confession.

I have, in fact, fallen prey to Twilight. I can't believe I am reading vampire books this Christmas. I'm almost finished with the third book. It's all in the name of being a better teacher, right? Being familiar with adolescent literature?

Can't lie - that's just my cover. I really think they're good. I can't put them down. I'm 27 and into vampires. Go on and laugh.

i am thankful

I'm thankful for a whole lot this year - for many things, big and small. Here's a sampling of those things this Thanksgiving week:

1. I am thankful for the truths in this passage, and for a God of whom this can be written: "If thy mercy make me poor and vile, blessed be thou! Prayers arising from my needs are preparations for future mercies; Help me to honor thee by believing before I feel, for great is the sin if I make feeling a cause of faith." (from The Valley of Vision")

2. I am thankful for coffee and tea.

3. I am thankful for good books and cold weather.

4. I am thankful for my little kitten.

5. I am thankful that I am going to have a niece born in April.

6. I am thankful for my roommates.

7. I am thankful for a job that is a source of joy to me.

8. I am thankful for fall and winter.

9. I am thankful for hot showers.

10. I am thankful for my family.

11. I am thankful for sleep.

12. I am thankful that I love where I live.

13. I am thankful for energy and good health.

14. I am thankful for red wine.

15. I am thankful for Dwight Schrute.

observations

Back from San Antonio. It was a really good conference. National Council of Teachers of English. I like to say it was akin to a teacher's equivalent of a combo crack house/chucky cheese/casino. I was surrounded by books, a lot of free stuff, and not many windows, and I am the dork who LOVES that kind of thing. A few observations:

1. I didn't see much of the city, but of what I did see, I can say that it didn't look like there was much more there than water, birds, and wind. A LOT of birds that just sat in huge numbers in the trees and stared at you.

2. I don't think my hearing is very good. I was taking a bunch of free books up to a teacher friend's hotel room so I wouldn't have to carry them to dinner, and she handed me her key and told me her room number. I went up, put the books down, and used the restroom. Guess what? It wasn't her room. When spoken aloud, the numbers 1750 and 1715 sound exactly alike. I was in 1750, hers was 1715. Key worked in both. What if the person habitating that room had walked in when I was using their toilet?

I have a new nickname now: Goldilocks.

3. How can gum advertise "that just brushed feeling" when the flavor is watermelon mango?

4. I caved and started reading the first Twilight book by Stephanie Meyer. Against my will, mind you. I have a goal to read a certain number of books in the adolescent literary genre in the name of being able to put the right books in the right kids' hands to get them to read (Really, I miss The Baby Sitters Club). Since no one can stop talking about Twilight, including my students, I decided I should know what it's about. The idea of reading a vampire love story does NOT appeal to me, though. But, here goes. Since it appeals to ages 13-50, I figure it can't be a total waste of time.

5. I recently ate at Denny's for the first time. My friends Miranda and Jon, now married with a child, went there on their first date in high school. I couldn't stop thinking about them when I was there :) I ordered pancakes for dinner off the senior citizen menu, and they were excellent.

6. Did anyone see the 24 movie that came on TV?

7. Did anyone else hear on Rick & Bubba last week that the new word voted into the Webster's Dictionary is "meh?" Who, exactly, votes on these things? And how can I be a part of it?

tagged

msk(s) tagged me with this blogger award, and I have to share 6 interesting things about myself and then tag 6 people to do the same.

1. I have chronic and violent allergies, evidently to everything. This is not interesting except for the fact that never in my life have I had any kind of allergic reaction to anything. The closest I ever got was drinking a whole carton of grape juice as a child, throwing it up, and assuming I was allergic to grape juice. I believed that for years. Wasn't true. But ever since I moved to Birmingham, I haven't been able to get it under control without constant medication advised by a doctor upon several visits. Hailey, I think you were right - I have black mold growing in my lungs.

2. I've never been to New York City. I still claim it as my favorite US city, because I'm 99% sure it will be if I ever go. I have wanted to go to New York my whole life, preferably in the winter. Maybe next year.

3. I LOVE an efficiently loaded dishwasher. And I love to LOAD the dishwasher efficiently. It's a little like putting together a puzzle. In my opinion, a perfectly loaded dishwasher could not hold another single item, though it is not so stuffed that the dishes won't come out clean. It's kind of like a puzzle. I realize this is odd. Also, I don't understand why people wipe or sponge up excess water from dishes with a dishtowel. It's only water, and it will dry in the cabinet.

4. I have always had a hypnotic effect on animals. Hamsters, dogs, cats, they all turn to noodles and mush when I hold them/pet them. They really do go completely limp, and I could roll them around or hold them upside down and they're not fazed. Maybe it's the way I smell?

5. I love cheap, and what most of you would consider disgusting, candy. Now, I don't ever eat it in my adult life, but mind you - I do love it. Circus peanuts, cowtales, Necco wafers, the cheap jellybeans and gumdrops, those chalk-like candy cigarrettes, I love them all. I DID eat circus peanuts for breakfast on my 27th birthday. Thanks, yaya.

6. For the majority of my life, I have wanted to be in movies. I am still trying to swallow the fact that my train to stardom has most likely passed, unless I have a Barbara Streisand future ahead of me. In which case I decline.

That's it, and most of you who read this already knew all that anyway. My apologies for wasting your time :)

I have lofty aspirations of picking up the blogging pace here pretty soon, but I'm off to San Antonio in the morning for a conference, so it'll be a few.

Mere, you sure you don't want to take a jog out there to have coffee with me?

Oh - I almost forgot! For the Kreativ (do we have to spell it that way?) Blogger Award, I tag:

1. Krystal
2. Marty Party
3. Sally Ray
4. Meaghan Gordon
5. Hailey
6. Anna Duggan

You're it!

NOT ME Monday!

I found this really fun idea on this woman's blog whom I DO NOT know, but keep up with faithfully. It's called "Not Me! Mondays." "MckMama" made this up, and I love it. It's a lot sarcastic and a little therapeutic. You should join me!

Here's mine for this week:

1. I did NOT swallow a Lysine amino acid supplement this morning and almost call 911 because I couldn't breathe. All in the name of getting rid of a fever blister. I hear amino acids help with that. Anyway, at least I DID NOT forget how to swallow a pill this morning.

2. I DID not eat the following combination for dinner: tortilla chips/cheese dip and a biscuit. Puhlease. I would never do that. But, hey, at least my roommate DID NOT eat THIS combo for dinner: crushed up boiled eggs, broccoli, GOAT CHEESE, and soy sauce. It COULD be worse.

