Don't panic

So the first case of swine flu was just confirmed in Tennessee.

And it is in Nashville.

And the infected student attended a school right down the street.

And a bunch of students from that school were just on our campus a couple of days ago for an admissions event.

So do you think the Bellevue Wal-mart is sold out of face masks yet?

for love of whimsical things

I was flipping through a coworker's graphic design magazine, and an ad for a website caught my eye.

So I visited allymoon, and I fell in love. I think I want one of everything from the collections.

I might just buy a pocket mirror for my purse, my car, my office, my nightstand, and anywhere else I can think of stashing a tiny mirror. And I don't even like looking at myself that much...although it can be helpful to know when you've got something stuck in your teeth.

curb your enthusiasm

So last week I blogged about my passion for food, my voracious appetite, and my distaste for dieting.

And now, I may have to eat my words.

You see, I had a humbling experience over the weekend (and by "humbling experience" I actually mean a complete and total meltdown that involved alligator tears, blotchy red cry-face, and clothing being hurled at the mirror), and it made me realize that I'm going to have to cut back a little on my consumption. Or else my clothes closet is going to turn into a non-functional art installation entitled "Smallness that Mocks Me." Of course, Todd's response to my lament was "But isn't it a good thing to get to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe???" Ah, my sweet, sweet husband.

So, starting today, a few things are going to happen.
1. I am going to start exercising much more regularly. I might even invest in this program--I've heard some pretty good reviews.
2. I am going to cut back on my portion sizes.
3. I am going to alter my diet slightly, limiting myself to the following things:
* fruits and vegetables
* fish
* a very small amount of cheese/dairy
* non-gluten grains

And maybe, if I stick to this, it will be safe for the full-length mirror and I to see each other again...

hungry

I found a new snack obsession:



Notice that the bag is already half-empty in this picture. That's because I managed to inhale half the bag in the time that it took me to drive from World Market to my house.

I have a problem.

You see, I love food. I love talking about food, reading about food, thinking about food, eating food, shopping for food, cooking food, trying new food...sometimes, I even dream about food. It is truly a wonder that I don't weigh 300 pounds, because I eat ALL THE TIME.

I hear people talk about "forgetting" to eat, and I think "how in the world is that possible?" When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think about is what I want for breakfast. And by the time I have finished breakfast, it is very likely that I have already planned out my meals and snacks for the remainder of the day.

I also know some people (like my husband) who usually eat just one meal a day and the idea of that hurts me. Seriously, my stomach aches right now just thinking about limiting myself to one solitary food experience per day. That sounds way too close to fasting.

When I go to lunch in the cafeteria, I watch my co-workers dab little bits of cottage cheese on their plates, add a few pieces of lettuce and maybe 2 ounces of chicken, and call it a meal. Meanwhile, I find the biggest container possible and load it up. I don't eat a side salad--I don't even eat a bowl of salad--I eat a mountain of salad. The word "dainty" does not have a place anywhere near my appetite.

Fortunately, my metabolism has been able to keep up with my appetite for most of my life, but it is starting to slow on me. Love handles, muffin-tops, and cellulite have begun to make an appearance on my body, but I refuse to deny myself deliciousness. Diet is a dirty four-letter word in my book.

So if you wonder why I drag myself out of bed at 5:00 in the morning to go to the gym, or why I challenge myself to run half-marathons...well, it's simple. Is it because I love the smell of sweat and spandex in the morning? God no. Is it because I enjoy the way my knees feel like they might explode after 5 miles of jogging? Not so much.

I do it because I LOVE. TO. EAT. But I also quite enjoy having my pants fit. Sigh.

Did I mention?

I'm pregnant--we're pretty sure it's twins.
We just adopted two cats and a kangaroo.
We sold the house--don't know where we're gonna live.
Todd might take a job in Kalamazoo.

I had a great big steak for lunch.
There was a bomb threat today at school.
I won the lottery--I have a hunch.
Oh, and of course...April Fool!

This was a total rip-off (and a feeble one at that) of Shel Silverstein's piece:

Oh Have You Heard
Oh have you heard it’s time for vaccinations?
I think someone put salt into your tea.
They’re giving us eleven-month vacations.
And Florida has sunk into the sea.

Oh have you heard the President has measles?
The principal has just burned down the school.
Your hair is full of ants and purple weasels—
APRIL FOOL!

whenever I see your smiling face

I smile a lot. It's chronic. I guess you could say that I'm generally a happy person.

