, those of us waiting looked over to see what the result was. Over and over again each person replied that they still had to pay their fine. It wasn’t looking good. After waiting for about 45 minutes they called my number. I went into the tiny room and sat down at the table as the door closed behind me. Two women sat on the opposite side and opened up my case file. (At least that’s what I’m going to call it because it makes me sound tough and dangerous. Like one of the felons on Law and Order: SVU.) They asked me my name and I told them, also explaining that the spelling of my last name would need to be corrected too. Once a Richardson, always a Richardson. As I told them this the ladies looked at one another before one of them asked “Are you Linda’s son?” I smiled and said that I was. “We love your mom,” the other one said. This was looking good. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” one began. “We’re going to void this out but you can’t tell anyone we did this.” I eagerly agreed, knowing that I’d write about it in my blog. This is why I could never work at some place like the CIA or the State Department. I’d be spilling all of the secrets. Anyway, I thanked both of the women profusely as I headed out. All eyes were instantly on me as I walked out of the room. I threw up my hands, looking downtrodden, and said that they gave me 60 days to pay off my fine. Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy.

Outhouse

So after being mercilessly teased with nice weather over the last several weeks, it looks like spring has finally arrived. I for one love it for many reasons, as it hearkens the reopening of Double D's, the conclusion of indoor recess, and the countdown to the end of school (t-minus 30 days). When I get home each afternoon we've been spending quite a bit of time outside, playing in the backyard and going for walks in the neighborhood. Last night before dinner I took Ella and Liam out back to play for a bit. For Liam this basically comes down to seeing how many wood chips and stray pebbles he can put in his mouth. Ella runs around like a wild woman, going down the slide, driving her car, and visiting her imaginary farm in the shed (complete with chickens, monkeys, and dinosaurs). After a half hour she told me that she needed to go potty. I told her to head inside and use the potty chair just inside the door rather than going all the way upstairs to use the big toilet. After a few seconds she comes out carrying the chair and places it right in a section of wood chips. She's often afraid that she's going to miss something and this was no exception. She sat down and relived herself as though this is a perfectly normal thing that happens everyday. You can almost see the relief on her face in the photo below. Aahh.

Not quite ready for fourth grade

Three days each week we have reading stations set up around the room where students go from one to the next every twenty minutes. I don't know what it was today that produced such strange behavior, but this will go down as one of the oddest school days in recent memory.

* With one group we talked about similes where two things are compared using the words "like" or "as". We went through a worksheet together that had a series of sentences. The students had to figure out whether or not the phrase was a simile. The fourth one down read "You are as wise as an owl." The boy to the right of me turned to look at me and stated "I'm part owl." He said it with such conviction like when someone says they're part Cherokee and a quarter Irish. I gave him a quizzical look and said simply "What?" With a straight face, he added "I'm part owl because I stare a lot." He was being dead serious. I tried to explain to him that this just made him similar to owls and that humans and animals don't come from the same relatives. This was lost on him as he emphatically declared that he was related to an owl. Unless his uncle dressed up as Woodsy the Owl from those catchy 80's commercials, I'm not buying it. Give a hoot, don't pollute.

* Another group had just finished reading a book about the Titanic. I asked them to jot down some facts they learned from reading the book. Several of them wrote down that the ship was the length of three football fields and that about 1,500 people died. However, I'm beginning to think that one girl read an entirely different story. When I called on her to share what she had written she told me that the people on the Titanic were traveling to America to gain their freedom. Um, no, that was the Pilgrims on the Mayflower. She proceeded to add that not only were they in search of freedom but they also wanted to be able to own dogs, a luxury that was unavailable apparently in England. Just to check my facts, I Googled "bulldog" and found that they've been around in the U.K. since 1568. The cherry on top came when she added that some of the survivors from the Titanic went on to throw coffee in the river. I don't remember Kate Winslet throwing cans of Folgers into Boston Harbor. It was as though this girl had taken a history textbook, shoved it into a blender, and turned it on for several seconds. I'm sure next week Saturn will be a decorated war hero who is trying to become the next American Idol.

* Another group was reading a story about glaciers. We discussed that glaciers become so heavy that gravity pulls them downhill. This invariably led us to talking about what gravity is and how it keeps us rooted to the ground unlike things in space. I explained that when you see video of astronauts floating around in the air this is due to the lack of gravity. This spurred their curiosity and led them to begin asking questions about how they sleep up there and how they cook their meals. One boy raised his hand and when I called on him he added "Astronauts just pee in their space suits since they can't use the bathroom." I explained that this wasn't true without going into all of the details about what amounts to not much more than a funnel and a garden hose.

* My final group of the day came by after finishing reading their book about sea mammals. They were asked to create a newspaper article to highlight what they had learned. Before beginning the task we went around the table to share some examples of important things to write down. One girl shared that walruses are killed for their fur for clothing, their meat for food, and their blubber for fuel. I explained that this was a large fact so to make sure that they left themselves enough room to write the whole things. One of my habitual troublemakers turned to me and said "I've got a big one." When I asked him what his fact was he was his usual goofy self and told me that he had a big, fat elephant. As it was almost the end of the day I played along and asked him where his big, fat elephant was. His response was "In my pants" to which he dissolved into a sea of obnoxious laughter. Spoken like an obnoxious, immature college freshman trying to hit on a girl way out of his league after 17 beers at the Sigma Chi house.

Malicious horses

This week our class has been reading a story called On Granddaddy's Farm which describes a group of children who spent their summer on their grandfather's farm in the 1930's. The children fill their days washing up in the swimming hole, eating homemade biscuits, and jump in the haystacks. A girl in our class raised her hand and said "My dad took me to a farm before. He got on the horse but it bucked him off. Then the horse stepped on his privates on purpose." Well horses are malicious animals.

Special

I just got back from spending the last hour in a special ed room full of first and second graders. Their teacher had to step out for a meeting so they pulled me in their since I have a student teacher. Let me just tell you that I have complete admiration for special ed teachers. It takes a truly gifted person to do that job day after day. Being in there felt like the longest hour of my life. This from a guy who spent 60 minutes in the waiting room of the E.R. with a collapsed lung and sat through an entire set by the Counting Crows when they opened for John Mayer.

As soon as the teacher left one of the boys started crying. Now this wasn't your standard tear or two. Rather it was uncontrollable, snot-streaming-out-of-your-nose sobbing. I tried having him come sit beside me, making goofy faces, talking about recess, all to no avail. I became so desperate that I began secretly supplying him with jelly beans that I found in a dusty candy jar. After eating 75 jelly beans I'm sure he'll have a royal stomach ache by lunch time and be bouncing off the walls from a sugar high this afternoon but at least it kept him quiet.

While they were completing a worksheet a boy raised his hand. As I went over to answer his question he simply said "I like Home Alone." I responded that I liked it as well and that as soon as he was done with the assignment we could talk about it. Refusing to do work, he just kept yelling out lines from the movie.

This is it. Don't get scared now.
Buzz, don't be a moron.
I hope that I never see any of you jerks again.

I tried unsuccessfully to get him quiet but by that point he had the whole room's attention. Smiling he yelled at the top of his lungs:

I wouldn't let you sleep in my room if you were growing on my ass!

A boy sitting on his own in the back of room continually picked his nose the entire time I was in there. It's bad enough to pick your nose but wiping your boogers in your hair is where I draw the line. Needless to say, after the teacher returned and I started to exit, the boy ran up to me, wrapped his snotty fingers around me, and gave me a big hug as he nestled his crusty head into my chest. I love happy endings.