home renovation

So, the summer has been truly wonderful. Other than missing my own family, who are trapped a zillion miles away in the place of the devil that shall remain nameless, life has been grand. I visited the beach for the last time Saturday with one of my dearest childhood friends and said goodbye to the Atlantic Ocean. In exactly one week, I will return to the land-locked state that houses a land of horrible drivers, no fresh seafood, rude people who tell me I'm intimidating in Costco, and sheltered people who dis-invite authors to their libraries. I am trying to think on the bright side. Multiple Relief Society lessons on forgiveness have prompted me to realize that it is probably (emphasis on the probably) time to let go of the bitterness and hatred towards Utah (ok, so I just named it) that I harbour in my heart. On Sunday morning, while blow drying my hair, I started to make a mental list of good things about the state. I was attempting to convince my psyche that I will not have a mini-nervous breakdown when I return. This is what I came up with:

1) OBVIOUSLY I will get to see my fabulous mom and hang out with my family again.

2) CAFE RIO! I have been craving an enchilada style burrito for the past month and half.

3) ???

That's about as far as I got before I burst into tears. My mother-in-law added my paying job to the list, and I guess that is a plus.

Sorry if I have offended anyone who hails from "the best snow on earth" but I have given you five years of my life, and you have not made much of an impression.

Living in the South has been even better than just visiting. After reading Curly's latest blog entry, I feel inspired to follow her lead. These are the things that I love about spending my summer in a land where people say, "Y'all":

- Going to the beach can be a spontaneous thing.

- People are so, unbelievably FRIENDLY! They smile at you. They speak to you. They genuinely care about each other. They don't look at you weird if you say hi to them in a grocery store. It doesn't matter if you know someone or not, they will be nice to you.

-People are polite. Because I grew up on the west coast, I always thought saying ma'am, sir, miss, etc wasn't really a big deal. Here it is. I thought I wouldn't really get used to it, but I have, and I like it. People just show each other a lot of respect.

- Did I mention...I can go to the beach?

-BOJANGLES Cajun-fillet biscuits with honey mustard.

-Spending time with my husband's family and getting to know them better.

- Saving money! It's been fun watching the money grow in our bank account, especially since Chad's internship decided to pay him.

-Baseball games in 75 degree weather.

-Some of the best shopping ever, especially because my mother-in-law (like my own mom) seems to have clearance radar and can help me find great deals =-)

-And...lest I forget...OH...THE BEACH!

I really do love it here. I'm starting to feel like a real slacker because I haven't even started my unit plans for the English classes I'll be teaching when I get back. But there's something about summertime that makes it feel impossible to get any real work done. Oh well, I'll have a lot more months of real work than I will of summer, so I guess I'll savor the free time while it lasts.

I have never been a huge dog fan. This is just a simple fact of my existence.

It's kind of random, that despite this fact, I still yearned to be a veterinarian over the span of a few years during elementary school. I'm not exactly sure why I thought I would be content making a career out of caring for animals that I normally find obnoxious, but whatever. I probably just wanted to fit in with my circle of friends, and two of my best buds wanted to grow up and make puppies feel better. Anyway, before you start thinking this whole veterinarian childhood fantasy has nothing to do with the dog thing, let me explain. During this short-lived stage, I sort of had a dog for awhile. We had her for a few weeks. Her name was Maggie and my dad got her from a nursing home. They had to get rid of her because she was sniffing old ladies' rear ends. She came to stay with us, and after a few days I'd decided she smelled bad, the hair she shed on everything was unsightly, and I didn't like her jumping on me. Therefore, I avoided going outside so I wouldn't have to be near her. Once Maggie had destroyed several pairs of my mother's shoes, and also managed to chew a hole in the side of our family's tent, Maggie went to the pound. We saw her picture in the paper a couple of times after that. I don't know if she ended up with a nice family...or somewhere else.

Anyway, getting back to the point. I'm just not much of a dog fan.

There is one dog, however, who seems to have won my heart. My husband's family had a dog named Bailey. She is a golden retriever. She thinks she's people.

This is my favorite thing about Bailey--I find it absolutely hilarious. If Bailey has to go to the bathroom, you can't just go to the door and let her outside. You have to walk out on to the front porch, and she won't actually go out into the yard unless you've walked out far enough. She won't, I mean, I don't think she physically can, use the potty until you are standing on the porch watching her. It's hysterical.

This is my second favorite thing about Bailey. She is only "allowed" to be in the kitchen, and one tiny corner of the den. She follows this rule quite precisely. BUT, as soon as she thinks no one is home, that rule seems to no longer apply. She wanders all over the house! It's so funny! As soon as you get home, you catch a glimpse of her darting out of a bedroom, down the hall, and back to her designated area.

