Well, Crap.

Did you miss me?

Picture me asking you this, standing shyly, head hanging down in an "Awe, shucks" kind of way.

Except no.

I am not standing. Because I have effed up my foot, Friends.

Shit's messed up.

Snuffy's Disease got way out of hand.

After getting a steroid injection that allowed me to walk like a normal person (as opposed to Thug Nasty), the damn thing wore off, I overdid it, and long story short, I have ruptured both my Achilles and Plantar Fascia. Ripped those things in half. Due to the tendons or whatever not being connected anymore, my left foot is completely flat and approximately half an inch longer than the right foot.

Shoe shopping is going to be a bitch in about five weeks. Also, when I saw the size difference in the bathtub, I started laughing. That might have been because I was temporarily hopped up on pain meds, or it might have actually been funny. At the moment, I am not laughing.

My insurance will not cover an MRI to see what needs to be done until after six weeks in the cast. I have to say, I'd much rather them suck it the hell up and cover the MRI. I am terrified of not knowing. Plus, for the next five weeks, I am only allowed fifteen minutes per hour of standing. That's it. I'm not great with math, but the hour it takes to get ready in the morning is effing me up. I try to sit on the counter while I do my hair, but showering and what not? Takes longer than fifteen.

My students have been hilarious in all of this. I tell them that one of the other students (I co-teach) ran over my foot with a scooter. The boy laughs and says, "I didn't even look back! What, what!" Also, they are practicing their mathematical skills and regularly tell me how much time I have left any given hour.

Plus, the cast smells. I can wash it, but it has to air dry and I am not allowed to take it off unless I am in the shower or driving. So really, I can't wash it. I should have figured that out when the cleaning instructions had a laughing smiley face next to them. Bastards.

My specialist yesterday did an additional ultrasound and I told him that while he may just have flown back from a third world country doing missionary clinic work, the smell that would hit him when I took off the cast was death, pure death.
 

Lastly, I have to wear it to bed and this pains me because I wash my feet when I come in the house. I don't like dirty sheets. And now I basically have the world's filthiest and smelliest shoe thing on my new sheets. Brand freaking new. It's worse than when Mel threw up on the comforter.

Much, much worse.


I would like to add that my co-workers/friends/Jeremiah have been so awesome that it brings me to tears. Seriously, they are amazing. I was crying (out of "Ohmygosh, everyone is being so nice!" overwhelmedness) and my coworker said "Emily? Are you kidding? We LOVE you. This is what happens when you're a nice person. Other people want to help you when you're down." And then I cried even more.

It was a very Sally Fields moment. "You like me?! You really, really like me?!" And also, because deep down, I might be nice. Who knew?

Boogers - Bathroom Series, Part 1

They built us new bathrooms when they did the school remodel. That's fantastic, right? As far as community bathrooms go, this one is pretty nice.

In early fall, I walked into my favorite stall and noticed what appeared to be a booger on the wall of the stall. I am very easily disturbed by other people's icky things, and I was only able to calm myself down by the fact that the booger would be erased forever when the bathrooms were cleaned that evening.

The next day, the booger was still there.

For over a week, this booger held steadfast to its spot on the wall. Eventually, I took an empty toilet paper roll (This makes it sound like our bathrooms are never cleaned, doesn't it? Not the case, I promise.) and used that as my weapon to remove the booger.

Not ONE FREAKING WEEK LATER, a new booger was smeared on the wall. Who the hell does this? It has to be an adult woman, as it is the staff bathroom. And really, Friends? What better place to pick your nose because not only is it private, but there is toilet paper RIGHT THERE for you to use as booger holders. Use the toilet paper. Please, I beg of you.

Same story, did not get taken care of, I used my shoe, yadda yadda.

Last Friday I went into my favorite stall and there was another booger smeared on the wall. I did not take care of it. I just want to write a note and post it in the stall. My mental letter goes something like this:

Dear Booger-Wiper,
What the hell is wrong with you? This is the adult bathroom. We do not wipe boogers on the wall. Actually, my third graders don't even wipe boogers on the wall. There is plenty of toilet paper here, use that. If you can't handle disposing of your nose gold properly, I would suggest you use a different bathroom.
Sincerely,
A Kleenex-User


I can't even comprehend this disgustingness.

