10 Things Tuesday

1) I got my hair trimmed today in the suburb where I used to live, by the same gal that has cut my hair for nearly 10 years. She looks like Barbie, boobs and all, and I look like...well...me. We are an amazing team and have a surprising amount to talk about. Talk about an odd couple, but damn if that woman doesn't know my hair.

2) Afterwards, I went to Marianos and bought ALL OF THE THINGS. Discount Cheez-its, a teensy pot-pie for Kev and I, stuffed portabellos. Yes, I could make all of those things, but they were just so cute and affordable. I think I'm in trouble when the one behind my house goes in.

3) A fantastical work friend and I got roped into a committee with the person I am most scared of in my entire professional life right now. I made myself busy taking notes on google docs. Gotta stay out of the line of fire somehow.

4) Speaking of work, I put up the classroom March calendar on my door today and marked spring break. You would have thought I marked free-unfortunately-patterned-skater-hoodie-or-dark-eyeliner-plus-straight-A-giveaway day. Chill, people. We still have 6 weeks to go.

5) I vividly remember sitting on a bus to Jackson Hole with Iowa's Ski Club and shrieking "SB '05!!!" while clutching my first lukewarm beer of umpteen on the 18+ hour coach bus ride. Sweet yebus. I think this year I'm going to yell "SB '13" obnoxiously on my road trip with my husband and favorite father in law as we head up to Minnesota to see my brother in law and his gal pal. They should love that. Maybe I can bring a warm PBR?

6) Two weeks ago, I started a diet and exercise challenge with two friends. Winner gets $100 bucks. What came today? Why, my order of six boxes of Girl Scout cookies. For Kev and I. Self-sabotage, you are my truest friend.

7) We also have a two pound box of Fannie May Pixies in our fridge, courtesy of my mother in law. Help me.

8) Let's be honest, if I won that $100, I would probably just spend it on Pixies and Girl Scout cookies anyway. My inner fat kid rages are strong.

9) It's not like I need to be bikini ready for SB '13 BITCHES. Minnesota don't care none.

10) No, no. Sssshhhhh inner fat kid, calm yourself. Think of all the Bare Minerals and fancy hair products you could buy with $100. Actually, think of the gloating you will be able to do. That may be what really fuels you anyway. You do love to gloat.....maybe you should just gift Pixies and Girl Scout cookies to your competitors.

Yes, that's the ticket. Glad we had this talk, invisible friends. Thanks for the ideas.

Getaway

We went away this weekend, just Kev and I, up to my parents' lake house in a very tiny part of Wisconsin. Usually when we go up, the house is filled to the gills with my family, or we choose to invite as many friends as will fit. But not this time. This time it was just us two.

We drank champagne and ate frozen pizza. We dove into a box of Pixies and made hot chocolate spiked with marshmallow vodka and added Frango mints to that. I whooped his behind at Monopoly, then again at cards. I wolfed down two cheesy YA novels (Crossed, by Allie Condie- disappointing end to a trilogy, and The Indigo Spell by Richelle Mead, who I unapologetically love when I need Twinkie books). He read The Economist. We talked.

More than any of that though, we listened. To each other. To country music. To snow crunching on a frozen lake. To our eighteen (yes, I said eighteen) year old bartender's unspoken-yet-heard nerves about having her first party at her parents' house and getting ready for college. To an elderly man at the bar talk about his cheesemaking days on that same lake forty years ago, and his pride in his childrens' accomplishments. To how much we need each other. Love each other. Respect each other.

I'm trying to learn to value the listening more. I've always been known for being a notorious talker, but I'm beginning to realize how much I miss this way. I don't get to know other people's thinking or experiences, because I'm busy sharing mine. The truth is, sometimes I'm scared to listen. It's uncontrollable. Unpredictable. I might hear something I don't like, or something I don't like to think about. Putting myself out there is much easier for me. I can control the pace the conversation moves, what kind of mood we have.

I think listening is letting go. I'm always pleasantly surprised by what I hear, whether it be a plan to drink Mike's Hard Lemonade for 12 hours (oh, 18 year old bartender who has never had a hangover, I think your luck may have changed), or about hidden artesianal cheese wells in a tiny lake town. Most of all, I open myself up to letting my husband and others I love surprise me. For a teacher, especially, I suck at listening, but I'm working on it. It's hard, so hard, for me. I'm trying to get better.

I'm glad I had a weekend to re-learn to listen, and a husband smart enough to remind me to do it.

Cozy

One of my favorite types of days in my classroom is a type that is hard to explain. I adore the days when the weather outside my windows is awful. One would think that this makes the kids ping-pong-y, but it doesn't. Not really. After the requisite 10 minutes of chatter about the weather, the switch flips. We settle into my narrow basement den covered, literally, in words, and we take a little break from the routine. We read what we feel. We write in our journals. We talk <> about what we are reading and writing. 

