I look good for having had a baby

Apparently I have an infant. I don't know how it happened or who the father is, but I've been told I look really good for having given birth to a baby. Excuse me?

Today I went to this teacher workshop thing (day one of seven) and met like, six other teachers who work at the same school that I will be teaching at. I was talking to a teacher named Melissa who was asking me about my teaching experience. I explained that I had worked for a few months at a school temporarily because the teacher was on maternity leave. Or at least I thought I had explained. Melissa says, "Oh, well you look really great." While I thought the long term substitute position had been stressful, I didn't really think it would physically tax me in a noticeable way. Which is why a comment about my appearance was kind of weird. I said "Thank you" anyway, because it was the polite thing to say.

Then Melissa says, "So how old is your baby?"

I am very puzzled, because I don't know. Negative eight years old, perhaps? "Oh, I don't have a baby," I reply.

"I thought you said you were on maternity leave."

I laugh. "No. I was subbing for a teacher who was on maternity leave. I don't have any children."

She laughs and is obviously embarrassed. Even though it wasn't my mistake, I feel a bit embarrassed as well. I mean, she thought I had a baby and worked off my pregnancy weight. Or did she think I had a bit left to lose? It's just a good thing she didn't say "You look pretty good for having had a baby" or "You don't look too bad."

Because I do not have a child. Not even an imaginary one.

Landlord Revenge

Last week I got a surprising text from my roommate, Natalie. It said “Did you hack down our rosebushes?” Which, while driving in my car, makes me think that someone chopped down our roses, because I know that I didn’t do it. I tell her as much. When I get home I look at the damage. It’s true, the bushes have been demolished. Not trimmed, not gently cut, but more or less hacked to the roots. Natalie texts our other roommate, Liz, and tells her about the massacre. Liz texts back “WTF.” Actual photo of our rosebushes, or one that looks just like them, pre-massacre.

It is a complete mystery. When did it happen? Who was it? Why? This is a real-life who-dunnit mystery, I tell Natalie. Only there are no suspects, no motivation, and no clues. We figure if our landlords wanted our bushes gone (why would they, they’re roses?), they would call and let us know. We are convinced it is a psycho.

He probably crept into our backyard in the dead of night while we were sleeping. He took out his rusty, sharp saw and murdered our flowers. But why? Does someone hate us? We conclude that the suspect could not have been a yard maintenance man because of how the rosebushes are cut (not trimmed) and because of the fact that leaves and debris were left behind. Not all the debris, though. The actual bush that got cut is missing. They took it with them.
Actual photo of the remains of our rosebushes, post-massacre

Outraged, I want to call our landlord. After some hesitation, our landlord actually calls us first. She calls to tell us that one of the houses next to us is open and if we know of anybody, they can move in the first of September. Natalie is all “hey, bitch, do you have an agenda out for us and decided to thoughtlessly hack away our rosebushes in rage in the dead of night while we were sleeping?” Only what she really says is “hey, Anne, you didn’t happen to cut our rosebushes, did you?”

The mystery is then revealed. Anne ordered yard clean-up for a house next to ours a while ago. She says that she also sent kind of a nasty letter to the previous yard maintenance guy, because he wasn’t doing his job. The puzzle is pieced together. Suspect: angry lawn maintenance man. Motivation: revenge on woman who fired him. We (Anne included) come to believe that out of rage, the lawn guy probably hacked down our rosebushes when we were gone one day, because he is mad at Anne. Anne then tells us that she has hired someone new, who will come weekly to maintain our bark dust and rosebush stumps. Because you know, we don’t have grass, and now we don’t even have flowers.

This kitten knows grammar

Most importantly, I have a lonely kitten who needs a home. Her brothers and sisters and mother have all left her, and she needs someone to adopt her.This is no ordinary pet. She can: poo in a litter box, do a back flip, help you with your homework, balance on one foot, hula hoop, follow you around, and discuss politics. If you want her, please let me know. If you don't want her, please ask your friends if they want her, because I don't want to take her to the Humane Society. Rescue this furball of fun!

This is not cute like the above, but I found these two really great blogs. One is called Apostrophe Abuse (http://www.apostropheabuse.com/) and the other one is called The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks (http://quotation-marks.blogspot.com/). They show photos of abused grammar. For example, when quotation marks are not used to show dialogue, the result is instead sarcastic. See below.

Maybe it's safe, maybe it's not. You might die, but at least it is scenic for sure.

This one is from Apostrophe Abuse. I spent at least 50 minutes on these blogs yesterday. You really should check them out, because they are full of snarky comments. You should also probably rescue a kitten.

