Let me take my dentures out...Matlock is about to come on.

Wow. It's been over 6 months since I've blogged. Technically, it's been 8 and a half months, which is basically like I'm waiting 9 months and giving birth to a whole new blog. Most new babies are ugly, and this might follow suit.

I'm starting off slow, just telling about 'this' and 'that' of my life and teaching Kindergarten and how I work out all the time, except not at all. Oops.

We had a faculty meeting after school today. We had to look at the stimulus money and decide what we want to buy. This sounds like a good idea until you get 55 + women in one room to talk about purchasing. Everyone has their own opinion and 97% of those opinions suck. It doesn't help that my principal kept using the word "monies." I mean, is money even plural? I told the teacher next to me to "Shoot me now" and she said, "I would, except then you couldn't shoot me back." She is so clever.

Then the new Aggie teacher at the table started a conversation with me. Our Aggie principal was so excited to hire another Aggie. I remarked to someone that I don't really care what school she went to (or if she went to school at all) as long as she shows up to do her job and doesn't complain, which is a step up from her replacement. So, I ask new Aggie what year she is, and she replies "Class of '09!" This means the ink on her teaching certificate isn't even dry, but she has enough enthusiasm to rid the world of educational injustices. I said, "Wow, you still have some maroon dust on you!" and I told her I was glad she was here. She asked my year, I responded, "Class of '03," and thought to myself, 'Only 6 years older than her, but a wealth of teaching experience in comparison!' New Aggie Girl raised both her eyebrows said, "Woah, that's old." And she didn't say it in the You-have-so-much-wisdom-and-maturity kind of way, but more like the You-need-to-get-to-Luby's-and-rub-some-Ben Gay-on-that kind of way. I can't recall ever feeling the sting of offense when it comes to my age. I felt old. I felt out of touch with what's hip and unable to convey that I still have my youth to enjoy. Poor New Aggie Girl. She just made an enemy with this Grandma. If me and my new knee replacements can make it up the ramp tomorrow, I might give her a piece of my mind.

Of course, since I just used the word "hip," it probably means that I'm not anyway. And if skinny jeans and boots and scarves in summer are "hip," then I'm happy being "square."