Monday, November 29, 2010

Huked on Fonix Wurkz Fur Me!

I commute to work every day with an absolutely hilarious friend. When you spend a great deal of time in the car with someone, you get to know them fairly well and also have some interesting conversations. Today, this song came on the radio:

I began making the bull whip sound earnestly, as it is my favorite part of the song. Somehow or another, my friend and I got into a deep conversation about how you would describe this whip sound. Specifically, how would you spell it?

Before you know it, my friend and I are making the whip sound over, and over, and over. We are really analyzing the sound and trying to put letters to go with it. Of course, every time we make the sound, we have to make the whipping motion with our hands! I'm sure we looked VERY odd, sitting in traffic, whipping the air repeatedly in the car.  We were also dying of laughter.

To better clarify the sound, I turned the volume WAY up so we could study the sound in detail. Here we are, sitting in my old lady car, music BLASTING, whipping the air with a frenzy.

My friend suggested that you spell the whipping sound like this:


My argument was that sounded like a whip that had a stutter, or a whip that is cold. Besides, you'd need the hyphen earlier in the word! But hey, try spelling her suggestion outloud to yourself and listen to how silly it sounds!

I don't know if it's


Or, as Chandler Bing says it...

Don't you wish you carpooled with us to hear our stimulating conversations?!

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Why I Should Move to Minnesota

For the Thanksgiving holidays, I was invited by some very kind people to their home.  Their home happens to be in another state that I'm not very fond of, but I went anyway.  The last time I went to this state, it was hotter than the surface of the sun.

Just so you know, there are three things critically important that you need to know about me:

1)  I am a weenie.  A big, big weenie.  I don't like to sweat. 

2)  I am white.  Really, really, really white.  I sunburn just thinking about the "s" word.  The rumor seriously went around that I was half-albino when I was in college.  HALF-ALBINO?! 

3)  I am not an outdoorsy girl.  I'm just not.   I don't like getting hot, I sunburn like bacon in a frying pan, I am an insect magnet, and I am petrified of ticks.

For these reasons, I love snow.  Love, love, love it.  It's beautiful!  It's refreshing!  It requires me to be bundled up!  It is virtually impossible to get sunburned when you're wearing a hat, scarf, coat, gloves, and pants.  I like feeling cozy and warm in the house when it's cold outside.  Heck, I don't even like being outside, so winter is perfect!

So imagine the sadness in my heart when I left my state for Thanksgiving and, in my absence, it snowed.  There is still snow on my roof.  I missed it all.  I am the snow repellent!  I always want snow.  Wherever I go, the snow goes the other way.  I'm so sad.  I wish I could have sung "I'm dreaming of a white Thanksgiving..."

Maybe next year.

In the meantime, I'm ready to move to Minnesota.  I'll blend in beautifully, I'll have plenty of opportunities to stay indoors, and I'll get snow.  Lots of snow.  And, I can say "baeg" instead of "bag."

Praying for snow days,

(PS - Wait, I need more info.  For schools in colder climates, what is the temperature cut off for playing outside at recess?  Do they ever get snow days?  I DO love snow days...)

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Grandma Got Run Over by her Neighbor

 My grandma is hilarious.  She's really an interesting bird.  I could write an entire blog about her life alone.  However, it is the story of her being run over by one of her neighbors that I am sharing today.

My grandmother lives in a housing development filled with old people.  She spends a lot of time with a group of widowed women.  They go out to eat and see shows together.  You'd think, since this group is pretty much in their 80's, that they would be boring and drama free.  NO, SIR!  They fight as if they were in high school.

Two of the characters in the group have been battling one another.  The first Fighting Geezer is Sally.  Sally is old.  Really, really old.  She's tottery, forgetful, and looks as if a strong wind would blow her over.  Sally has been good friends with Dorothy, Fighting Geezer number two.  Dorothy had a stroke recently, so Sally has been helping her by driving her around.  Sally and Dorothy regularly go out to eat, and Sally always cuts Dorothy's food for her because Dorothy's hand strength is weak since her stroke.