Someone, anyone, please share a job related story for me that will make me feel better about this situation.

Wake Up in the Morning Feeling Like P Diddy.

No. No I don't, actually.

I imagine that his mornings are glorious. 

I wake up feeling like crap. I can't figure out if it is allergies, sinusitis, or a sinus infection.

Every single morning I am hoarse and it feels like someone has shellacked my throat in snot. I know it sounds gross, but believe me, living it is even grosser. I am an over-sharer, but I will NOT tell you what happens when I start coughing (I just threw up in my mouth a little while thinking about it.).

Crappy as I feel, there have been some great soundbytes happening this week, and I will be damned if I am going to be negative right now.

So please enjoy these conversations that have happened over the course of the week. Warning - some of them are not appropriate. They are the opposite. They are inappropriate. And childish. If you aren't ready for this jelly, you may want to skip this one.

J: What did you have for dinner?
E: A delicious breast of chicken with a sweet sauce and some grilled pineapple.
J: What did your friend have?
E: Tuna tacos...ohmygosh. Tuna tacos. How hilarious. They did not call them that at the restaurant. They called them Ahi tacos. With a special areola sauce.
J: Excuse me?
E: Aioli sauce. But we had a slip of the tongue and it became areola sauce...or nipple sauce. Tuna tacos and nipple sauce! Hold on I need to text her and let her know that her dinner tonight was hilarious.
J: And you are how old?
E: Looking up while texting - Apparently I am twelve. And a boy.

E: I told Jeremiah that you had tuna tacos with nipple sauce! I almost wet my pants.
Friend: How did we not catch that?
E: I continue to giggle as I think about how your dinner had all different lady bits in it.
F: I am nothing if not comprehensive in my dining.

Coworker: I kind of want to touch you. That shirt is fabulous.
E: You can touch me. I have been touching myself all day.

E: She shows symptoms of being a meth user.
C: I agree. It's like, "Hey, I've seen those teeth before!"

C: Venting to another coworker: Do you know how much time Emily and I spend together? A lot. Ten to twelve hours a day. I see her more than Jeremiah does. We're basically married.
E: It's true. I came home the other day and Jeremiah was like, "You look different..." He sees me so little that he notices all these little changes that he never noticed when he saw me all the time.
C: I think we are the job.
E: Thinking about this. Well, wait a minute. I feel a bit ripped off, though. I did not get a ring or cake or honeymoon out of either of these relationships. And we all know those are the three main reasons to get married...plus presents and a dress.

J: I am afraid I have some bad news...
E: WHAT?
J: Well, I caught Maddie in the act. She killed one of your ornaments.
E: Which ornament?
J: I don't really know. So far I have found a wing, a beak, and some stuffing. So it appears to be from the bird family.
E: Where?
J: It's everywhere. The carnage is everywhere.
E: But you can't tell which bird it is?
J: No. I am sorry. We may have to pull dental records. 

Today's text to Jeremiah:
E: Please don't forget to pick up our prescriptions. (At 12:01)
E: Oh, and a pizza. (12:02)
E: Also a pony. (12:03)

Have a great weekend, Friends! If you have any suggestions that may help minimize my snot, please let me know.

Holy.Crap.

Yesterday when I walked out of the bathroom my skirt was tucked into my undies.

Seriously?

What the hell is wrong with me?

So confess. Most embarrassing moment. I've had two within one week. Getting stuck in my mini-fridge and having my ass hang out (for just a brief moment). Someone tell a story so I can feel a bit better about myself.

Well, I Got Stuck in My Mini-Fridge This Afternoon...

I worked a bit over twelve hours yesterday. I was deaf and speaking quite loudly by the time that I arrived home. Thankfully, they have switched Jeremiah's hours yet again, so I did not have to think about what to make for dinner when I rolled in at 7:45 pm.

That is because he had made dinner for me. Just in case you are having trouble inferring that detail. Jeremiah home early = Emily does not have to make dinner.