I'm not sure if it is because as a teacher, I'm not racing home to my lovehousekittensworkoutsnackserrands, but rather dreading the sure to be lengthy commute home. Maybe in the midst of procrastinating a commute, I can take a step back and really see the thoughtful, painful growingish kiddos I'm surrounded with. Maybe we are all just a bit more mindful of being warm and dry. Maybe we are all just in plain better moods because of the prospect of a snow day, so we appreciate each other more. I'm not sure what it is, but it happens without fail every time the lacy cornflake snow starts whispering down. 

I had a full on chat with a student today about music. What she likes. Pandora. What I like. Whether I sing in the car (duh). At the end of it, I was left thinking about the lovely person I've seen this student become. What lovely people are hiding under all of their stinky, hormone infested selves. What a lovely person they push me to try to be. And then I had a chat with a friend, came home, and wondered.

People from the Midwest wonder constantly: would we appreciate the winter if we had summer all the time? We Midwesterners staunchly insist that the winter makes us more appreciative, less likely to squander the sunshine. And yet, I don't think that's quite it. Rather, I think that winter offers us more chances to be better. It subtly refocuses us by re-arranging the timelines we get things done in. It tsks us via shrinking waistbands that we need to eat more vegetables before bathing suit season. We rest. We drink wine and eat rich foods. We cuddle. We read. We think deep thoughts and hibernate. We get ready to reinvent ourselves in the summer as people who go to funky neighborhoods and fests and wear sundresses and aviators and cowboy boots and glitter all at once. 

Winter pushes my buttons, but it also pushes me forward. 

10 Things Tuesday

1) I currently have a $50 wager going with two of my favorite people to clean up my act. Diet, yes, but fitness, healthy habits, and the like. Yesterday I was full of the euphoria that comes with the promise of cash winnings and a hot bod. Today I am still thinking wistfully about the cheese bagel that I didn't take at my team meeting this morning.....even though it's almost 11 hours later.

2) We got a Roomba for Christmas. I love this thing. A lot. Works wonders, even with our two cats. Super entertaining drinking game. Kev, however, is a little concerned about letting it roam freely when we are not home, so every once in a while I come home to find a barricade of laundry baskets confining Roombie to our living room. Hilarious.

3) I may be the only weirdo out there, but I am loving all the snow that Chicagoland is getting this week. Trees dusted in snow take my breath away. Stop bitching, people.

4) I have one streak of gray hair right in the front that I can not get to go away for any more than two weeks with box dyes. I really, really don't want to have to shell out money to the pros. Help.

5) I got a gel manicure the Friday before Christmas. I just took the polish off....yesterday. So classy. Good thing it was a subtle shade of.....glitter.

6) I re-read The Giver for the umpteenth time and my mind is still blown. I may spend my long weekend next weekend reading the three books in the (whoa) SERIES that have been written since I read it in grade school, then re-read it in college. Mind. Blown.

7) Tumblr might be the best thing ever. New favorite: Les Mean Girls... two of my favorite things combined.

8) I have a major girl crush on Jennifer Lawrence. I have decided I am growing my hair out because I think it is a similar texture, etc. to hers. I'd think about prying open my wallet if I could have rad highlights like hers.

9) Smash tonight? Anyone? I am stupidly obsessed with this show. Kev has purposely planned to do his two hours of traffic school online tonight while I watch so he has an excuse to not be in the same room. Hoping for lots of jazz and few power ballads tonight.

10) I cannot wait until my "day off day" for my diet. I am going to eat all of the things. All of them. On that note, I shall leave you while I go make an egg white omlette. Sigh.

Mindful

Well, long lost friends, I needed to take a breather there. For a while, bad things happened. And kept happening. And for a bit, I was thinking deep thoughts and feeling big feelings and I just needed some clear head space. I wasn't really ready to write about what was going on in my life, and honestly, I may never publish some of the things that happened. Grief can be a long, dark tunnel, and your brain has a funny way of shutting out all but the non-essential until you are ready to take shaky baby steps back into the strange new world that is your life. Honestly, I've never been happier to celebrate a new year than I was this year.

And so far, honestly, 2013 has been pretty damn good. I think my journey through dark scary uncertain times gave me the gift of mindfulness. Now, if you know me in real life, you know that I am not the most cautious, thoughtful person by nature. Kev always scolds me for rushing to the end of a situation, rather than appreciating the steps along the way. He often reminds me to slow down, take a breath, look around, think things through. Often, I get 90% of the way into a task, only to forget the last 10% because I've moved on to something else. It is terrible.

A funny thing happened in the middle of my hellacious December, though. It turns out that when you can only take one step, one day, sometimes one hour at a time, that you become more mindful of what that step contains. In taking deep breaths as I proceeded forward, I began to slowly appreciate where I am now. Loved by a fabulous man. Surrounded by an amazing, challenging, rewarding learning community. Enveloped by family and friends that love my flawed, sometimes broken self. I began to put on my mindfulness like a warm sweater, and the here and now began to push back the cold fingers of grief.