3. I DEFINITELY did NOT decide to light a candle in my classroom and, when I couldn't get the lighter to work, ask my class (of 14 year olds), "who's good with a lighter? I need your help." Nope. NOT ME.

4. I did not just decide what all of my children's names will be. NOR did I just decide the genders, origins, and nationalities of my children. (two boys, two girls. two biological, two adopted. want to know the nationalities and names? stay tuned.)

That's really all I have for this Monday.

I don't have school tomorrow!

she has a name...

Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Hardin.

I can't, in good faith, name her anything else. She loves to climb things (everything) and has unusual kitten strength. She was living alone and making her own rules when I found her, much like P. Longstalking. Just a few minutes ago, she climbed the full height of the fireplace screen (pooping all the way up, which we'll overlook. Litterbox schmitter box.)

So really, is there any other name for her? I don't think so.

i'd like you to meet...

kitty from the block.

she's exactly 6 weeks old, weighing in at a whopping one whole pound.

she doesn't have a name yet, but i'm working on it. my principal found her yesterday afternoon wandering around outside our school. at least one litter of kittens and one momma cat live underneath the school building. this one got separated from her brothers and sisters, and got passed all around the school, yet no one would take her. there was no way i could leave her there - she would have been a pancake within the hour.

and so begins our journey, me and this street kitty. we went to the vet, got a worm pill, flea medicine, food, and a good brushin. she's slowly getting acclimated to domestic life, though her favorite thing to do so far when i hold her is to put one paw on either side of my mouth and scream in my face. on a sweeter note, she also likes to crawl up to my neck and wrap her little body around it, lay down, and purr.

i need suggestions for names. i guess once i took her to the vet, she became mine.

here's what i came up with:

1. alice (ali for short, kind of for alley cat - thanks yaya)
2. lily
3. charlotte
4. lucy
5. pippi
6. millicent (milli)



Here's a picture of her meeting my roommate abby's cat, lemons. he is NOT happy about his new sister. sorry for the legshot.

I'm still trying to learn her personality. she wiggles her booty when she walks, yet keeps her tail perfectly straight and stiff. and since she's used to living under a building, she walks hunched down really low to the ground. she kind of slinks around as though she's up to something.
i think we were destined to find each other.

Putnam's Handbook of Expressions

I love old books. LOVE them. There is something so charming about a vintage book - the worn pages, the faded cover, the cracked spine, and the smell -- mmmmmm. For my birthday, I got a JEWEL of an old book - copyright 1915, to be exact - called Putnam's Handbook of Expressions: For the Enrichment of Conversation, Writing, and Public Speaking.

It's a gem, I tell you. It is filled with phrases of all sorts to be memorized and used in writing and speaking, with categories like "dissent," "tactful response," "commendatory of persons," "manliness," "suspicion," and "prefatory." I could really spend hours thumbing through this delightful book. It's hilarious, and yes, I am incorporating these phrases into my speech and writing.

I love it so much that I've decided to start sharing some favorite phrases with you on Sundays. The "Putnam Series," if you will. So without further ado, I give you the inaugural installment of Putnam's Expressions:

Phrases for Conversation: Complimentary of Things

1. A sentiment worthy of emulation

2. Altogether a fine thing

3. I call it a delightful spectacle

4. There is an unfailing charm in it

5. How delightfully cozy

6. I like it prodigiously

7. It bears the stamp of excellence

8. A capital idea

9. It is a beautiful piece of industrial accomplishment

10. It is an amiable habit by no means to be discouraged

See how many you can toss out there in conversation this week....:)

tom brokaw's upper lip

The debate just started, but I wanted to stop real quick and ask you one question: has anyone else noticed that Tom Brokaw's upper lip doesn't move when he speaks?

as it is in heaven

I had parked and was waiting to cross the street at an intersection in downtown Birmingham early Friday morning on my way to school. I saw two young men sitting there on the curb, probably 15 years old, their hands in cuffs.

One policeman stood over them, writing furiously, and another was walking the perimeter, searching the ground around the sidewalk as though he were looking for one particular blade of grass. The boys' faces didn't look frustrated or upset at being busted. They looked hopeless.

I've seen a good bit of this sort of thing over the past couple of years, but for some reason that morning, it hit me harder than usual. And I started crying. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, crying there at the intersection of 7th and 26th in north birmingham. I turned my head as I crossed the street, hiding my tears from the traffic and trying to dry them before walking into a room full of 8th graders.

I kept thinking about how this world is not supposed to be like this. Cities should not be worn down to cracked sidewalks, vacant buildings, and adolescents in handcuffs. This world was supposed to be better. We were supposed to be better.

I thought of a sermon I heard not too long ago, and it quieted my spirit, so I wanted to share it with you. I'll try to summarize as best I can. It was on 1 Corinthians 15, and it was about restoration. I've heard sermons on restoration before, but not like this. Well, maybe I have, but I obviously wasn't paying attention.

In the sermon, the pastor talked about how we, as Christians, have a view of heaven as our final resting place. "Citizens of heaven" we call ourselves. Well actually, I've never referred to myself as that, but I hear that's what they say on Christian radio. I've known that this earth will be restored, but I think without realizing it I've solidified heaven, in my mind, as a mysterious faraway destination that has little, if anything, to do with the physical earth.

If this is true, then we have a dilemma.

True: The curse is broken, restoration is underway. Not way up there in heaven. Here. Now. But what does the return of our King do for us in a world of bondage where there are rotting buildings, chipped paint, decaying sidewalks, people without homes, and where children sit on street corners in handcuffs? In a world where things are not as they should be and where we are dog tired from trying to play a part in this restoration, tired because it seems to be all in vain? The scope and depth of the sadness and destruction the curse left is sometimes so overwhelming it paralyzes me. But then I might ask myself - isn't heaven our home anyway?

I'd never thought about it like this, but 1 Corinthians 15 says to be always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord, your labor is not in vain. If I labor here - if I help paint someone's house, serve a meal, or teach someone to read, but this world is not my home, then my work IS in vain.

Actually, to say heaven is my home is to say that creation - this world and our very bodies - are a mistake and can be discarded. But this is not the case. This world will be restored, not discarded. Habakkuk 2 says that the glory of the Lord will cover the earth like water covers the sea. Like water covers the sea. So this earth was designed to be filled and saturated with his glory. Right now, it is but a shadow of what it is supposed to be.

