The following link is how I feel about the end of 2007. You need to open a new browser page, click on the link, and listen while you read my final post of 2007. It will put you in the right, Zen state of mind. I also think you'll like it.
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=51867410
I'm not the queen of interpersonal skills (empathy, sensitivity, patience, etc) but I have always been one to expose my intrapersonal skills. And by these I mean reflection, growth, pondering, analyzing. Let's just be honest: overanalyzing.
The dawn of a new year means so much to me in the intrapersonal realm. I love watching montages on New Year's Eve that run rampant. You can find these montages on early morning television, music videos, local TV, notable people deaths, and New Year's countdown shows. I like to think of my past year as one big montage...examining the highs and lows. I think it's healthy. No year is perfect. No one is perfect. No life is perfect. I bet each one of us had a low this year...and hopefuly several, immeasurable highs. I know I did.
Each new year brings the expected personal resolutions one might have such as floss more often, organize the finances (um, perhaps a real strong idea what with the impending home-ownership and all) and do bills online, exercise patience and kindness more often with others, start a new workout regime, and/or read more. Those aren't all mine...I'm just saying.
I love how each new year brings excitement that is equivalent with a new school year. Do you remember that? Sharpened pencils, a new Trapper Keeper, perhaps an eraseable pen. It held so much promise. And that school year likely went the same way as the previous ones did. This was neither good or bad...just as it should be.
I say this because there is so much promise this year. Likely, it will measure up to the years before it...and that's a good thing! Life is what we make it. Life rewards us for what we put into it: how hard we work, how we treat others, the ways in which we grow and strengthen ourselves.
Well...as for me...I am blessed. As I welcome 2008 for many different reasons, I recall the blessings and graces I was afforded in 2007. Life gave me lemonade and I can't imagine why.
Don't question it...just be thankful and drink and be merry.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Recap. It's just that good.
With the excessive family exposure, I have not found the time...read: 'energy' to replace 'time' since all of my energy has been sucked from me to remain lucid in mind...to blog. I'll do a quick lil' recap of the last several days. I know you're excited. I can sense it.
Wednesday: 26th, travel to Lubbock in the car with my parents and Grandma for 6 hours. MOMENTS before we get in the car, Grandma threw up...correction, "upchucked"...into the kitchen sink in large quantity. I heard about the "upchucking" for the next six hours. Nuff said.
Thursday: 27th, day spent with my Grandmother in her hot-box apartment. It was 34 degrees outside, and windy, and I swear that if I held a cookie sheet with buscuits on it, they would have baked in her 99 degree apartment. Wow. Highlight of the day was eating in the dining room with near-centenarians...Ruth, Inez, Elizabeth, and Iva. Are those not old lady names or what? Well, except Elizabeth. She was the 'with it' one. She told us about her 19-year-old granddaughter who had a 1-year-old, 2-year-old, AND 3-year-old. My dad remarked, "She must be busy!" and I think he was referring to being busy with motherhood...I contend that she is 'busy' doing something else. Sounds like Elizabeth needed to give her granddaughter a chastity belt for Christmas. Inez is a 91 year old retired social worker that was never married and was NOT wearing a bra. I raised an eyebrow on all accounts and would never like to see that image run through my mind again. Blech. Ruth WAS AWESOME. She was a spry 88 or so and she was telling us all about the family cattle farm. She had the best attitude of any old person I have ever seen. She was so optimistic and bubbly and clever. Quite refreshing from the other ladies asking "What?" since they couldn't hear and needed me to repeat. Anyway, Ruth received compliments on her lovely jacket and I told her that with such compliments from the gentlemen, she should wear it more often. That lady looked me square in the eye and said, "YOU BET CHA!" She was a firecracker no doubt!
Friday: 28th, Sweet release of traveling in the car 6 hours back home. I need to state now that I don't enjoy making that yearly trip....it is physically and mentally exhausting, though I can truly appreciate the time with family and my heritage. Lots of people don't know where they got their cotton shirt but I know second-hand life on a cotton farm. I learn more about bales and picking and modules every time I travel through West Texas and I have such an appreciation for it. It is truly a science and not for the weak. Anywho...on the car ride back, I busied myself by reading a book my uncle gave me the entire way and it was glorious. We stopped at Dairy Queen in an itty-bitty town. It smelled like grease and feet and it was just as it should be in the world. I love that. We had beef jerky in the car. Again, just as it should be when you travel. After going to Lubbock (and driving north to a teeny hometown where cotton farms and gins are in my heritage), I always get a bit nostalgic and ask my Grandmother and parents questions about life before me. So, in the car, I started asking my mom, "What exactly made you fall for dad, seeing as how he came from this tiny town of dirt and they were cotton farmers?" She got a twinkle in her eye and said, "Well, he was Mr. AHS so I figured he'd be pretty good." Mr. AHS was apparently tops back in 1967 and my dad was The Man. Apparently. ;) My dad took that opportunity to interject and tell me the differences between his high school graduating class of 60 people and my class of roughly 750. As if those need to be enumerated. My favorite part was when he told me about fund-raisers. "You know how y'all raised money to go on basketball trips by having car washes?" "Yes sir." "Well, in Abernathy, the cheerleaders would raise money by going out to ho."
Wait for it.
There were no words. The look on my face was a mixture of complete fear and awe. I vaguely remember that my aunt was a cheerleader there. Poor thing. My dad immediately associated my look of horror with his words and he rephrased it, "They would go out in the fields and HOE. To help the farmers." Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. So much clearer now. We laughed the entire way home.
Friday ended with me realizing that I had spent A LOT of family time in the last 6 days and I was ready for 'me time.' I got home at 5:45 and immediately went for a run...late, dark, and about 45 degrees. It was glorious, glorious ME TIME.
Saturday: 29th, Let's remember the Alamo, but not the bowl. So unfortunate. Highlight of this day was seeing dear, dear friends and laughing and sharing. Pure rejuvination for my soul.
Sunday: 30th, Great breakfast with friends and my parents where we told stories of old (well...the ye olden days of college which was 5-8 years ago) and we laughed. Went to see my new house. Goodbye hugs and promises...though not insubstantial...to remain in better contact and see each other more often. I am reminded of the generous gift of friendship that God gave me in these fantastic people and what they mean to my life. Then I ran 8.5 miles, got a tan in the 72 degree December 30th weather (um, question mark), and I now want to saw off my big toe and pointer toe (is that the anatomically correct term?) on my right foot. From all of the running, I got an ingrown toenail and huge blister on the neighboring toe from the bandages and the long-distance running. This is the time of training that I want to give up. I feel like Ruth or Inez trying to run...this 27-year-old body is wearing out. The hip, toes, knee, and right trapezius mock me in my futile attempts. I have taken Extra Strength Tylenol and had two glasses of wine and I have a full belly and didn't sleep well last night. I'm pretty sure I'm going to turn off the computer in just a sec and pass out.
Maybe I'll wake up in 2008.
I'll write tomorrow with sage reflection on the year 2007. Again...I can sense your excitement.
Wednesday: 26th, travel to Lubbock in the car with my parents and Grandma for 6 hours. MOMENTS before we get in the car, Grandma threw up...correction, "upchucked"...into the kitchen sink in large quantity. I heard about the "upchucking" for the next six hours. Nuff said.
Thursday: 27th, day spent with my Grandmother in her hot-box apartment. It was 34 degrees outside, and windy, and I swear that if I held a cookie sheet with buscuits on it, they would have baked in her 99 degree apartment. Wow. Highlight of the day was eating in the dining room with near-centenarians...Ruth, Inez, Elizabeth, and Iva. Are those not old lady names or what? Well, except Elizabeth. She was the 'with it' one. She told us about her 19-year-old granddaughter who had a 1-year-old, 2-year-old, AND 3-year-old. My dad remarked, "She must be busy!" and I think he was referring to being busy with motherhood...I contend that she is 'busy' doing something else. Sounds like Elizabeth needed to give her granddaughter a chastity belt for Christmas. Inez is a 91 year old retired social worker that was never married and was NOT wearing a bra. I raised an eyebrow on all accounts and would never like to see that image run through my mind again. Blech. Ruth WAS AWESOME. She was a spry 88 or so and she was telling us all about the family cattle farm. She had the best attitude of any old person I have ever seen. She was so optimistic and bubbly and clever. Quite refreshing from the other ladies asking "What?" since they couldn't hear and needed me to repeat. Anyway, Ruth received compliments on her lovely jacket and I told her that with such compliments from the gentlemen, she should wear it more often. That lady looked me square in the eye and said, "YOU BET CHA!" She was a firecracker no doubt!