I find myself wanting to hang on to this feeling of mindfulness, and to be more present in what I'm doing. To unload the dishwasher while checking for stray tupperware lids in the bottom. To really listen to my students' questions- even the most mundane. To think before I speak, and to be thankful for what I have. It turns out, that in having a path I was traveling suddenly bulldozed by life, I'm becoming able to really experience what I do have slower, deeper, fuller. Funny thing, this life. I'm not sure where I'm headed, but at least I can appreciate the getting there.

A small but mighty gift, indeed.

Saving Halloween

Happy Halloween invisible friends! A lot has been going on in the old personal life, and I just got hit over the head with a hammer when I realized that grades were due this morning, but I finally feel like I'm caught up on life and ready for action. My kiddos are watching Corpse Bride, and we are writing spooky stories and playing with spooky Mad Libs. So, I finally find myself with the leisure to post. Happy Halloween, indeed.

I always find myself a bit out of sorts about Halloween. The last few years, I've found myself stuffed into crowded bars looking at girls dressed as a slutty so-and-so and the guys wearing the bare minimum costume necessary to be able to go out tramp-or-treating. Halloween seems to set the women's rights movement back decades.

But then I look at my students. So excited. Hopped up on sugar. Trying to express themselves with something funny or unique. 8th grade football players squeezed into child-sized Spiderman outfits. Girls as Disney princesses, or the more ubiquitous something-in-a-tutu. The ever eye roll inducing regularly clothed kid who proudly announces that he is dressed as a student, or a student genius, if he is particularly plucky.

As much as I hate the adult version of Halloween, my heart is continually warmed by the kid version- even if my "kids" are verging on snarly teenagers replete with a "don't-eff-with-me" attitude. I like to see them drawn out of their hard shells by the promise of sugar and bright colors, howling jack-o-lanterns and a day at school that breaks the routines. Today's teenagers aren't impressed by much, not because they don't care, but because they literally have the entire world at their fingers instantaneously. As teachers, it's hard not to feel the pressure to bring your A-game daily, because if you DON'T grab their interest, something else will. Sometimes we're treated as though we're obsolete. I appreciate the excitement with which my students greeted me today, eager to see what I had decided to dress up as. In short, it's lovely to see kiddos being kiddos, tricking and treating away. So I guess I can't hate Halloween after all.

Halloween in Junior High

Happy Halloween invisible friends! A lot has been going on in the old personal life, and I just got hit over the head with a hammer when I realized that grades were due this morning, but I finally feel like I'm caught up on life and ready for action. My kiddos are watching Corpse Bride, and we are writing spooky stories and playing with spooky Mad Libs. So, I finally find myself with the leisure to post. Happy Halloween, indeed.

I always find myself a bit out of sorts about Halloween. The last few years, I've found myself stuffed into crowded bars looking at girls dressed as a slutty so-and-so and the guys wearing the bare minimum costume necessary to be able to go out tramp-or-treating. Halloween seems to set the women's rights movement back decades.

But then I look at my students. So excited. Hopped up on sugar. Trying to express themselves with something funny or unique. 8th grade football players squeezed into child-sized Spiderman outfits. Girls as Disney princesses, or the more ubiquitous something-in-a-tutu. The ever eye roll inducing regularly clothed kid who proudly announces that he is dressed as a student, or a student genius, if he is particularly plucky.

As much as I hate the adult version of Halloween, my heart is continually warmed by the kid version- even if my "kids" are verging on snarly teenagers replete with a "don't-eff-with-me" attitude. I like to see them drawn out of their hard shells by the promise of sugar and bright colors, howling jack-o-lanterns and a day at school that breaks the routines. Today's teenagers aren't impressed by much, not because they don't care, but because they literally have the entire world at their fingers instantaneously. As teachers, it's hard not to feel the pressure to bring your A-game daily, because if you DON'T grab their interest, something else will. Sometimes we're treated as though we're obsolete. I appreciate the excitement with which my students greeted me today, eager to see what I had decided to dress up as. In short, it's lovely to see kiddos being kiddos, tricking and treating away. So I guess I can't hate Halloween after all.

Wordless Wednesday- Butthead Edition

Sometimes when I make Kev take pictures of me, he doesn't take the pictures I think he is taking. He thinks he's hilarious....I think he's a butthead. Take this example from Lima, Peru.

I thought he took:

But first he took:

Such. a. butthead. He claims I've never been more attractive.

Shit Sandwich

I've been avoiding you, imaginary friends. Mainly because things have kind of sucked lately. I don't think I realized how many crappy things had been going on in the past week or so until my co-worker, H, complimented me on my sparkly shoes.

"Thanks," I replied. "IneedsomesparklebecausemylifesucksandmygrandpagotmovedtohospicecareandKevandIgotjumpedintheparkonMondayandIjustNEEDEDtowearmyglitterTomstoday."