Likewise, we, in all our ugly sin, are mere shadows of what we were created to be. But in the mire, we get glimpses of the newness, of the holiness that He is working into us. The same day I saw the boys handcuffed on the sidewalk, I saw three 8th graders pause in the hallway to pray for one another. This, also, moved me to tears.

This kingdom, where we will cast off the perishable for the imperishable, living in new bodies and a new earth, is coming and is very physically real. And there will be real work to do -- this is what it will mean to be co-heirs with Christ. We will labor with him. We will have dominion with him over the earth, as was originally intended. As we were originally created for. So as he brings his kingdom to be restored on earth, we can labor in the lord now, and our redeemed work will remain.

However small it seems, however insignificant, it is not in vain. He will come out of heaven to us, he will bring heaven to this earth, and restore it once and for all. To quote from the third verse of one of my top three favorite hymns of all time, "This is my Father's world. O let me ne'er forget that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet."

After the last two years of near constant frustration and feeling like a wheel spinning in sand, I think I get it now. Not that I'll not be frustrated again, by any stretch, but I think I understand better why planting flowers on a street corner matters, even though it is just one of a thousand corners that still sit littered and barren. I think I see why providing an attractive place to sit in the shade matters, and why teaching someone to write about it all in their own words matters, too, though it might be one thirteen year old who wants to learn out of a hundred who don't.

It does matter.

Let it be on earth as it is in heaven.

I'm going to be an aunt!

I've been waiting to post about this...

I AM GOING TO BE AN AUNT! Sammer & Katherine are having a baby in April, and I cannot wait for the little sugar packet to be born. I call it a sugar packet because that's what size it is right now. A sugar packet.

I must admit, I do kind of hope it's a boy with curly hair like Sam's, and I hope he makes up stuff like "Bonnie's restaurant" and "ten, ten, ten is fun, ten is my favorite nuuuuuuumber! Ten, ten, rhymes with ROCKINGHORSE!" (a song Sam composed at age four)

Either way, I cannot wait for a miniature Hardin to join our family.

CONGRATULATIONS Sam & Katherine!

the Halloween dilemma

I've not been posting two days in a row lately, but there's an issue that's been pressing me as of late, and I need my readership to help me put it to rest. I don't dress up for Halloween very much, but when I do, I like it to be good. As you know, my idea of THE best Halloween costume I've ever donned is of course Snoop Dogg. I haven't dressed up since then, out of fear of not living up. Well, Jennifer Hermetz and I dressed up as each other one year since then. I forget.

Well, I've decided I want to dress up this year, because I think there are some good options. I've worked hard to narrow it down to three, and now, readership, I'm asking you to take the baton.

In no particular order...

1. Walking pneumonia

I don't really know how I would pull this off, but I like the idea. A pair of walking lungs? Maybe. A girl in a hospital gown with puffy eyes, red nose and messy hair? Per chance. I'm thinking hospital gown with a giant lung xray taped on the front.

2. Pam Beasley

This one might be just a little too easy. I can definitely generate the slight frizz and the not-quite-curly yet not-quite-straight look. What's not to love about our Pam? All I need is a long, puffy winter coat and a legal pad.

3. Sarah Palin

I gotta say - I'm a little inspired by Tina Fey on this one. Brilliant. Obviously I can't come close, but this is really funny to me. I have the glasses - all I need is hair help. I think I can create the coife. And find an NRA pin for my suit.

Well, these are the choices. Penny for your thoughts, readership. I don't expect to be able to do better than Snoop, but perhaps I can come close.

I'm eagerly awaiting your opinions.

October Road

I'm not sure when exactly I starting loving October as much as I do. It is by far my favorite month of all, and something about it is so energizing to me.

Even though it's fall, and most people would use these words to describe spring, I must say that in October, everything just feels new and comfortable at the same time.

I compulsively write a tribute to October on my blog every year, usually on the 1st. I always include this passage, which I love, and which I think articulates why I love it.

Here it is, for the third year in a row:

Autumn is the season when a year grows old.

Its strength begins to wane,

its light begins to go dim.

It is a reminder of our own mortality and faltering strength.

It is the season when we begin to look,

not to the earth for hope,

but toward a "city not made with hands,

whose architect and builder is God."

Outwardly we are wasting away,

but inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

Here's to October, fall, cooler weather, caramel apples, pumpkins, leaves, long walks, shorter days. I love long days, but let's face it, I've started going to bed at an unreasonably early hour, and it being dark out earlier helps me feel justified. Happy October!

Welcome Em and baby William

Good news! Dear Emily Jones is coming to live with me for a month while she does a med school rotation at UAB. She's here now, actually. We're eating tacos and watching The Office reruns, in preperation for tomorrow night's season debut, of course.

We're so glad she and little William (her unborn child for those you who didn't know) are here for awhile.

We've decided to closely monitor William's growth. "Project Grow William," if you will. We took this picture tonight, and we will take one each week that they're here to see how he grows in Birmingham.

Birmingham is a good place for babies to grow. I am trying to convince her of this so that she and Hunter will move to Birmingham for her residency.

Wouldn't THAT be something fun.

speaking of music videos...

I can't seem to figure this one out. Maybe you can help...

jimmy's semi-debut in the music vid arena

I say SEMI debut because Jimmy actually makes a habit of being a part of music video projects that come to Birmingham. It's really funny -- he gets so excited about them. He always wants me to do it with him, but I think they're cheesy. I, in general, don't like music videos. You may have heard me say that I don't think they do anything for a song -- anything positive, anyway. I believe this is especially true in today's contemporary Christian music industry. The line from cool to cheesy is oh so delicate and easy to cross.

But Jimmy loves it, and so I went with him for the last one. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you....

The "guy in the bright red tie," James Lowell, Jr.



I might as well be his bodyguard now that he's so famous.

Post-It Notes and Pumpkin Mush:

My Journey From Student to Teacher and Back Again

He should never have worn that leather jacket - the one with all those zippers and chains. It didn’t help that he also had on tight black pants and a long silver chain around his neck with a giant key dangling from it. He said it was “the key to his fiancé’s heart.” His fiancée’s name was Dawn. After he explained this to us, Marcy Faircloth immediately raised her hand. “So Mr. Skinner, did you wake up at the crack of Dawn this morning?” His pale, round face burned with embarrassment as we all struggled to muffle intense laughter. “Don’t wooorrreeeeee about it,” was his reply.