Friday: 28th, Sweet release of traveling in the car 6 hours back home. I need to state now that I don't enjoy making that yearly trip....it is physically and mentally exhausting, though I can truly appreciate the time with family and my heritage. Lots of people don't know where they got their cotton shirt but I know second-hand life on a cotton farm. I learn more about bales and picking and modules every time I travel through West Texas and I have such an appreciation for it. It is truly a science and not for the weak. Anywho...on the car ride back, I busied myself by reading a book my uncle gave me the entire way and it was glorious. We stopped at Dairy Queen in an itty-bitty town. It smelled like grease and feet and it was just as it should be in the world. I love that. We had beef jerky in the car. Again, just as it should be when you travel. After going to Lubbock (and driving north to a teeny hometown where cotton farms and gins are in my heritage), I always get a bit nostalgic and ask my Grandmother and parents questions about life before me. So, in the car, I started asking my mom, "What exactly made you fall for dad, seeing as how he came from this tiny town of dirt and they were cotton farmers?" She got a twinkle in her eye and said, "Well, he was Mr. AHS so I figured he'd be pretty good." Mr. AHS was apparently tops back in 1967 and my dad was The Man. Apparently. ;) My dad took that opportunity to interject and tell me the differences between his high school graduating class of 60 people and my class of roughly 750. As if those need to be enumerated. My favorite part was when he told me about fund-raisers. "You know how y'all raised money to go on basketball trips by having car washes?" "Yes sir." "Well, in Abernathy, the cheerleaders would raise money by going out to ho."
Wait for it.
There were no words. The look on my face was a mixture of complete fear and awe. I vaguely remember that my aunt was a cheerleader there. Poor thing. My dad immediately associated my look of horror with his words and he rephrased it, "They would go out in the fields and HOE. To help the farmers." Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. So much clearer now. We laughed the entire way home.
Friday ended with me realizing that I had spent A LOT of family time in the last 6 days and I was ready for 'me time.' I got home at 5:45 and immediately went for a run...late, dark, and about 45 degrees. It was glorious, glorious ME TIME.
Saturday: 29th, Let's remember the Alamo, but not the bowl. So unfortunate. Highlight of this day was seeing dear, dear friends and laughing and sharing. Pure rejuvination for my soul.
Sunday: 30th, Great breakfast with friends and my parents where we told stories of old (well...the ye olden days of college which was 5-8 years ago) and we laughed. Went to see my new house. Goodbye hugs and promises...though not insubstantial...to remain in better contact and see each other more often. I am reminded of the generous gift of friendship that God gave me in these fantastic people and what they mean to my life. Then I ran 8.5 miles, got a tan in the 72 degree December 30th weather (um, question mark), and I now want to saw off my big toe and pointer toe (is that the anatomically correct term?) on my right foot. From all of the running, I got an ingrown toenail and huge blister on the neighboring toe from the bandages and the long-distance running. This is the time of training that I want to give up. I feel like Ruth or Inez trying to run...this 27-year-old body is wearing out. The hip, toes, knee, and right trapezius mock me in my futile attempts. I have taken Extra Strength Tylenol and had two glasses of wine and I have a full belly and didn't sleep well last night. I'm pretty sure I'm going to turn off the computer in just a sec and pass out.
Maybe I'll wake up in 2008.
I'll write tomorrow with sage reflection on the year 2007. Again...I can sense your excitement.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
I'm Dreaming of a Quiet Christmas...
I should be spending precious time with family or puting away gifts or helping clean the kitchen. I shouldn't be blogging because surely, SURELY, there are things I'd rather be doing.
Nope. Guess again.
Writing on the blog is a sweet escape from my family and endless questions and repeating myself for clarification. No less than 92 times.
I begged my sister-in-law not to leave me today to go back to her house. She and I just have an understanding. Or perhaps it's our special ability listen and pay attention to each other. It's what normal people do. Apparently, this concept is lost on the rest of our family come Christmas-time.
Grandma got here at 3:55 and I logged a SOLID 45 minutes of patience before I was exasperated. It's just the constate state of confusion and interrupting that makes me want to stuff silver bells in my ears. All I wanted for Christmas was a Silent Night.
I told Grandma...God bless her...about my new home purchase and she quickly reverted to the converstaion of what my parents will be called with their impending grandparenthood. I took the hint that this was a more important topic. My sweet father tried to lighten the mood and bring the attention back to me by saying, "Well Grandma, *our daughter* has some other news...she's expecting!" I spent the better part of the afternoon trying to convince my grandma of this fact...for pure kicks and giggles...and it was funny for a while until she said, "I don't believe that for one minute. I thought you'd have more exciting news, such as you're dating some nice man and you're expecting a ring."
Nope. Guess again.
The questions from all parties continued and this fact wouldn't bother me as much if I had any certainty that any member of my family other than my sister-in-law could retain pertinent information for longer than 60 seconds. But they can't.
Nothing says Merry Christmas like inattentiveness!
I am going on a road trip tomorrow. To Lubbock. Hold on while I go get a noose.
Before I get in the car tomorrow for the 6 hour car ride with my grandma and my parents, I plan to take 3 Tylenol PM and a shot of Crown. All at 9am.
Good tidings to you and your kin. May your Christmas be as drug-induced as mine.
Nope. Guess again.
Writing on the blog is a sweet escape from my family and endless questions and repeating myself for clarification. No less than 92 times.
I begged my sister-in-law not to leave me today to go back to her house. She and I just have an understanding. Or perhaps it's our special ability listen and pay attention to each other. It's what normal people do. Apparently, this concept is lost on the rest of our family come Christmas-time.
Grandma got here at 3:55 and I logged a SOLID 45 minutes of patience before I was exasperated. It's just the constate state of confusion and interrupting that makes me want to stuff silver bells in my ears. All I wanted for Christmas was a Silent Night.
I told Grandma...God bless her...about my new home purchase and she quickly reverted to the converstaion of what my parents will be called with their impending grandparenthood. I took the hint that this was a more important topic. My sweet father tried to lighten the mood and bring the attention back to me by saying, "Well Grandma, *our daughter* has some other news...she's expecting!" I spent the better part of the afternoon trying to convince my grandma of this fact...for pure kicks and giggles...and it was funny for a while until she said, "I don't believe that for one minute. I thought you'd have more exciting news, such as you're dating some nice man and you're expecting a ring."
Nope. Guess again.
The questions from all parties continued and this fact wouldn't bother me as much if I had any certainty that any member of my family other than my sister-in-law could retain pertinent information for longer than 60 seconds. But they can't.
Nothing says Merry Christmas like inattentiveness!
I am going on a road trip tomorrow. To Lubbock. Hold on while I go get a noose.
Before I get in the car tomorrow for the 6 hour car ride with my grandma and my parents, I plan to take 3 Tylenol PM and a shot of Crown. All at 9am.
Good tidings to you and your kin. May your Christmas be as drug-induced as mine.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Smattering of topics...
I got a tan today. It's December 22.
I ran outside...for a good hour thankyouverymuch...and when I took off my workout tank, I had TANLINES! Awesome.
I think it's supposed to cool down tomorrow - to a high of 60. The only way that this holiday season and winter wonderland that we call South Texas could get any less apropos was if Santa came down the chimney in bermuda shorts.
And to be completely honest, we do have "Pancho Clause" in this city, so "Bermuda Clause" wouldn't be much of a stretch. FYI - Pancho Clause is the barrio superstar.
I didn't make that up, y'all.
My kindergarten Winter Party was a complete success! Our school had a sing-a-long, complete with Feliz Navidad, Jingle Bells, and African Noel. We try to please the masses. Truth be told, my favorite is the Kwanzaa song...it's very catchy. Then we came back to the room for our "winter" party, where we decorated Christmas trees and I played Christmas music and hugged everyone and wished them a "merry Christmas." I was beyond PC what with 18 sugared-up 6-year-olds and their parents quizzing me about their academic progress.
Does now really seem to be the best time to ask me questions about your child's inability to successfully make the /x/ sound? Well...IT'S NOT, PARENT. Get off my back while I enjoy my 'winter party cupcake.'