Yep, because that's how rational people respond to compliments.

Sorry, H. Thanks for being a pal. I guess I need to get it all out there.

So, anyways, things have been kind of crappy lately. A real shit sandwich. To make two long stories short, last Sunday my grandpa fell and hit his head. He hadn't been doing so hot before then, but he had to have emergency brain surgery, which he had a 30% chance of coming out of without brain damage. He was in a coma for most of last week, and things have been touch and go since. Knowing that the man who gave me my love of family, hyperbole, ice cream, storytelling, gin, and troublemaking is slowly riding the tide out is tough. It hurts really badly. I just feel like a piece of my childhood is going to. Growing up blows sometimes. Shit sandwich.

Then, this past Monday, Kev and I were cutting through the large, well-lit park at 8:45 pm during the halftime of the Bears game to walk the four blocks home from a friend's house. Laden with work bags and a grocery bag full of leftover snacks, we pass two skinny teenage boys in hoodies who are sitting on a bench together not saying a word. Weird. We walk by, then hear a flurry of footsteps. One punches Kev in the face. He staggers, then they immediately run away. Kev's nose gushes blood, we walk to the corner bar and file a police report. Terrifying. I hate that it happened in my backyard, I hate that I was scared to ride the train and take the bus home after dark (at 7 pm). Most importantly, I hate that Kev got hurt and I was helpless to do anything. Shit sandwich.

But, as with any good sandwich, the shit sandwich is not really about the filling. Which, in this case, is metaphorical poop. Any sandwich is really a good or bad middle surrounded by a soft pillow of bread. As I'm writing this, I'm realizing there is a nice cushiony bun surrounding all this nasty stuff.

My grandpa came out of his coma with no brain damage, and has recognized everyone who visited. Yesterday, when discussing his discharge options from the hospital, after they declared they can't do much for him anymore, he very clearly said "enough's enough." He over and over said he wanted to go home, he was ready for hospice, he knew these were his last days and he was ok with letting go. He gets to end his life the way he has lived it- with bluntness, dignity, and class. In the meantime, I've talked to my siblings nearly daily, a minor miracle considering two of them are in college and the other is in law school. I didn't realize how much I need more of them in my life. Kev has instinctively known what to do for me, and I've realized I can handle the crap with a helping hand.

Which leads me to the other shit- my swollen faced guy. Who immediately after the attack, while he was bleeding, asked me if I was ok and said "I'm fine. I'm just glad they didn't do anything to you." Who does that anyway? My guy. Not to mention they didn't have weapons, nobody was seriously injured, they didn't take anything AND we got the chance to warn a guy walking into the park when we were leaving. We are safe, we have a very secure home, and we learned a healthy lesson about exercising caution. Not to mention, the police called Kev back the very next day to follow up. In the middle of Chicago's most violent year in decades, they responded to our tiny incident promptly and with respect. Thanks, CPD.

So all in all, I think I need to pick my head up a bit. This is life. It is messy. But sometimes, your shit sandwich comes with really delicious bread that makes you appreciate the act of eating all the more.

Thanks for the therapy, imaginary friends.

Shoes as Self

I'm going to DSW today, which means I have to clear about an hour of my schedule. You think I kid. I do not. For me, going to the Designer Shoe Warehouse (not Da Sale Warehouse or Da Shoe Warehouse as my brothers used to truly think it was called) is an exercise in finding a persona.Yes, these shoe marketeers have got me right where they want me.

Shoes are safe. In a world where fat is reviled and youth is coveted at all costs, there are very few shoe options out there that are veboten to my slightly plump, slightly scarred, not-quite-as-young-as-I-used-to-be self. No matter how much extra weight I've found, my shoe size stays the same. Even if I'm squeezed into something up top that I have no business trying to still pull off, I know that the right pair of favorite shoes will still make me look and feel comely, if only from the knee down. The right pair of shoes can not only change an outfit, but change a mindset.

Speaking of mindset, I truly believe you can infer a lot about a person based on their shoe choice. For instance, a young woman teacher wearing pumps or kitten heels all day at work has almost certainly been teaching less than two years. We veterans grow out of that phase quickly, and our feet thank us for it. A guy wearing Toms is almost certainly confident, loyal and happy. Just ask my husband, who lives in his madras pair three seasons a year. The sandals wearers in any weather over sixty degrees are innate optimists here in Chicago, while the boots-wearers in early September have a deep and emotional connection to their favorite pair; they love the style without the hassle and are practical. My favorite thing to do when I am bored at a large meeting is to look around the room at people's shoes. If you look at a person from the ankle up, you often get a total surprise by the time you arrive at the top: the face doesn't always imagine the chosen shoes in ways you think. Footwear may be the true window of the soul.

