Miz S

I Got Some 'Splainin To Do.

I lifted this meme dealio from Facebook. The rules are that you are ONLY allowed to answer Yes or No, and your are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages you or comments.

But, I'M A REBEL, MAN! Don't try and fence me in! I'll 'splain if I wants to!

Meme rules crack me up, anyway. I mean, come on, y'all.

Alright, here goes.

Kissed any one of your Facebook friends? Yes. My husband and my kids.

Been arrested? Yes.

Kissed someone you didn't like? Yes. His name was Joe Hinton. And my sister made up a rhyme about him: Joe Hinton, always hintin' for nookie nookie, when he should be reading a bookie bookie.

Slept in until 5 PM? No. But I've gone to bed for the evening at 6pm. You remember that I'm delicate?

Fallen asleep at work/school? No.

Held a snake? Yes! I love snakes!

Ran a red light? God, I hope not.

Been suspended from school? No.

Experienced love at first sight? No. But I've experienced being highly interested at first sight.

Totaled your car in an accident? No! Man, I hope this meme doesn't jinx me.

Been fired from a job? Nope.

Fired somebody? Yes. At Enterprise Answering Service. It took 3 of us to do it. We were a'skeered of her.

Sang karaoke? No.

Pointed a gun at someone? No! God!

Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes. Usually involving a second piece of cake. Or third.

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes.

Kissed in the rain? Probably. Maybe. I mean, I've done my share of kissing. But a specific instance of rainy kissing does not spring to mind.

Had a close brush with death (your own)? Nope.

Seen someone die? Christ! This meme is a downer! No, I have not seen anyone die, unless you count dogs/cats.

Sang in the shower? Yes. Happily. Loudly. Badly.

Smoked a cigarette? Yes. Whole packs, even. But not for many years.

Sat on a rooftop? Yes. And kicked off the moss. And a few of the verses, they got me quite cross.

Taken pictures of yourself naked? Oh come on. Who hasn't?

Smuggled something into another country? Yes. Cuban cigars. Over the Canadian-U.S. border. Josh encouraged me.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? No. That would piss me off.

Broken a bone? Yes. Collarbone in 3rd grade, wrist in 5th grade.

Sleepwalked? No.

Walked a moonlit beach? Yes. You gotta watch out for all those little ghost crabs. I'm petrified of stepping on them.

Rode a motorcycle? Yes. Scary!

Dumped someone? Yes.

Forgotten your anniversary? Never! I get to go out for sushi on my anniversary!

Lied to avoid a ticket? No.

Ridden on a helicopter? No. Helicopters are dangerous!

Shaved your head? No.

Blacked out from drinking? No.

Played a prank on someone? Yes.

Hit a home run? Hahahahahahaha. Excuse me while I wipe tears of mirth from my eyes. No.

Felt like killing someone? Only in a hyperbolic sense. Not in a "filled with murderous rage" sense.

Cross-dressed? No.

Been falling-down drunk? Yes. I don't recommend it.

Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? Yes. Aw. I still feel bad.

Eaten snake?  Ew. No.

Marched/Protested? Yes.

Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? What kind of a lame-ass question is that?

Puked on amusement ride? No, because I don't GO on amusement park rides because I might PUKE on amusement park rides.

Seriously & intentionally boycotted something? Yes, for maybe a week until I got distracted. So I guess that doesn't fall into the "seriously" category.

Been in a band? Negatori.

Knitted? Yes, but only easy stuff like scarves.

Been on TV? Nope.

Shot a gun? Yes. Target practice. But not for a long time.

Skinny-dipped? That's a big 10-4.

Gave someone stitches? No, but I am an avid fan of the Discovery Health channel and I am certain that I could stitch a wound, deliver a baby, and possibly do an emergency tracheotomy.(I just googled that last one to review the procedure and make sure that I am still "qualified.")

Had stitches yourself (not from surgery)? Yes. Nothing serious.

Eaten a whole habanero pepper? Nah.

Ridden a surfboard? No.

Drank straight from a liquor bottle? I think so. Back in the day.

Had surgery? Yes. Y'all remember the summer of 2007, don'tcha?

Streaked? ZOMG yes, on the grounds of the National Cathedral when I was 16 or 17.

Taken by ambulance to hospital? Nay.

Tripped on mushrooms? Alright, enough with the prying into my carefree youth.

