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I'm responding to Mama Kat's Writing Prompt #3: What do you miss most about the school year?

12. All of the ways in which we have to go up the down staircase.

11. Students who pay attention in class.

10. All those papers I have to grade.

9. Dressing up for Halloween.

8. Room 215.

7. The headaches ~ and heartaches ~ of yearbook.

6. Playing hide-and-go-seek with myself.

5. Students who can apply the lessons we've taught them ~ NOT!

4. Family who appreciate my life's calling.

3. Those small cries for help.

2. Couch potatoes.

1. My cherubs, one and all.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Last week was a killer, temperature-wise, for most of us. Now that it's in the 80s again, I thought I'd share my tips on moving beyond the summer sizzle.

The historic "Heat Dome" parked its carcass over much of the US on Thursday. DC and environs, fortunately, didn't suffer as much as those of you in the Upper Midwest. Maybe it's because we're used to 90-degree+ days, but Thursday's 98 was OK by me, especially since the Weather Dudes had been predicting 100+.

So on Thursday, I met a former student for coffee. Ate pizza. Had a bowl of soup. All those warm weather-type activities.

Friday, though, brought the real heat gremlins our way, in a big way. Suburban DC felt like all that hot air they're churning up there on Capitol Hill had blown over across the Potomac. We clocked in at 102. And that's before the alleged "heat index," or "feels-like factor," or whatever the TV Bobbleheads call it, was figured into the equation.

But hey, I'm from Texas. I don't believe in a "feels-like factor," although the English teacher in me will give the Weather Dudes points for alliteration.

So on Friday, with the Wrath of Hades Incarnate hovering right over my front stoop, I got up early. Turned on the sprinkler. Did some weeding. Took a shower, then a nap.

Saturday was a different story. With 100+ temps threatening us again, I felt like I should do my part and stay inside for the day. So I cleaned out my desk. Tidied Ella Numera Una's room. Mucked out the pigsty known as Ella Numera Dos' personal space.

Yes, when they're "all grown up," they still expect Mommy to pick up after them. Well, I'm here to tell you if I open one more closet and find the detritus of a summer on one more cob-webby floor, I'm getting me some gigendous garbage bags ~ you know, those of the big, black variety ~ stuffing them full of my daughters' crapola, and heading on down for that tax deduction at the Salvation Army.

Hot tip for those professional Congressional hand-wringers: I think the way our nation should take care of the impending debt crisis is to clean out our kids' rooms. Several hundred million tons of American Eagle, Target and Forever 21 would go a long way toward setting things straight.

But there is some good news in this tale. The weekend ended sweetly. I baked brownies. Betty Crocker Fudge Brownies, to be precise.

A little sugar and a lot of chocolate might help cooler heads prevail. I know. I've tried it.

24/7

7:34 a.m.

9:16 a.m.

12:32 p.m.

1:22 p.m.

3:03 p.m.

6:57 p.m.

A Choice or a Disease?

Yes, I've been Twittering away the past few weeks. My goal in life has recently been to promote #nachos as a Trending Topic. Oh, and I've delivered a little play-by-play during recent World Cup matches.

I've come to the conclusion that Twitter is the best way to fritter away one's time. Need to pick up your husband's shirts, go to the grocery store, grab a few dust devils from underneath the bed in the guest room? Well, you can Tweet about it, first. Then, after sufficient time has passed, you won't have any more (time, that is) to finish up your errands.

Oh, and if you wish to say something snarky, or carry on a private conversation in front of a gazillion people, you can do that, too.

I'd like to say that Twitter and I have a "love-hate" relationship. The truth, however, is that I've suddenly taken to this new cyber-soap opera, and I'm not quite sure why. I'm definitely exhibiting addictive tendencies.

I Tweeted 32 times during and after today's World Cup final. Some of my utterances were of the predictable "GOOAAALLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!" variety. But I really enjoyed putting a special "spin," if you will, on some of my commentary.

I can see my newest affliction becoming an addiction down the road, say, when school gets underway in August. Perhaps I'll be the first high school teacher ever to Tweet the play-by-play in an insufferable inservice. Or perhaps during some sycophant's silly staff meeting.

Principal Man, if you're reading this, I've got your number, buddy.

So, for the reading pleasure of those who don't "follow" me on Twitter (CLICK HERE if you want to be my Special Twitter Friend), here is some scintillating World Cup Analysis, each conjured in 140 characters or less. Some of these have been edited to keep the conversation going. Twitter, beyond its many attributes, can also sometimes be about as captivating as watching paint dry.

Four of these are RTs (when you want to "publish" what another Twit says, you "retweet" it) and one is a "reply" to my own Very Special Twitter Friend, Paula Deen.

And yes, if you really must know, I managed to get in at least one plug for #nachos as a Trending Topic.

• I want to be Hope Solo when I grow up.
  


• Gosh, almost like Japan was playing "keep away" for a while there. We've really got to find some way to capitalize. Go, USA!
  


• RT @TheBillWalton Hopefully Team USA is pulling a reverse-LeBron: Miss all their shots in the 1st half & look like the greatest on Earth in the 2nd half.



• RT @_Snape_ That awkward moment when you realize #worldcupfinal isn't referring to Quidditch.



• RT @dorothysnarker Argh! I think the goal posts are rooting for Japan.