Which leads me back to my current DSW conundrum: I need new formal shoes. Previously, I had been rocking my sister's prom shoes. Gold stiletto sandals that matched almost everything. I'm not sure what this borrowed pair said about me: thrifty, with a penache for tacky? Formerly athletic calves with a slight ladylike inclination? I know I'm never going that high again with shoes (not if I'm paying for them, anyway) but I loved the gold because I could use them with multiple dresses. What am I going to choose to reinvent myself as, now that I have successfully worn out my last persona? Classy lady? Vintage vixen? Practical Patty?

To heel or not to heel- that is the real question.  

Wedding Attire Dilemma

Oh, friends. I adore a good wedding. So good for the heart and the soul. I love seeing my guy all suited up, holding my hand and charming the friends of mine he has yet to meet. I love listening to the ceremony-silently recommitting in my mind all the reasons I will never, ever give up on this marriage of mine. I love seeing my guy friends grovel into melty mush as their gorgeous ladies come down the aisle. I love the non-traditional weddings with their very realness. I love it all.

But I do NOT love figuring out what to wear for a wedding.

When I was a few years younger, this decision was very easy. I had two go-to dresses (both of which I still own, and both of which fit with some spanx and some oh-my-god-please-cooperate-thighs-its-just-because-I-workout-oh-wait-no-I-have-big-fat-legs-because-they-like-to-chill-on-the-couch-under-an-arm-holding-a-beer) and I attended around two weddings a year-one with family, and one with friends, so life was grand. Now, notsomuch.

This year we have five before the end of the year. Next year, we know of two for sure already. Many of these weddings have a few friends that overlap, so my dress rotation options are limited. I have more dresses now, but I waffle often over which ones I want to wear. I sort of view dresses as the grownup equivalent of high school dances. You get to wear a little more makeup, do something super sweet with your hair, spend the night bopping around the dance floor and hopefully sneaking kisses with your date, and you probably end up with one friend puking. However, some of my friends have had weddings with little kids around. Some are bringing their little kids. Thus, the full fledged cocktail dress of my early 20s is suddenly seeming a little less appropriate.

Case in point: I have a gorgeous, square neck, tulip skirt red dress with pockets that I adore that I bought for a Kev holiday party a few years ago. I love this dress, and people, believe me when I say I look hoooooooooot in it. I wish I had a pic to show you, but I don't. I desperately want to wear it to an adults only wedding next weekend where the reception is at Gibson's downtown. But red? wedding? too much? Too va-va-voom? Probably..... sigh

Then there is the wedding in three weeks. Kev is standing up. The bride has lots of little nephews, nieces and friends with kids who will be attending. Thus, less cocktail-y. Less glam. More family fun, at least to start the evening. Hot red dress....definitely not. But I still want to look good and remind that boy of mine why he locked this down. What to do? How to walk the line?

Ladies in the crowd, how do you decide what kind of dress to wear to a wedding? Yipes.

Thankfuls

Um...so...yeah...another month went by with no blogging. A month full of time with friends, professional development opportunities, a trip to Vegas with the Gas crowd, and all the general craziness of starting a new school year. Add to that two malicious kittens who are angry that I am back at school and peeing accordingly, two new students who are very high-needs and moved in a week after school started, and a generally ginormous caseload, and I feel like this is the first time I've sat down in a month - let alone to blog. Then, I got super stuck in my head about what to write.

The perfect topic came to me this morning, however, while I was driving to work in Focus Pocus, listening to my very favorite morning radio show. Eric and Kathy are hosting a radioathon for a big children's hospital in Chicago, and along with that, they were broadcasting stories of families with sick children. One story in particular really touched my soul. In it, a woman and her husband discussed the life, and death, of their four year old daughter. They said a lot of really moving things, but mostly they talked about how thankful they were. To take their daughter home on what they thought would be the last night of her life, only to have three months with them where they focused on being happy. "We knew we had the rest of our lives to grieve," said the woman, " but we wanted to focus that moment in being happy, and thankful that we had her." Now, the couple says they still feel they are parents to their daughter by giving back to the hospital and throwing a giant New Years' Eve party there every year. So awesome. But I digress.

This past month, I've been feeling some anxiety. Anxiety over watching my grandfather slow down. Anxiety over managing overwhelming situations at work. Anxiety over worrying about my students on the weekends. Anxiety about my flaring RA. Anxiety over our finances. Gack. So I'm calling today as a time-out day, and I'm going to really try to be thankful instead. To slow down. To re-set the dial and get back to what really matters. I need to zoom out, and see the big picture. So, before this post gets any longer, here are a few of my many thankfuls (in no particular order):

• A job that challenges me and inspires me
• Students that make me think
• Having real, strong, enduring relationships with both my grandmas and my grandpa that continue to today
• Kevin- the string to my flyaway kite
• a family that I get closer to as we get older- not the opposite
• a hilarious host of inlaws- especially the Vegas crew and B & B. Love them all.
• two cats that are so happy to have me home with them that they flip out when I leave (I thought only dogs did that?)
• more than I need. In food, in possessions, in money. How many people can say that?
• the opportunity to travel- so important. Points of view have been forever altered
• the ability to read and write in not one but TWO languages
• my faith- even when I question it.
• a body that I can keep healthy(...ier)
• Passions for reading, writing, health, cooking, photography, communication 
• friends, friends, friends near and far who enrich my life

What are you thankful for?
Should this be a weekly/monthly update?
Is anyone even still reading this thing? 