Recently, Sally and Dorothy got into a fight.  As a payback, Sally declared that she would no longer cut Dorothy's food for her.  THAT SHOWED HER!  So Dorothy called up my grandmother and asked her if she would cut her food from now on, because Sally wasn't going to anymore.  When I heard this story, I laughed so hard.  The silly drama!  The best part is, they still go out with one another, even though they are mad.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.  Sally, Dorothy and my grandmother went out to eat at their country club.  Sally, who is very frail and probably doesn't even remember her own name, drove.  Don't ask me why!  Every time I see Sally, I think that she's on Death's door and can't see.  Doesn't fill me with confidence to think that my grandmother is riding around with her.  So Sally drove the ladies to and from the country club.  My grandmother was helping Dorothy into the backseat and buckles her in.  She walked around, put one foot into the car, and was about to bring the other one into the car, when suddenly, Sally floored it.  This caused her to run over my grandmother's foot that was still on the pavement.

My grandmother found her shoe on the other side of the parking lot, and her foot was badly bruised, but nothing more. 

The next day, Sally showed up at my grandmother's house, apologizing profusely and handed her cash to get new shoes or to put toward a doctor's visit.  My grandmother was insulted, but I told her not to be.  Sally was just feeling guilty.  Then Sally called my grandmother four times in a row, prompting my grandmother to stop answering the phone.  Then Sally showed up AGAIN, acting as if she hadn't been there before, and handed my grandmother more money.  I'm just glad that a) Sally isn't my grandmother and b) my grandma was okay.

I'm going to choose to ignore the fact that there are people like Sally, all over the world, driving around when they shouldn't be, and instead focus on the fact that my grandmother got run over by a senile woman because the senile woman was fighting with her friend and wouldn't buckle her up.  In honor of this story, I composed the following song:

Grandma Got Run Over by her Neighbor
(Sung to the tune of "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer)

Grandma got run over by her neighbor
buckling a friend into her seat
you can say that old folks are pretty boring
but I say they're an entertaining treat!

She'd been riding with Senile Sally
and we'd begged her not to go.
But she's a stubborn little old lady
and chose to be a friend, not a foe.

When they found her in the parking lot
at the scene of the attack
there were tire marks on her foot and
her missing shoe in the lot, way in the back.

Grandma got run over by her neighbor
buckling a friend into her seat
you can say that old folks are pretty boring
but I say they're an entertaining treat!

Now we're all so proud of Grandma
she's been taking this so well
See her there sipping her cocktails
encouraging Sally her car to sell.

It's hard to walk without a shoe
and a foot swollen and black
But we just can't help but wonder
if she'll go back?

Grandma got run over by her neighbor
buckling a friend into her seat
you can say that old folks are pretty boring
but I say they're an entertaining treat!

Now the shoe has been repaired 
and the foot is almost healed
I think my grandma needs a helmet
and a full length body shield.

I've warned all my friends and neighbors
better watch out for yourselves
they should never give a license
to an old lady who hears bells.

Grandma got run over by her neighbor
buckling a friend into her seat
you can say that old folks are pretty boring
but I say they're an entertaining treat!

Friday, November 26, 2010


This was such a crazy  Thanksgiving holiday.  I won't bore you with the details, just know the story involves starvation on a certain picky blonde's part, sleeping in my brand new ski jacket, hat and gloves, and coming home smelling strongly of bacon. 

Instead, I want to talk about being thankful.  Seriously, the last year of my life was almost the worst it could possibly get and I came about 10 seconds away from having to go into the looney bin, but I made it through.  Victory!  If I talked about all the things that have happened in my life, all the blessings through the rotten pain, I would cry.

You don't want to make me cry.  Trust me.

So, instead, I am going to talk about the silly things that I am thankful for.  I mean, I am genuinely thankful for these items, but not as much as the important people in my life and the way God has taken care of me.  My coping mechanism is humor, so humor you get!