The parents were wonderful and worked very hard to make our party festive and delicious. My personal highlight of the day was when I had a converstaion with the male PTA president -whose child is in my class. He was stroking my hair and telling me it was beautiful and talking about how when I cut it for locks of love, the cut and style would be free if I come to his salon. Say it with a lisp and you can virtually recreate the conversation in your head.
Again, I don't make this up, y'all. He stroked my hair as his 'partner' looked on.
Eyebrow raised.
I've covered topics today such as unseasonable tans, multicultural Christmas, and parent-teacher interactions. Clearly, I'm all over the map. Blog over.
I ran outside...for a good hour thankyouverymuch...and when I took off my workout tank, I had TANLINES! Awesome.
I think it's supposed to cool down tomorrow - to a high of 60. The only way that this holiday season and winter wonderland that we call South Texas could get any less apropos was if Santa came down the chimney in bermuda shorts.
And to be completely honest, we do have "Pancho Clause" in this city, so "Bermuda Clause" wouldn't be much of a stretch. FYI - Pancho Clause is the barrio superstar.
I didn't make that up, y'all.
My kindergarten Winter Party was a complete success! Our school had a sing-a-long, complete with Feliz Navidad, Jingle Bells, and African Noel. We try to please the masses. Truth be told, my favorite is the Kwanzaa song...it's very catchy. Then we came back to the room for our "winter" party, where we decorated Christmas trees and I played Christmas music and hugged everyone and wished them a "merry Christmas." I was beyond PC what with 18 sugared-up 6-year-olds and their parents quizzing me about their academic progress.
Does now really seem to be the best time to ask me questions about your child's inability to successfully make the /x/ sound? Well...IT'S NOT, PARENT. Get off my back while I enjoy my 'winter party cupcake.'
The parents were wonderful and worked very hard to make our party festive and delicious. My personal highlight of the day was when I had a converstaion with the male PTA president -whose child is in my class. He was stroking my hair and telling me it was beautiful and talking about how when I cut it for locks of love, the cut and style would be free if I come to his salon. Say it with a lisp and you can virtually recreate the conversation in your head.
Again, I don't make this up, y'all. He stroked my hair as his 'partner' looked on.
Eyebrow raised.
I've covered topics today such as unseasonable tans, multicultural Christmas, and parent-teacher interactions. Clearly, I'm all over the map. Blog over.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Truth be told...
This is how I know I'm old...
1. I was at the mall tonight, walked through the 'juniors' section and thought, "Oh my gosh! What is up with that style? What are girls these days wearing?"
2. Walking throught the same section, I saw some brown pajamas with gingerbread men on them, and candy canes, and all things Christmas-y. They were so cute and I thought, "Wow, I'd love to put those on right now and climb into bed with a cup of tea and a good book." I also secretly wondered if they had 'footies' on them. Footies are perfection.
3. Tomorrow is Friday night. Instead of planning an outing with a guy or friends that includes dinner, drinks, dancing, and partying...all I'm hoping for is to cook a good meal, get a good work-out in, and attack the pile of ironing that is growing and sporting dust in the corner of my bedroom. I'd absolutely be thrilled to be in bed by 10pm. No regrets about not going out to live it up as a single 27-year-old. None.
4. I went to dinner with some friends and the daughter wanted to "SIT BY MISS ROSE...MISS ROSE WILL YOU TAKE ME TO THE BATHROOM?...MISS ROSE YOU DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I type in all caps because she talks in ALL CAPS. ALL THE TIME. She's precious. Anyway, she's 3 and asked if "I could be her mommy next time." She doesn't quite realize that her mommy is absolutely wonderful and surpasses anything I could ever be. But she made my ovaries hurt a little when she asked and it made me feel old...like I should have a kid or something. Or at least that I could try it out for a while. Until it got too hard and then I'd give her back. LIKE WHEN SHE TALKS IN ALL CAPS. ALL THE TIME.
These are just the things that make me feel old today. I'm sure I'll have an entirely new and comprehensive old-timer list tomorrow. Complete with Ben-Gay and Metamucil.
1. I was at the mall tonight, walked through the 'juniors' section and thought, "Oh my gosh! What is up with that style? What are girls these days wearing?"
2. Walking throught the same section, I saw some brown pajamas with gingerbread men on them, and candy canes, and all things Christmas-y. They were so cute and I thought, "Wow, I'd love to put those on right now and climb into bed with a cup of tea and a good book." I also secretly wondered if they had 'footies' on them. Footies are perfection.
3. Tomorrow is Friday night. Instead of planning an outing with a guy or friends that includes dinner, drinks, dancing, and partying...all I'm hoping for is to cook a good meal, get a good work-out in, and attack the pile of ironing that is growing and sporting dust in the corner of my bedroom. I'd absolutely be thrilled to be in bed by 10pm. No regrets about not going out to live it up as a single 27-year-old. None.
4. I went to dinner with some friends and the daughter wanted to "SIT BY MISS ROSE...MISS ROSE WILL YOU TAKE ME TO THE BATHROOM?...MISS ROSE YOU DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I type in all caps because she talks in ALL CAPS. ALL THE TIME. She's precious. Anyway, she's 3 and asked if "I could be her mommy next time." She doesn't quite realize that her mommy is absolutely wonderful and surpasses anything I could ever be. But she made my ovaries hurt a little when she asked and it made me feel old...like I should have a kid or something. Or at least that I could try it out for a while. Until it got too hard and then I'd give her back. LIKE WHEN SHE TALKS IN ALL CAPS. ALL THE TIME.
These are just the things that make me feel old today. I'm sure I'll have an entirely new and comprehensive old-timer list tomorrow. Complete with Ben-Gay and Metamucil.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
My New Favorite
I hope you will watch this video (take five minutes) and are as blessed by it as I was.
At church this past weekend, the 'drama department' reenacted this little skit. Normally, when the 'drama department' comes out, I roll my eyes and watch the girls flit around and pretend to be ballerinas. This time, it was an actual drama and it was FABULOUS. The skit I have linked here is not from my church, but this is the video they adapted it from. However, my church did it better but they're not posting it online. Perhaps I shouldn't say my church did it better...I'm sure that's viewed as some sort of wrongful comparison in the eyes of church-going-folk and perhaps God. But it's true.
ANYWAY.....................most importantly...WATCH THIS. This video came to me at a time when I most needed it. I hope you feel the safety net of God like I did.
http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ee73e63418003b47d7d5
PS - The song is called "Everything" by Lifehouse and it's My New Favorite.
At church this past weekend, the 'drama department' reenacted this little skit. Normally, when the 'drama department' comes out, I roll my eyes and watch the girls flit around and pretend to be ballerinas. This time, it was an actual drama and it was FABULOUS. The skit I have linked here is not from my church, but this is the video they adapted it from. However, my church did it better but they're not posting it online. Perhaps I shouldn't say my church did it better...I'm sure that's viewed as some sort of wrongful comparison in the eyes of church-going-folk and perhaps God. But it's true.
ANYWAY.....................most importantly...WATCH THIS. This video came to me at a time when I most needed it. I hope you feel the safety net of God like I did.
http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ee73e63418003b47d7d5
PS - The song is called "Everything" by Lifehouse and it's My New Favorite.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Done and Done
It's time to put my big girl panties on and deal with it.
White suburban and Mexicans inside not included. And when I say 'Mexicans,' I'm not being derrogatory. They are straight up from Mexico. It's part of the charm of my city.
Monday, December 17, 2007
I'm a hugger!
My cousin didn't really like to give hugs every single time she saw one of our friends in college. Really, this is a reasonable request...or phobia. She'd always say, "Rocks now, hugs later." It was the message that you save the hugs for a special time and then it means more. If you just hug everyone all the time, you become a hug whore. That's just how it goes.
I hope you're asking yourself if you're a hug whore. If you are, don't run from it. It's okay. Embrace it. Hug yourself.
Well, it is safe to say that my brother dated a lot of girls. I don't really know how seriously, but I just know that he was a nice guy and always landed nice girls. I always liked them. He'd bring them home, too. That fact alone is absurd and beyond my comprehension, but he'd bring them home for holidays and family gatherings and birthdays. It is almost comical to remember all the occasions. There is a picture of me and my family at my sorority initiation banquet (don't judge) and there is a random girl in it. There is a picture of me at my college graduation with a random girl in it (a different one). This particular girl was so sweet and I really liked her and she gave me really nice presents for graduation.