The minute he walked through the door of my seventh grade math class I knew his days as a teacher were numbered. We would make sure of it. We were not an intimidating group. There was Marcy, the wiry redhead with the green vinyl backpack and scattered freckles. There was Bubba, with his plaid flannel shirt always tucked neatly into his faded jeans with the hole in the knee. Heather, with her fashionably crimped hair and perfectly round glasses, hardly breathed a word for as long as I knew her. And Kristen, dear Kristen. She did science experiments in her spare time and hardly ever looked anyone in the eye.

Despite the utterly harmless nature of the students that made up this class, we would become the mighty terrors that drove all five feet of Mike Skinner from the field of education. Who knew we harbored such power? I don’t think it was any one event that drove him away, but rather a succession of moments scattered throughout the year like thunderstorms in the summertime – only a few of which I remember with delightful clarity.

“Ahem….ahem….AHEM.” A hushed giggle started in the back corner of the room and spread to the front, evolving into shameless laughter. Mr. Skinner finished writing his equation on the chalkboard before turning around and giving us a look that was intended to quiet us with its intensity. Instead, we thought he had something in his eye, and the laughter grew louder.

“WHAT are you laughing at?” he barked.

“Skin-Daddy, your pants are ripped,” answered Charlie from the front row. “Don’t wooorrreeeeee about it. No one should be examining my pants,” was his response as he turned back to his equations. The two-inch split that ran vertically right down between his back pockets remained the focus of the rest of the period. The next day, he came to school wearing those pants – the split sewn up in the back with white thread.

In a heroic attempt to quiet us, he climbed onto his desk and began shouting at us from his newfound height. He talked about respect, about maturity, and about how we’d never pass math if he was all we were interested in studying. I could only stare at that big silver key swinging back and forth. Occasionally, it would catch on his shirt buttons, which were undone just far enough to confirm that yes, indeed he has chest hair, albeit sparse, and no, he was not afraid to show it off.

He finished his lecture, and the room was finally quiet. He hopped gingerly off his desk, only for one leg to land in the little round garbage can to send him tumbling to the floor in slow motion. There was no redeeming any instructional time at that point. Loud cheers and howling laughter rang out, and he stood up with his face so reddened that the flaky white dandruff in his eyebrows glowed. We were so loud that no one heard him as he squealed his already signature response, “Don’t worrreeeeee about it!”

There is nothing worse, nothing and no one more void of remorse than a mean seventh grader. Had I but known that one day I would be teaching them, I might have handled that year a little differently. But I didn’t. Instead, I signed up for the Halloween lip sync contest, rented fishnet stockings and go-go boots, and started practicing “Stop! In the Name of Love” with the passion and energy of Richard Simmons on speed.

Katie, Foley and I had waited for this night for months. It was our time to shine. It came and went, and our moments in the spotlight of that old, tin band hall were not enough. We needed something else to give us more of that delicious adrenaline. We camped out at Katie’s house that night, and this could only mean one thing: pranks. And when the conversation turned to choosing a victim, only one name crossed our lips: Mike Skinner.

Since we had to work with what was readily accessible, we chose the three pumpkins sitting next to Katie’s front door. We certainly weren’t bold enough to actually do anything destructive with them, so we smashed them up and put the goo into a large brown grocery sack. I know - devilish, just devilish. With a bright red marker, we scrawled “DON’T WOOOORRREEEEE ABOUT IT!” across the front of the bag. Armed with our bag of soggy ammunition, we set off on the one mile trek to the home of one Mike Skinner.

We arrived at his house to find the lights were out. Perfect. Two cars sat in the driveway – Dawn must be visiting, we mused. Being the fearless pranksters that we were, we quickly and carefully placed the bag on the top front porch step. Hearts racing, we darted out of the yard and down the street until the house disappeared from view. Back in Katie’s yard, we sat down in the damp grass and breathed sighs of satisfaction at having trespassed on our teacher’s property and left a token to let him know we’d been there. We exchanged victory high-fives and made a toast with candy bars, clicking them together in the moonlight. “To Skin-Daddy,” we giggled.

We promised each other we’d tell no one of our prank, but by Monday morning at ten o’clock, half the seventh grade knew about it. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets. As rumors of pumpkin mush swirled throughout the halls, another slightly more disturbing rumor made its way to us, the victorious Supremes: Mr. Skinner’s fiancée, Dawn, had spent the night in the emergency room.

Turns out bees really like pumpkin mush. It also turns out that Dawn’s allergic to bee stings. Deathly allergic, as a matter of fact. Who knew?

Eventually, tales of our weekend adventure made their way to Mr. Skinner. Our hearts were pounding like jackhammers as we made our way to his desk after class. He’d asked to see us, and my palms were cold with sweat. I’m quite sure we had beads of perspiration on our foreheads and were visibly trembling with fear. I had visions of handcuffs dancing through my head; I could see it all clearly: “You ladies come with me. You’re under arrest for the murder of the fiancée of Mike Skinner. You have the right to remain silent.”

I didn’t want to imagine the looks on my parents’ faces when they’d find out they would be visiting me in prison for the next thirty years of my life. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing my cat, Tigger, anymore. And my dream of moving to Hollywood at age nineteen for my big break? Dashed.

Mr. Skinner looked at us, not saying anything, for about fifteen seconds. The zippers on his motorcycle jacket gleamed in the sunlight. All three of us stared at the floor.

“The beds they give visitors at the hospital are very uncomfortable. Did you girls know that? My back is sore today, and Dawn won’t be released for another two days. They think she’s going to make it, though.”

Every muscle in my body tensed at that moment, and my visions of prison life started to seem like reality. My eyes brimmed with tears as I looked up at Mr. Skinner.

“So she’s probably not going to die?” I croaked.

“No, I think she’s going to be alright. But she’s in a whole lot of pain right now. What you girls did was not funny. I don’t appreciate the gesture one bit.”

I couldn’t hold the tears in any longer. Out they flowed, down my cheeks and onto the floor.
“We are so, so very sorry, Mr. Skinner,” Katie said softly. “We didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Mr. Skinner looked at us silently for another fifteen seconds, studying us like the Pythagorean Theorem. I held my breath and looked at the door, bracing myself for my impending arrest.

“I hope you understand that your actions have had serious consequences. Because this happened outside of school, you won’t have any kind of punishment from me or the administration. However, I am going to have to call your parents.”

“Not the police?!” I asked apprehensively.

“No one is calling the police,” he answered.