Jeremiah asked me how my day was and if anything interesting happened. This is always a good question because with kids, you never freaking know what can happen. And also? With me, you never freaking know what can happen.

So I responded with "Well, I got stuck in my fridge today at work."

And really? What do you say to that?

Jeremiah: How does that even happen?
Emily: Conferences start tomorrow and I was preparing things. During one of my many procrastination breaks, I leaned over in my wheelie chair and it slipped out from under me. Acting the whole thing out for him. My arm was in my fridge (which is on the floor, if you are trying to picture this) at the time reaching for a cookie, I mean, a carrot, and I fell on the front and top of the fridge. I trapped my arm in there. The fridge door closed on me. It was horrible.
Jeremiah: Well, that explains the bruise. He points to my arm, where there is a perfectly straight horizontal green line. I am guessing that is where the door of the fridge closed on your arm?
Emily: Oh...Yeah. Also? I really effed up my neck and shoulder.
Jeremiah: Shakes his head. Dinner is ready.

He did not seem too surprised by the incident.

At one point, I did think, Why me? But then I remembered my dad sailing down the dunes and wiping out and my mom sliding under the Jeep one icy morn and then I was like, Yeah, seems about right.

Dear "Guest" Teacher,

Thank you so much for coming into my room last week and deciding for me that all of my dry erase markers (which aren't cheap, by the way) were not "dark enough" and throwing them out. That was nice of you to show initiative.

I also want to thank you for giving my students free time at the end of the day when I specifically asked you AND my students to not have free time and to wait until Monday. It was not even in my plans. My students even told you they were not supposed to have it. But again, you showed initiative.

Lastly, thanks for NOT covering my duty at the end of the day. You were scheduled to be here until 3:20, but you did not want to do a duty that lasted until 2:45. So you left at 2:30. I mean, good for you. Leave work fifty minutes early.

Maybe it is because, as you mentioned repeatedly, you are a retired teacher and taught for twenty-eight years. I thought that I expressed the correct amount of respect and admiration. I could be wrong, though, because I tend to be socially awkward.

Here's the deal, though, honey.

YOU were a guest in MY room. I am the teacher. You said it yourself - you retired. It is now MY turn to make decisions and run a classroom. I would have never had the balls (excuse my language) to go into someone's classroom and do the stuff that you did. It would be like being invited to someone's house and throwing away their stuff or listening to a friend give direct instruction to their child/grandchild and then intervene, telling the child that they do not have to listen to their parents.

Awesome.


So thanks again for everything. You'll understand when I don't ask you back, right?

Hugs & Kisses,
Emily - The Teacher

Jesus. The Dog, Not the Carpenter.

I should preface this by saying that here in Arizona, the name Jesus is quite common (pronounced "Hay/Suess" for those that sat next to me in French class. In Michigan.). Everyone and/or their brother is named Jesus here in Arizona.

One time I went out to eat and we spilled our waters and we could not find our waiter, but Jesus was there with a hand towel to help wipe things up. It's a very Jesus-y thing to do. Help those in need. Of a hand towel.

So imagine my surprise when on the first day of school, one of my students was telling me about her dog, Jesus, and she actually pronounced like a girl from MI would pronounce it - "Gee/Zuss".

"Jesus is so mean. He will bite you. He will bite your fingers like this." Demonstrates. "He will make you think that he is going to be nice but then NO. He is not nice."

And all I could think was, Wow. Totally not the behavior you would expect from the Son of God.

Friday's Highlight - Which I Forgot to Post

School started on Wednesday.

It's been rough.

This might be the year I take up drinking. Just kidding. I am more a Valium kind of girl. Less calories.

Not a lot of highlights right now.

On the way to bus duty, though, I ran into a very young student. Probably kinder or first grade. Didn't know her. That doesn't stop itty-bitties, though. They will talk to just about anyone.