Not only did she give me presents for my graduation, but she gave me ANOTHER present a few days later when she was with our family for Christmas. That's for real, y'all. Looking back, I was trying to make friends with these girls that I thought could maybe possibly perhaps be part of our family one day. I have all sorts of walls up and don't really want to get close to random people. But I thought this one girl and I could be friends and I liked her so I let her 'in.'
Until my bro broke up with her a few days later.
Less than two months later, he wanted us to meet 'the new girl.' I remember that my dad and I had a conversation in which I said, "Well I'm not getting close to any more girls. I've been through too much. I will be pleasant and nice but I'm not getting close again. I don't want to get hurt."
As if I'm dating her.
My dad agreed on this line of logic. He didn't want to get close to some girl that my bro was just going to break up with. Poor girl. She didn't even know what was coming. But I knew what was coming.
The interesting part is that my dad already knew this girl...and her entire family. He knew her brothers and nephews and wonderful parents. My dad had known this girl for years attending college football games. He said she was "super." I was skeptical.
I met her at dinner with me, my mom, my dad, my cousin, my aunt, and my uncle. My mom and I were the only ones at the table she didn't know. No pressure or anything.
She was nice. I thought she was normal until she pulled out the UT baseball schedule from her purse.
I think I cried a little to myself.
We were saying goodbye in the parking lot and I completely planned to give her a handshake and follow my self-imposed rule of: Must meet someone no less than three times before full frontal contact.
She hugged my dad (again, she knew him). Then she hugged my mom. I stood my ground. I may have even stuck out my hand. Then it happened.
She hugged me. She's a hugger. It was yet to be determined if she was a hug-whore. But she definitely hugged me.
I got in the car to drive away and said to my parents, "CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE HUGGED ME? SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW ME!" I think I even threw in the line, "She doesn't know what I've been through. She doesn't know my hurt."
Two months after that, my bro said he was going to ask her to marry him. Less than a month after that, we were there when they got engaged. She became my SNL and she's a keeper. She's perfect for my brother and they are making me an aunt. Happy anniversary bro and SNL!
And guess what? My SNL turned me into a jumpy and squealy and giddy girl. I'm still not a hugger and try to stick to my rule. But for some people, you can bend the rules.
I hope you're asking yourself if you're a hug whore. If you are, don't run from it. It's okay. Embrace it. Hug yourself.
Well, it is safe to say that my brother dated a lot of girls. I don't really know how seriously, but I just know that he was a nice guy and always landed nice girls. I always liked them. He'd bring them home, too. That fact alone is absurd and beyond my comprehension, but he'd bring them home for holidays and family gatherings and birthdays. It is almost comical to remember all the occasions. There is a picture of me and my family at my sorority initiation banquet (don't judge) and there is a random girl in it. There is a picture of me at my college graduation with a random girl in it (a different one). This particular girl was so sweet and I really liked her and she gave me really nice presents for graduation.
Not only did she give me presents for my graduation, but she gave me ANOTHER present a few days later when she was with our family for Christmas. That's for real, y'all. Looking back, I was trying to make friends with these girls that I thought could maybe possibly perhaps be part of our family one day. I have all sorts of walls up and don't really want to get close to random people. But I thought this one girl and I could be friends and I liked her so I let her 'in.'
Until my bro broke up with her a few days later.
Less than two months later, he wanted us to meet 'the new girl.' I remember that my dad and I had a conversation in which I said, "Well I'm not getting close to any more girls. I've been through too much. I will be pleasant and nice but I'm not getting close again. I don't want to get hurt."
As if I'm dating her.
My dad agreed on this line of logic. He didn't want to get close to some girl that my bro was just going to break up with. Poor girl. She didn't even know what was coming. But I knew what was coming.
The interesting part is that my dad already knew this girl...and her entire family. He knew her brothers and nephews and wonderful parents. My dad had known this girl for years attending college football games. He said she was "super." I was skeptical.
I met her at dinner with me, my mom, my dad, my cousin, my aunt, and my uncle. My mom and I were the only ones at the table she didn't know. No pressure or anything.
She was nice. I thought she was normal until she pulled out the UT baseball schedule from her purse.
I think I cried a little to myself.
We were saying goodbye in the parking lot and I completely planned to give her a handshake and follow my self-imposed rule of: Must meet someone no less than three times before full frontal contact.
She hugged my dad (again, she knew him). Then she hugged my mom. I stood my ground. I may have even stuck out my hand. Then it happened.
She hugged me. She's a hugger. It was yet to be determined if she was a hug-whore. But she definitely hugged me.
I got in the car to drive away and said to my parents, "CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE HUGGED ME? SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW ME!" I think I even threw in the line, "She doesn't know what I've been through. She doesn't know my hurt."
Two months after that, my bro said he was going to ask her to marry him. Less than a month after that, we were there when they got engaged. She became my SNL and she's a keeper. She's perfect for my brother and they are making me an aunt. Happy anniversary bro and SNL!
And guess what? My SNL turned me into a jumpy and squealy and giddy girl. I'm still not a hugger and try to stick to my rule. But for some people, you can bend the rules.
One is Silver and the Other Gold
When I left college, I remember Pringle and I having a discussion saying, "I don't want to make any more friends." We were so sad to leave our safe cohort and couldn't imagine reaplacing each other's friendship. But I guess you're sort of forced to make friends when your true true ones are so far away...like clear across the state of Texas (and sometimes farther - GASP!). I love my friends from childhood (like, two of them), and cherish my friends from college (about a handful that are the life-longers). But as the years pass...oh yes, I keep forgetting that if I round up, I'm close to 30...one can't avoid making new friends. New friends that last forever. They share new experiences (some of which make me raise an eyebrow) and schools of thought. After college I made a good friend in the form of family, my SNL. I made new friends at my elementary school, and we continue to widen our circle and let some into our 'core group.'
And then you meet those people that you have no idea why they come into your life but they are exactly right. God could have brought anyone to you to get the job done. But He didn't. He knew that you not only would need someone to provide you the service, but someone that can offer support, guidance, a listening ear, and a similar experience.
Such is the story of me and my realtor. I loke her. I like her + I love her = I loke her. And yesterday, I re-loke her. She is just the best. Anyone could have helped me find a house; anyone could be my advocate; anyone could guide me and make this a fairly easy and quick process. But she isn't just anyone. At a time where I'm confused and broken about something that is completely unrelated to realty, God sent me a friend...a life-long friend...and a conversation to offer her story and hope.
And she's doing a dang fine job of landing me a house. And being patient with me because I am in the upper eschelon of real estate stupidity.
And then you meet those people that you have no idea why they come into your life but they are exactly right. God could have brought anyone to you to get the job done. But He didn't. He knew that you not only would need someone to provide you the service, but someone that can offer support, guidance, a listening ear, and a similar experience.
Such is the story of me and my realtor. I loke her. I like her + I love her = I loke her. And yesterday, I re-loke her. She is just the best. Anyone could have helped me find a house; anyone could be my advocate; anyone could guide me and make this a fairly easy and quick process. But she isn't just anyone. At a time where I'm confused and broken about something that is completely unrelated to realty, God sent me a friend...a life-long friend...and a conversation to offer her story and hope.
And she's doing a dang fine job of landing me a house. And being patient with me because I am in the upper eschelon of real estate stupidity.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Monkey Business
I apologize now for my lack of blogging this week. Truly, it's because I have not had much funny to rehash. Weds thru Fri of this week had me wanting to pour vinegar in my ears so I wouldn't be able to hear the squeals of delight as I broke out the glitter and "holiday" crafts. We all know good and well that these were Christmas art projects, and I came home daily with glitter stuck in my hair (I'm not kidding) and marker covering my forearms. Oh and I don't know what vinegar would do to your ears but I was hoping for a burning sensation that would cause a lack of hearing. It would be better than listening to, "MIIIIIISS ROOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T DO IT! THE GLITTER'S ALL MESSY AND JENNY STOLE MY BUTTON!"
Seriously? Seriously. 5 more days of it and then I get a nice break from the little Christmas angels who I'm sure will all be on the 'Nice' list.
Except for the PTA president's son who managed to irritate me enough to earn himself a one-way ticket to the principal's office. There's a proud parent for ya.