I mean, come on, when I've got people like this in my life:







how in the world could I not smile?

You can choose your friends, but you're pretty much stuck with your family. And I have to say that I feel extremely lucky that I'm stuck with a bunch of fun, loving goofballs as relatives...and as friends.

because i just might throw a sheep at you

I enjoy Facebook. I really do. It's fun to connect with friends across the country that I may or may not get to see very often, to stay updated on their lives, and to see pictures and videos of their families, trips, etc. It's an uber-easy way to network and stay in touch.

But.

Well, it's just that I don't love the applications. So if you try to send me something and I ignore you, please don't take it personally. The applications that I have allowed to "access my profile" are already starting to annoy me. I mean, I have enough Lil Green Plants to start my own rain forest. Or at least to raise suspicion from any virtual cops that I might be involved in some kind of online illegal growing ring. And then, of course, there's the Flair, which makes me feel like I should be an extra in Office Space--or a part-time server at TGI Friday's.

Maybe I don't like it because I don't understand it...or maybe it's because it seems to take the online virtual realtionship just a bit too far. I mean, if you want to Pass Me a Drink, I'd be happy to meet you down at the Edge or your bar of choice. And if you'd like to Hug me...well, if you're my friend, you probably know where you could find me and launch a full-fledged hug attack. It's just too hard to hug a computer screen.

So, please, feel free to comment on my status or write on my Wall or tag me in a picture (as long as it isn't too incriminating)...but if you want to Poke me or give me a Gift or recruit me to your Cause, just don't get offended when I choose "Ignore".

I promise I'm still your Friend.

moving

So here we are in Tennessee, which most anyone with geographical sense would consider to be in the South, and some might even go so far as to call it the "Deep South."

And yet, it is March 12th, just one day before Spring Break officially begins, and it is 35 degrees cold and sleeting outside. Seriously, I think some schools are even closed.

I can imagine you reading this and saying, "Dear God, is she complaining about the weather AGAIN?"

Why yes, YES I AM. Because I live in TENNESSEE. And my favorite thing about living in the South is not the funny accents or the fried chicken or the insane football fever--it is the lovely, temperate weather. And right now, I am sorely disappointed.

If I have to put on my dog-hair-covered winter coat one more time, I just might scream. And then move to Florida.

Un-unique, or-- a snowflake, just like everyone else

Out of curiosity, I did a search of my name on Facebook, just to see what would come up. And I discovered that there are no fewer than 75 of me on Facebook. Seventy-four other people with my cognomen...on Facebook alone.

And I remember the days when I couldn't even find my name on a keychain in the giftshop at Cracker Barrel.

underneath

I helped chaperone a sixth grade field trip to the 12th Avenue Mosque today. As I was getting dressed this morning, it didn't occur to me that when you go into a mosque, you have to remove your shoes.

So what was I wearing underneath my tall black boots today?



Yep, Scooby Doo socks. I lost any air of superiority over those kids just as soon as I took off my shoes.

fever

So I was going through the "My Pictures" file on the computer, trying to clean things up a bit, and I came across this photo, taken at one of the many impromptu porch parties from last summer:



When I look at this photo, what immediately jumps out at me?
1. flip-flops and sandals
2. tank tops
3. everything around us is green

Have I mentioned that I AM SO READY FOR SPRING?

Oh, and by the way, it is March 2nd, and there is snow on the ground. "In like a lion", my arse. How about "in like a polar bear"? Sigh.

the twenties

Yes, I know.

On Friday, I promised something that I have not yet delivered. I said that I would post 10 memories from my first decade of life, 10 from the second, and 10 from the third. And what do you see below you? Just 20 memories. And then they stop.

Does that mean that I can't remember much between the ages of 20 and 30? Of course not--those memories should be even more salient to me than the earlier ones (and even though I discovered alcohol in college, I didn't drink THAT much).

It's just that, when I approach the decade of my twenties, there's this period of time that sticks out like a sore thumb. I thought about glossing over it and just picking memories from the early and late twenties, but that 2-3 year stretch in the middle just stares at me like, "uh-uh...no way you can deal with this decade and avoid me." So I continued to sit on those memories from my teens, staring out into my past future, paralyzed.