1.  I am thankful for friends who will send me or pick me up food from Trader Joe's.  Trader Joe's, despite my deepest love and support, and many letters written to them, has refused to put a store within a reasonable driving distance from me.  I love you, Trader Joe's!  Stop snubbing us!  We need your unique and organic goodness just as much as everyone else!  So, until they finally decide that I am a genius and build a store closer to me, I am instead grateful to people who will buy me things like chocolate covered edamame or Meyer lemon thins.

2.  I am thankful for flat iron spray.  Without the stuff, my attempts at flat iron curls would, well, fall flat, for lack of a better term.

3.  I am thankful for the electric blanket.  Whoever created that baby was a genius.  I salute the inventor of the electric blanket from September to May.  Bravo, inventor!

4.  I am thankful for my missing appendix.  Because of its absence, I will never have to have another appendectomy.  This saves me a great amount of pain, time out of commission, and money.

5.  I am thankful that I get to work with a man.  In the education world, men are rare.  Without any testosterone present, the women work themselves into a frenzy and rip one another to shreds.  Even though I am female, sometimes I just need to hang out with the guys.  In my case, guy.  He's hilarious and he lets me use his restroom, which is much cleaner than the overly used ladies' room.

6.  I am thankful for bell peppers.  Without bell peppers, this certified veggie hater would be in big trouble.

7.  I am thankful that I have the ability to play the piano.  I don't play it well, and certainly don't want anyone to hear me play it, but it's a pretty cool feeling to be able to do it.  I enjoy it.

8.  I am thankful for Google Reader.  Thanks to Google Reader, I am able to keep up with lots and lots of blogs - and it even recommends new ones for me!

9.  I am thankful for the tankini swim suit with a skirt bottom.  Who knew that just a few more inches of fabric would make me strut around the pool belting out "Boom, chica wah wah!"  OK, not really.  But hey, the fact that I'm even walking around the pool at all is progress.

10.  I'm thankful that I have a job in which I can require my students to put on flower leis and dance to Elvis Presley's "Blue Christmas" every day during the Christmas season.  Is it educational?  Welllllll......

What random things are you thankful for?

Monday, November 22, 2010

I Needed Some Ruby Red Slippers

Tonight I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  You see, I was determined to get my mother's extremely late birthday gift.  I had ordered her DVDs of the Canadian show Corner Gas (hilarious, trust me!) but apparently it is hard to find.  It never came, even after I ordered it.  I recently located a copy and was finally able to give her her gift, five months late. 

On my way to pick up the DVDs, I decided to try and take a rural route to the store to see if it was any shorter than the way I usually went.  I happened to be in an area that was literally flattened by a tornado a few years ago.  I knew it was rainy and very dark looking, but didn't worry until I noticed a really low cloud.  I thought I knew what a wall cloud looked like, until I saw a real one several years ago.  I had no idea that they were so low.  So this afternoon, when I noticed a very oddly shaped dark cloud that was very low to the ground, I noticed.  I called my mother and asked her if we were in any storm warnings.  She looked, said that it was just a small storm that was about to blow over, and that I'd be fine. 
RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!  This is not a good sign!
Approximately two and a half minutes later, I found myself in an area with no buildings around.  In hindsight, I did notice branches and leaves swirling around in the air, but I ignored this.  I drove onto this large bridge when suddenly my car was slammed by this freak "pop up" storm.  I couldn't see anything at all.  It was hailing incredibly hard.  My car was swaying side to side.  And where was I? 

On a freaking bridge. 

There was no where I could go, and I didn't know what to do.  I was in major trouble. 

Being calm is just not my forte.  I called my mother, bawling, and yelled into the phone "Are you sure that I'm safe out here?"  Which, by the way, never call your mother crying and asking things like this.  I contemplated what to do.  I mean, in a real tornado you should get as low as possible.  But I was on a very tall, large bridge.  I was seriously concerned that my windshield was going to be broken, and my car was literally swaying from side to side.