Though the reactions we got from our parents weren’t pretty, a relief that we weren’t going to prison settled deep into our bones. Our time was up; we wouldn’t be pulling any more pranks on Mr. Skinner, save the occasional use of school intercoms to serenade him with our rendition of “Bad to the Bone” when our teacher left the room. For the most part, the rest of the year was void of any major drama.

Fast-forward eleven years: I am standing in front of a class of middle school students for the first time, sweating bullets and praying not to become like my former victim. I’d carefully checked my sweater for zippers and my pants for rips. There was nothing I would tell my students “not to worry about,” and I wouldn’t dare stand on any elevated surface to get their attention. I made every attempt to prevent any “Skinner moment” from becoming my reality as a teacher. I knew that Karma was not on my side.

Despite my best efforts to avoid any kind of breakdown, on day five, it happened. I was relegated to the teachers’ lounge for a forty-five minute cry-fest after my third period class proved wholly and altogether uncontrollable. I questioned everything I was certain of in those moments as I made my way to the teachers’ lounge, tears rolling down my face. I sat in the swivel chair, turning back and forth and wondering if this was my “Skinner moment.”

It had all the signs: ardent frustration, relentless thirteen year olds, mayhem, turmoil, and tears. And although I had sense enough not to come to school dressed as a leather-clad biker, I did show up armed with the faulty ammunition that is an unrealistic vision of one first year teacher magically creating an academic utopia despite “the odds.” I’m convinced that I might as well have gone the biker route that first week.

Unlike myself and my former classmates eleven years ago, these students had a rare mercy about them: I returned to my classroom after they’d left to find my door covered with heartfelt apology notes scrawled on yellow Post-Its.

It was a picture of grace: they’d forgiven me my first naïve mistake, and though I was certain more would come, I knew at that moment that it was worth it. The tears, the struggles, the hits and misses and the trials by fire – it was all worth it. I had been given another chance by my students, and I’m still grateful for that.

I should probably go look up Mike Skinner and give him a call.

one word

How is it that I think all these listy posts are so lame, yet I am drawn to them more each time I see one? Is it because I am looking for something, ANYTHING to put off grading papers and entering them into the computer? Could be. Or is it my adolescent (ahem---adult) penchant for email surveys that brings me back each time?

Who knows. irrelevant, really. The fact remains, here I am again, with another list, stolen from of course none other than one LT.

The good news is, the answers have to be one word, so I won't be able to put my work off much longer (and you don't have to read long, boring answers--just short, boring answers.)

Object: answer questions with one word ONLY. Not necessarily as easy as it looks! Can you do it?

1. Where is your cell phone? table
2. Where is your significant other? meeting
3. Your hair? frizzy
4. Your mother? frilly
5. Your father? airborn
6. Your favorite thing? coffee
7. Your dream last night? none
8. Your dream/goal? book
9. The room you're in? livingroom
10. Your hobby? writing
11. Your fear? knives
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? birmingham
13. Where were you last night? home
14. What you're not? energized
15. One of your wish list items? broom
16. Where you grew up? Starkville
17. The last thing you did? broccoli
18. What are you wearing? dress
19. Your TV? off
20.Your pet? boo
21. Your computer? useful
22. Your mood? peaceful
23. Missing someone? absolutely
24. Your car? Volvo
25. Something you're not wearing? shoes
26. Favorite store? Target
27. Love someone? friends
28. Your favorite color/shade? green
29. Last thing you ate? broccoli
30. When is the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? weeks

Whew. That was a toughie. Alright, one more confession (the first one, in case you're wondering, being 'I'm about to do another list on my blog'). I went to a month long writing workshop/institute this summer, and it was pretty intense. I loved it. While in the thick of said workshop, I did a little writing. There is one piece of writing I finished that I would like to soon share on my blog. It is called "Post-It Notes and Pumpkin Mush." Those of you who either know me really really well or have just know me long enough can probably guess from the title what the subject of this short memoir might be.

We, the 8th graders and myself, are currently reading memoir. We will follow these weeks with some intense writing workshop in this genre. So, I thought I would write along with them and perhaps share some things I've written previously, one being this story of pumpkin mush. They ended up really liking it, if only because of it's 1. drug reference and/or 2. descriptions of chest hair.

Either way, they DID like it, and I enjoyed sharing it -- I usually don't share what I write, but I think I'm changing my mind. In my next post, I will officially publish "Post-It Notes and Pumpkin Mush" for the first time.

I know you will all be checking back every thirty seconds until its appearance.

Until then...

Goodnight unto all.

circus peanuts: the breakfast of champions

Thanks so much, friends, for all the birthday wishes. I felt very loved in the blogging community yesterday. And yes, I did in fact eat circus peanuts for breakfast -- thanks ya! They were luscious, and you better believe it started the day off right.

Yesterday marked the 27th year of existence for me, and what a fantastic 27 it's been. Yesterday was great -- right after school I went to Barnes & Noble to get Jane Austen's Persuasion (more on that below) and to Sephora for my free birthday gift (vanilla cupcake bubble bath!). Last night, all my favorite Birmingham people gathered for a fun wine and dessert soiree. It was a blast. I so missed all my out of town favorite people, though. Here's one of few pictures from the night. The button I'm wearing says "Rock Star," in case you're wondering.
I've been thinking about being 27 a lot lately, and it's funny -- my dear friend Kate and I, ever since we met back in 2000, have believed that 27 would be/is an all around magical year.

I think we just liked the way it sounded. But, now that it's here, I've given it a lot more thought, and my conclusion is that it has to be better than any age, yet.

The fact that I can eat circus peanuts for breakfast (and Swedish fish for lunch) whenever I want and not feel like a freak (even though I might actually be one) is reason enough.

I have a few thoughts on being 27, and I'd like to share them. Here they are, in no particular order.

1. I have never read any of Jane Austen's novels, and I've decided this is the year. I think 27 is the perfect age to appreciate her writing in all its veracity and wit, and so I am beginning with Persuasion, her last published novel. I'm starting with this one because it was published near my birthday, and Anne, the novel's heroine, is newly 27 at the beginning of the story. (She's also considered a spinster, but we'll overlook that part)

2. 27 is going to be good, because, and I'm directly quoting Kate on this one...it just sounds like a good age, and "You're old enough to have a system of independence that works, and young enough to do and be whatever you want, and be hot doing it." Right on.

3. Turning 27 means that...and I want you to understand how much it hurts me to say this...

I am probably not going to be famous.