Passed out when not drinking? Yes, from heat, on more than one occasion. How often do I have to explain that I am delicate and need to be pampered?

Peed on a bush? No, because my anatomy is not conducive to that sort of activity.

Donated Blood? Yup.

Grabbed electric fence? No. Do people DO that?

Eaten alligator meat? Ew. No.

Eaten cheesecake? Yeah, but I don't really like it that much.

Eaten your kids' Halloween candy? Hell, yes. Why else do we have kids?

Killed an animal when not hunting? Yes. Just this morning I ran over a chipmunk, the poor little thing.

Peed your pants in public? Yes. First grade. Sister Ronald Mary's class.

Snuck into a movie without paying? No. I am rather strait-laced in that regard.

Written graffiti? Yes.

Still love someone you shouldn't? What, you mean like a married man or something? Oh hell no.

Sleep on a certain side of the bed? Yes, but as far as a last question goes, this one seems sort of anti-climactic.

A Challenge! Pistols At Dawn!

Wow. I really couldn't ever make a living as a model, could I? I wanted so much to have a gorgeous picture of me in my new coat but I just look, I don't know, stiff and uncomfortable. The coat is purty, though, isn't it? It's from Ann Taylor. I love it so much I want to marry it.

So, my beautiful birthday weekend is almost over. I was feted from one end of town to the other. Now it's back to life as a regular person instead of as a birthday celebrity. I'll miss all the wine and the attention and the excuse to buy new clothes. Hold me, please.

I think I forgot to tell you guys that I poured a glass of wine onto my beloved laptop the other night and it made little squealing noises and now it doesn't work anymore. Josh says it is just the keyboard and that it is totally fixable, but in the meantime I have to use Evangeline's behemoth laptop. It's on my lap right now and I think it's breaking my legs.

Hey, guess what? I have a new way to waste time on the Internet. Do you guys know that game Scramble on Facebook?  I HATE IT.

HATE. IT.

Yet, I can't stop playing. It reminds me of the great Snood debacle way back in the summer of '07. Remember? Josh and I almost got divorced? Oh, I exaggerate a little.

Anyway, Scramble. You have a little 4 x 4 box of letters and 3 minutes to make as many words as you can. The letters have to be touching each other, and they can go in any direction.

I suck so bad at this game. I make little whimpering noises while I play. I NEED MORE TIME. WHY DO THEY ONLY GIVE ME 3 MINUTES?

Anyway, I hereby challenge all of you to play me on Facebook. You will enjoy it because you will always win.

Cards and Emails and Phone Calls are Pouring In From ALL OVER THE WORLD!!

God is so nice! He gave me an ice storm for my birthday! The kind of ice storm where it's enough to cancel school but not so much that I will have to stay home all day. So, I slept in late and lounged around all morning with the cats and dogs, and now I am going to shower and dress and go out shopping to buy myself a birthday present.

Josh has been suffering agonies because I wouldn't commit to a special gift. In the end, I have decided to pass on the tooth whitening for right now and instead buy myself a really nice spring trench coat. And maybe some knee-high boots. That's all I need.  Well, I don't know. Perhaps I might throw in a couple of new tops and some pants. And a sweater or two. But that's it, definitely. Unless I see some great stuff on sale.

I thought that  I would do some sort of introspective post today about my thoughts on turning 50, some sort of evaluation of myself, a little goal-setting, etc. But, meh.  I don't have anything particularly interesting to say. I'm 50, and honestly it's nothing to have a cow about.

Plus, I got all this shopping to do.   

Okay. Carry on. I'm off to spray my money hose all over the mall. 

The Usual Suspects.

On Wednesday evening, shortly after I took a mess of Advil and checked my temperature many many times in a row and procured a sub for Thursday, I came to my senses and realized that yes, the fate of the free world does in fact rest upon my shoulders. So I canceled the sub and showed up at work with a red Mylar balloon, juice boxes, and valentines for the kiddies. My classroom aide brought cupcakes, so a Valentine's Day party of sorts was organized despite the fact that I hadn't really been at work all week. (We don't need no stinkin' room parents here at Some School.)

Ordinarily I would have bemoaned the fact that there weren't cute heart-shaped plates and matching napkins. But you know what? The kids didn't give a shit that we were using paper towels from the dispenser by the sink. They milled around passing out Valentines and laughing and eating Hershey's Kisses while I cursed myself for not bringing the camera. Good God, first-graders are cute when they are not driving you batshit crazy.