Flight 29 Down/LOST

I am fairly certain that Discovery Kids' TV show Flight 29 Down is basically an exact replica of my current favorite TV show, LOST, minus the freak polar bears. When I was house sitting for my aunt last weekend I watched her cable, and she gets a lot more channels than I do (I currently receive zero channels, because our cable has been cancelled for the summer). I was watching TV at her place when I stumbled upon the show Flight 29 Down. I basically fell over in her couch. Flight 29 Down stars Corbin Bleu (of High School Musical fame) and features ten students who crash landed on an island. Of course, the only adult (the pilot) died. So it's a bunch of kids trying to survive, and I can't help but think Corbin Bleu is supposed to be like Jack's character in LOST. You know, all "We live together or we die alone." And I mean, I guess a LOST Jr. show would be good for kids since it's so popular with adults, and would be more appropriate for the younger crowd, but I can't help but feel a bit robbed. It's like in the third grade when your friend tries to convince you that RoseArt crayons are just as good as Crayolas. We all know they're not.

If you want to look more into Flight 29 Down, go to http://kids.discovery.com/fansites/29down/29down.html and if you want to know more about LOST, watch some episodes at http://abc.go.com/player/?channel=7&pn=index&cid=rm+evergreen+google+Lost .

My hamsters keep staring at me

When I went to my old house over the weekend, I was upset to discover that my house echos. I sat a metal tin down on the kitchen counter and the entire house echoed. So eerie. But then I found something friggin' sweet in my bedroom. That's right, fools. It's a My Littlest Pet Shop hamster cage with pets that don't poo or stink. It was my very first one, and the only one I kept after getting rid of the rest.

These little critters never have to go to the vet, and they never die. They can, like real hamsters, be eaten by a dog.

Over the weekend I also started reading Queen of the Oddballs. It's a memoire from Hillary Carlip, who recounts her times going to a cotillion with Jamie Lee Curtis, middle school with Michael Jackson (when he was black), befriending the rising star Carly Simon, and appearing on Kids Say the Darndest Things. She also got expelled from the third grade for smoking on the playground (she was pretending to be Holly Golightly).

Remember how I was going to give my closet a make-over? Well, if you do remember, forget about it, and if you don't remember, that's best. I did get rid of like, 50 pounds of clothing, but the closet still looks mostly the same. Sorry to disappoint you. What I decided was that I needed a bigger closet, not fewer clothes.

I am for sure going to do a new project, though. Today I picked up this wooden chest, which I am going to make into a prize chest for my fourth grade classroom. I am planning on painting it and Mod Podging it.

This is the paper that I picked out to Mod Podge with. I will probably paint the wood light blue or light green to coordinate with the paper.

Sometime this week I need to buy paint and Mod Podge and then I will probably do the project over the weekend, unless I get distracted.

Evicted Childhood

I wrote a little about this a while ago, but it seems the metaphorical umbilical cord connecting me to my childhood will be cut off sooner rather than later. Here’s the rundown: I lived in the same house for 18 years, my parents built a new house in a new town soph. year of college, they moved, but then my sister rented our old house from them, only she just bought her own house, and thus, my childhood home is on the real estate market. My ‘rents still have some of their stuff at the old house, as do I. But I hear the house is basically cleared out.

You might think this is no big deal, houses are empty all the time when no one is living in them. Not for me. This is the first time in my entire existence that this house will be empty. I haven’t seen it yet. But I will this weekend. It was weird when my parents moved all their furniture out, because that was the furniture I saw for 18 years.You know, the rocking chair I’d fall asleep in and the couch I’d practice flips on. But then my sister moved all her stuff in, so I have never seen the house empty. Seeing all of the empty rooms will be like meeting a person devoid of a soul. It will just be an empty shell, holding memories but no life. Like a dying pet or sick grandmother, I’d rather not see it. I want to remember it the way it was.

I will walk into my room and see 18 years of childhood vacuum sealed in plastic Sterilite containers. I will see my extensive American Girl doll collection, Barbies, Legos, stuffed animals, and everything from my girlhood that I don’t want to forget. Moving all that stuff to my parents’ new house will be like pulling the roots up from a tree. I’ll realize that I don’t live there anymore, and I won’t ever again.

I realize that I am lucky to have a room at my parents’ new house (mostly for storage purposes) but it’s not my room. I haven’t ever lived there longer than a month, and most of my trips are 2-6 days long. That house is not my house, it belongs to my parents. My house is the empty one sitting in the woods down a windy gravel road.

Closet Skeletons

They say you wear 20% of your clothes 90% of the time. I believe it. I have two pairs of jeans I have been wearing forever (like, since soph. year of high school), and t-shirts that never fail me. Like it or not, growing up means a need to purge your closet. Only 5% of my wardrobe is acceptable for the classroom, which is upsetting. Not only do I have to give up wearing my comfy clothes, but I have to spend money on new ones that seem rather stiff and formal. Like a grown-up.