In conclusion, I am not much of a dog person, but I am a Bailey person. If we can find a Bailey replica, Chad just might be able to talk me into getting a dog someday. If not, my children will have to wonder what it's like to have a family pet...or maybe we will get a fish.

We have started the house hunting. Since we are going to be away all summer, I would kind of like to have at least an inkling of a clue as to where we are going to live when we return in August. We looked at some places today. Can I just say that apartment searching is pretty much the most depressing thing ever? Basically, you're either reminded of how poor you are by the crappy, ghetto locations you can afford to call home, or, you're reminded of how poor you are by the beautiful, roomy, over-priced locations you cannot afford. Either way, the reminder is the same: you are poor. I just want to find a decent place, with a decent price, that can semi-fit our belongings (better than our apartment now), in a happy neighborhood, near where I am going to be working and where Chad goes to school. Too much to ask? I think NOT! The universe, however, seems to think otherwise. I know we will find something eventually, but for now I choose to be frustrated and annoyed that we cannot find the perfect dwelling place immediately!

So, I realized today how tragic it is that I have not been blogging this semester. Frankly, I have been ridiculously busy. Even so, it is no excuse for not making time for the hilarious, tragic, and every day moments of my semester.

I can't believe that on Sunday it will be April. What does this mean? Well, for starters it means student teaching will be coming to an end!!! Which means I will be graduating!!! Which means I have to get a grown up job. All of these things are exciting, but also scary. Because I've neglected to blog for so long, allow me to share with you the top ten moments of my student teaching experience (the good, the bad, and the ugly, and in no particular order):

10. Having a student elect to announce to the entire class that he's going to write about, "Why student teachers suck!" after I gave students permission to write about a student issue of their choice.

9. Writing delightfully pleasant comments on a student paper, only to suddenly discover that what I am reading seems vaguely familiar. AH! But wait! It wasn't vaguely familiar AT ALL! It was word-for-word the exact same project turned in by a student in another class that I teach!

8. Giving both students a zero on a 400 point project because they made the choice to disregard plagiarism/cheating policies and turn in the same project anyway.

7. Having students genuinely seem sad to find out I'm leaving soon and hearing them actually suggest that I stay the entire school year (It's nice to feel loved).

6. Listening to the buzz/hum in the classroom when real learning is happening and knowing that I made that happen.

5. Watching a student who has never passed English work so hard he made a C+! (I never knew a C+ could make me want to cry with joy!)

4. Actually talking about books with students and finding out that, yes, some of them do choose to read, despite their efforts to attempt to convince me they were illiterate when we read Pride and Prejudice.

3. Overhearing the following conversation and wanting to leap for joy:

Random High School Junior - UGH! I have to read Pride and Prejudice for English this
term.

My Student - We just finished reading that. I hated it at first. But it's a pretty good book
actually!

2. Having the quietest girl in the class, who never says a thing, actually volunteer to respond during group discussions.

1. Realizing that, yes, I am a teacher. Knowing how much I genuinely care for every student that I teach. Knowing that, even though days are hard, I really am making a difference for some. Crying for kids. Worrying about kids. Rejoicing in their successes. Giving them my all. This is what I have chosen as my profession, and I love it.

Now, someone hire me.

Me: Hey, honey, can you help me out? My shirt needs to be ironed. Could you do that for me while I'm getting ready for bed.

Husband: Sure. Where is it? (Examines shirt) Are you sure this needs to be ironed?

Me: Are you looking at the same shirt I am?

Husband: It's not even wrinkled.

Me: (Laughing) Are you being serious or sarcastic?

Husband: Serious.

Me: If you are honestly being serious, I am concerned.

Husband: I'll iron it for you, but it really doesn't look wrinkled to me at all.

Me: (Holding up extremely wrinkled, bottom portion of shirt) What about this part right here?

Husband: (Looking closely) I really don't see it!

Me: I am concerned for you based on that comment.

Needless to say, the shirt was hopelessly wrinkled. Bless his heart. I love him.

Today I came home from school absolutely exhausted. There's something about getting used to waking up every morning at 6:00 and being on my feet all day that makes me feel a bit tired. Since today is my day off work, I came home and zoned out in front of Oprah. My husband very intelligently suggested that I change out of my teaching clothes and into pajamas, even though it was only 4:00. I took his advice, and it was good advice indeed. I have spent all evening in these amazing pajama bottoms that my mother-in-law gave me for Christmas. They're fuzzy and blue. They sound weird when I describe them like that, but they are pretty much the best things ever invented. Right now my hubby is getting us ice cream. I'm so excited to eat something sweet, savor the last moments of my night off, and go to bed early. I'll need the rest--we're almost through Macbeth and it takes a lot of energy to keep high schoolers interested. Wish me luck!