And it was good to be back at work and see my friends whom I adore.

Oh, except for this: 

You know how I have that hair-trigger guilt complex, right?  Everything is my fault because I have an inflated sense of responsibility and grandiose notions of my place in the big scheme of things? Elderly relatives are lonely--totally my fault for not visiting. Children at school have crappy parents--I need to work harder to make it up to them. Situation in Darfur--somehow my fault but I haven't connected the dots yet.

Anyway, a colleague of mine--no, not just a colleague A TEAM-MATE--turned 50 today and no one noticed or said Happy Birthday to her. And she came into my classroom while I was being productive after school and dragged me up to her computer to show me the Ecard that her sister had sent her, which was when I realized it was her 50th birthday. She's a single mom and she's always depressed or having a crisis or saying things that make me want to bang my head against the wall. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL FOR BEING SO INTOLERANT but Jesus, she's annoying as all get-out.

And yet, I feel terrible that I forgot her birthday.  I mean, everyone forgot her birthday, not just me, but I feel like I bear extra responsibility.  I should have protected her from this trigger for depression!

I should go to my therapist and get my damn money back.

Lazy Trumps Tipsy.

Sasha came home for Grandma's birthday. All the animals were ecstatic because Sasha is their girl, but I only caught this one picture of Rosie kissing her.

Thank you all for defending me so fiercely in my comments. You made me laugh a lot and feel like a princess. Hoo-boy! The reading specialist better watch herself. Apparently there's a big can of whup-ass with her name on it, and little blackbird (among others) is just itching to open it up. You guys are sweet.

So, I believe I mentioned the other day that I am having a milestone birthday soon. (I will be 600 months old. I will be 40-10. I will celebrate the 10th anniversary of my 40th birthday. Ha! So many euphemisms! So funny! Not.) Josh is having a lot of anxiety about it because he doesn't want to be accused of being a slacker-husband by his friends. He keeps asking me what I want and what we should do to mark the occasion. He knows better than to pull one of those surprise party moves on me. I don't "surprise" well.

I've been hemming and hawing and saying, "I don't know, a party is an awful lot of work. Let's just go out for dinner with friends. And I'll buy myself some new clothes."

So we were drinking a little sake the night he got back from NYC and I was NOT DRUNK but I was definitely silly and tipsy. Josh said, "You know, it wouldn't be a big deal, we could do a party here. Let's just make some phone calls and make it happen." 

And I said, "Wooo! Yes! A party! I love parties!" Then I twittered about it.

But after attending my mother-in-law's 80th birthday last night, hosted by my incomparable sister-in-law and her husband, I'm thinking that it looks like way, way too much work. The interior of our house needs painting desperately, the front yard has the winter blahs, and the bathrooms are about to be remodeled any day now and no doubt would be all torn up just in time for the party. I realize that we could have a party without painting the house first, but, I don't know. We would definitely have to do some major cleaning.

So. Meh. I don't feel like it.

As for what I want for my birthday? I'm a little embarrassed to tell you guys this because I worry that it's shallow and vain, but I would really like to get my teeth professionally whitened. I figure I've got another 30 years, easy, of red wine and coffee ahead of me.

Have any of you ever had it done? Got any info that I need? Does it really work? I want me some WHITE-ASS teeth.

I Miss You, Baby. Really, I Do.

Josh is out of town for 3 days and 3 nights. It's rough, but I'm hanging in there as best I can. Eating soup for dinner. Leaving the dishes until the morning. Watching whatever I want on TV. Sleeping with all the cats and dogs on the bed with me. It's brutal.

Meanwhile, he's in New York City with his boss/best friend eating at the finest restaurants in town so I'm sure he's suffering too.

Hey, guess what? Tomorrow's Ash Wednesday and I'm going to go to Mass and get me some of them ashes smeared on my face.  If I'm lucky there will be incense and organ music.  POMP. I  want PAPIST POMP, people.

Yup, I'm still dabbling with my Catholic roots. Do not tell my mother because it would make her so happy and I refuse to give her that kind of satisfaction because I am immature as all get-out.

I wonder what Sasha and Evangeline will refuse to tell me because it will give me too much satisfaction. These mother-daughter rituals are heart-warming, aren't they?

