My freshmen somehow got me sidetracked today into a discussion about what my husband looks like. I finished the description and was trying to get them back on track when one sweet looking freshman girl pipes up with, “He sounds delicious.” (For full effect, imagine her drawing out the “l” in delicious to emphasize just how scrumptious he sounds.)
I think she may have actually died of embarrassment, but I was laughing too hard to tell.
I was listening to one of the “birther” conspiracy theorists on the radio yesterday, because yelling at the radio makes the freeway miles fly by. The guest gave a whole shpiel about how all he wants is the birth certificate (WHICH HAS TOTALLY BEEN PROVIDED, could it be that you are just crazy and also possibly racist?), and then asked everyone listening to send an e-mail to everyone in their address book with a link to his website. And I quote, “If we could reach between 10 and 75 million people, we could get some serious national attention. So if everyone sends it out to ten people, you know, ten to the hundredth power…”
Ten to the hundredth power? IS A GOOGOL. It’s a one followed by one hundred zeroes. There is nothing in the world that can be counted by a googol – not grains of sand on the beach, not drops of water in the ocean. Nothing. And certainly then, NOT PEOPLE BEING SPAMMED BY THEIR FRIENDS TO GO TO YOUR CRAZY WEBSITE.
I wonder how much Google AdSense would pay him if he actually had a googol visitors. Probably a lot, because they could tie it into their name! What a great publicity stunt!
Lesson for the day: If people already suspect that you are a nutcase, your poor number sense will serve as confirmation of their hypotheses.
Juli, my best friend from junior high, bought us No Doubt tickets for my birthday. (*Yes, I’m aware that “Hollaback Girl” is Gwen Stefani solo and not No Doubt… but I think by the end you’ll agree. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.)
My red-eye corrector just made us look like we had glowing red circles around dark pupils. Bad news.
Seriously, junior high. She’s one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever had. This is the girl who wrote me letters all the time when I moved away for high school, who drove over 400 miles to visit me twice as a teenager, who threw me a huge surprise party for my 18th birthday when I moved back, who still stood by me when I decided I didn’t believe what she and all of our mutual friends believed, and who was my maid of honor over five years ago. A lifetime friend.
She is also, by means of purchasing the concert tickets, inadvertently and circuitously responsible for my first physical confrontation ever.
I KNOW.
Yes, we were really this close. Second row at the Universal Ampitheater. Did I mention Juli is amazing?
The show was SO much fun. I am not a huge concert goer, but this one was amazing. Mostly because I knew all the words to everything – we sang, we danced, we yelled the lyrics to “I’m Just a Girl” along with thousands of other people. The band was super pumped and incredibly entertaining, they look like they still love what they’re doing. Gwen pulled up a couple people from the pit to take pictures, and it was obvious that she really loves her fans. Great show.
And then.
AND THEN.
At the very end, the drummer threw a drumstick to some girl in the pit, who made the unfortunate decision to try to leave by walking up the aisle closest to us. The two (large) girls sitting next to me took this opportunity to JUMP HER.
A short side note: where I come from? Girls don’t fight. Heck, most of the guys I know haven’t ever REALLY been in a fight before. And they’ve certainly never tried to gang up on someone two to one and wrestle them to the ground over concert memorabilia.
They struggle over it for a good two minutes, which of course means they are stepping ALL over me and pushing both of us into the sweaty 350 pound man on Juli’s other side. Finally, a security guy comes, makes everybody let go, and confiscates it. So that’s the end of that.
Except. I bent down to get my stuff, and Crazy Girl #2? Is standing on my clutch.
So I tap her on the leg.
You see where this is headed.
CG#2: “Don’t f—in’ touch me!”
Me: “But you’re standing on my stuff!”
And then she shoved me. And I sat there with my mouth agape, somehow in disbelief that someone who had just gotten into a fullblown wrestling match over a drumstick would resort to shoving me.
I am a little naive.
(In hindsight, yes, I realize that reasoning with this particular person was a little ridiculous. What exactly was I expecting? “Sorry, I didn’t realize I had trampled your clutch during my earlier scuffle! Here, let me dust that off for you!”)
Juli, wonderful friend that she is, pulled me up, called them lunatics, and got us safely on the other side of the 350 pound man (who, by the way, was LAUGHING AT ME.)
Bananas. But it was still a terrific birthday present.
If you spill the salt into the cupcake batter? They are UNSALVAGEABLE. No matter how much of it you think you might have scooped out. Nobody likes a salty cupcake. Even with Nutella frosting.
But you can totally redeem yourself by making these the following day: Ina Garten Chocolate White Chocolate cookies.
Matt made a face when I said I was baking cookies with white chocolate, but he ate six.
These are the ugliest cookies I’ve ever baked. Most cookies meld together a little as they heat up, but these just sat there and stayed ugly. Lucky for them they were delicious, which is way more important when it comes to baked goods anyway. The salty cupcakes were beautiful, and all but one of those ended up in the garbage. We ate that one with about a tablespoon of frosting on each bite, and only because it was my birthday and you have to have SOME kind of cake, right?