Turns out that little freak pop up storm caused quite a stir.  It turned out that I was in a tornado warning.  I was in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time.  The winds were 70 mph and it was quarter to golf ball sized hail.  Just as quickly as it had come, it blew over and I was on the side of the road, teary eyed and petrified.  And THEN, suddenly on the radio, they were telling me to take cover, that I was in grave danger!  Gee, thanks!  A little too late, don't you think?!

I don't know why I can't remain calm at times like this.  If I am at school and something goes wrong, I remain calm.  But on my own?  Not at all.

Last year the stupid tornado sirens went off right before 6 a.m.  I'm a very light sleeper, so I woke up immediately.  I'm also not one to wake up suddenly in the morning.  It makes me rather frantic.  I looked outside and saw a sky that looked exactly like this:

This is also very, very bad.
 So when I turned on the TV and they said "People living in Non-Mommyville need to take cover IMMEDIATELY, you have MAYBE 10 minutes before the storm will hit" I immediately ran around like a chicken with my head cut off.

"Bra, bra, you need a bra, where is your bra? You have to get your purse out of the car.  Hurry Non-Mommy, you have like 9 minutes.  You need shoes!  Shoes!  HURRY!  Should I pack my laptop? Seriously, it's solid black outside and you're worrying about your laptop? Get out of here!   8 minutes!"

They really need to stop giving specific times until you die.

So off to the snooty neighbors house I went.  She's seriously one of those people who smiles at you and says sweetly "Oh, those are an interesting choice of shoes. Hmm."  So here I come, with my hair literally standing straight up, in mismatching clothing (because I just grabbed something to wear), carrying my purse (because, after all, if you are going to lose everything, you'll want a credit card to buy yourself a toothbrush.  Not that my $200 credit limit on my Target credit card was going to help me much). And then I had to sit in her basement and make small talk.  At 6 a.m.  Talk about torture.  I'd rather go through a tornado.   Annnnnnd we sat there.  Listening to it outside.  It was scary. 

I hate storms.  Does anyone know where I can find a remote island that has no scary storms, no UV rays to sunburn me, and is fabulous enough for me to live with my rich, rich husband where we can have lots of babies?  Anyone?

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I've Lost a Good Friend

Recently my class was acting like it was a full moon, on party day, with each child acting as if they'd consumed an entire two liter of Mountain Dew.  It was so psycho that I didn't notice a major lifestyle change.

I lost a dear friend.

Goodbye, Fashion Form Push Up Pad.

Sniff sniff.

Eight years ago, I was going to be in a wedding.  The dress was way too big on top for me.  No matter what, there was just too much space in the upper chestal region.  When I arrived for the wedding, there was nothing left to be done.  So I purchased my new best friends, the Fashion Form Push Up Pad.  It's like a little boob shaped balloon you slip into your bra to turn your little mosquito bites into juicy, juicy mangoes (I stole that from "Bend It Like Beckham").  I got them just for the wedding, but then I discovered the joy of the push up pad in my every day bras!  They've gone on many a date with me.  They keep things nice and smooth on cold days.  They're wonderful.  For eight years I've been washing them and wearing them.  It's just messed up that I'm not a teeny stick of a person, but I don't have boobs.  I mean, come on, I should at least get to have some boobs out of the deal!

I noticed recently that one of them looked a little weird when I took it out of the washer, but I didn't think anything of it.  I mean, they are like 8 years old!

After the crazy day in my classroom I came home and sat down, and looked down.  Something was definitely amiss down there.  The little air filled ballooney part of the pad had shifted somehow to the TOP of the pad instead of the bottom of the pad where it should be.  But then the best part was, apparently this shift made my fake boob spin all the way around in my bra, and stick out of the top!!  MY FAKE BOOB WAS STICKING OUT OF MY BRA.  Seriously, how talented must I be to be able to turn my fake boob all the way around with no hands?  How am I still single?!?!

I didn't notice anyone looking at my chest weirdly.

Dear God, if you are listening, please let me not have walked around looking like a dipwad all day long with a third boob sticking out of my chest.

Please, God.  Please.

It's time for a new purchase.  Good bye, old friends.