At the end of a harried week, I did what any good daughter would do that has been ignoring her parents: I brought them tamales. Oh yes. The white folk love them some tamales made by the bilingual teachers. Au-then-tic.
I was heating up the tamales with my dad in the kitchen tonight and we started talking about Christmas. It is a well-known fact that I am quite possibly the worst gift-giver and I expect people to hand me a list. If you do not give me a list of things you might possibly perhaps like, then I may be forced to give you the equivalent of poop in a box (albeit, with a pretty bow).
Or at least a nice razor.
I asked my dad for the bizillionth time (yes, it's a number...look it up) what he would like for Christmas this year. He looked me in the eye and said, "A service monkey." When he finally accepted the fact that I would, in deed, NOT get him a monkey of any sort, I asked him again. He told me, "A pony." At this point, I wanted to revisit the monkey idea because a monkey (especially one providing a service) seemed better than a pony. Because truly, do you know who this present is to punish? My mom. She would have a monkey or donkey taking residence in her house or backyard. I told him that I would drive to my uncle's house that lives about an hour away and I'd go get his childhood stuffed monkey, "...wasn't Muggs his name?" Dad gave a combined look of euphoria and displeasure and said, "His given name is J.Fred Muggs but he goes by J.Fred. Calling him J.Fred Muggs would be like calling me First Middle Last Name, Jr. instead of calling me 'Dad.' Now, let's not make fun of J.Fred or his brother Zip." I think I gave him the look of, "WTF?" Then I remembered that I forgot about Zippy (formal name of J.Fred's brother). And Puppy Dog.
They all live safely with my uncle and apparently, my dad still loves them. A lot.
After Dad had settled down from the childhood memories of his ratty, little pals, I asked him what he would like for Christmas. Again. This time he said, "Well, I've had my eye on a 17-year-old Taiwanese girl that needs a good home here in America."
It is now where I should insert that my dad is a comical man. Strictly just for kicks and giggles. At this particular moment, I was doubled on the floor laughing. My dad would never actually order something like that off the internet.
Except for the time he ordered two pairs of 'mocasins' that were reminiscent of his liberal days as a college student at UT. Back in the day, he went months without wearing real shoes, and preferred his 'mocasins' that were oiled in dung. Let's be honest and call it like it is...the 'mocasins' are Jesus sandals. I would like to point out that while my dad was a member of student government at this particular university, they elected a dog as student body president. I always like to throw that fact in there to prove that the 70s were marked with insanity and nonsensical behaviors.
Insanity that I desperately wished I lived through.
As we sat and ate our tamales, chile, and Fritos, I had a couple of thoughts running through my mind: 1. On a scale of 1 to 10, how badly will I be 'tore up' later after eating this meal? and 2. What AM I going to get my dad for Christmas?
Right then and there, my mom knocked over her glass of water, spilling it all over my dad and the table and the floor. They scramble to start cleaning with napkins. Then my dad said, "See, if we had a service monkey, he would have cleaned up the water."
I'm not ordering a Taiwanese girl for Christmas. I guess I can check into a good deal on monkeys.
Seriously? Seriously. 5 more days of it and then I get a nice break from the little Christmas angels who I'm sure will all be on the 'Nice' list.
Except for the PTA president's son who managed to irritate me enough to earn himself a one-way ticket to the principal's office. There's a proud parent for ya.
At the end of a harried week, I did what any good daughter would do that has been ignoring her parents: I brought them tamales. Oh yes. The white folk love them some tamales made by the bilingual teachers. Au-then-tic.
I was heating up the tamales with my dad in the kitchen tonight and we started talking about Christmas. It is a well-known fact that I am quite possibly the worst gift-giver and I expect people to hand me a list. If you do not give me a list of things you might possibly perhaps like, then I may be forced to give you the equivalent of poop in a box (albeit, with a pretty bow).
Or at least a nice razor.
I asked my dad for the bizillionth time (yes, it's a number...look it up) what he would like for Christmas this year. He looked me in the eye and said, "A service monkey." When he finally accepted the fact that I would, in deed, NOT get him a monkey of any sort, I asked him again. He told me, "A pony." At this point, I wanted to revisit the monkey idea because a monkey (especially one providing a service) seemed better than a pony. Because truly, do you know who this present is to punish? My mom. She would have a monkey or donkey taking residence in her house or backyard. I told him that I would drive to my uncle's house that lives about an hour away and I'd go get his childhood stuffed monkey, "...wasn't Muggs his name?" Dad gave a combined look of euphoria and displeasure and said, "His given name is J.Fred Muggs but he goes by J.Fred. Calling him J.Fred Muggs would be like calling me First Middle Last Name, Jr. instead of calling me 'Dad.' Now, let's not make fun of J.Fred or his brother Zip." I think I gave him the look of, "WTF?" Then I remembered that I forgot about Zippy (formal name of J.Fred's brother). And Puppy Dog.
They all live safely with my uncle and apparently, my dad still loves them. A lot.
After Dad had settled down from the childhood memories of his ratty, little pals, I asked him what he would like for Christmas. Again. This time he said, "Well, I've had my eye on a 17-year-old Taiwanese girl that needs a good home here in America."
It is now where I should insert that my dad is a comical man. Strictly just for kicks and giggles. At this particular moment, I was doubled on the floor laughing. My dad would never actually order something like that off the internet.
Except for the time he ordered two pairs of 'mocasins' that were reminiscent of his liberal days as a college student at UT. Back in the day, he went months without wearing real shoes, and preferred his 'mocasins' that were oiled in dung. Let's be honest and call it like it is...the 'mocasins' are Jesus sandals. I would like to point out that while my dad was a member of student government at this particular university, they elected a dog as student body president. I always like to throw that fact in there to prove that the 70s were marked with insanity and nonsensical behaviors.
Insanity that I desperately wished I lived through.
As we sat and ate our tamales, chile, and Fritos, I had a couple of thoughts running through my mind: 1. On a scale of 1 to 10, how badly will I be 'tore up' later after eating this meal? and 2. What AM I going to get my dad for Christmas?
Right then and there, my mom knocked over her glass of water, spilling it all over my dad and the table and the floor. They scramble to start cleaning with napkins. Then my dad said, "See, if we had a service monkey, he would have cleaned up the water."
I'm not ordering a Taiwanese girl for Christmas. I guess I can check into a good deal on monkeys.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Good news...
Well I just don't have a lot of news this week. Not unless you count the fact that Jessica Alba got knocked up and the fact that Heidi and Spencer are STILL broken up as 'news.' That's the excitement in my life.
And since I mentioned it, can we just pause on the Jessica Alba tidbit of info for a sec? First of all, thank you to my SNL who introduces me to such important matters in life such as children out-of-wedlock. Not that she knows anything about that. She and my brother are indeed having their child fully in-wedlock. (Yeesh. Side note, it just made me squeeze my legs together to think of having a child in any kind of lock.) Anyway...let's just think about all the 'celebrities' with their out-of-wedlock children. Some might go as far to call them something that rhymes with plastered, but I wouldn't do such a thing. Let me start my list: Jennifer Garner, Michelle Williams, Gwenyth Paltrow, Angelina Jolie, REESE WITHERSPOON, Salma Hayek, Nicole Richie, Halle Berry...just to name a few. It's like it is some sort of goal out there. I really have no point here...just an observation that this is some sort of accepted trend in society. In my family, it would be more accepted if I came home with a chain running from a bone through my nostrils to my heenahaw. I hear they do that in some villages on other continents.
Clearly, I'm trying to make friends with this blog, seeing as how I'm blasting unwed mothers AND tribes in less-than-fortunate countries. My bad.
So, no news this week. But I guess no news is good news. 13 days until Christmas and I really should start the shopping. I think I'd rather attach a chain to my heenahaw.
And since I mentioned it, can we just pause on the Jessica Alba tidbit of info for a sec? First of all, thank you to my SNL who introduces me to such important matters in life such as children out-of-wedlock. Not that she knows anything about that. She and my brother are indeed having their child fully in-wedlock. (Yeesh. Side note, it just made me squeeze my legs together to think of having a child in any kind of lock.) Anyway...let's just think about all the 'celebrities' with their out-of-wedlock children. Some might go as far to call them something that rhymes with plastered, but I wouldn't do such a thing. Let me start my list: Jennifer Garner, Michelle Williams, Gwenyth Paltrow, Angelina Jolie, REESE WITHERSPOON, Salma Hayek, Nicole Richie, Halle Berry...just to name a few. It's like it is some sort of goal out there. I really have no point here...just an observation that this is some sort of accepted trend in society. In my family, it would be more accepted if I came home with a chain running from a bone through my nostrils to my heenahaw. I hear they do that in some villages on other continents.