10 Things Thursday: Class Edition

I've been in a 9-5 one week, four credit-hour intensive class on emotional and behavioral disorders this week. Yes, that explains the silence over here. Yes, it is as terrible as it sounds. To make up for it,  here are ten observations from my time in class.

1) Someday when I'm pregnant, I'm just going to hide in an all natural vegan cave. There is a LOT of crap in the environment that can mess a kid up big time.

2) People will do anything for a reward. I, personally, will take an entire semester of coursework in one week to be rewarded with more free evenings over the total summer. Man, are people (me) fools or what?

3) Why is it so hard to find healthy food in a vending machine? And why can't there be a student fridge so that I can just bring my own darn food?

4) I drink way too much water. Consequently, I foten sit by the door so that I can dash out as needed. Super awkward.

5) Sitting for four hours straight between breaks does not make my rheumatoid arthritis happy. My knees were so stiff yesterday, I tried to get up and almost fell out of the chair. I feel like the freaking Tin Man. Awesome.

6) I have definite pen preferences. Most preferred: Clicky top smooth (ball) point. Next: cap top, smooth tip. Last: scratchy pens that make noise when you write. Hate those.

7) I've invented a new word. classhole: (def) a person who repeatedly moopolizes a class discussion with personal, often arbitrary or unrelated thoughts, ideas, arguements, or diatribes. sample sentence: Mary was a real classhole today when she spoke for 11 minutes straight about her son's journey with ADHD and how much she hates her son's school.

8) Mary is in my class. So are two of her classhole friends. Help. Me.

9) I really miss undergraduate classes' uniform policy. I wish I was wearing a hoodie and pajama pants right now, holding a cheese bagel and ogling hot guys in my class. Strangely enough, summer teacher education coursework doesn't usually draw the hotties. Go figure.

10) TGIT. Or, TGAF. One more day 'til freedom.

What would you rather be doing right now?

What do you wish was more socially acceptable to wear out in public?

No Girls Allowed

On Monday, I opened up my Amazon account and found the pictured item for "school must-haves" very confusing.

"Surely Amazon has made a mistake," I thought, "because that outfit definitely looks like a naughty schoolgirl costume I purchased for a bachelorette gag gift a few months ago. Also, it isn't the late '90s- Britney Spears' 'Hit Me Baby' video is no longer en vogue. Is this a joke?"

So I clicked through......

This is what they are actually advertising as a 'stylish saving' for GIRLS. 

If we actually have any girls one day, I fear Kev might have a heart attack. Better yet, no girls allowed at all. Period. I absolutely refuse to dress my future daughters in shit like this some day. 

Oshgosh Begosh 4 life.

Saturdays in the Chi

I had a helluva Saturday this weekend; the kind of weekend that makes you question your life choices and reminds you how terribly awfully lucky you are to be celebrating your summer in a world-class city with your kick-ass friends.

It all started with a street fest. We went to hear a friend's awesome band play at the summer on Southport fest. If you've ever lived in or visited the wonderous city of Chicago during the summer, you know that it magically morphs into a walking party in sporadic pockets. Walking down the street you can find a totally random fest nestled between bookends of buildings. Burger fest, bacon fest, beer fests- this one happened to be a "our street is awesome" fest. Kev and I happily trotted out around five, grabbed some beers on the closed-off street, and settled in from some truly grungy funk rock. Along the way, I gained a healthy buzz, lost some dignity, had a poem commissioned and written for me after bumping into an old high school friend, and almost drowned a pocket puppy with half a glass of red sangria while trying to discern whether or not it was actually "the fluffiest puppy at the fest." True story. Countless drinks later, our hot, sweaty troupe headed to the bar down the street with live country music. We drank, we danced, and way later in the night, Kev and I stopped for ice cream on our two am walk home.

It is nights like these that make me remember why I live in a small condo in a big, expensive city. Other friends of mine are starting to make their way into the suburbs- lured, no doubt, by the amount of home they can get for their money, less obscene taxes, and a non-traffic snarled commute. And yes, they can still come down for summer fests, but by moving they lose something else: serendipity.

I love this city because it is expensive and unpredictable. Because it is big, and loud, and you have to keep your head about you while navigating. I love that I have an honest to goodness tiny corner bar, with bartenders who know my name and have my icy Crispin and order of guac ready before I even ask. I love the tiny carry out places for late night food, and the fact that I can get ice cream at two am shitcan drunk and the guys behind the counter don't even bat an eye. I love that stopping by to see a band play and have one singular beer can turn into a late, irresponsible night. I love that one day my kid or kids will dance in front of a loud stage to music with wildly inappropriate lyrics while the band members soak them with SuperSoakers. I love the languages on the crazy bus route by my house, and the people that commute on the train who I wave to in the mornings.