Student: Do you think I am going to miss the bus?
Me: No. I don't think so.
S: Are you sure?
Me: You won't miss the bus. Promise. I have to go to the buses, too. So you will be fine.
S: So this one day, I went to a meadow.
Me: Really? That sounds like fun.
S: Oh, it was. I saw butterflies and beautiful flowers and even some tweety birds.
Me: Wow. Did the tweety birds sing?
S: Yes. It was beautiful.
Me: Do you know what we call birds that sing?
S: Shakes head
Me: Songbirds.
S: Oh, I saw butterflies, beautiful flowers, and the most amazing songbirds.

It made my day. Parents, talk with your children. Introduce them to things. Expand their vocabulary. Offer them experiences. You don't need money to do this. Promise.

Oh, and I was kidding about the Valium. Relax, people.

So that's a no to the gummy worms?

I came in my room last week before school (with a friend who was walking around with me) and the guest teacher (who was approximately two hundred and fifty-one years old and filling in for me while I went to meetings) was trying to fit his entire plastic lunch box in my mini-fridge. Most people just put in the things that are necessary to keep cold. Nope, this guy wanted to put his whole box in there.

Whatever.

Coworker friend is already snickering.

Me: If you move out of the way a second, I'd be happy to rearrange some things to make room for your lunch box.
Him: In an old man voice. Oh, Okay. Who are you?
Me: I'm the teacher. I'm Emily. More snickering from the friend.
Him: Oh, Okay.
Me: Let me just move these sour gummy worms (typically these are not my treat of choice, they were for the students. But a few days ago I had that meltdown and ended up eating the pink worms out of the bag and I don't like the other colors so I occasionally try to pawn them off on others)....Would you like one?
Him: blank stare
Me: They are a delicious treat. I'm going to go to hell for lying. The citrus worms are disgusting.
Him: more blank staring.
Me: Okay. So I guess you don't want any. Let me just get them out of your way. Friend actually turning away to openly laugh. Probably laughing at both the old guy and me. 

So old people don't like gummy candy? That seems sad. 

This is what I get for trying to be nice. Okay, so not really nice, more like getting rid of flavors that I don't like,  but still.


 p.s. I came to work yesterday and Saturday. I have been at work everyday for the last eight days. I am really tired. I never want to pack again. Or unpack. Except that in two months I will have to unpack everything. I'm not asking for "Oh, poor Emily." but a little empathy might be nice. Because, yeah. It sucks.
p.p.s. I just got back from taking 29 students to the zoo. The temperature today was 109. Swamp ass and mountain dew.
p.p.p.s. Four more days of school!

Why, Kristen Stewart, Why?

Just a couple of random thoughts floating around today.

First, Kristen Stewart, this is for you. Why do you always look like you are in pain? In every single Twilight movie your mouth is hanging open a little bit. You are either A) Hurt or B)Trying not to smell a fart so you are breathing through your mouth instead of your nose. I get that. I teach little kids. I do the mouth breathing sometimes. But I am guessing that Robert P. smells divine, so close your mouth. And also? The movies are so bad that they pain me, Kristen. They really do. But it's like a car crash, I have to watch them all. And as I am a horrible girlfriend that apparently makes everyone feel sorry for Jeremiah, he ends up watching them, too. I don't make him, I promise. He just likes to laugh. And then I have to tell him to shut up because I can't hear you mouth breathe and mumble while he's laughing. Okay, Kristen, I am done. Oh, just kidding. You are looking much more beautiful in the Breaking Dawn P. 1 than in your previous films. I just wanted you to know that. Kudos to you.

Friends, yesterday was so craptastic I can't even stand it. I started out the day by dancing a jig, which is saying something when you wake up at 4:00 and then again for realsies at 4:45 every single day and then start teaching at 7:20 instead of 8:00 every single day. So the jig was special. I jinxed the day with my effing jig. Stupid jig. And the thing is, most of the crappy stuff didn't even happen to me. It happened to my students. And I love my students, so this breaks my heart.

Plus, I *almost* hurt someone at work yesterday and I think that is frowned upon. Like, I don't think I am allowed to punch someone in the throat. Totally inappropriate behavior/words coming from an adult that should know better. Shame on you. 