I am a perfect cube this year, for the third time in my life, and it will probably only happen one more time. (Perfect cubes: 13=1, 23=8, 33=27, 43=64… I am such a nerd.) We spent a week in Palm Springs at the beginning of the month for our anniversary, and since we don’t have my income this summer, a low-key birthday was just what I had in mind. I slept in, did a few crafty things around the house, baked, and spent the afternoon reading and lounging by the pool (in a CABANA, by the way, because our new apartment complex is AWESOME.) Matt took care of dinner, and we finished off the evening by watching the most quotable movie ever: When Harry Met Sally. Seriously, we quote that ADORABLE Asian man all the time: “I think, if I don’t like the way she look, I don’t marry her. But she looks really nice to me, so I say, OKAY.” In fact, all the old couples talking about how they fell in love are adorable, and if you’ve never seen it, GO watch this clip: When Harry Met Sally – Love Stories right now. So great. Also, the whole pecan pie scene is just proof that Billy Crystal is a really talented guy. I forgot how much I love that movie, and how much I love watching it with Matt, until last night.
Also, this quote? Sums up why we got married at 21.
I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
And now I’m going to go snuggle my cute husband. Happy birthday to me!
Or trying to, at least. We just moved to a new apartment complex, in a new area of southern California. I’m not teaching for another month, so I have lots of time on my hands for crafty things.
Mmmm, chocolate chip...
The packaging is my adaptation of this idea, from Flights of Fancy. If you got this on your doorstep, would you come say hi?
I only gave these to our three closest neighbors (there are hundreds of units in this complex!) No response from them yet, but we have met a lot of really nice people out by the pool. I already have a regular invitation to a cardio kickboxing class from a new friend. It’s a very friendly, very young community – I think we’re going to like living here a lot.
P.S. My brain automatically said we were from Burbank, because that’s where I taught last. Not actually where we lived though, but I didn’t realize it till I’d already given out the cookies. Funny!
The Best
Pi Day!!! (March 14th… 3.14, which fell on a weekend, so my class celebrated on the 13th.)
Yeah… it was over a week ago. But seriously? How can any math teacher NOT celebrate Pi Day? One day out of your curriculum to combat math’s reputation as the most boring subject in school! (I made cookies of the first 30 digits of pi, my students brought in round food, and we did this: http://www.wikihow.com/Calculate-Pi-by-Throwing-Frozen-Hot-Dogs, only with pencils, because 8th graders and hot dogs? Would lead to some seriously inappropriate behavior. I’m just sayin’.)
Plus, if you’re both a math nerd AND a word nerd? It’s the punniest day of the year.
We were Pi-rates. The top of the hat says A=pi(Arrrr)squared, and C=2pi(Arrrr). I gave my Geometers extra credit for taking pictures of themselves wearing these hats in public on Saturday. They totally did it.
The Worst
My Pi Day celebration coincided with Pink Friday, which explains my shirt (I know, the pronunciation is a stretch). 128 teachers in my district got RIF notices (a.k.a. preliminary, nothing-is-final-till-May pink slips.) That number doesn’t include me, because I am temporary, covering for someone who may never actually return from maternity leave. This puts me even lower on the magical totem pole of seniority than those teachers who received pink slips.
It’s sort of a strange situation to be in. The entire time I was working on my credential, I kept hearing about how in-demand good math teachers are, and how I would never have to worry about finding a job. And that’s true… mostly. There are still jobs out there, and I’m not worried about being employed, somewhere, next year. But I thought my credential would keep me safe(r) from budget-related layoffs than other teachers. Not the case – one way they’re looking at cutting costs is by eliminating the 20-1 ratio in 9th grade math and English. That means our high schools will need fewer math teachers. Since they can teach what I teach, they’ll be offered my job before they’re laid off. While I understand the seniority thing, it makes me sad. I want to stay in my district. I want this year’s 8th graders to know where to find me next year. I want to work with the amazing teachers and administration I’ve gotten to know and rely on. I have had the best circumstances I could imagine for my first year of teaching, and I just want to stay put. Grump.
It’s worse for a lot of other people. Layoffs in elementary schools are likely to be much more widespread than in secondary schools. Pink slips for multiple-subject credentials went back to 2001 in our district. Those jobs will likely be harder to find. And I don’t have a mortgage, or children to worry about.
So… it was a hard day. But a good day. I was about to say “I believe strongly in making the best out of bad situations,” but really, who doesn’t believe in that? More specifically, I believe in making crappy days better by eating cookies and playing dress-up with 8th graders. Try it sometime, it totally works.
My first snowboarding experience last year was… not so good. I had a very nice friend who attempted to teach me, but first – I am not a quick learner when it comes to sports. (Matt STILL makes fun of my attempt to learn to play tennis. I could swing with beautiful graceful form, OR I could hit the ball.) And second, although my friend was very nice and patient, he was not a snowboarding instructor. After that day, I vowed to be a skier for the rest of my life, because lying in snow for 10 minutes contemplating exactly how much energy it will require to get up when I know I’m just going to fall back down again? Is not my idea of a good time.
But.