You men have it so easy.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Christmas Rules According to Non-Mommy

The Christmas season is approaching and I already see people preparing for the holidays.  As you consider what you listen to, what you eat, and how you decorate for Christmas, I hope you will keep in mind the following rules in regards to Christmas:

1.  Harry Potter is not a Christmas movie.  Containing a Christmas scene does not a Christmas movie make.

2.  LED lights are of the devil.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, one bulb going out doesn't knock out the whole strand, and you can plug in 43 strands at once, and they are way more energy efficient, blah, blah, blah.  They just are so...cold.  Flouresent.  Unappealing.  I can't handle the light!  It's so uncozy.  Some day when I die, they are going to make an episode of "Hoarders" (sickly fascinating show, by the way) about me.  Instead of finding me taped to my bedside toilet so I don't fall into the garbage and dead cats around me, they are going to find my home packed to the ceiling with boxes of REAL Christmas lights and REAL lightbulbs.

3.  Never, ever, ever, EVER mix regular lights with LED lights.  LED lights are bad enough, but the two lights should NOT be mixed!

4.  Inflatables.  They are not my favorite, but you should never do a yard full.  And don't even GET me started on how it looks during the day with them deflated all over the yard.  I have to stifle the urge to yell "The carnage!  THE CHRISTMAS CARNAGE!"

5.  The following song should never be played at Christmas time (or ever, although this video is so ridiculous it's almost funny):

6.  Don't put red or green bulbs in your outdoor light fixtures.  The first thing I think is "drug deal."

7.  Don't ever, ever make a dessert that LOOKS like those Oreo balls (hehe) but really make stupid CREAM PUFFS.  I hate cream, and that was a most unpleasant, gagging surprise.  And yes, the sexual overtones in this rule are not lost on me.  I wasn't intending that, truly.

8.  This song should be put to rest permanently as well:

I realize it makes a lot of people cry, and feel very sentimental, me Scrooge if you must.  I want to blow my brains out when I hear this song.

9.  Instead of watching music videos that make you want to hurl, you should instead watch CLASSICS like this one!

I loved this cartoon as a kid, and still enjoy it today.

10.  Send Christmas cards.  Don't resist.  Getting real mail is such a rare treat these days.  It's totally worth the cost.

 I have other nuggets of wisdom, but I'll leave you with 10!  I know that some of you will consider this a little premature, but you can't plan ahead enough when considering these important Christmas rules!

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Bis vivit qui bene vivit

About a year ago, I sat in the front yard of my parents' house, watching my dad scramble all over the roof at precarious angles, installing Christmas lights.  He was crawling around like a monkey and scaring the crap out of me.  From my sunny spot on the grass, I yelled "If you kill yourself, I will be really mad at you.  I still need you!"

Four months later, my beloved father passed away unexpectedly. 

For years I have longed more than anything in the world to be married and have children.  For years I have been frustrated and driven to tears that I was still alone.  This, my friends, has been one of the greatest gifts of my singleness, and it took one of my biggest nightmares for me to realize it.

I have been single and going at it alone for a long time.  It hasn't been easy, but because I have no family of my own, I frequently found myself with my parents.  There was no juggling of holiday schedules - it was just the three of us.  If I wanted to get away for a weekend?  Go spend the weekend at Mom and Dad's.
My father and I have always been close.  I could talk to him unlike anyone else.  We had similar senses of humor.  He was so giving and loving.  I loved to spend time with him.  I loved to go to the hardware store with him, even as an adult.  I enjoyed going on motorcycle rides with him.  I liked that at night, when my mom would go to bed early, Dad and I would still be up late talking.  We spoke on the phone almost every day.  The last year of his life he was traveling quite a bit.  I made a concerted effort to call him every time that he traveled so that he wouldn't get lonely.

He was the only man in my life.  I could always count on him.  He could talk me off of a ledge better than anyone.  Tonight I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face, missing him so much it literally takes my breath away.  But through the tears, I am still so very thankful for this season of singlehood in my life.  I was able to get to know my father on a much deeper level because I had the time for it.  How blessed was I?