Clearly, I'm trying to make friends with this blog, seeing as how I'm blasting unwed mothers AND tribes in less-than-fortunate countries. My bad.
So, no news this week. But I guess no news is good news. 13 days until Christmas and I really should start the shopping. I think I'd rather attach a chain to my heenahaw.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Simple Request
Dear Mother Nature,
I like you. A lot. I have grown to like you more and more as I've aged. I like your landscapes, skies, colors, feelings, smells. I like being outside in you. I have rested and exercised in all your splendor: rain, sleet, freezing, sweltering, and GORGEOUSNESS. The gorgeousness is my favorite of all that you do.
What I do not like is indecision.
PLEASE pick a season and stick with it! Please. Yesterday was 55 and winds-a-blowin' and mist. Today was 81 and balmy, sticky, overcast. Make it stop. My summer wardrobe has already been put away, seeing as how it's Dec. 11.
I'm not saying I want butt cold every day. But I would like a proper fall and/or winter without random days of summer thrown in there.
Thanks...see you in a bit for a walk!
Warmly,
Miss Rose
PS. My definition of gorgeousness is 72 and a slight breeze, sparse clouds, sun out but not blinding. If you could do that all day, every day...I wouldn't mind.
I like you. A lot. I have grown to like you more and more as I've aged. I like your landscapes, skies, colors, feelings, smells. I like being outside in you. I have rested and exercised in all your splendor: rain, sleet, freezing, sweltering, and GORGEOUSNESS. The gorgeousness is my favorite of all that you do.
What I do not like is indecision.
PLEASE pick a season and stick with it! Please. Yesterday was 55 and winds-a-blowin' and mist. Today was 81 and balmy, sticky, overcast. Make it stop. My summer wardrobe has already been put away, seeing as how it's Dec. 11.
I'm not saying I want butt cold every day. But I would like a proper fall and/or winter without random days of summer thrown in there.
Thanks...see you in a bit for a walk!
Warmly,
Miss Rose
PS. My definition of gorgeousness is 72 and a slight breeze, sparse clouds, sun out but not blinding. If you could do that all day, every day...I wouldn't mind.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Whatever tickles your fancy...
The other day I Googled myself. No! Gross...not that kind of google. I don't do that.
I looked up my name on Google. To the people that know my first and last name, please do the following: In the address bar, type in www. and then my first name andthen my last name and then dot and then 'blogspot' and then dot com. I know you know what I mean. I don't mean to make it difficult but every time I tried to type it on here, it kept giving me a link and I don't want a link. You know how this is welldeep? Replace 'welldeep' with myfirstnamemylastname. Make sense?
Go do it and then come back to read the rest of this blog.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG THAT IS AWESOME. I want to meet her.
And I hope she wears her viking helmet.
I looked up my name on Google. To the people that know my first and last name, please do the following: In the address bar, type in www. and then my first name andthen my last name and then dot and then 'blogspot' and then dot com. I know you know what I mean. I don't mean to make it difficult but every time I tried to type it on here, it kept giving me a link and I don't want a link. You know how this is welldeep? Replace 'welldeep' with myfirstnamemylastname. Make sense?
Go do it and then come back to read the rest of this blog.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG THAT IS AWESOME. I want to meet her.
And I hope she wears her viking helmet.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Social Injustices
A long time ago Alanis Morrisette had a song called "Ironic" but it was blasted for not telling of things that were 'ironic.' Rather, they were just really big bummers.
I know this because I'm have excess knowledge of music.
If I were a singer, and I wish I were, I would have a song called "Social Injustices" and I'd like to share some topics with you:
1. For the first Saturday in A LONG TIME, I don't have anywhere to go, anything to do, nothing to study, no pressing matters. Tomorrow is also the first Saturday that there is no College Gameday and no college football on TV. Social injustice.
2. I have watched only two TV shows this semester and they are weekly: The Bachelor and The Office. I have had no time for others. Now that grad school is over for the semester, The Bachelor has ended and The Office is all reruns. I have no choice but to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Social injustice.
3. I saw this cute boy in a big diesel truck ahead of me on my drive home today. He had an A&M sticker on the back and he looked good through the rear-view mirror. As I passed, he was clearly 35+. Social injustice. (Really, I blame this lack of judgement on my irritation from the traffic and on my dizziness from lack of sustinence at 6:30pm -mind you, lunch at 10:30- and I considered eating my Pei Wei with my fingers because like an IDIOT I told the cashier "no" when he offered "plastic utensils or chopsticks." At that point in the car, I wanted a chopstick to stab at my chicken terryaki rice bowl...or just to impale through my temple.)
4. We are going to see a play at the high school tomorrow - Sleeping Beauty. Today, we watched the 1959 movie version. (Don't worry...we made it educational and we will make a Venn diagram of the similarities and differences after we see the play tomorrow. But PRAISE PRAISE for quietness while the little children were enthralled in the outdated cinemetography of a Disney movie.) Let me just say that when I was young, I watched Cinderella, Mary Poppins, and Snow White countless times. For the life of me, I don't remember Sleeping Beauty and I, too, was riveted! Let me recap it for you: Sleeping Beauty has a spell cast on her by the evil witch that she'll prick her finger on a spindle on her 16th bday and fall asleep for 100 years and can only be awoken by a kiss from her love. (I remember this part, and while watching, I realized that it is SO TRUE that fairy tales engrain into little girls to have unrealistic expectations for the knight on a white horse to prove his love - which all happens in this fairy tale, aka FANTASYLAND. I caught myself saying out loud to the kids, "Oh he's going to rescue her and tell her he loves her! Watch girls!" What was I thinking?) Anyway, Sleeping Beauty, aka Princess Aurora, goes to live in the forest with the three fairies and they rename her Rose. Aka Miss Rose. The Prince comes to find her, they meet in the forest and dance and sing. At this point, a little girl in my class said, "Miss Rose, you look just like the Princess!" I thought that was sweet, because she couldn't differentiate between the lovely Princess and me, their terror of a teacher. Then, all of a sudden, "Rose" asks the Prince what his name was. DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT WAS? DO YOU? I'll give you two guesses. No, it wasn't Enrique. Phillip. Prince Phillip.
I hear that and OUT LOUD say, "Well this is going to end poorly." That was my last SOCIAL INJUSTICE.
Perhaps these items are just really big bummers. Regardless, I would like to blame someone or something and I choose to blame the social situations that we call life. Injustice!!
I know this because I'm have excess knowledge of music.
If I were a singer, and I wish I were, I would have a song called "Social Injustices" and I'd like to share some topics with you:
1. For the first Saturday in A LONG TIME, I don't have anywhere to go, anything to do, nothing to study, no pressing matters. Tomorrow is also the first Saturday that there is no College Gameday and no college football on TV. Social injustice.
2. I have watched only two TV shows this semester and they are weekly: The Bachelor and The Office. I have had no time for others. Now that grad school is over for the semester, The Bachelor has ended and The Office is all reruns. I have no choice but to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Social injustice.
3. I saw this cute boy in a big diesel truck ahead of me on my drive home today. He had an A&M sticker on the back and he looked good through the rear-view mirror. As I passed, he was clearly 35+. Social injustice. (Really, I blame this lack of judgement on my irritation from the traffic and on my dizziness from lack of sustinence at 6:30pm -mind you, lunch at 10:30- and I considered eating my Pei Wei with my fingers because like an IDIOT I told the cashier "no" when he offered "plastic utensils or chopsticks." At that point in the car, I wanted a chopstick to stab at my chicken terryaki rice bowl...or just to impale through my temple.)