• "And a little child will lead them" Isaiah 11:6, yes, but we're talkin bout YOU, Alex Morgan, the youngest on the squad.



• Not much Hope in this attempted save, ladies. USA goalie can't do it Solo, my friends!



• @Paula_Deen Gonna need some Jalapeno Poppers after this #worldcupfinal. If @Paula_Deen endorses them, bet they're as good as #nachos!



• RT @darrenrovell The women's World Cup trophy weighs 3.9 pounds. The men's World Cup trophy weighs 13.6 pounds.
  


• As much as USA Women want to get out from beneath shadow of 1999, they can't. Ian & Julie keep hammering on comparisons.
  


• Nuff said. Wambach is a BEAST!
  


• Sign in stands at World Cup: Wambach for President 2012. I have a thought: Alex Morgan could be her Veep, correctamundo?
  


• Maybe Obama could tap Megan Rapinoe to head up USA effort in Afghanistan. She never gives up, does she?
  


• Difficult 2 a) watch WC PKs; b) go out to dinner w/ Fam; c) take Oldest to airport; d) Tweet at same time. Disappointed, but Congrats Japan!



• Not apologizing for USA boosting. Really thought they'd win. Feel a tad bit like Toby Keith after Bush II found no Iraq WMDs.

(Photo by Alex Grimm, Getty Images)

NYC...There's Something About You

Ella Numera Dos is playing this summer on an American course that doesn't allow for too many mulligans. For those of you not familiar with the lingo, a "mulligan" is a golf term for a do-over.

I think it's safe to say that New Yorkers don't always make room for repeats. They also have an uber-unique view of themselves ~ and of others.

The Youngest signed on to intern in the Big Apple. This is the child who bought her Mama a birthday weekend in NYC a while back. This is the young woman who has always said that she was going to end up in New York, with a Park Avenue penthouse and a separate home-away-from-home for the fam.

For the record, the kid is learning a lot this summer. Transportation and entertainment are expensive in the city, but food is not. Some bosses are of the unforgiving variety, but many co-workers wear the term "nurturing" as a second skin. Fans at Yankee Stadium do all the moves to "Y-M-C-A," just like fans do back home.

But everything is hustle and bustle, 24/7. There's not a heck of a lot time to stop and smell the roses, unless one determines early to slow things down and set a more reasonable personal agenda.

The most important lesson that Dos has absorbed from five weeks in NYC, though, is that even though she's thrown herself into the maelstrom known as The City That Never Sleeps, she can always take a quick weekend at home to set her sails straight.

If you take a look at the map above, created by Funny or Die, we live in Northern Virginia ~ somewhere south of "Yuck" and north of "Empty Space Before Getting to the Real South." We are of DC, but not in DC. Down here we're overly focused on silly items like the debt ceiling and whether or not Sarah Palin's daughter, Bristol, really was a single mother after all.

In DC, the business is all talk. In New York, it's all action, and then some.

New Yorkers can be incredibly brusque and opinionated, and it's a given that they're always in a rush. But they can also be incredibly helpful, loving and downright giving. And they know that they've got a good gig going on up there on the Hudson River.

Dos has another month or so to go on this summer gig. The skills she's acquired will look good to a future employer. But how can you put a summer's worth of observations on a resume?

Waiting for Superman

Teach Your Children Well

I swung by the high school the other day on a summer errand. The lot, predictably, was empty, except for this lone roadster, driving up and back and back and forth and round and round.

A young man sat behind the steering wheel, his eagle-eyed dad riding shotgun. And from the looks of things, the lesson wasn't progressing very smoothly.

This snap, which I blurred on purpose to protect those involved, puts me in mind of teaching my own chicas how to drive. Ella Numera Dos, I vaguely recall, didn't really grasp the concept of merging. She proved that on a trip to The OBX, when we exited near Williamsburg and she drove us right in front of a semi.

Glad that truck driver had good brakes.

Ella Numera Una was no better. She once left her high school boyfriend's house on an cold winter's day. Let's just say she was in somewhat of a hurry, and SUVs don't usually stop on a dime when the street is frozen solid under three inches of ice.

Luckily for the kid, she was in a big car as she blew through the neighborhood stop sign at 40 mph or so. Unluckily for the (parked) Corolla that she T-boned, the chassis separated from both axles and landed about 20 feet from someone's attractive living room picture window.

The car Una smacked ended up looking like a giant fiberglass bug in the throes of an exotic pre-mating ritual. The SUV? Some front-end damage and a smashed-up left headlight, is all.

There's a lesson in these tales somewhere. Teach your children well. Sometimes you'll just have to look at them and sigh. And know they love you.*

*(With thanks and apologies to Graham Nash.)

Ripple Effect

Above and Beyond

Mama Kat's Prompt #4: Write a poem about what freedom means to you.

Waking
up

when I want to,

instead

of

at

5 a.m.

Getting inspiration

from

the little things

in

life.

Pink hydrangeas.

Purring cats.

An adult beverage

of

the red grape variety.

Working

out

twice a day.

(Yes, you read that right.)

Going

above, not

to

mention beyond,

what's necessary

(sometimes).

Finding pleasure

from

reading

between

the lines.

Writing a poem

that's full

of

prepositions

(because I can).

Running

beneath

the radar.

Coloring

outside

the lines.

The End of the World as We Know It?