There were a lot of amazing times in my twenties: the last couple of years at Vandy, a summer of living and working in New York, a backpacking trip through France and Italy, my first job, serving as a volunteer youth leader, working at camps, buying my first home, girls' weekends in Colorado, etc. It would be easy to focus solely on those experiences.

But it also wouldn't seem fair. I could pretend that there were no skeletons in my closet, no demons in my past...but it wouldn't make them go away.

In my twenties, I got married. Perhaps it happened a little too quickly, but I can't use that as an excuse, because I knew full well what marriage meant and what I was committing myself to. But not long after I said I do, I decided in my selfishness that I really didn't. So I checked out. And I treated my husband horribly in the hopes that he would just agree to divorce me.

Remember when I said that divorce isn't ever pretty? Well, it wasn't. And during that period of time, I discovered the absolute ugliest side of me--a side that I never knew existed--a side that I wished couldn't belong to me. When I look back, I think, "Was that really me? That couldn't have been me. That is so not me." And yet it was. I morphed into someone who had absolutely no concern for anyone else's feelings but my own. I lied to everyone, including myself. And I hurt a lot of people. A lot of people who loved me. And a lot of people that I loved.

And now, years later, I recognize that it is past and I can't do anything to change it. I know that God and friends and family have all forgiven me, and I continue to work on forgiving myself. And I know that there will probably be a few people who read this and think, "Good lord, let it GO already. Sheesh." I know. And I try. But at the same time, I think there is an element of that experience that I will carry around with me for the rest of my life. And maybe I should. Maybe those memories should haunt me, so that I remember how far I can fall, and keep me vigil so that I never become that person again.

So there you go. Who knew you were going to get such a raw journal entry for the third installment of my series? I certainly didn't when I started this thing. I promise to keep the next post a little lighter (and not as excruciatingly long as the past few have been).

Light the corners of my mind

On to that second decade of life--and what a rich decade it was, with so much material to choose from. The hard part here is going to be narrowing down those memories to a mere ten.

1. My parents divorced when I was ten. I have many vivid memories from that time: the night that the rose-colored glasses shattered, and I suddenly realized that my parents weren't happily married...the first time that I saw my father cry...breaking down into tears in the middle of my 5th grade class as I was trying to process what was happening. I won't go into all of the details that I remember, because, well, divorce isn't pretty. It just never is. (I thought I'd get the heavy one over with first.)
2. I remember being teased mercilessly by other girls in the locker room when I got my first training bra in 7th grade. "Why are you wearing that--you don't need a bra." "Are you just trying to cover up how flat you are?" "You probably just got one 'cause some of us did." Yeah, I think this one falls under the category of "If they could see me now..."
3. I was so happy to change schools after 7th grade. At BBS, I was an enormous nerd. Braces, permed hair, puff-paint t-shirts, awkwardly tall and lanky, teacher's kid. I was the girl that was only "popular" in the sense that everyone else wanted to copy my homework. I was so ready to get out of there, and to have the opportunity to transform myself into someone new.
4. I adored high school. No really, I LOVED it. I know a lot of people who would rather forget their high school experience, but I think of it fondly. I loved the school, I loved the teachers, and I had a phenomenal group of close friends. That's probably more of a fact than a memory--but so many memories from my teenage years are tied to that school and those friends.
5. In my high school biology class, we had to dissect fetal pigs. I remember having to crack open my little baby pig's mouth and break his jaw. This experiment also inspired my first step toward vegetarianism. I would go to the lunchroom after class and see the ham that they were serving, and all I could smell was formaldehyde. No pork products for me after that.
6. I had four wrecks between the ages of 16 and 18. The worst was the last one--a head-on collision that completely totaled my Ford Escort. I had just met a friend at Big River Grille for dinner, and since I wasn't too hungry, I ordered the soft pretzel appetizer as my meal. After the crash, I remember thinking, "Man, that really would have sucked if my last meal on earth had been a couple of pretzels."
7. For one of my birthday parties, we rented out the clubhouse at my dad's apartments and had a big bash. We actually got the cops called on us, because we were having a particularly heated game of "testosterone vs. estrogen" volleyball. Not sure why, but our group of friends did a lot of group activities like that--"testosterone vs. estrogen". Probably because we were dorks.
8. Destin was a very popular vacation destination for Baylor-ites. One one trip (not sure if it was sophomore or senior year), a few of us were really stupid with the sunscreen. Two of my friends positively fried the tops of their feet and could barely wear shoes, and I managed to put sunscreen on my stomach and back, but missed my sides. For almost 4 years, the skin on my sides was darker than the skin on my front and back. It looked like I had a skin disease.
9. My freshman year at Vandy, three of my friends and I drove down to Sewanee for Fall Party Weekend. I realized what a crazy weekend it would be as soon as we walked into the ATO house and saw a parent--not a student-- hanging from the rafters. Lots of other memories from that weekend, but I'll keep those to myself.
10. I got my first tattoo when I was 18, at TJ's Tattoos in Chattanooga. It didn't hurt as much as I expected it to--I equated it to an extended bee sting. My parents had no clue, and I tried to keep it hidden. I succeeded until my mom walked into the bathroom one day when I wasn't completely dressed and spotted it. She said, "You realize that's permanent, right?" And I said, "Yes." And that was that. It went much better than I anticipated.