A part of me knows that some day I, too, am going to head to the burbs in search of better schools and a yard to put a swingset in. But until that day, I need to get off my butt, get out the door, and give the world the opportunity to present me a day like yesterday: a day where the group kept getting bigger, the music louder, and the night longer. A day and night to remind me that I'm here, it is now, and you don't get memories: you make them. One sangria soaked dog at a time.

10 Things I Was Doing Besides Blogging

So.....its been six weeks. Here's what I've been up to:

10) Napping. A lot.

9) Babysitting two adorable little ladies and being the adult in the house for my junior high cousins. One of these jobs yields a lot of playing at the park. The other yields a lot of pretending to play at the park while really watching to see what girls are around. I'll let you decide which is which.

8) Spending time with my family. My sister is living with us this summer, which has actually been a blast, and I've been seeing a lot of my parents and city-dwelling brother as well.

7) Eating too much. This chick is getting downright portly. I should have fewer teacher friends that like to lunch out. Or live in a cheaper city.

6) Staying up until 2 am THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW. True, this just happened this week, but my twentyeight year old self does not appreciate me pretending to be my eighteen year old bar floozy self. Oops.

5) Bopping around up at the lake house in Wisconsin. Drinking at a slow pace all day while out on a boat. Playing Rummikub and Gin. Eating more foods with artificial ingredients than can possibly be counted. Showing of my portly physique in a two piece that I am entirely too old to be wearing. Life. is. good.

4) Ignoring my to-do lists. This includes cleaning, blogging, doing school work, working ahead on homework for my summer classes, and any and all real obligations.

3) Watching ridiculous YouTube videos. Some examples:




2) Reading, reading, reading. I have read SO many great books this summer, and hope to read even more. My favorite read this summer so far might be Imagine: How Creativity Works. Just read it. Trust me. Amazing. Read it and never wish to be more creative again. I am about to start a new chunky book today and I couldn't be more excited about it.

1) Traveling to Peru!!! Some picture recaps will be coming shortly, but for now please enjoy this gem:

Regular blogging schedule, inasmuch as I ever have one, will resume this week. Thanks for being patient imaginary friends!

Advice for Next Year

Last week, I had my junior high ELL students write some pieces of advice that will be handed on to my students next year. Here are some of the nuggets of wisdom I gleaned as I graded them today. I think they are pretty darn smart!

I had my students write advice letters to next year's kiddos. Quote from 7th grader DK "Never ever make Mrs. Gas angry. She is really a nice person, but when she is angry, she is scarier than your mom and dad put together."

Don’t give teachers lame excuses about your homework and just finish it. Actually, most of all I think that you should have fun in school. That’s my real advice.

If you are late, the teacher will mark you tardy. If you are tardy three times, you will have a detention after school where you can’t do your homework- you just sit and do nothing. So then you will have less time for your homework, and you will not finish it and you will stay up late trying to finish, so you will be late and then you will get another detention, and so you will be in the late/bad homework/detention cycle and you will never get out.

If you write your homework in your homework notebook, bad things will not happen to you.

When I saw some people studying while I was having fun, I felt pity for them- but I was wrong. I got a B- because of stupid time wasting.

It will make your life easier if you are honest. Lying will make things worse and eventually you will get caught lying.

One time, there was this pitiful guy who stole my money. He always deined it and never gave my money back. I was really angry and I was ready to take revenge, so while he was in the office, I took his shoes, backpack, wallet, MP3 and everything he owned and threw it in the dumpster. Later, I saw the garbage truck driving away and I smiled. Sweet payback is always acceptable.

I never realized doing things by myself was important. If I kept asking people for help, I would never learn anything by myself. Now I learn on my own and use my knowledge when I need it. I don’t depend on others.

I usually don’t challenge myself because it’s not fun, but I’ve learned that the beginnings of challenging yourself are always hard but there’s joy waiting for you right after you are done changing yourself. Challenges are bittersweet.

Sometimes people say really mean stuff to you and ignore you. Most people get their feelings hurt by it. Why? Why do you need to listen to people who insult you and ignore you? It just makes you unhappy. Be yourself and do what your heart says. Don’t listen to those ugly words. Listening to yourself makes you happier and lets you shine more. Be yourself!

Sometimes you forget things quicker than you would think.

If you really need something signed, ask your parents and never do it yourself, or else you will get in big trouble. It will also be a forgery which means you could go to jail.

Giving up is the worst thing you can do when you are in school. If you give up, you will feel like you don’t want to do your homework. So, never give up!

If you ever make Mrs. Gas cranky, watch your head.

Always tell your mom yes even if you won’t end up doing something.