Speaking of Evangeline, it looks like we will not be going to Russia to visit her. Our plan was to go over there during my spring break in March, but she emailed us and said that she thinks she will be too involved in her classes to be able to spend a lot of time with us, plus she will be on a trip to St Petersburg during the latter part of that week. It kind of sounds like she's blowing us off, doesn't it? But she swears she isn't.

To be perfectly honest this is not a crushing blow for a variety of reasons such as expense, weather, and language barrier. We're thinking of having us a little sunshine-y vacation in the good old USA instead, for a hell of a lot less money. Evangeline is very independent and likes to immerse herself totally in whatever it is that she is pursuing. If she is comfortable being that far from home for 4 months, I say RAWK ON, HONEY. Except she would disapprove of the blatant use of age-inappropriate slang.

Okay. I'm going to go dirty a few more dishes and leave them strewn about the kitchen, then it's off to bed to sleep in a diagonal position with furry creatures fore and aft.

Midnight

Sunrise on the way to work the other morning.

I would normally be getting my beauty rest at this hour but I came home from work today with a sore throat and a headache, so I lay down for a delicious two hour nap. I am now paying the price. I did try to go to bed at 10:30 and lie there squinching my eyes shut but that never really works, does it? I tried to get conversational with Josh in bed but he suggested that I should rest my voice. I have relocated to the living room couch for a little quality time with the cats and my laptop to see if I can get sleepy.

Our Christmas tree is up and decorated, but it looks a little odd. Sasha had to remove all the ornaments from the bottom third of the tree because Nash keeps batting them off and then playing soccer with them.  He's a cute bad kitty.

I am feeling rather friendly and holiday-ish, despite the pending viral infection. I wrapped a few presents tonight and wrote out a bunch of Christmas cards for friends at work. I hate the whole gift exchange concept at work. I never know who I should get stuff for and it's all very awkward. So I usually just don't get anything for anyone. I am hoping that heartfelt holiday messages will be enough.

Maybe tomorrow I will have time to clean up here at the house. One of my complaints about Christmas is the disruption of routine and order. As I survey my living room, I feel a little hemmed in by the flotsam and jetsam. There are boxes of Christmas ornaments that haven't been put away yet, stacks of extra strings of lights that were purchased but are just sitting on the counter, rolls of wrapping paper, extra extension cords, tape, yardsticks, giftboxes, etc. Everything is all discombobulated.

So, yeah, tomorrow is the cleaning up day.

I'm not doing all that baking and crafty stuff that some of you seem to enjoy. I mean, it looks fun and all, and I used to do stuff like that when my kids were little and I didn't have a stupid full-time job, but now it's all I can manage to make dinner and do a load of laundry. So, no loaves of cranberry bread for the neighbors. No little felt animals or strings of popcorn or gingerbread cookies.

Tomorrow at work I will finish up my reading assessments. I will have lunch with the small brother and some other boys from my class last year. I will go see Amanda after work to bring her a present. I will clean up my living room. On Friday I might make gingerbread houses with my class. I said I might. Only if they do not get on my nerves tomorrow. And the chance that they will not get on my delicate nerves tomorrow is slim to non-existent, based on the way that they behaved yesterday and today. They are just a tad over-excited about Christmas.

Me? I'm surprisingly calm, cool, and collected.

It's A Christmas MIRACLE!!!

Us love Jebus. Us want to go to church. There are foodz there?

I went to church this morning at 7:30am. Some of you are rolling your eyes and saying "What the fuck?" and some of you are nodding your heads and saying, "She's finally seen the light! Praise the Lord!"

I can't help it. I'm a born-and-bred Catholic and I yearn for churchly goodness at this time of year despite my preference for lazing around on Sunday morning. When I go to church, I find it half embarrassing and weird and half fulfilling. Don't ask me to explain. I got nothing for you.

Anyway, I told Josh last night that I was going to 7:30am Mass and he said, "Do you want me to go with you?"

And I said, "GOD. NO."

Josh likes Mass way too much, in my opinion. I mean, you know, for a Jewish boy. He sings the songs so heartily that it almost seems like he's being sarcastic, but he's not. He just LIKES to sing hymns.  He also says all the responses and kneels and stands and sticks his fingers in the holy water and, and, IT'S JUST WRONG.

Anyway, I set my alarm for the crack of dawn and somehow found the strength to follow through and get up. I drove to the church in Georgetown that I used to go to with my kids sometimes. I like it because it's a Jesuit church and the Jesuits are all radical and shit. I fumbled my way through Mass because it's been, oh, about a year or so since I last went. And I embarrassed myself during the Handshake of Peace because I think I shook too many people's hands. It was awkward.