As I am going back and reading these, I am thinking that I need to go through some of my old albums and see if I can't find some pictures to accompany these memories...

Thirty-two

I get older on Sunday. I always like saying it that way--as if I'm actually aging an entire year in just one day. It's Saturday, and I'm just 31, and then kabloom! Sunday, I'm 32.

In conjunction with the occasion, I thought I might challenge myself to a little exercise on my blog. Today, I will post ten memories from the first decade of my life, tomorrow, ten from the next decade, and so on. I'll won't think too long and hard on what memories I will share, I'll just list whatever pops into my head...which could be funny, dangerous, or incredibly boring. Let's just start and see what happens...

1. I recall getting my first puppy. I was so freakin' excited, and I remember sitting out by the carport with my dad, trying to think of a name for the bouncy little white ball of fluff. Of course, my ideas all sounded like "Benji" or "Lassie" (I was not the most creative person at the age of four), but we finally settled on Misty. The first thing I taught Misty was to jump up on me whenever I slapped my palms against my thighs. Ironically, now it seems like all I ever do is try to get my dogs not to jump up on me...or on every single person who walks through the front door.
2. From the time that I was two until I was almost five, we lived in a house on Timberlane Trail. I loved the name of the street--it had such a nice ring to it. It also had the same initials that I did.
3. My sister was born when I was four years old. I don't think I really minded sharing my parents with someone else. For the longest time, my parents didn't think that my sister would ever talk, though, because I always did the talking for her.
4. My intestinal issues manifested themselves when I was very young. I remember spending a lot of time in the bathroom with either my mom or my grandmother, just trying to do my duty. Yes, I said "duty." And I totally meant to.
5. I was an avid reader. One time, my Kindergarten teacher had to run to the school office, so she left me in charge and gave me a book to read to the class. I was doing pretty well until I got stumped on the word "engineer," and being the stickler that I was for details, I couldn't just skip the word and move on. So I sat there, stuck. It was mortifying. Especially considering that my dad was a mechanical engineer.
6. I felt slightly redeemed from that experience when I became the school spelling bee champ in 2nd grade.
7. One day while I was watching TV (most likely Laverne & Shirley) and eating an apple, I almost choked on apple peel. When my mom realized that I couldn't breathe, she grabbed me by my ankles, turned me upside down, and shook me until it fell out. I've been very cautious when eating apples since then.
8. I had my first official boyfriend in 2nd grade. His name was Craig, and he was a twin. He was also my first kiss (if you count a quick peck on the lips that happened behind the water fountain on the playground). We actually had to try it twice, because the first time, we moved so quickly that we missed each other. That's what happens when you close your eyes way too early.
9. I loved the Little House on the Prairie book series. I really wanted to be Laura Ingalls and live in her dugout house (from On the Banks of Plum Creek).
10. I experienced my first wreck at my grandmother's house. I was riding down the driveway on a push scooter, and when I hit the part where the driveway met the street, I flipped, went flying over the handlebars, and landed face first on the street. I knocked out a tooth and ended up with a bloody forehead, nose, and chin. I don't think I ever scared my grandmother so much as when I walked through the door with my bloody face.

A random list? Yes. Such is my life. And my thought processes.

For tomorrow: ten from ages 10-20

my hairy valentine

Considering the state of the economy, I'm guessing that many people are trying to figure out how they can show their love to their significant others on Valentine's Day, without spending $100 on dinner or $50 on roses, etc., etc.

So, what's my suggestion?

