Fair Weather Friend

At the risk of beating the same old drum, I wouldn't exactly describe this past summer as exciting. Most of this is my own fault. For some reason, I thought buying a house was a good idea. Now I realize that while I can proudly claim to be a 'home owner,' I really am just broke and have to pull weeds. Seriously, total bonehead move on my part. But another reason for the drastic lack of excitement stems from the fact that I don't live in a city known for it's thriving social scene. (Again-why did I buy a house there? Ele-phino) Add that to the fact that we Morm's don't really get down much on drunken revelry...that shrinks the opportunities to swim in the 'fun pool' dramatically.

Needless to say, I am not just a little bit happy that The Good Doctor has decided to move her beautiful mind back to the Sunshine State...and within simple driving distance, no less. By my math, this relocation project has increased my single, Mormon friend count to a whopping total of 2. That's a 100% increase, if anyone is keeping track. (Yeah- I can do math. What?)

She went nomad and stayed at my place just long enough to realize that living in the desert sucks exactly as much as you'd think it would, came to recognize that herds of sheep lose their novelty when they make freaking sheep noises all night long and between her and her sister, completely ruined my dog. Since their departure he has done nothing but look at me with pity, boredom and disdain for the life of the single spinster. I refuse to be judged by a creature that licks his own butt....so whatever. Get over it.

We engaged in some hijinxs on the 4th of July, which can loosely be translated to....hung out at her grandma's, went to the beach and (I) was reminded that the downfall of Carlsbad beaches is that there are no public restrooms. (This is where that story about walking three miles, hopping over a rod-iron fence, sneaking into a hotel bathroom and getting a 'talking to' from the local sheriff about j-walking comes in.)

Anyhow- as if that wasn't enough excitement to stem the tide of yearning for a social life that extends beyond the reach of my DVR, we decided to tie a bow around the summer with a visit to the L.A. County Fair. I have been born and bred around all things fair related. Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, siblings have all worked at the fair at one time or another. I've placed bets on the horses with my grandpa more than once, wandered around delivering ice to the beer stands, and my brother and uncle have hatched all sorts of plans to scalp tickets to events from the rodeo to the Winter Nationals. (I have yet to come to a solid conclusion as to whether or not this officially makes us 'Carnie-folk,' but retrospection has kind of got me thinkin' maybe, yes.)

It's always fun/ny to bring a newby around something that is normal and second nature to you. Pretty much opening the doors and throwing some sunshine onto your particular brand of crazy. Unfortunately, in this case, I was totally a bad friend. I got a late start on the day, so we missed all of the standard county fair schenanigans like the pie eating, pig racing, ridiculous whointhehellwouldeverspendmoneyonthatcrap demonstrations, and this...

But we did manage to catch the trapeze/ribbon/I would kill myself 16 different ways if I tried this/whatever it's called, show.

And because we like to do it up international style, we didn't just stop with the Russian mail-order trapeze artist. We also rolled up on the Beijing Circus performers.

 
It was around this point of the night that I thanked the Lord in heaven that I was born in America, land of the free, home of the fat. As it turns out, I am way to chubby/lazy/clumsy to ever have survived in any country but this. The timing of this realization was actually kind of apropos for the evening. It was shortly thereafter that got a corn-dog the size of a toddler's arm, a bowl full of fried Kool-Aid (no joke-google it) and discovered what I want my final resting place to be.

About the inevitable"Dying Dodgers" cracks....bah. Keep 'em to yourself. Don't take the easy joke.   

Say What? Volume 2

Remember when I said that I was going to make a list of things that, as a high school teacher, I never thought I would have to say? Well, I have a few more gems to add to the list.

"Good luck with your beef."

"Put the Whoopie cushion away." and my favorite of the morning...

"Take off the mustache and bring it to me."

This is an exact replica of the 'stache....but it was being worn by a girl.

14 and 1/2 hours of school until Christmas Break....in case anyone is keeping track.

Job well done....

This is what one of my students handed in today for their vocab quiz. They had 30 minutes to work on it.

(Click the pic to see the quiz in all it's larger sized glory) 

It was over vocabulary from The Scarlet Letter, incase you couldn't tell.

Addiction is an Ugly Thing

Should I be ashamed that the lady in the Carl's Jr drive-thru recognizes my car in the morning and as I pull up she just immediately asks, "So you just want a large Diet Coke and an extra cup of ice, right?"

I rattle off a quick, "Yep, thank you," and pull forward. I'm usually too busy putting on my eyeliner and mascara to feel the full weight and shame of my addiction. That's just how we do mornings 'round here.

FYI- Friday

1) The first week of school nearly killed me. Seriously. Nearly killed me dead. Not like I'm saying that I've never fallen asleep in my classroom before, but after school I rest my chin in my hands around 3:15pm and was sheepishly caught napping by the janitor around 4:00pm. No recollection of the 45 minutes in between.

2)Due to a friend who refuses to allow me to be the shut in that I would naturally become otherwise, I will be at the Hollywood Bowl tomorrow with him...

There will be swooning, weakened knees and possibly squealing.

3) I came across one of my favorite pictures of my niece...she is much older now, but this will probably always be my favorite picture of her.

4) I woke up this morning, absolutely wrapped like a mummy in my sheets. And I'm talkin' a tight mummy wrap. No idea how that happened. It was quite possibly the worst night of sleep that I have had in recent history.

and that leads us to the fact that ...

5) It's 7:46pm on a Friday night and I am totally contemplating going to bed. Oh- and my dog has shaved arm pits. I know that has nothing to do with me being pathetic and going to bed at 8pm on a Friday night, but who makes a list of 6?

Try not to be jealous of my rockstar lifestyle.

Crazy Train

The players were these:

-Weeks worth of dealing with ridiculous bosses and coworkers.

-Teenagers done with the school year and restless from a week of state testing.

-Equal parts anxiety/anticipation for Africa.

-Estrogen...in great supply.

-Adorable babies all around, none of which I get to keep.

-Nearly constant badgering about themed YSA activities (Which I have no intention of attending, no matter how many people ask/insist. P.S. I'm not a Y-SA, just a SA. While that distinction may be blurry for some, it is crystal clear for me. )

-And a general overriding sense of ennui and confusion about life in general.




Couple that with:

-Late nights

-Frayed nerves

-Stuffy noses, Nyquil and sleep aid's.

And what you have is: Me, last night, but with tears.

What can ya do?

Say what you will about Marilyn Monroe, but she had this one right."I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at me worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

I sometimes worry that being single, without children, independent, forced succeed and move forward on my own, has brought out some negative characteristics in me. Not always, but sometimes. I think that life being what it is, I am growing more harsh than kind. More rough than refined. More rigid than accepting. I laugh less and roll my eyes more. I am cruel, when I could just as easily be kind. Granted...feeling this way ebbs and flows, but I just wish 'my best' would work a little harder, and show up a little more frequently.