To top it off, the lice are rampant at school. I am now sure that I have lice. 99.9% sure. I can feel them every single second. Moving around. I dream of them in my hair. I wake up terrified. This is part of OCD, Friends. And it sucks. If I had had the energy yesterday, I would have told Jeremiah to do a check. But at this point, with me being certain of the lice (that in my head I know probably aren't really there), I don't want to check and find out that they are there for suresies. For now the lice and I co-exist. As they attack my scalp. But the nasty thing is, even if I did have Jeremiah check, he'd have to check again. I will be having him do regular checks until my mind finds something about which it can obsess.

It is times like these when I wish I was a drinker, but I am not. So I cannot say, "Boy, I will go home and have a nice glass of wine." because I won't. I can't even say, "Boy, I am going to go home and have some gummy eggs." because I ate the bag Jeremiah gave me for our anniversary and he won't tell me where he hid the other bags and they are ALL OUT at the World Market. So really I am without an outlet.

Any suggestions?

P.S. I would like Jeremiah to learn how to make a proper mixed drink, but that seems to be a no-go. Plus, he isn't allowed to use the blender.

So This Is Where I Break My Promise.

I know that you are all waiting, anxious with anticipation over my driving lesson. And FtVF tomorrow.

Except unless there is a miracle in the next few hours, none of that will happen.

I'm attending a conference and finishing stuff for the guest teacher, making copies, and working on plans for my return after spring break. Plus I am doing a week's worth of standardized testing, grading six class sets of writing tests, and whole bunches of other stuff. Oh, yeah. Report cards. How could I forget those?

So what I am saying is, sadly, my career has taken over my life. As has the neighbor's dog. Holy crap, the baying.

No blog for a bits.

Miss me, love me, come back and visit.

XO,
Emily

File This Under: Are You Freaking Kidding Me?

I can no longer check my blog before work because the word "peace" is blocked as a word categorized under "militant and extremist".

Bums me out for several reasons, but mostly because peace is seen as a militant and extremist word. I think we've met our idiot/overcensoringship (I might have made that up) quota for the day.

Sad Teacher

 Seeing my room like this? Sadsies. But doesn't everything look nice all organized? Books grouped together? Tubs all neat? Pretty. Have I mentioned my OCD tendencies? No? Not necessary?

My tears have dried up. Yesterday was the last day of school and I was crying before I even reached my students. This has been such a great group of kids. Even Jeremiah commented that he doesn't remember me complaining about the kids once. Because I didn't. They were perfection in uniforms. They were put-them-in-your-pocket perfect.

Here's where I keep the desks.  So that they can "clean" the floor. Whatever. If the floor was truly cleaned, I wouldn't be able to look at it and say, "This is where J. barfed three years ago, this is where F. barfed earlier this year, this is where B. peed all over the floor." I fought for non-carpeted floors at a recent meeting about our upcoming remodel and they all looked at me like I was farting while picking my nose.

But back to the students. Every year we make necklaces out of yarn and paper plates. We wear them backwards and then students write compliments to each other. We then have our last class meeting and we read our favorite compliment and share one thing we've learned this year. And then I cry a little (again). Here's my plate. While I'm super flattered that someone likes my "blod" hair and I like the prediction of a good tan this summer, I welled up (surprise, surprise) at the "You're the best teacher I ever had." which came from a very reserved little guy and the "You are nice you use the microphone" from my deaf student.

It was a nice ending to a wonderful year.

On a happier note, today is the first day of summer vacation. I don't get three months like everyone thinks. I get about a month and a half (which is about seven weeks). Two of those weeks will be at conferences and much of the time will be spent on these classes I'm taking. Have I mentioned them before? Yeah...

As I was saying, first day of vacation. I got up when Jeremiah left (around six-ish?) and worked out for about an hour. People? It felt good. It was slow going for awhile due to a swollen ankle, foot, and leg, and I had to ice and elevate immediately after, but it felt GOOD. I haven't been able to exercise due to sickies and other issues for awhile so I enjoyed my time. And then I did about three hours of classwork. Jealous?

p to the s: I have a class of 28 students coming in next year. Twenty-eight.
p to the p to the s: Do you see my computers? Yeah. And then Jeremiah comes home talking about how they upgrade every other year or so and that they have ROOMS full of computers that are only two years old. And I tell him to shut up and put myself in time out.

