Parental Dreams Vs Reality

Blessings Darlings!

When I was a kid, my father wanted me to become a teacher.  He felt that teachers would always have good jobs.

This was odd from the get-go, since not only was he a lawyer, but his oldest sister was, too (and was the first woman to graduate from whatever law school in Chicago she went to, just before the Great Depression hit).  And I have never had any interest in teaching (Yes, that I ended up home schooling is irony that I totally appreciate).  But, yeah, his two other sisters became teachers.

But look at what's happening to teachers today, both in general and in Chicago, and what happened to them during the Great Depression.  Now in Chicago they are being fired and schools are closing, due to 'monetary issues'.  In the Great Depression they didn't close schools ... but the teachers didn't get paid! 

There are all the other issues with teaching, too - having to supply much of one's own supplies, burnout, being asked to do more stuff and less teaching, the high burn out rate - but certainly my father, who was 26 at the time of the stock market crash, should have known how teachers got screwed during the Depression.

I remain confused.

Frondly, Fern

Restaurant scrounging, addenum

Blessings Darlings!

The place I work at has added a new product - bone in broasted chicken.  But Corporate keeps auto-shipping us WAY more than we sell.  Okay, we cook the extra chicken (it's fresh, and has a short use-by date) unseasoned/breaded, then take the meat off the bones to use in pot pies and soup and such. 

I boned 4 pans of chicken yesterday. 

As I looked at the pans of chicken, and the lovely drippings in the pans, I realized that I was set up to throw out the ingredients for a really wonderful chicken stock.  So I didn't throw the stuff out.  I brought the 3 quarts of gelatinous drippings and many of the bones home.  Once home, the bones went into the oven for an hour, then into two stock pots, with the drippings and more water, to simmer over night.

I now have two quarts of 'stock base'. I may choose to reduce the liquid, but I'll worry about that tonight, after it's cooled and I've skimmed it and tasted it.

Names

Blessings Darlings!

Sometimes the Gods give us names.  Sometimes, however, they give us nicknames, based on how we come across to them, and it's not always easy to tell the difference. 

So, the Gods say you're "Wolf"?  That could just mean that you are not impressive at all - you attack the sick and the weak, rather than speaking truth to POWER.  Or that you are a 'Lone Wolf" - so much of a psycho asshole that the pack wants nothing to do with you.

Or - "No, when I said you are Skunk, I did NOT mean that as your 'power animal'.  I meant you stink.  Take a shower before you come before me!  What part of 'ritual cleanliness' did you miss?"

Or - "When I called you Priapsis, I didn't mean you're a stud.  I meant you're a dick".

As I said, it's not always easy to tell a 'name from the Gods' from a nickname.

It  pays to ask.

Frondly, Fern