Because we’re both tired of being so out of shape, when we joined a gym in February we also bought personal training sessions for both of us. And our trainer? Is awesome. He’s really really good at motivating me to do things I would never do on my own (like squats! And pull ups! And mountain climbers!) He’s also funny and laid-back and generally a really cool guy. And… he’s a snowboarding instructor. So when he invited us to go up to Big Bear with him and his girlfriend for a day of free lessons, I just couldn’t say no.
I am generally an optimist. But I was also freaked out and had convinced myself that snowboarding again was a bad idea. This is me trying to be funny about the intense anxiety I was feeling.
We had a great time. I became almost proficient at riding slowly back and forth on my heel edge, and that is enough to at least get you down a run without eating snow every 10 seconds. I also learned how to get up facing uphill, and then turn around without falling down (mostly), which meant no lying in the snow! (We’ll ignore the part where I caught my tail edge and had the wind knocked out of me, because I turned into a big frustrated baby for about 10 minutes before I chilled the heck out.) A huge improvement over last time, and enough to make me think I might actually try this again. Next year.
1. Having a seat to myself on the bus down to the harbor.
2. Polite students offering to carry my stuff. (I didn’t let them, but it was awfully nice. They’re good kids.)
3. Not having to do any push-ups; one “sailor” did 125. The looks on their faces were priceless. “But… I’m a GOOD kid. I’m never in trouble!”
4. Having the key to the on-shore bathroom.
5. Coffee on night watch. It smelled like an ashtray, but at least I had something warm to hold. And wave in front of my jealous students.
6. Allowing students who are supposed to be on night watch to have a very quiet dance-off, accompanied by music from the club a block away.
7. First choice of bunks.
8. “Shhhh, you guys! Mrs. J is trying to sleep!” Like I said, they’re good kids.
9. Orange juice, cheese danish and yogurt for breakfast. The kids had plain oatmeal.
10. Neither heaving nor ho-ing.
11. No rope burns.
12. Below-deck privileges, and using them to grab extra layers for freezing students.
13. Keeping my feet dry. The students scrubbing the deck at 7am were not so fortunate.
14. Upon return to civilization, having car keys and the ability to use them to drive myself home.
Overnight field trips? Are awesome. Especially when you’re the teacher. The one downside: they hoisted me up the mast, and wouldn’t let me down until I promised them a party for pi day. (Which I was planning anyway, but now it’s supposed to include ACTUAL pie. And pizza, and ice cream. We’ll see.)
“I’d be like the Little Mermaid, only, like, a dude.”
- J.C., in response to a question about whether living ten feet above water would be the same as living 10 feet below. (My students, they pretend negatives don’t exist. All the time.)
Last night, we celebrated Matt’s birthday with a bunch of friends at a local Scottish pub – good food, good drinks, omwamazing dessert, and an unexpectedly fun Celtic band called the Ploughboys. Not the kind of place that I would typically choose, (because I am no fun at all and mostly like fancypants restaurants) but I couldn’t be happier that he picked it for his birthday. After a drink or two, I was clapping along to Nancy Whiskey and cheering “Sláinte!” with the best of them.
1) We need to buy a real camera. 2) Ignore us and look at those warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies instead. That was my second dessert.
Today, Matt broke out in hives. I told him he is allergic to alcohol, or possibly to good food and fun. He has been eating perfectly, drinking rarely, and going to the gym 6 times a week for almost a month now, and I think the one night of beer and multiple desserts may have done him in. I would say it’s because he’s OLD now… but he’s younger than I am. Still. What’s the deal with that?
When we got up this morning, our plans were: breakfast out at our favorite place in Pasadena, gym, then home to relax (him) and grade papers (me).
Instead, we drove to the snow.
Our lame little snowman. Snow is COLD without gloves!
It started with a dead battery in my car – I think the liftgate may have been ajar for several days. We got a jump, and couldn’t just drive to Pasadena anymore because we had to allow the battery to recharge. We were headed east with no destination in mind when Matt noticed the snow on the mountains. My big handsome husband turns about 6 years old at the sight of snow. This is the part where I give myself a big round of applause for my newfound spontanuity. (Yes, I know that’s not a word, click the link!)
Matt: We should go to the snow. (Pause.) Really, you want to go?
Me, 3 years ago: But… we aren’t dressed for it, and the car is low on gas, and I have PLANS and THINGS TO GET DONE and it will ruin my ugly ugly shoes. And what if the battery dies on the mountain and then we are STUCK without cell phone service. And also I haven’t showered because we were only going to the gym and I am still wearing last night’s eye makeup so NO GOING OUT IN PUBLIC.
Me, today: Uh, YEAH. Where’s the closest snow and how do we get there?
Luckily my grody old running shoes were in the car, saving the uglies from certain death. I am not wearing socks in this picture - gross.
There’s a lot that I dislike about southern California, but days like this make it hard to move away. Turns out the closest snow is about as far from home as the closest beach, which is to say 45 minutes or so. We got out and played, made a snowman, put some snow on the car just for looks, and drove back home. My cute husband said this might just be the best birthday weekend he’s ever had, and also that I am the best wife ever, and now he is napping next to me and we are getting nothing done and it might just be the nicest way to spend a Saturday that I’ve ever experienced.
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