I still own most of the clothes I've bought since '99, which probably warrants a change. Stacey and Clinton from What Not to Wear would probably faint. Which is why I have decided to give my closet a make-over. This is really out of necessity, because I am pretty sure that I won't have a place to hang any new teacher clothes if I buy any.

Enter: Stage one of the make-over process.

You can see that everything is crammed in here. You should feel privileged that I am sharing this very private part of my life with you.

I spot the sleeve of a sweater I haven't worn since 2001.

After staring at my closet for such a length of time you'd think I was at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, I decided to do inventory of my jeans. This is because my jeans are like my BFFs, and I am really not allowed to wear them to school (mostly due to the fact that I am trying to make people believe I am 25 and this is not possible in jeans).

The whole jean family. I have a story about each pair and remember the year I bought each one. I'll spare you the entire history.

The ones in the bottom right corner are my all-time favs. I got them soph. year of high school, and they used to be the same color as the darkest ones in the photo. Kaitlynn has the same pair as the ones in the middle bottom row.

See the jeans in the middle bottom row? I dislocated my right knee twice in the same night (Barnum Hall Casino night, soph. year of college) and ripped a hole in them because I biffed it into the sidewalk in front of Arbor.

The BFFs again. Those holes are all naturally made. I will never get rid of these. Sleeping with them in my arms would comfort me the way a baby clings to its blanket (not that I have ever done so).

I will either purge my closet tomorrow, or more likely on Wednesday, because I am leaving my house for four days to puppy sit again. Stories to come on that, I am sure. His name is Niko and he is a terrier that likes to poo on the rug.

The Clock

Don’t say you don’t have enough time.You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.
— H. Jackson Brown
translate: quit making excuses.

Popped Cherry?

I never expected to have to explain the function of female reproductive organs to a group of eight year olds while on a rollerblading adventure to the park. But that’s what happened today. It all started with Janie* (name has been changed for privacy) coming up to me, pointing to her face, and cheerfully saying “look, I started acne.” First of all, I was quite shocked any girl would volunteer and point out this information. Most of us try to hide it. I probably had acne at age eight too, due to the fact that Exxon/Mobil was renting out my pores to create oil for America’s SUV addiction. “Oh,” I said in reply, because what are you really supposed to say to something like that? Then Janie says, “Yeah, I get to use my mom’s Mary Kay on it. Well, under her supervision.” Then I understood. It wasn’t so much the excitement of inflammation of the pores as it was the glamorous remedy to put on it. Janie’s openness about her changing body didn’t stop there. How I wish it had.

WARNING! Womanly things discussed in next paragraphs!
I supervised Janie and three other girls to the nearby park on rollerblades. We sat on a bench to take a break. Janie pointed out her new acne development to the others, then said, “and when I’m 12 I get to shave my legs.” The next thing I hear is “It’s not fair. My younger sister already started her period, and she’s just starting the 3rd grade.” This statement surprised me on several levels. 1) Why wouldn’t you be thankful that your sister started her period before you? Prevent it from happening as long as possible, I think. 2) This is TMI. Why are you sharing this with me? I really don’t know you that well. 3) She’s not even in the 3rd grade and already has started her period? How incredibly tragic. There goes your carefree childhood literally flushed down the toilet in a bloody mess. Another reason not to feed your children hormone injected beef and milk. Look what may come of it.

One of the other girls then asks, “what’s a period?” Instead of saying “it’s terminal punctuation,” I become quite technical and say “inside your body you have a uterus, and the uterus has a lining that sheds once a month because it is practicing to get ready for a baby. The lining is made of blood, and that’s what comes out.” The girl says “I think I’ve heard my aunt talk about a period.” And then Janie says, “also once a month you get really grumpy.” I nod my head at this and say “yes, sometimes people get cranky.” The other girl says “my aunt is cranky a lot.” You’d think it would stop here. But it doesn’t.

Janie continues to educate her peers. “You also have a cherry inside of you. Well, it’s not actually a cherry, but it’s like a cherry and when you pop your cherry it squirts out blood and you bleed for a few days and have to wear a pad.” I do not bother to correct Janie on this matter. Let all of the girls think they have a blood filled cherry floating around in their stomach that might erupt at any given point. I do not feel the need to say, “actually, it is not a cherry it is called your hymen. It doesn’t look like a cherry at all. It is a thin membrane of tissue that may get torn during a female’s first intercourse. However, it can be broken doing everyday things like riding your bike or other physical activity.” No, I do not say this at all. I did not sign up for this. I was asked to take a few girls rollerblading, not a Q and A about menstruation and sex and adolescence. I do not need girls going home and asking their mothers about their “cherry,” informing parents that they heard about it at outdoor recreation camp. I may be licensed to teach health education, but that doesn’t mean I am going to give an impromptu lesson to eight year olds in the park among the squirrels. What it ultimately comes down to is this: I don’t get paid enough to have to go through this.

