For the Love of...Lord & Taylor!

A storm caught me off guard today, perhaps because the weather forecasters--I mean meteorologists--downplayed this storm after over blowing the last, perhaps because I just haven't been paying a lot of attention to the weather while I've been on vacation (since snow days don't exist). But I was already half-way to the mall (well, to Lord and Taylor at the mall) after my unexpected (and emergency) trip to the credit union (that's another post) when it started to snow. And I didn't think road conditions would deteriorate so rapidly. Actually, they were terrible from the outset. So I put both hands on the wheel and proceeded slowly, as I passed vehicles that had spun out or had been involved in fender benders.

This is crazy!, I thought as I inched along, and then Jesus, Jesus, Sweet Jesus! I nearly screamed as I nearly rear ended a car on the exit ramp, then again in the parking lot of the mall. Road crews were not out yet, and there was clearly ice under the snow, but there was a clearance sale at L&T, and it was probably safer to take refuge. Right? My hope was that by the time I did my quick look for some new lined pants, and maybe a top, for the new year, the roads would be treated, and the ride home would be less treacherous. (Which was the case. Amen.)

I didn't have my coupon with me, since I really hadn't planned on going, but after a little pretty please/the roads are horrific/I'd come back with my coupon if I didn't mean risking my life--AGAIN to the nice woman who has been working in the women's department for as long as I've been shopping there, I got the additional 20 percent off and a sweet deal.

Lined Jones New York pants (to replace a pair from back-to-school shopping because they're too loose...Go, me!), originally 119, with clearance and coupon savings? $50

Adorable Liz Claiborne leopard print v-neck t-shirt, originally $45, with said discounts? $15

Getting there and back alive? Priceless.

Happy New Year to you, too!

APB

Okay, if anyone has seen me out there somewhere, maybe looking through clearance racks at L&T, or browsing through the New Fiction shelves at Barnes and Noble, or maybe even tying one on somewhere, dropping f-bombs and rolling my eyes back in my head at some dim wit, could you send me back? Because I don't know who the hell it was sitting on my couch tonight, crying through the Kennedy Center Honors for two hours, but it certainly wasn't me.

We can do this without incident. Just ring my buzzer and we can make a quick switch in the dark of night and no one will be the wiser. No one has to know. Because if this Emotional Thing (as represented by the blubbering buffoon on my couch earlier tonight) is going to make friends with Hot Flashes in the near future?...Well, we're all screwed. Seriously screwed. So come on. Bring me back home.

Ah-Choo!

I am a high school teacher, having once been a high school student, so I am well aware that I am probably known for things--and by names--I'd rather never learn. Smart Board technology has practically eliminated my need to turn my back to the class and thereby display both my ample a*s and jiggle my flabby arms in order to write (more anatomically appropriate) vocabulary terms on the board, but my instincts tell me students don't talk about my colorful array of v-neck cashmere sweaters. A few of the girls I know covet my Tiffany jewelry, and others love my nails, but none probably think her grammar is impeccable! What I am most known for, by my current and former students, is my sneezes.

My odd, no-two-are-alike sneezes provide daily entertainment for my students, especially those in my first period class. With my blessing. Well, they bless me, but I give them my blessing to laugh without risking detention or my death stare. I laugh at my sneezes too. Some are downright embarrassing. I sound tortured, startled, or tickled. Some sound like mating calls of yet unidentified species, and some of my long, drawn out ahs are never followed by a choo. Like trying to get a car to start and after the initial sound of the ignition struggling to catch comes the click.

Just the other day, after one of my first-period sneezes, my phone rang. I answered and heard “Bless you” on the other end. “Thank you,” I replied. “Excuse me.” Apparently, three doors down, one of my colleague’s Chemistry students who is a former Biology student of mine, heard me sneeze (as did the other 20 students and my colleague)and said “That’s Ms. K.” From there, they decided to have a little fun and call me in my classroom.

Well, those dust allergies that got really fired up before vacation in my dry, heat-less classroom successfully ignited a full-blown cold for me to suffer through this vacation. Bummer, right? Well, on one hand, it’s unfortunate that I’m not feeling 100 percent while I’m off from school. On the other, my tissue at home is much softer than school-issue tissue. And my sneezes aren’t nearly as cute, or odd, or funny these past couple of days. They’re more productive (I know: eww) than they are entertaining.