We Don't Need No Education.

Sing with me - "TEACHER! Leave those kids alone!"

Okay. So the last few weeks of school are stressful. There is so much crap that I put off until the last minute that is unimportant to me but I do it because I want my last paycheck of the school year and they won't give it to me if I don't do the unimportant crap a lot of really important tasks to be completed before I pass my wonderful students on to the next teacher. I really am sad to see them leave. It's the rest of the stuff that gets my panties all twisted. 

And then. Because I'm slightly stressed, I want to mention that genius me thought I could pull off two graduate classes while teaching. So that is what I am trying to do. Every.Single.Other.Thing.In.My.Life.Besides.Teaching.And.Grad.School.Has.Come.To.A.Hault


And in the back of my head I hear the lady that I spoke with during registration "This puts you at TWO classes while teaching full time. Do you really want to do this?" That lady needs to shut up. She got her point across.

But back to the screeching hault.

This includes the blog. And the tile is up and EVERYTHING and there all these projects we've got lined up. Including, but not limited to: TWO homemade light creations, kitchen curtain/blinds, beadboard for the island, and that pesky roman blind for the huuuuuuge front window. Oh, yeah. And the staining. I'm staining two coffee tables and two chairs.

And just to add to the stress, I'm sick. Again. Cue the sad music. The other night I irrigated my nose with the Neti-pot and all this STUFF came out and I was all, "Jeremiah, come see this!" and he wouldn't. Sadsies.

At some point I may share with all of you (and some of you already know) more about my disease sickies. And the meds that have lowered my immune system that are necessary to keep the disease sickies from spreading/progressing/causing me agonizing pain. But for now, just know that I am sick and miserable and trying to teach and trying to do two graduate classes.

p.s. In case you don't remember, I almost cut off my finger completing last year's "endoftheyear/mustbecompletedbeforewepayyou" checklist. If you didn't get a chance to read about that dark day when I cried in front of the custodians and said bitch in front of my Mormon teacher next door, you can live out the day HERE HERE HERE I ALMOST LOST A FINGER HERE.

p.p.s. I declare this post open for frustrated rants, comments, tirades, etc. Let it out, people. It isn't good for your skin to keep all that stress bottled up. As Meg Ryan says in French Kiss, "Express, don't repress."

p.p.p.s. I feel better already. I mean, mentally/emotionally. Not physically. That'll take some time. And some serious antibiotics.

Oh, Boy(friend).

I sent Jeremiah a cool engagement/proposal that I read about on a blog. I listed it as the coolest proposal THUS FAR, indicating that perhaps he could do better.

His response?

Yeah…I’m pretty sure I could outdo that. Really, that’s whats taking me so long…just the planning alone has been 3 years in the process.

Now I have to save up for it. But I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy the trip to the Diamond mines in Egypt to pick out your diamond and then the trip to France for the setting to put the stone in…I’ve told you too much now. I have to rethink this.

Smart ass.

p.s. Yesterday we had guest teachers and got the day to do planning with our grade level. My room smells like it has been assaulted by an old lady. I'm wondering if she actually sprayed grandma perfume IN MY ROOM. I don't think I should have to put a note saying, "please don't drench my room in an old lady perfume. I much rather the smell of kids. At least that doesn't bother my asthma." I've yet to have a teacher that meets my standards. This babe went through my fridge while I was IN THE ROOM and got mad when I told her that I had a lunch to store in it, too. In addition, she was angry because she had duty twice (poor lady. 70 degrees and sunny. half day work at full day pay. boo hoo.). SUCK IT UP.

Ultimate Goals

The other night while I was sitting around with Boyfriend I told him that my ultimate goal in life was world domination. Boyfriend knows me quite well, and his response was along the lines of, "Hmmm...Okay." and then continuing along with whatever he was doing.

Because I am random and lofty-goaled, all at the same time.