Plastic Babies

Right now I am reading I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley. It is actually a book for adults this time, and it is quite hilarious and clever. I have to slow down to read it though, because the sentence structure is more complicated than those found in children's books, and new words that I don't know the meaning of pop up here and there. I recommend it though. It's a collection of short stories, but the book calls them "essays." Whatev. I like it.

I put up my kiddie pool on Wednesday and have been in it twice so far. I sometimes worry that the old people living in the retirement center across the fence will come out and stare at me. Kind of like how I peek through my blinds and spy on them when they are on the patio smoking.

I was at the county fair with my sister on Thursday and we were in a building where businesses have informational booths. You know, like the library and protecting watersheds, and how to keep your teenager off of meth. The good thing is that I picked up a lot of free magnents, pencils, stickers, and candy. Jess and I also had the chance to take a free plastic baby from the Right to Life foundation. They had some models of what a baby looks like at different stages displayed in a model uterus, which kind of grossed me out, but grossed my sister out more. I was all "see this is the uterine lining that sheds when you have your period," and she was all "that is sick I don't want to look at it." In the end, we did not take a plastic baby, because how weird would it be to have that in your purse? However, I contemplated taking one because I thought it would be funny to hide it in one of my roommates' bed. But then I thought that might be disrespectful to unborn infants and would give my roommate nightmares after she discovered a fetus with her toes while sleeping.

Outraged

I am very upset right now because last night's episode of The Bachelorette broke my little heart. It also broke Jason's little heart because DeAnna DIDN'T PICK HIM! WTW. I was in complete shock and feel really bad. But get this. JASON HAS FACEBOOK!!!!! I know, right? Not that I am a complete stalker. But I was reading an article on-line about the show, and I caught a comment someone made about his Facebook account. So I had to check. And he totally has one. It has to be him, too, because he only has like, five friends. Which means he's probably denying 4,000 friend requests daily. If only I lived in Seattle so I could mend his little heart....

Bachelorette

Really, is this a contest? Who wouldn't pick Jason? He's so adorable. And sweet. He's just so precious. Sure, I understand that Jesse has a fun personality, but Jason is the way to go. Less than two hours until the season finale. I can hardly wait (pathetic, yes). I will be in utter shock if DeAnna chooses Jesse. But she might have a hard time with the whole I-Have-A-Toddler-Named-Ty thing with Jason. But he has nice teeth. And you know what I say about teeth. "If a guy can't spend four minutes a day to brush his teeth and take care of himself, then he's not going to take care of you." Plus, he probably has dental insurance.

Jesse (snowboarder) Jason (hottie dad)

Read until Midnight

Not only did I start reading The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks yesterday, but I finished it too. It was 342 pages of observations regarding power, social rules, human nature, relationships, and elaborate pranks. Also, the panopticon.

Now I have to read (or at least Sparknote) The Code of the Woosters, The Suicide Club, and If at All Possible, Involve a Cow: The Book of College Pranks. I already Googled The Brides of March and the Cacophony Society. This is because at the end of the book, E. Lockhart referred to these sources as information for The Disreputable History.

And when I picked up the book I just thought it would be about a boy getting into mischief. Ha.

Disreputable History

Today I just started reading The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart. So far so good. I've only gotten to page 30, because that's all I could read during my break at work. Unbeknownst to me, the book takes place at a prep school. I find this strange because this is the third book I have read in the past six months that takes place at a prep school. I don't pick these books up thinking "Oh, I wish I went to prep school, let's read all about it." Instead, it just looks interesting and then I read and find out the setting is at a prep school. Entirely coincidental. I'm kinda getting sick of the whole prep-school-secret-society-you-would-only-understand-if-you-went-here-my-parents-are-pushing-me-to-go-to-Harvard-crap. But whatever.

This is basically my first 4th of July that there is no family picnic, so I am sort of at a loss for what to do on that day. Anyone going to be around? Doing anything fun?


I need to go grocery shopping because I have recently started to eat cereal every morning for breakfast (this is quite a change from my typical granola bar in the car eating days). And the Lucky Charms is fresh out.
In other news, DeAnna chose Jason for the final two in The Bachelorette. I knew from the first episode that she would pick him. You'd be stupid not to. She hasn't chosen him yet for the finale, but I would be absolutely shocked if she didn't. He's way hotter than Jesse, and has a more stable career. He's pretty much adorable.
Our cable is supposed to be cancelled starting July 1st, but I checked the TV when I got home today and it still worked. So I watched some HGTV. Because tomorrow, it will probably be disconnected. And then I will sob.