More than likely, turning 27 means I have missed the train to stardom. As of yesterday (but not a day before, mind you) it's a safe bet I can go ahead and cash in the change in the "Money for California" jar for new socks.

4. I need more sleep at 27 than I've ever needed before. I know some of this has to do with chasing 8th graders around all day, but most of it is probably because I just don't have the energy to stay up dancing to "Colors of the Wind" like I used to. You like that, msk(s) and Mere?

5. It's been 10 years since I was 17. Wow.

6. Since I was Pippi Longstocking as a child, I wonder if Pippi would be like me as an adult?

7. Many mornings, I wake up with creaky joints and a sore back. This has not always been the case. Turns out, I'm not Tuck Everlasting. But there's something charming about the cycles of life, and I'm glad to be feeling it a little bit.


8. I am now older than Uncle Jesse in Full House. It's true. The immortal hair gelled crooner was 26 on the show. This marks birthday significance if ever there was any.


That's all, for now. Here's to life and being 27.

10 things

I'm taking up msk(s)'s challenge because I have nothing else to write about, and because in this situation I refuse to do the alphabet game. No offense to all you abc-ers out there.

There aren't many things I can't live without, come to think of it. But the ones that ARE on that list, I really can't live without them. And a lot of them are pretty lame.

Here they are.

1. Coffee and hot tea. I know I am far from alone on this one. I just really can't go without it. I have gone back and forth on whether or not I am addicted to it. Some say I am, because of the simple fact that I say I can't live without it. But I can and have gone a few days without it here and there (not by choice), and I didn't have headaches or anything associated with symptoms of withdrawal. It just simply makes the whole day better when I do have it.

Why are coffee and hot tea so wonderful? I don't know, but I could drink it all day.

2. Zyrtec D. I realize it's sad to have medicine on here, but I'm convinced that without these little wonder pills, my professional, social, and personal lives would be over. Since moving to B'ham, my allergies have become my worst enemy. There are days when, be it not for Zyrtec, I can't get through a sentence without sneezing four times in a row and having to blow my nose at least twice. This medicine makes me feel like a new person.

3. CoverGirl Lipslicks lipgloss. I am not one to spend much money on makeup - maybe because I have never tasted the wonders of the really good stuff. But if cheap is working well for me, why open my eyes to what I'm missing and further empty my pocketbook? (LT and msks, are you horrified?) As long as I have this lipgloss, I'm good. It wakes me from the aesthetic dead if I've overslept and don't have time to do anything to my face -- it's my favorite -- and maybe only -- staple in the world of cosmetics.

4. Adhesive hooks. Lame? Yes. But these handy gadgets are my most powerful tools of organization. Towels off the floor, purses out of the way, scarves in their place. You'll find many of these, both small and large, placed strategically in the nooks and crannies of my living space.

5. Ebay. I can't stress it enough -- this online marketplace has saved me countless dollars. I've gotten scores of books for my classroom for almost nothing, electronics for cheap (even if I did have to sell the PlayStation 2 because Jimmy had been "permanently loaned" a PS3), quality shampoo for less than the off-brand, my CAR, and my latest find...my new armoire, for which I paid...are you ready? A whopping $26. And no, it is not made out of banana wood.

You just can't beat the prices you find on ebay. If you don't mind buying your stuff used, this is the way to go.

6. Cucumber Method All-Surface Cleaner. It costs more than the average cleaner, but this stuff is definitely worth every penny. It's the Target brand cleaner, and takes a good chunk of the YUCK out of cleaning. It smells WONDERFUL and cleans very effectively. I recommend this for any surface you clean that water won't damage. Comes in spray or wipes.

7. The Elmo document camera. I don't actually have one of these yet. But I'm convinced that when I do, it will make my teaching life a million times easier. All you do is turn it on, toss an article or paper underneath the lamp, and it's projected onto the wall for everyone to see/read. No computers, no annoying transparencies, no paper. Talk about saving the trees.

8. Sara Groves' music. She sings my life, and I love her. That's all I have to say about that.

9. Tomatoes. Recently declared my favorite simple food, these wonder veggies (yes they share that title along with the pumpkin) just make everything taste better.

10. Conditioner. The only thing that, where my hair is concerned, separates normal from all out brillo pad/afro. I'd rather just never WASH my hair than have to wash it without conditioner.

burnt nosehairs

I am admittedly embarrassed by the fact that until yesterday, I thought you could refrigerate raw chicken breast and it would stay good for longer than a day.

About six days ago, I started noticing a rancid odor each time I stepped in our front door. No one smelled it but me, though, so I didn't think too much of it. After the third day, I started getting suspicious. Either we have a dead animal decomposing in our house and magically I'm the only one who can smell such things, or I need medical attention in the nasal cavity area, NOW. Finally, my roommates started smelling it, too. I'd already gone through the fridge to see if anything was rotting.

Chicken salad? Nope. Smells fine. Week old pasta salad? Practically no smell at all compared to this. I nosed around in there for days, not finding anything that could be the source if this most foul smell that ever singed my nose hairs. It wasn't the eggs, it wasn't the tomatoes, and it wasn't the leftover meal from Macaroni Grill. And it CERTAINLY wasn't the leftover raw chicken meat that I put in a tupperware container and put in the fridge - because it wouldn't EVEN be bad after a week. Right?

Right?

Apparently not. I feel like a moron. Once Katie enlightened me on this little known (I thought) chicken fact, I knew it was the chicken and that I had to get rid of it, but how?? I have to really mentally prep myself before I even TOUCH raw meat that ISN'T rotten. I just don't know if there's anything more revolting than raw meat. Until I encountered rotten raw meat. I left it there, rotting in the fridge, for another 24 hours because I couldn't work up the nerve to mess with it.

I came home from school today (which is going very well, as of day 2, if anyone's wondering) and of course, it was a thousand times worse. The moment had come. I took a deep breath of rotten smelling air and went for it. I grabbed the plastic container from the shelf and pulled at the lid until it came off. Before the intensity of the chicken smell hit my nose, I, like a fool, went ahead and stuck my face up next to it "just to make sure" this was what it was.

It was.

I about passed out right then and there. Roommate Abby was sitting in the dining room, so she can verify that I am not exaggerating. I started gagging, couldn't breathe, and started trying to dump the chicken into a trash bag. It was stuck to the container. Wouldn't budge. In the meantime, I'm gagging, not breathing, and turning blue. I dropped the chicken, container and all, into the trash bag and headed to the backyard with it.