But THIS was my favorite part: there was a man there with an amiable-looking yellow lab that was wearing a blue service dog vest. Dude. Once I saw that lab sleeping peacefully on the floor by the pew I just couldn't focus on godly matters.  And when the man went up for communion the dog went up, too! It was so cute!!

Now, this man did not appear in any way to be handicapped, but I totally understand that he may have a condition that is not obvious. That's not my point. My point is, I want to put service dog vests on my dogs so I can take them everywhere. If I could take my dogs to church I would totally go every week, I swear. The only problem is that my dogs are just not that well-trained and everybody would know that they weren't really service dogs. Rosie would be jumping up on random people's laps to get attention and April would be freaked out by the organ or something.

Anyways.

Church was fun. I might even do it again next week.

Now go forth and sin no more, you damn heathens.

Like She Was Skin Surrounding Thunder.

Josh and his boyfriend, Earl.

You know that I disapprove of bloggers repeating cute conversations between themselves and their spouses, as if anyone else ACTUALLY CARES. And yet...here I go.

I just returned home from an evening out with two of my very best friends, MaryLynn and Kate. (Long background story there that I am too tired to go into right now. Trust me when I tell you that these are friends to go through life with.)

Anyway, I came home very tired (but happy!) and with a bam-bam-bam headache, to find Josh on the couch watching Independence Day. It was right at the part where Will Smith marries his stripper girlfriend in the little chapel just in case he gets killed fighting the aliens.

And I said, "Oh! This part always makes me cry!"

And Josh said, "Oh! This part always bores the shit out of me," and grabbed the remote so he could fast-forward right through it.

This struck me as really funny.

Guess you had to be there, huh?

And THAT'S why bloggers shouldn't include those little exchanges in their posts.

I am going to bed now, but I wanted to get a little something up here on the main page because I'm not entirely comfortable with having a big ol' photo of myself there.  (Low self esteem brought about by improper toilet training, I suppose. My life is a rich tapestry.)

Topics that may or may not be discussed in the near future:

• The smart things my therapist said to me yesterday. She is almost as sharp as Jane.
• Going off Cymbalta: Big Mistake or Bad Idea?
• Antoni, small brother of Alexander. The two of them are among my top 10 favorite students of all time. Antoni and I have a standing date every Thursday at lunchtime, and I want to tell you all about him.
• This new song I discovered by accident that I am completely obsessed with and that I listened to 14 times today. (She Tried To Hold Me - The Waterboys)
• Some other shit that I can't think of right now.
• You know, you guys could give me some topics so I don't have to work so hard. Are there any burning questions that you have? Or things you want to know about? Hmmm?

You Gotta Play To Win.

Thanks for putting up with my job complaints yet again. I'm fine, really. I think that if I get to work early today and clean off my desk and plan my reading groups and figure out how to fit some science in and meet with the Reading Recovery teacher to express my concern about Erick's schedule and reorganize the writing binders and prepare for the afternoon math lesson because I will be in a meeting during lunch, then I think I will feel better. As long as I can get all that done before 8:40am.

Oh fuck it, this job is impossible and I need to just accept it and stop complaining or MOVE ON.

I have to wonder how much of this is related to the fact that I just recently stopped taking Cymbalta. I have taken either Effexor or Cymbalta for the past 4 years to deal with an anxiety disorder and mild depression. I decided to stop because I AM SO CALM AND SERENE THAT I CLEARLY HAVE NO NEED FOR MEDICATION. (Sorry. I can't give up the all-caps device to express irony in my writing. IT'S JUST NOT POSSIBLE.)

Although, I have expressed plenty of work-related angst during that same time period so maybe there is no connection.

This is boring, right?

FINE. I'LL GO GET READY FOR WORK NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARDS. Maybe something exciting will happen at work today, like a Code Red Situation with a crazy parent where I save the day by kicking someone's ass which would TOTALLY make me love my job again. (Ha! My fantasy life is rich.) We did have some pot-smoking adults hanging out by our schoolyard fence the other day so the kids had to stay on the blacktop for recess and our principal called the police. That was a little bit fun.

I'm wearing jeans and sneakers today AND THE PRINCIPAL CAN KISS MY MEDIUM-SIZED WHITE ASS.