After his death, people would cluck sympathetically and ask if we were close.  I think regardless of closeness, death will always hurt.  But what really shocks me is how many people say to me "I can't imagine how much that hurts, but I can't even THINK about losing my mom."  I find this so sad.  Don't get me wrong.  I am extremely close to my mother and I don't even want to try to imagine my life without her.  But it's sad that in our society, fathers are not stepping up to the plate.  It's sad that their value is downplayed.  Fathers are so critically important.  I had the best.

In the next few weeks, I face some hard times ahead without my dad.  It seems like he was just here.  It is wrong that he's gone.  I don't wish him back.  I know he's in a better place.  But I still long for a tight hug from him.  For a phone call from him.  For him to try to show me some ridiculous plane crash video that he found online (that requires me to ask "This isn't one of those trick videos that anything will jump out of and scare me, is it?").  To listen to him sing as loudly as he could in church, his toe tapping and his hands beating the rhythm on the pew in front of him.

He may not have been the man I was looking for during this season of my life, but I was never alone.  I had my dad.  And I'm so grateful for that time.

I Wonder What They Think of Obama?

Alternately titled:  Rough Times in France

I am seriously considering a trip to England this summer.  It's been a while since I have traveled outside of the country and I think I might just die if I don't use the old passport again.  Also, there are plenty of rumors that Prince William will be getting married this summer and I think it would be really cool to be in England during a royal wedding.  The cougar inside of me cries at the idea of him getting married, but I'm willing to put those feelings aside so I can see lots of bunting in England.

 The last time I went to England, a friend and I took a trip over to France.  This was my second trip to France.  It is not my favorite place in the world, but I still went.  Then...the following trauma ensued.

I was sitting in an outdoor cafe, eating lunch with my British friend and her French friend, minding my own business, when I noticed a small French man in a beret.  He was an old man and was shuffling along.  The three of us were visiting and enjoying the sunny day.  I said something, and the old man suddenly froze, shooting me a deadly look.  I had no idea what he was doing, so I continued on with the conversation.  No doubt it was something really important like wondering about the weird rotating toilet seat in the bathroom at another cafe we'd been at.
 Suddenly, the old man began shouting at me in French.  I had no idea what he was saying.  He was very animated, screaming and waving his arms.  I tried to pretend there was no crazy man shrieking at me, and kept eating my salad, trying to avoid eye contact with him.  Then, the old man began SPITTING ON MY SHOES.  I repeat, SPITTING ON MY SHOES.  I continued to eat, acting like it was completely normal for a short man in a beret to spit on me while I eat.

He shuffled away, and conveniently, the police drove by.  When I no longer needed them!  The French woman at the table said that she was confused by what he was saying, and didn't know what he thought we were.  We kind of chuckled and continued to visit and eat.
 Pretty soon, my French best friend was back!  He began immediately spitting on me and started screaming at me again.  He wasn't doing it to my British friend, or the French woman, just little innocent me.  The French woman was trying to reason with him and he shuffled off again.  After he left, the French woman said that he was calling the three of us lesbian whores and telling me that Americans were going to get the French all killed.  He told me to tell President Bush that he didn't support the war and to stop it.

You know, all Americans know the president.  Sure, French Dude, we're like this:
 I'll pass on your message!

So, with spit on my shoes and an apparent invisible target on my back, I left the cafe.  It was a Sunday and we had to take the Metro to get back to the hotel.  We purchased tickets to the Metro, but mine wouldn't work.  I tried and tried.  There was no one at the ticket counter because it was a Sunday.  I had paid for the ticket, but it wasn't recognizing it.  The only solution was to cozy up to the French woman and go through the turnstile as one person, all the while staring at the surveillance camera watching my every move, mouthing "I'm sorry!  I did pay for it!" and praying I didn't go to French prison.

So, as I contemplate another trip to Europe, I wonder - what is the political mood over there?  Do they like President Obama?  Should I bring rain boots for shoes?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Got Milk?