So I’ll let my sinuses drain while I’m home this week, and when I go back to school I can still be teacher with the silver jewelry and the funny sneezes. Among other things, I'm sure.

Is It Over?

In my adult life I have been a part of or privy to dozens of conversations during which married people (some, my friends and relatives) kvetch about their spouses and their marriages, and how they have gotten any "good gifts" in months, or years. If I am a part of the conversation I often respond with, Remind me why it is I should want to be married? Frankly, I like "gift giving"!...Even if I could make the leap of faith in marriage at my (early) middle age today I am reminded of another reason I would never have a wedding, an expensive production complete with white multi-layer dress and a multi-tier cake: how I feel today.

Mind you I didn't start Christmas shopping a year ago, choose a date, negotiate a guest list, and almost call off the holiday a half dozen times while spending the equivalent of two European holidays and two island vacations. I started shopping about a month ago (okay maybe only 2 weeks in earnest), limited my spending to about 600 hundred dollars, and I am spent. Financially, emotionally, and physically I am spent, and ready to hibernate for the week ahead that is my Christmas vacation.

How do newlyweds have the energy to “give good gifts” and enjoy their honeymoons after their wedding weekends? I made chocolate bark, I shopped, I wrapped. I even cheated and used gift bags. All I had to do was show up at my aunt and uncle’s house on Christmas Eve and my cousin’s on Christmas day. My delightful and well-behaved nieces slept over my house on Christmas night, and we drove together to my parents’ this morning to have our immediate family Christmas celebration.

One month of preparations and it’s over. [snap] Like that. I know it happened. My tree is still up, I have a new Food Network mug and a couple of new Pandora charms, and I am ready to pop a few ibuprofen and crawl in bed in my new flannel nightgown. I can’t imagine having to pack a suitcase and get on a plane to go frolic in the sun. [Read: “exchange a lot of gifts.”]Tomorrow I look forward to finishing my book and watching the Patriots game.

But would I do this whole Christmas thing again? Gladly. And I will.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Wishing you all a Christmas that is jolly, bright, and blessed.

[Heart] Note...to the United States Postal Service

My post office looks like something out of The Waltons. Good night, Jim Bob. Good night, Mary Ellen. It's a little house with hardwood floors and three parking spots out front. (I’ll take a picture eventually, but don’t know when—in these next few busy days—I’ll actually see it in the light of day. So I’ll post without a photograph now and let you know when I add one.) Right next door there is a little general store. Well, they don’t call it that anymore, but it’s a little store with a deli that sells bread and milk and other staples, as well as lottery tickets of course. But I digress. This post is about the United States Postal Service.

On Saturday, when a large part of the United States was crippled by a massive snow storm, I brought a package to my Waltonesque post office, paid $10.35 (“if it fits, it ships”), decided to pay another 70 cents for tracking and confirmation, and went on my way.

And while I haven’t heard from Tamara yet, I know she got the package because—get this—I even got an email from the USPS telling me my package was delivered. Of course I had already gone on line and looked it up because I get excited and impatient that way. But still. Not bad for 11 dollars. No looking for drop boxes in the foyers of Staples stores, or driving all over to find a (brown) store that will actually mail a package without a corporate account.

I [heart] my little post office. And I love the United States Postal Service that can get a package across the country in two days. Not two business days, but two days. In plenty of time for Christmas.

White Christmas Guaranteed

Well, the southern part of the state (a whole 50 miles away) saw double digit amounts of snow. Some towns got over 2 feet. I think we got 3 inches. Maybe 5. And it didn’t start until after I went to bed. But it is enough snow to guarantee a white Christmas, and I’ll take that.

Now I just need to get through these last three days of school. Three full days. Not even an early release on Wednesday. I’m trying to do my part to keep students focused—my Biology classes have lab reports due Wednesday, and my Anatomy and Physiology class has a quiz on muscle actions Wednesday—but I’m afraid they’ll still be distracted. And I can’t blame them. I’m distracted too.

I keep playing the list of things I still need to do in my head, which includes wrapping and cleaning and finishing my shopping, and I’m looking forward to plans with Maureen this afternoon, and with Amy tomorrow. It seems like there aren’t enough hours in the day, or that there would be if we didn’t have to spend these 8 in school.

Sometimes it’s hard to relate to the kids. This is not one of those times.