Definitely don’t shove stuff under your bed. Are you really that lazy? Just throw it where it belongs.

Don’t get your teachers mad at you for something stupid that you could have finished in five minutes.

Try to raise your hand and answer some questions in class because if you won’t do it, your teacher will always tell you to answer the hardest questions.

When you have a big project or many things to do, think about summer break.

Me Party

It is Thursday night. The house is quiet. Kev is at class, and I arrived home a few minutes ago from a great retirement party for a very inspiring colleague and friend. The cats are bumbling, and the only sounds are the burbling of the keys as I type. I'm having a teensy party, just for myself.

Twice a week for the last year, Kev has had night class for his MBA while I've been enjoying being finished and adjusting to my new job. The first few months in the fall, I was so busy putting faces with names and figuring out my new crop of kiddos that I didn't have time to really relish the peace. I desperately missed Kev in the evenings; I was anxious to tell him about the new cast of characters in my life and to bounce ideas off of him. Slowly, though, my attitudes towards my weeknights alone began to change.

While I still feel a tiny sliver bit of incompleteness when we're not together, I've learned to relish these nights alone. I either leave the tv completely off like a crazy hippie, or I watch trashy television. I start new books. I feed the cats too much food. I clean in small bursts and dye my hair colors that are slightly too much-loud-brassy-red-awkward. I eat M&Ms for dinner and hummus afterwards. I sing. I do sit-ups. I grunt. Mostly, though, I recharge.

I've learned that for as much as I want to put into my marriage, my family life, and my friendships, I need to give myself some space, too. When I'm alone in my house, I listen to myself in a way I can't when my dearest Kevo is around. I remind myself of the person I was before I got married, before I became a teacher, before I had others' voices on my radar. I remind myself that I'm amazing company, and I spend hours stalking on Facebook and pinning an impossible lifestyle. I make a space in my life for me.

Things get crazy. Working in a junior high at the end of the school year is insane. Living in a gigantic city surrounded by friends I've known for years and two giant, loving families leaves little time for me to have my me parties. And secretly, to be completely honest, I'm dreading Kev's graduation a bit, and having future kiddos someday, because I know I won't have this kind of me-VIP time automatically scheduled. I'm writing this post to remind myself that it's okay to take a break, to schedule that time, and to shoo even my most favoritest person out the door once in awhile.

Because really, I rule. Sometimes I just need to be a party of one to remind myself.

Wordless Wednesday

A city view.......

10 Things Tuesday

1) I think I work the hardest for my money in May. Between trying to wrangle crazy students, getting the end of the year "stuff" done and grading and assessing all the final jazz, it is one crazy ride. I am pooped.

2) I'm going to the eye doctor today. I think if I could be any kind of doctor, I would totally be an optometrist. They have all the coolest toys. Going makes me nervous, though. Better one? Better two? I have no freaking clue.

3) Friday was the official first sundress day of the season. I am OBSESSED with sundresses and have a really hard time not buying them in March. So far this season I have purchased four that I just couldn't resist. I love that first day when you really realize that it is hot and it is going to stay that way. The midwest is full of charm that way.

4) Speaking of summer, that means new recipes. Tonight, I'm making gazpacho and maybe some corn salsa. This weekend I also want to try a crab, avocado and corn salsa that I found on Pinterest. I love, love, love the fresh veggies and summer nibbly dishes that summer brings.

5) Does Memorial Day weekend sneak up on everybody, or is it just me? Both Kev and I forgot that we have a three day weekend this weekend for the holiday and I am beyond pumped. Such a good teaser to get me through the last few days of school.

6) Speaking of the last days of school, recently I started a new twitter feed for professional, teacher, education related items. If you are a teacher, follow me @theycallmemrsg. Now I have all of my favorite YA writers, publishers, education news people in one spot, and not mixed in with other zany hijinks. If you are a teacher, you must follow me!

7) I'm thinking about doing a giveaway when I get to thirty followers....if you have a google account but don't officially follow me, you should get on that. Leave a comment, too, while you are at it. You'll make my day.

8) My crazy beasts are shedding like CRAZY lately. I know it is the heat, but my house is repulsive. GoodNESS they are fuzzy. Needless to say, I will NOT be wearing black for a while. Does anybody know any good pet hair cleaner-upper type products?

9) I just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird with my eighth graders, and they GOT it. They LOVED the Boo mystery, they adored the trial, and their takeaways were profound and inspiring. I love teaching junior high; I get to expose them to so many truly great books, and they can really articulate some passionate opinions back to me. Leaving my last school was the best thing that ever happened to me professionally, even if I didn't realize it at the time.

10) I cannot keep a manicure fresh. I just bought a special new 10 day wear topcoat from Sally Hansen, and applied it over my pink on Sunday. I already have three fingers chipped. What gives?

Leave me your magical secrets in the comments. Happy, sunny, wonderful Tuesday!