4. We are going to see a play at the high school tomorrow - Sleeping Beauty. Today, we watched the 1959 movie version. (Don't worry...we made it educational and we will make a Venn diagram of the similarities and differences after we see the play tomorrow. But PRAISE PRAISE for quietness while the little children were enthralled in the outdated cinemetography of a Disney movie.) Let me just say that when I was young, I watched Cinderella, Mary Poppins, and Snow White countless times. For the life of me, I don't remember Sleeping Beauty and I, too, was riveted! Let me recap it for you: Sleeping Beauty has a spell cast on her by the evil witch that she'll prick her finger on a spindle on her 16th bday and fall asleep for 100 years and can only be awoken by a kiss from her love. (I remember this part, and while watching, I realized that it is SO TRUE that fairy tales engrain into little girls to have unrealistic expectations for the knight on a white horse to prove his love - which all happens in this fairy tale, aka FANTASYLAND. I caught myself saying out loud to the kids, "Oh he's going to rescue her and tell her he loves her! Watch girls!" What was I thinking?) Anyway, Sleeping Beauty, aka Princess Aurora, goes to live in the forest with the three fairies and they rename her Rose. Aka Miss Rose. The Prince comes to find her, they meet in the forest and dance and sing. At this point, a little girl in my class said, "Miss Rose, you look just like the Princess!" I thought that was sweet, because she couldn't differentiate between the lovely Princess and me, their terror of a teacher. Then, all of a sudden, "Rose" asks the Prince what his name was. DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT WAS? DO YOU? I'll give you two guesses. No, it wasn't Enrique. Phillip. Prince Phillip.
I hear that and OUT LOUD say, "Well this is going to end poorly." That was my last SOCIAL INJUSTICE.
Perhaps these items are just really big bummers. Regardless, I would like to blame someone or something and I choose to blame the social situations that we call life. Injustice!!
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
All I want for Christmas is...no coal.
A little boy interrupted me no less than 10 times this morning. I tried ignoring it, redirecting the behavior, correcting him, praising others, and allowing him to speak. I was using my good teacher strategies.
But he just wouldn't shut up. You know you've been pushed over the edge when you want to use the worstest words Kindergarteners have ever heard...aka "the bad words": SHUT UP! I strongly considered it and I was ready to argue my case to the parent and administration, and the superindent if need be, to justify using such horrific a term.
Instead, I abandoned all good teacher strategies and even the sh- word and resorted to the extremely-long-run-on-sentence-and-clenched-teeth-and-stern-voice-to-petrify-anyone-younger-than-10-voice and said:
"If you don't stop complaining and interrupting me and crying and whining RIGHT NOW I'm going to personally call Santa himself and tell him that you should be on the naughty list because you are being SO NAUGHTY RIGHT NOW and he'll bring you coal in your shoes like when I was in first grade and we took a nap and took off our shoes and I woke up and Santa gave me coal in my shoes and all the other boys and girls got presents and DO YOU WANT COAL OR DO YOU WANT TO SHAPE UP AND BE A BIG BOY?"
You are invited to my Teacher of the Year reception. The date is to be determined.
True story about how I got coal in my shoes. Do you think I'm over it yet? I cried a little to myself after I told the kid about the coal because I think it was a repressed memory.
But he just wouldn't shut up. You know you've been pushed over the edge when you want to use the worstest words Kindergarteners have ever heard...aka "the bad words": SHUT UP! I strongly considered it and I was ready to argue my case to the parent and administration, and the superindent if need be, to justify using such horrific a term.
Instead, I abandoned all good teacher strategies and even the sh- word and resorted to the extremely-long-run-on-sentence-and-clenched-teeth-and-stern-voice-to-petrify-anyone-younger-than-10-voice and said:
"If you don't stop complaining and interrupting me and crying and whining RIGHT NOW I'm going to personally call Santa himself and tell him that you should be on the naughty list because you are being SO NAUGHTY RIGHT NOW and he'll bring you coal in your shoes like when I was in first grade and we took a nap and took off our shoes and I woke up and Santa gave me coal in my shoes and all the other boys and girls got presents and DO YOU WANT COAL OR DO YOU WANT TO SHAPE UP AND BE A BIG BOY?"
You are invited to my Teacher of the Year reception. The date is to be determined.
True story about how I got coal in my shoes. Do you think I'm over it yet? I cried a little to myself after I told the kid about the coal because I think it was a repressed memory.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Never too old...
Remember back in the day when you'd calculate the lowest possible grade you could make on the final to solidify a C or a D in Econ202 or Biol113 or Pols207 (may Dr. Tucker {rhymes with...} rot in you-know-where for making me retake that class!)? I may have done that. That was in undergrad.
Well, I am here to tell you that you are NEVER TOO OLD for this line of logic. Here I am, in graduate school, the night before my final paper is due, and I have just done the math.
I am happy to report that I don't have to even turn in the paper to technically get an A.
Whoop.
I need 1755 points in the class for an A, and I currently have 1783. The final paper is worth 150. So, let's just say...HYPOTHETICALLY...that I start the paper tonight, edit and revise tomorrow, submit it tomorrow evening. The lowest grade I've recieved in this class is the equivalent of a 95 (through 9 other assignments, mind you!). Do you think I'm worried?
I just finished a glass of wine and put my heading on my paper. I guess I should get started!
Well, I am here to tell you that you are NEVER TOO OLD for this line of logic. Here I am, in graduate school, the night before my final paper is due, and I have just done the math.
I am happy to report that I don't have to even turn in the paper to technically get an A.
Whoop.
I need 1755 points in the class for an A, and I currently have 1783. The final paper is worth 150. So, let's just say...HYPOTHETICALLY...that I start the paper tonight, edit and revise tomorrow, submit it tomorrow evening. The lowest grade I've recieved in this class is the equivalent of a 95 (through 9 other assignments, mind you!). Do you think I'm worried?
I just finished a glass of wine and put my heading on my paper. I guess I should get started!
Monday, December 3, 2007
Christmas with a capital K!
We have three weeks left in school before the "Winter Break." That is precisely enough time to start talking about all things "Winter" even though it was 76 degrees outside and the high for Friday is in the 80s. Winter indeed.
Today was the first day the kids saw the December calendar and the pictures are of an "evergreen tree" and a "holiday gift," yet they clearly look like a Christmas tree and a present. Everything must be very PC.
We are learning about customs and traditions in families, so I even asked the kids to raise their hands so I knew what they celebrate at home. No takers on Hanukkah, one little white girl (bless her heart) raised her hand for Kwanzaa, and then everyone raised their hand for Christmas and Santa.
The room mom and I were planning the "Winter Party" and she was like, "What? We can't decorate a Christmas tree?" Uh, no. By the end of the day, I want you to know that I have already given up on PC this year. It just confuses the kids when you use words like "holidays" and "winter party." Let's just call it what it is...the "I love Jesus and it's the last day before the CHRISTMAS break party!"
14 days and counting!
Today was the first day the kids saw the December calendar and the pictures are of an "evergreen tree" and a "holiday gift," yet they clearly look like a Christmas tree and a present. Everything must be very PC.
We are learning about customs and traditions in families, so I even asked the kids to raise their hands so I knew what they celebrate at home. No takers on Hanukkah, one little white girl (bless her heart) raised her hand for Kwanzaa, and then everyone raised their hand for Christmas and Santa.
The room mom and I were planning the "Winter Party" and she was like, "What? We can't decorate a Christmas tree?" Uh, no. By the end of the day, I want you to know that I have already given up on PC this year. It just confuses the kids when you use words like "holidays" and "winter party." Let's just call it what it is...the "I love Jesus and it's the last day before the CHRISTMAS break party!"
14 days and counting!
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Big Bag of Crazy
I gave myself a birthday present yesterday that costs $70.23. It will also cause me pain and chafing; it will monopolize my time; it sends me into the league of "she just might be crazy."
What is it you ask?
http://www.attaustinmarathon.com/cms/
I'm doing the half on February 17, 2008 and you're invited to join. Or just watch me pay money to run 13.1 miles, sweat, bleed, and get a stinkin' t-shirt...oh and a medal at the end...and a "free" banana.
It's the gift that keeps on giving.
What is it you ask?
http://www.attaustinmarathon.com/cms/
I'm doing the half on February 17, 2008 and you're invited to join. Or just watch me pay money to run 13.1 miles, sweat, bleed, and get a stinkin' t-shirt...oh and a medal at the end...and a "free" banana.
It's the gift that keeps on giving.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
AARP and dinner at 4pm here I come!
So I'm starting to look forward to my birthday. Understand that I typically love all things birthday...and all things me-related. So even though I was going to be that religion that doesn't celebrate b-days, I have since repented and gone back to the almighty candle and cake and present celebration.
Yup, I was looking forward to it UNTIL a kid called me something today:
Nana.
I'm sorry. Do I look like your 55 year old hispanic grandma named Nana? No I do not.