The house still smells like rot. But apparently only in my nostrils. I can still feel my nose hairs burning. Maybe because I subjected myself to a good sniff of the fumes from about one centimeter from the source. I'll be lucky if I can ever eat chicken again.

And to think, I thought I was making headway in the kitchen.

back to school jitters are here...

Not in their entirety, though...I will have the full case of jitters officially on Sunday night, the night before my new students come. Tomorrow, though, is my official first day back at work. Technically I've been working off and on all during July, moving and readying my new classroom. Seriously, is it really time to go back? Who has time for work anyway? Not me.

There are much more important things to be doing, like eating steamed broccoli. Have I mentioned lately how much I love it? With LOTS of lemon juice that is probably eroding all my teeth enamel right off. LOVE IT. Most of you who know me well will be rightly surprised by what I'm about to say, but...I am on a cooking kick.

That's right -- a cooking kick. And it's going pretty well! No disasters yet, and everything's (most everything) turned out really good. Unless my friends are lying to me, that is. I've made lemon tarragon chicken salad, a tomato tart, and chicken with rosemary sauce. It might be easy for most of you, but for me, this is a big deal. I can usually mess up just about anything, including boiling water. But I think I'm turning over a new leaf.

Is anyone else ready for cold weather????

a new friend

Something really funny happened to me today, and I need to tell some people about it. This afternoon, I was lacing up my running shoes, ready to hit the road, when I looked up and saw a small boy, not a day over three (he later told me he is exactly "threeyewsold"), standing in my front yard.

He was walking slowly from one part of the yard to another, moving the small distance ever so carefully. I thought he must be on a walk with his mom, as I see moms and small children walking often where I live. So I went on about my business of tying my shoes.

Well, turns out, I stepped outside and the boy is still there, just hanging out in the yard, walking around. There is no adult in sight - anywhere. "Hey buddy. What are you doing?"

"jhdhagsdeftrfehsbdhsgfsdgs" is what he might as well have replied with, because I understood none of it. "Where is your mommy?"

"Somewhere."

"Somewhere? Is she at your house?"

"Yes."

"Where is your house?"

"That way." (he points down a deserted alleyway)

"Come walk with me. We'll find your mommy. I bet she doesn't know where you are."

We head down the street, me and this child. I know he probably couldn't have gone too far. He had his little flip flops on the wrong feet. It was adorable. I asked him his name. "Greg."

"Greg, what's your last name?"

"Greg."

"What about your mommy? What's her name?"

"Greg."

Getting no where. Greg is a lone ranger, all by himself. And he doesn't know his last name or where he lives. But dog gone it, he wants to go on a walk, climb trees, and watch trucks pass by. He dragged me along for awhile, and when I realized we'd gone farther than he'd probably originally wandered from his house, we turned around. I alternated between chasing him down the street and trying to keep him out of the MIDDLE of the street and carrying him. I tried everything to get him to tell me his mom's name or where he lived, and he just didn't seem to understand why that mattered. I even tried tickling him until he told me where mommy was.

We knocked on the doors of three houses, all of which he said were his. No one answered at any of them. He kept asking me to play and go for walk "that way" and to climb a tree. I told him we weren't going to play until we found mommy, because she was probably very sad not knowing where he was, and did he want his mommy to be sad?

He giggled and ran from me. I chased him and called to him, but he wouldn't listen. When I finally caught him, he wasn't interested in anything I had to say until I got very serious - like I was about to tell him the most important secret in the world.

"Greg. I need to talk to you." I said it in a very serious, adult like manner. Then I had his complete, undivided attention - this happened several times, and every time, this worked. It was hilarious.

I walked with/carried Greg up and down the street for ABOUT 45 minutes and had no idea who he belonged to or what to do with him. As hot as it was outside, I didn't feel ok taking him inside my house -- I wasn't in the mood to be charged with kidnapping. But the kid was getting heavy.

There really is no climax to this story. His mom finally came out of their house, which was diagonally across the street from me. She gave me an odd look as I started walking toward her from down the street, carrying her son.

"Does he belong to you?"

She didn't seem as worried as I would have expected her to be (seemed like she'd even been asleep), but shoot, maybe Greg takes frequent adventurous hikes through the hood. Anyway, he is safe and sound back at his house with his mom and dad. I made sure to tell her that he was in MY yard, lest my face be plastered on next week's PEOPLE magazine for child abduction. I can picture it now.

Seriously, what would I have done if his mom hadn't eventually come outside? Called the police?

I thought this was a funny/random afternoon. Just thought I'd share.

a wedding and a killer card game

Last weekend, I got to see so many faces that I miss dearly. It was fantastic. Sally Saulters, one of my good college friends, got married in Grenada, MS last Saturday. Jimmy and I went and spent the night in Starkville on our way back to Birmingham. Here's a picture of me with the beautiful bride and a picture of Sally & Brian arriving at the reception.

Also, have you ever played killer UNO? I hate card games. For the most part, anyway. There is almost always something I'd rather be doing than playing cards.

Until.

Katie introduced me to killer UNO, a more keyed up version of UNO that she learned in Africa. I can't stop playing it. Really - it's taken over the latter half of my summer. Well, that's an overstatement. But we've been playing it - a lot.

We've started having people over a good bit to play the game - it gets very intense - glass has been broken, drinks spilled. But it is oh so worth it. Here are a few pictures of our latest game night.

Also, here is the wine cork we made out of my favorite stress ball.
Do you like it?

We do.

need new music?

If you're like me, you appreciate any good, new song but tend to stick with what you love -- those few absolute favorites you can turn to time and time again, like comfort food. For Laura, George Strait. For Jimmy, U2. For Kate, Nickelback. For mom, Josh Groban (or dare I say Sandi Patty or Bette Middler???) And for Mere, Michael Bolton, of course.

For me, it's James Taylor, Sara Groves, Patty Griffin, Rosie Thomas, and Snoop Dogg of course. Really anything bluesy, folksy, and mellow. I don't often add favorites to that list. I do, though, enjoy any and all new music I can find that meshes with these genres in some way. I appreciate mellow and good lyrics (which is obviously why I am such a fan of Nickelback) and a nice beat. What can I say.

So I introduce to you today the music of a fellow Starkville native and Starkville High grad, Kelley McRae. She's Mississippi talent, so of course I want people to listen. But besides that, it really is just GOOD music.

