All I want is some damned apple cider!

So as I'm finding out, expectations of elementary teachers include that we celebrate every damned little thing that comes along with the kids; preferably in some artsy fartsy way that also incorporates learning. One, I'm not artsy fartsy; and two, I haven't been teaching long enough to have this stuff in my bag of tricks ahead of time enough to incorporate learning. I'm trying though. Anyhow, Thanksgiving, not being a little thing, is a definitely celebratory requirement. Apparently I did not impress with my lame Halloween celebration (considering I didn't do a damned thing because there was already a parade planned), but no way in hell was I going to take on a full Thanksgiving feast. Instead I settled for a feast of Thanksgiving pies. Bring a pie, bring some whipped cream, let's eat, the kids can then play outside, done. In my honest, half-Mexican opinion (HA! Hi mom!), the kids don't really give a flying turkey about all the trimmings anyhow. Give them sweets and the chance to play outside and they're happy.

So that's what I did. I sent a flyer home; sign up to bring stuff, everyone invited, yadda yadda yadda. Guess who sent me a little note saying she'd be happy to help me in any way, just let her know, sounds fun, signed with a smiley face?! Yep. BM! Not only that, BM's son shows up on Monday all huggy and lovey dovey "Ms. Grumperini, you're the best teacher in the world." "Ms. Grumperini, I'm so happy I'm in your class." "Ms. Grumperini, can I have lunch with you today?"

WTF? Whatever. If BM wants to be in charge of setting up, slicing pie, serving it up, and cleaning up after, more power to her! So I called and sweet as Thanksgiving pie I said "Sure! Come help!" It was as if she'd never written that horrible letter just the previous week. Damned scorpion in cockroach clothing if you ask me. Ha. Best to know where they're at rather than have them fall on you in surprise. At least I know what I'm dealing with now, and I'm nothing if not an expert in the art of keeping your enemies closer.

What does this have to do with apple cider? Well, my contribution to the party was to be apple cider. 'Tis the season and all that. So I call the local grocery store to make sure they have it. Why wouldn't they? Who knows, I just make sure before I went.

Me: Hi. Just calling to ask if you have apple cider.
She: Apple cider?
Me: Yes. Apple cider.
She: Um... What do you mean?
Me: Uh.... Apple cider. Apple cider. What does she mean what do I mean?!
She: Like... in a box?
Me: In a box?
She: Yes. Apple cider powder stuff you add to water and....
Me: No. I want apple cider. Like apple juice, but instead apple cider.
She: Like juice? Um.... hold on.
Me: In a box? WTF?
He: Thanks for holding, can I help you?
Me: Yes. I'm calling to see if you have apple cider.
He: Apple cider?
Me: OMG. Yes. Apple CIDER. Like juice, but... more.
He: Hold on.
Me: OMG. Are you fucking kidding me? Is apple cider an east coast thing only or what?!
He: Thanks for holding can I help you?
Me: I'm waiting to find out if you have apple cider.
He: Oh, yeah, right, I think so. On an end cap on aisle 9.
Me: Thanks! (Yes I meant that sarcastically.)

So I went in and right there in fresh produce: APPLE CIDER. For crying out loud.