I recently became aware of an interesting situation at my job.  It seems that my coworker Bessie (not her real name!) was bragging about some baking she had done recently.  Apparently, Bessie, who is breastfeeding, has an overabundance of breast milk.  So, naturally, she started to use her breast milk to bake with!  Apparently, the breast milk gives the cookies a taste that is just to die for.  Her kids love it, and Bessie would like her coworkers to try out her special brand of baked goods, Breast Bakery (OK, I made that part up.  But that is it - every thing else is true!).

After I finished vomiting, and doing a mental checklist to see if I have ever eaten anything made by Bessie, I told my sister about the Breast Bakery.   She immediately told one of her friends, who responded with "But that isn't pasteurized!"

I admit to being a totally naieve person in regards to breast feeding.  But is this typical??  Do people use other bodily fluids to cook with?!?!

Saturday, November 6, 2010

The Fight to Save the Earth

I'm secretly a granola cruncher.  I'm not quite to the "weave my own clothing and french braid my armpit hair" level, but I do have some pretty strict food rules for myself, I'm a big recycling fan, and I despise plastic more than I can tell.  However, I don't want people to think I'm sitting around in Birkenstocks and dreaming about the shower I'll be able to take in a week's time, so I don't really broadcast this side of my sparkling personality.

Recently, I moved.  In this area, curbside pickup for recycling items is not the norm, so you have to take all of your goods to a recycling center.  I found the center closest to my home and was surprised to find that it was a little small in size and also packed with people.  I was also dumb enough to park my car next to the plastics recycling area and so my car was enveloped by the smell of rotten milk, but that is a story for another time.

I realized that if I am going to get prime placement of my recycled items, I was going to need to get to the recycling center early.  The bins were almost completely full.  I had to develop a game plan.  How could I best recycle massive amounts of cardboard, paper, glass and aluminum quickly without getting my car near the stinky part and while finding room to cram the items into the already full containers?

I developed a plan, and off I went to the recycling center.  I went at what I considered to be an early time, but I guess 11 a.m. is not early.  When I got there, there was only one other person besides myself.  Wonderful!  Not only did this bode well for emptying my car full of recyclables, but also fewer people would see me in my Saturday morning fashion crisis - sweats, air dryed hair, no makeup, and a...chilly...situation in the chest area.

I started to unload and found that the bins were really full again.  As in, almost completely full.  I was going to have to get creative about how I would get it all in.  Just as I put a bag filled with paper shreds from the shredder and was trying to dump it in without it blowing back out and in my face (those doors are taller than I am!), ten billion cars showed up to empty their recycling, too.  Now, the huge containers were really full.  Some of the doors were even locked.  I managed to find a spot in the paper bin that had a little room if I was creative, but how could I protect my spot and run back to my car to get more without someone stealing my area??

The occupants of the other cars eyed me with suspicion.  Was there any room for their recycling materials?  Why had I not parked in a spot like THEY all had?  You could cut the tension with a knife.  There was a palpable sense of a competition in the air.  I ran back to get a car load of goods, when someone swooped in and stole my spot!  I ran around to the other side and decided that if I threw the items hard enough, and high enough, I might be able to fling them into the far corners of the trash bin even though the door I was throwing through was packed to the ceiling full of junk mail and other paper goods.  I looked like a fool, leaping up and flinging boxes of Annie's mac and cheese into the corner of the bins.  But who cares how I looked?  I had a lot to recycle, and precious little space to dump my goods.  I threw the goods as if they were a discus and I was in the Olympics.  I also briefly wondered if I was throwing the trash and hitting the people on the other side of the bin, but sucks to be them!

Back at my car, I saw a spot open back up.  If I could get that spot, I'd be able to squeeze in those last packages of Perrier and a Newman's Own pizza box.  With a bead of sweat dripping down my back, I scoped out the competition.  The lady with the gloves on was going for my spot.  It was now or never.