Then at work my principal comes to me. She says all these nice things. Compliments. How wonderful I worked on a team. How I stayed on task. How I really represented where the school needed to be going. All these nice things. I couldn't help it, I purred. And when she asked me to join an intervention team at school, I folded. I'm a work slut. Say nice things to me and I'm yours.

I went home and sat across from Boyfriend to play Bananagrams (which is the best game EVER - it's like Scrabble except you are mostly competing with yourself - you only play off of your tiles). He was all, "What's up?" and I informed him that I had been suckered into more stuff at work by being on this team thing.

He's quiet for a minute. Plays his tiles. Looks up and says, "This will be great on your resume for that world domination gig you wanted."

So true. Thanks for keeping my eyes on the prize.



P.S. What I'm listening to now: Weezer, self-titled. Particular favorites include the well-known "Buddy Holly" which is all about not frontin' (I say this in a completely silly and nerd girl way) and goes something like this: "OOO EEE OOO I look just like Buddy Holly Oh Oh and you're Mary Tyler Moore. I don't care what they say about us anyway."
The other song I'm in heart with right now "Undone: The Sweater Song" Slightly less popular, but still a hit. Talk singing all the way. I want to be skater cool. I also want the nineties back, which is evident by my music choice.

What's everyone else listening to?


P.P.S. A work slut is different than a slut at work. Just thought I should point that out.

Confused. Lost. Haunted.

First, last night we finished the series "Lost". Which devastates me. It's the same when I finish "Gilmore Girls", "Friends", or finish a book series. I get all depressed as if a friend has died. Plus, I'm all into the mystery and now...

So.Sad.All.Day.

And remember how my house is el hauntito? Well, feeling was back again last night (only upstairs, weird) and then this morning I woke up because I heard a cabinet close in our bathroom. Upon opening my eyes I discovered that it was daylight, which was super weird because daylight does not exist at 4:45 am (not this season, but in the summer, yes, it is light that early). So our alarms? Did not go off. Now, they are our phone alarms, so it wasn't an electrical issue. Both were fully charged, too. We don't have the same phone or even the same service. So it wasn't that. Jeremiah was so cute. He was all, "I wonder why the alarms didn't go off?" and I was all, "because the ghost is pissed that you don't believe in it." Which makes sense, 'cause I'm pissed that he doesn't believe in it.

Then, at work, we have new parking rules. We have increased parent parking - signs and everything. We are NOT to park in parent parking. As teachers, we don't get any designated parking.

Do you know what they told those of us that spoke up?

Wait for it, wait for it...

Get here earlier.

Have a good day, people. Please don't let my depression and angst be contagious.

No Words to Describe.

Boyfriend,
Please make my drink now so that it is ready upon my arrival. I would like a frozen blended treat. Thanks so much.

Sincerely,
Girlfriend.

This is the email I would send to Jeremiah if I could even fathom the thought of getting into my email account right now. Rough day. We shall forever call this day The Day of the Demons, or, The Day When Non-Drinking Emily Had a Mid-Week Drink.

Excuse Me

I haven't been in a very bloggy place this week. Lots of drama, both at school (you know, where I work) and at school (you know, the place where I go to learn more and get some more smarts). Jeremiah is wondering if he's living with a girlfriend or a sailor, he's heard THAT MANY swears. I've even become an alarm clock for the both of us as I wake us both up by screaming. Nice, right? Once the stress levels come down this weekend, I'll be posting lots.

Seriously, What is This?

If you know what this is, you win a hundred AZ points. They aren't really worth anything. It's like an AZ driver's license or the speed limit signs. Just for show.

But seriously, what the flip type of shrub is this?
It is blooming like crazy and I love it and it smells like hay (which is weird - totally sweet smell, not at all floral). You can see that it is slightly powdery greenish/blue in color.
So please, help a sister out. If you can identify it, please do. De-lurk and tell me, just this once.


p.s. This week I worked on teaching my third graders how to tie their shoes. And we are learning our phone numbers and addresses. And lastly, we learned the hokey-pokey. You know, left & right, body parts, etc. That's really all I want to say about this week at school.