Steve Tuner of Paste magazine gave her four stars in his review:

"Part of a new generation of Celtic singer/songwriters working out of Brooklyn and the East Village, Kelley McRae came from Mississippi dragging a guitar case full of rural references. On 'Never Be,' she moves effortlessly from the mournful tones of the plantation to the celebratory swing of the saloon, from songs of loss and decay to hymns of love and grace. A ruminative writer with an attractively vulnerable twang in her voice, McRae has made an assured and varied coffee-house debut that helps put a little Hank into Williamsburg."

She's got one album out, Never Be, and has a second, Highrises in Brooklyn, scheduled for release on August 19. Listen to her music and read about her here. Her music is available on iTunes, as well.

She's really, really good -- I particularly love the songs, "Time" and "Break Us." They are all amazing, though.

Just a suggestion if any of you are looking for fresh, new music but aren't having much luck. These songs are gems.

a good blog read

About a month ago, I discovered a blog that I can't stop reading. I just have to share it with my small readership. The first time I found it, I stayed up until 2 a.m. reading it and crying my eyes out. It's about a family in Nashville and their story of losing a newborn baby. My words can't do the story justice here -- you need to read it yourself.

You'll have to start at the beginning to get the whole story -- there's a link on the left sidebar to take you there. Make sure you have plenty of time and Kleenex. It really is so good. Crosspoint in Nashville interviewed this couple, Todd & Angie Smith, for a series in their church.

If you can get past the (very) cheesy guy with entirely too much hair product, you should really watch this video. It's a little over 20 minutes long, but completely worth it. I don't know if it got to me so much because I'd already read Angie's whole blog, but it was incredibly moving.


Smith Family Story from Matthew Singleton on Vimeo.

If you watch that video, you should really follow it up with this one. Todd sings in the group Selah, and he and Angie together wrote the song in this clip for their daughter, Audrey. It will be on their next album. Absolutely beautiful.



Angie's doing a Bible study this fall, which I really hope to be a part of. She is amazing. I really want to be friends with her -- if I lived in Nashville, I'd definitely sit on her front porch/stalk her until she was my friend. I'm not far away -- I still might.

Anyway, just a recommendation for a good blog read. It's worth your time to check it out.

Have a good Monday :)

i need your advice.

I need to be a little shallow for a moment (as though the rest of my blog is a deep well of profound wisdom...) and ask for your advice, readership, on an issue of decor. Since moving into a new house and significantly downsizing in closet space, I have decided to invest in an armoire for my bedroom.

I have been scouring the internet and the corners of the earth for one that is pretty, unique, and relatively inexspensive. They are not many. I did find a few at a less expensive antique place here in the Ham, and I think I've narrowed it down to one or two. I'm going to post pictures of it here, along with the bed that I need it to go with.

The first three are of the same armoire. It's from England, and the shelves inside are labeled "shirts," "pyjamas," "underwear," and my favorite..."sundries." The last one is more basic, and a bit more pricey.

I don't know anything about armoires, and I need people with better taste than me to give their opinions.

woof

Does anyone else think this is hilarious? When we were leaving fireworks downtown the night of the 4th, we ended up in traffic at a redlight next to this car.

I rolled down the window and shouted to the guy to ask if I could take a picture of his passenger, and he didn't find it amusing.

You'd think a guy who drives around with a giant stuffed dog in his passenger seat might have a sense of humor. I guess not.

I took it anyway, evidently risking my own life and the lives of those in my car. But don't you think it was worth it?

Maybe no one thinks it's as funny as I do, but I sure am glad I have this picture.

my life has changed forever.

This is why.

I've had the same coffee maker since my sophomore year in college - in all its plastic, stained, rickety glory, it has served me well. And still does, actually. I had no intention of replacing it anytime soon.

But then, as I was meandering through a parking garage one Sunday afternoon, I came across a massive Macy's "garage sale" where tons of kitchen appliances were on sale for nearly nothing. Compared to original prices, anyway.

It didn't take me long to stumble across the life altering machine you see to the left. It was beckoning to me. Calling my name softly in the June breeze. And I couldn't resist.


I've never had that feature on a coffee maker where you can program it to both start brewing and shut off on its own at a certain time. I've waited on pins and needles to open up this brilliant appliance until after the move. Last night I did the test run, and this morning is the part that changed my life forever. I woke up to the smell of fresh coffee wafting into my bedroom from the kitchen.

"Someone's making coffee....wonder if they will let me have some...." I thought as I rolled over in the bed. I got up, put on my glasses and stumbled to the kitchen, where no one was making coffee. I remembered with glee that I now have a coffee maker that makes it FOR me! I think I did a little pirhouette across the kitchen.

It makes excellent coffee, too. If you are a coffee lover, this is definitely a worthy investment. I'm thinking of taking Old Faithful to my classroom in August. But then, I don't know that I'd ever stop drinking coffee during the day. Caffeine might replace blood in my veins, actually.

Anyway, just wanted to share my newfound love. Hope you're all having a good Tuesday!

I LOVE SUMMER!

Today is my first REAL day of summer vacation since the writing project with nothing to do! YES! I do have to go clean and tie up a few loose ends at the old house, but that's it. Moving is over, writing project is over, and I am free for the next three-ish weeks. Hallelujah.

I do have some interesting stories for you, but I will have to deliver them in moderation. I can't find my camera right now, so the really good stuff will have to wait until I find it, as there are essential pictures to go along with it.

Until then, here are a few pictures from the past few weeks:

We went to hear the Alabama Symphony in Highland Park. It was all music from Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, ET, Abba, etc - Ivan & Courtney and the two of us took a picnic, ate, and watched in awe and moderate horror at all the people who showed up in frighteningly accurate character attire.

This is from our beach trip in early June -- such a good time! I found a dead jellyfish lying on the beach that was LITERALLY the size of a football. How'd you like to jiggle some of THAT jelly?

Below you will see Suzanne, my friend that I followed around at the lake this weekend because I want to shave off her hair and put it on my head. I love this color!! This is me trying it out on my head. Think this could work? I might just take her with me to the salon for a consultation -- thoughts?

Here's Jimmy at the lake, right after he decided out of no where that he should try to swim the width of the lake twice. For his traithlon training, of course. If you could have seen the distance I'm talking about, you'd have been as concerned for his life as I was. He was already tired from skiing. Our friend Sarah, who is a lifeguard, went with him :) Don't you LOVE his swim cap?

Here he is right after the long swim -- he climbed onto the dock and immediately collapsed, like this:

I really thought he was dead. I absolutely love this picture.