Gritting my teeth, and grasping a paper towel roll to use as a weapon (in case of emergency, of course!), I sprinted to the last open place in the bin.  I shoved in my goods and internally gave a triumphant shout.

I'm just glad I didn't have to use that paper towel roll to defend my honor.  Don't make me get aggressive, people.  

Another day of fighting for the good of our planet.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Say whaaaa?????

Scene:  A police officer is in a certain blonde's classroom, discussing drug use with the students (age 11).  

Police Officer:  Does anyone know what inhalants are?

Student Notsomuch:  Yeah.  It's that long glass tube thing that you smoke out of.

Student Notnaieve:  NO.  That's a bong!  [rolls her eyes]

Police Officer:  Heh heh heh...where do you live?

Non-Mommy:  [Alternates between dying of laughter and passing out]

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Costume Ideas Needed

Life has been a little bit crazy around here lately.  What with a dog that on some days is on death's door and other days she is friskier than she was 12 years ago, crazy parents to deal with at Parent/Teacher conferences, and a birthday...who has time to blog?!

There are certainly some interesting parts to my job, but have you ever considered the unique problems that a teacher faces on a day to day basis?  Take, for example, today.  Today I had to administer computerized assessments, help a diabetic student in an emergency, listen to a girl tell me about starting her period, figure out what to do because someone stole the chips to the Plinko board I will need tomorrow (solution?  Modeling clay in Mason Jar lids!), explain the purpose of chamber pots, and play Dodge Ball (if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball!).  And that was all in the two hours after lunch!

One of the most baffling parts of my job is to have to dress up for spirit weeks.  It's fun.  I mean, I'm not complaining.  I get to wear pajamas to work on some days (even though on those days I live in fear that my car will break down on the side of the road and someone will find me wearing footie pajamas).  Today I found out that next week I have to dress up using the following descriptors:

1)  Dress up as a hero from history
2)  Dress up as an every day hero
3)  Dress up as a Tiger hero (mascot)
4)  Dress up as a future hero (what you want to be)
5)  Dress up as a hero from a book 

These are hard!  I have no idea what to do.  What happened to simple "Hat Day" or "Pajama Day?"  I need your help.  These are some of my thoughts/ideas:

1)  Hero from history...hmmm.  I'd prefer to be a woman for this, but on my commute home all I could think about were famous black heroes, and I'm not even remotely close to that.  I thought about dressing up as Mary Kay, or as Julia Child.  I have tons of old heroes from history such as Anne Hutchinson or Clara Barton, but I don't really have the clothing to dress up in an old fashioned style.  Then I googled some famous women.

Mary Anderson, inventor of the windshield wiper.  I look just like her, by the way.  If only I could find the hat.

Josephine Cochran, inventor of the dishwasher.  Does this picture not scream "If you leave those dirty dishes in the sink one more time, I will beat you with a fork!"

 Ruth Wakefield, inventor of the chocolate chip cookie.  God bless you, Ruth.

So, I need your help with this one.  What would be a good, "out of the box" kind of idea for a hero from history costume?  Keep in mind I am a poor teacher, and not willing to put that much effort into it.

2)  Every day hero.  Surprisingly, this is really hard for me.  Everyone is going to be dressed up as a doctor, nurse, police officer, fire fighter, etc.  I want something creative!  I have totally drawn a blank on this one.

3)  Dress up as a Tiger hero (mascot).  This one is easy.  I am going to dress up as one of the janitors in my school.  I just need a flannel shirt, ball cap, and a mug of coffee.  I also have to yell "Mornin', Debbie!" all day long because my janitor is hard of hearing and yells so loud that I think my aunt in California can here him if she really strains.  And also, he calls me the wrong name and he does it in front of my students.  

4)  Dress up as a future hero.  I want to be a wife and a mother.  Duh.  So that will be easy.

5)  A hero from a book.  HELP ME.  I don't know what to be!  I'm too feminine to be this hero:

(Plus, you know, I like to shower, get haircuts, pluck my eyebrows and I don't wear pink lipstick)

I've got nothing!  All ideas appreciated!


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