I've gotten Mom, Mommy, and even Daddy before (to the kid's credit, he doesn't have a mom -uh because he has TWO dads- so calling me Daddy was 'normal') but NEVER in all my years has anyone called me the name of a grandparent.
My wish for my birthday this year is to not resemble anyone's Nana. And to not lose my dentures when I blow out the candles.
Yup, I was looking forward to it UNTIL a kid called me something today:
Nana.
I'm sorry. Do I look like your 55 year old hispanic grandma named Nana? No I do not.
I've gotten Mom, Mommy, and even Daddy before (to the kid's credit, he doesn't have a mom -uh because he has TWO dads- so calling me Daddy was 'normal') but NEVER in all my years has anyone called me the name of a grandparent.
My wish for my birthday this year is to not resemble anyone's Nana. And to not lose my dentures when I blow out the candles.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
What are the odds?
We are learning the -am word family this week (jam, ham, clam, etc) and a little sweety yelled out, "DAM!" He was trying to get under my skin but I drew a picture of a beaver and river and I must have used the word 'dam' 19 times just to prove it was okay to say 'dam' in school. They were shocked and amazed and now it's their favorite word and use it at every possible moment. Man I wish I were a fly on the wall around the dinner table in some of those houses! "Mom, Miss Rose taught us the word 'dam' today." Once again, I'm teacher of the year.
At library center a kid brought up a magazine that showed a beaver and a 'lodge.' I then showed the lodge/dam to the class and used the word 'dam' 12 more times.
I had a faculty meeting after school about interventions for kids (Side note: here is my strategy for intervention, "Hi Mr./Mrs. ____, your kid is special. Like special ed special.") Anyway, these types of trainings typically last 2 hours and are painful. I had a phone interview with the CFO of our school district today at 5pm and I was afraid the training would run late and I was quite nervous to speak with the CFO. Needless to say, he lives for talking to kindergarten teachers seeing as how I completely understand zero-balanced budgeting, a 500+ million dollar budget, GFOA, and the relationship between the private and governmental sectors relating to a school district. Excuse me, do what? Precisely my thoughts. BUT...I had to press on because my paper is due in two short days and this phone interview was all I could think about towards the end of the day. I get to the intervention training and the counselor has a power point up that just brought everything into the light of humor. It said, "Have you hugged a beaver today?" and had a picture of Buc-ee.
What are the odds that I would encounter beavers and dams so many times in one day? That is why I love teaching.
I have NO IDEA what Buc-ee's and the beaver have to do with intervention training. It was basically just comical relief since we hate the trainings and the counselor thought it would make us smile to have a "beaver as our training mascot."
Something inside told me that posting the bumper sticker of "Have you hugged a beaver today?" outside your window when you are an elementary school counselor is just not right. I don't know about you, but I get the giggles when I hear the word 'beaver.' I giggle harder when I hear, "Have you hugged a beaver today?"
At library center a kid brought up a magazine that showed a beaver and a 'lodge.' I then showed the lodge/dam to the class and used the word 'dam' 12 more times.
I had a faculty meeting after school about interventions for kids (Side note: here is my strategy for intervention, "Hi Mr./Mrs. ____, your kid is special. Like special ed special.") Anyway, these types of trainings typically last 2 hours and are painful. I had a phone interview with the CFO of our school district today at 5pm and I was afraid the training would run late and I was quite nervous to speak with the CFO. Needless to say, he lives for talking to kindergarten teachers seeing as how I completely understand zero-balanced budgeting, a 500+ million dollar budget, GFOA, and the relationship between the private and governmental sectors relating to a school district. Excuse me, do what? Precisely my thoughts. BUT...I had to press on because my paper is due in two short days and this phone interview was all I could think about towards the end of the day. I get to the intervention training and the counselor has a power point up that just brought everything into the light of humor. It said, "Have you hugged a beaver today?" and had a picture of Buc-ee.
What are the odds that I would encounter beavers and dams so many times in one day? That is why I love teaching.
I have NO IDEA what Buc-ee's and the beaver have to do with intervention training. It was basically just comical relief since we hate the trainings and the counselor thought it would make us smile to have a "beaver as our training mascot."
Something inside told me that posting the bumper sticker of "Have you hugged a beaver today?" outside your window when you are an elementary school counselor is just not right. I don't know about you, but I get the giggles when I hear the word 'beaver.' I giggle harder when I hear, "Have you hugged a beaver today?"
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sweetness...
There is nothing better in life than walking holding the hand of a sweet little 6-year-old (that may or may not belong to you), her looking up and saying, "I love you Miss Rose," and meaning it with all her heart.
Okay maybe there is something better: the little devil in your class -who is really just a teeny pill away from being the brightest and kindest child on earth- come in first thing in the morning and yell, "I'M SO GLAD TO BE BACK!" and it doesn't even make you angry he's yelling because he's so happy to be at school because it's better than wherever else he's been. And then he gives you a hug.
These two things make me forget everything else and remember that it's all okay.
(The second good thing does make me have a glass of wine tonight, however.)
Okay maybe there is something better: the little devil in your class -who is really just a teeny pill away from being the brightest and kindest child on earth- come in first thing in the morning and yell, "I'M SO GLAD TO BE BACK!" and it doesn't even make you angry he's yelling because he's so happy to be at school because it's better than wherever else he's been. And then he gives you a hug.
These two things make me forget everything else and remember that it's all okay.
(The second good thing does make me have a glass of wine tonight, however.)
Monday, November 26, 2007
Somewhere between 20 and 40...
I don't have anything clever to say today. Today might as well be filed under, "Days to Never Repeat Again" along with the day you saw your puppy get run over by a car or find out that you won't graduate in a month because you are 3 credits shy when we all know that the advisor told you your degree plan was "good to go!" Not that either of those things have happened to me.
Because they haven't.
I'm just saying that those would be days to never repeat again. Much like today.
The house I really wanted -and was really planning to make an offer on in a couple of days- was taken from me out of the blue (um, I didn't even know there was another interested party) and I'm working hard on my paper that is due on Friday but it's time-consuming (hmmm...funny how graduate school is like that) and I'm all confused about this boy and I can't figure out how to archive posts and I'm about to have another birthday. Another one.
Tomorrow I'm going to start being that religion that doesn't celebrate birthdays. But I'm gonna celebrate everything else...just not birthdays. And I won't worship anything false if they tell me to, or drink potion, or have babies with some dude that has like 17 baby mommas. Just no. more. birthdays. Please.
Because they haven't.
I'm just saying that those would be days to never repeat again. Much like today.
The house I really wanted -and was really planning to make an offer on in a couple of days- was taken from me out of the blue (um, I didn't even know there was another interested party) and I'm working hard on my paper that is due on Friday but it's time-consuming (hmmm...funny how graduate school is like that) and I'm all confused about this boy and I can't figure out how to archive posts and I'm about to have another birthday. Another one.
Tomorrow I'm going to start being that religion that doesn't celebrate birthdays. But I'm gonna celebrate everything else...just not birthdays. And I won't worship anything false if they tell me to, or drink potion, or have babies with some dude that has like 17 baby mommas. Just no. more. birthdays. Please.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Brand spankin' new
When I was in college, my brother gave me some very sage advice, "Why do today what you can put of until tomorrow?" Ah yes. The answers I have come up with include, "You can use your time for other things; You will be able to review your work with time; You won't be stressed out..." but let's be honest...those answers suck. I live for stress and no time and submitting a first draft. This a first draft. I bet you can't even tell.
Okay so I have a HUGE assignment due on Friday and I decided that I should create a blog. Right now. Not when the assignment is finished; not when I need a study break...NOW. It's just how I roll.
Gone are the days where I would email out my blogs. I am now posting them for all the world to read. That's a little scary. But frankly, I don't care because I don't get out much. If you don't know me, you might think that is a little odd and wonder if that is true. Keep reading, folks. And check the archives (um, when I figure out how to post archives).
Okay so I have a HUGE assignment due on Friday and I decided that I should create a blog. Right now. Not when the assignment is finished; not when I need a study break...NOW. It's just how I roll.
Gone are the days where I would email out my blogs. I am now posting them for all the world to read. That's a little scary. But frankly, I don't care because I don't get out much. If you don't know me, you might think that is a little odd and wonder if that is true. Keep reading, folks. And check the archives (um, when I figure out how to post archives).
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