Ummm...get creative?



(Just in case you don't know my husband and you aren't very good at spotting obvious photoshop jobs--this is not actually Todd. Todd is much less hairy from the neck up, and much more hairy from the neck down.)

Happy V-Day everyone...and honey, I love your guts.

2009 continues its malevolent march

Today marked the passing of my aunt, Mrs. Barbara Posey. I wish that I could say that she lived a long and healthy life, but she was only 66 years old, and she spent the last 6 years dealing with dimentia and other after-effects of multiple strokes. She will be sorely missed, although in the midst of the sadness, there is thankfulness that she is no longer suffering.

I don't know why, but when I remember her, I always think of her laughing. I think that she laughed a lot when the whole family got together. Her family was her world.

During these last few years, when her mind wasn't working well, she would often call my mom and have the same conversation, every time. She wanted to go to Hawaii. She was terrified of flying, but she didn't care. She wanted to go to Hawaii, and she wanted to take mom with her.

So, Aunt Barbara, for you, I hope that heaven looks a whole lot like Hawaii.

Much love to you, and may you rest in peace.

A letter to 2009

Dear 2009,

I think we have started off on the wrong foot. Let's just say that if January was your way of introducing yourself, then you seriously need to work on making a better entrance. Perhaps you should swing by Borders and pick up a book on how to win friends and influence people, because frankly, your first impression stinks.

I realize that we have only known each other for a month now, so I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, and I hope that we can work this out and become friends. But let me be honest and say that, based on my feelings right now, I'd rather just go ahead and trade you in for 2010 and pretend that you never existed.

So, howzabout you lighten up a little bit, stop coming on so strong with all of the negativity, and let's see where this can go. I'm trying to be hopeful, so don't ruin it with February. Please.

Thanks,
TT

How to Age Four Years in One Day

I was asked by a former colleague of mine at another independent school to visit her Print Journalism class today as a guest lecturer. I was pretty excited about it, because I thoroughly enjoyed my one shining year as a Latin teacher, and I had not been in a classroom since then. One of the fun things about being a teacher is that you become a student, too, as you are constantly studying and preparing for your lessons and trying to find new information that you can share. I felt like I was back in my element last night as I was reading articles with my highlighter poised over the pages, rehearsing in my head some of the points that I wanted to cover in my presentation.

So as students were wandering into the class today, I noticed a familiar face, and my colleague asked me, "Do you remember Reed?" Oh my goodness--it was one of my former Latin students. How exciting! So I responded, "Of course, yes! Reed, how are you? What year are you now?" And, about the same time that I noticed he was about 3 feet taller than I remembered him, he said, "I'm a senior."

Um, okay...when I taught him in Latin I, he was in 8TH GRADE. And I promise that could not have been 4 years ago. Really, it couldn't be. Could it? He was just in junior high, and now he's headed off to college? It doesn't seem right.

This is why I do not have children--CHILDREN MAKE YOU AGE MORE QUICKLY. I swear it's true.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go drink some Geritol and take a nap...

January 19-23

I am still processing this past week.

Usually, a week comes and goes without much thought. There's a routine that happens: work, home, friends, tv, sleep, eat, etc. Nothing too complicated. But last week was different.

Politically, it was an incredible week. Obama was officially sworn in as our president, and he hit the ground running, proving in his first few days of office that he meant business. Then, Nashville demonstrated our welcoming and progressive spirit by voting against the English-only proposition and letting Mr. Crafton know that if he wants his way, he'll just have to move to a small town somewhere in Mississippi to get it.

But outside of the political realm, last week felt anything but victorious. Things happened that shook my soul, and I feel like my perspective has been permanently altered. I still don't know that I have the words to explain exactly what shift has occurred, I just feel it. There is sadness--lots of sadness--concern, confusion, fear, disappointment, hurt, and helplessness.

Helplessness is the hardest. I know that, in some circumstances, all you can do is just "be there" for people. But just being there is hard for me. I want to do. I want to fix. I want to heal. I want to make better. But sometimes better is not mine to make. So I just have to be.

And so I'm here. And I hope. And I think. And I pray. I pray, pray, pray. For the best.

Or, at least, for better.

1.20.09

Contents of the day so far: a few tears, lots of goosebumps, applause, and a swell of hope and pride for my country.

Text of Obama's inaugural address.

Those words are better than any words I could share today.