4 things, maybe 5

1. I have more grading to do within the next week than is humanly possible. At the end of each grading period I do question my decision to become an English teacher.

2. My students get a *5 day weekend. I get a measly 3 day one. Nothing like knowing someone gets more time off than you do to turn a 3 day weekend to crap.

3. Today's Catalog Living made me laugh out loud. Alone. In my classroom. When I should have been grading papers.

4.I have to come up with an effective plan to avoid trick-or-treaters this Halloween. Sunday evening will undoubtedly find me hiding under my bed with a flashlight.

5. If I didn't have an appointment after school I'd be home and in bed by 2:30 p.m. Sadly, I do have an appointment after school today.

* Friday we're celebrating "Nevada Day" and have no school. For further information on Nevada day go here, or here. Monday and Tuesday are "Professional Development Days". This means the kids get them off, but I DON'T!!!

Home Sweet Home....Vol. 1

Hey everyone! I am now officially living in my new house!! I'm more tired than I can remember being, but so happy. A lot of you told me that decorating my very own house would feel different, and I believed you, but I didn't know just how satisfying it could be to do whatever I want (within budget, of course)!

So, with no further ado, I thought I'd share a few pictures:



This is the house, with my favorite accesory: a HUGE dead tree. Nothing says welcome home like a dead tree. I'll take care of it....as soon as I can afford it.

I've been busy in the past two weeks, and I have these bruises to prove it:



First of all, I painted nearly the entire house. The only rooms that I haven't attacked with a paintbrush are my office, the garage, the laundry room and the guest bathroom. I'm not touching any of them except the bathroom in the near future. I'm thinking a pretty light green. Soooooooo my house has gone from being this color:



to this color:



I know in the picture it doesn't look a lot different, but trust me. It is. I love this color. It's called pale gold and in some light it looks yellow and in others it's kinda tan. I love love love it. It's pretty.


Since I only designed my Tiffany inspired bedroom last year, I wasn't ready to let that color go. However, I went with a tiny bit less bright blue, and I changed my window coverings:




As you can see I haven't finished, and I don't have anything hanging on the wall yet. These things take time.

I'm especially proud of what I've done in the walk in closet. I took it from three walls of this:



to two walls of that and one wall of this:


*cue angels singing. Am I right ladies?

That's right. I ripped out a shelf and hanging rod with my two bare hands, a rubber mallet, and a hammer and then hung all of those lovely shelves. BY MYSELF!!!

I've also changed the lock on this door:




and this door:




and one other one that I forgot to take a picture of.

Again, BY MYSELF!!!!



So, that's all for now. I'm tired and the other rooms are still too messy to take pictures of.

*******Addendum********

After I broke down and cried on the phone to my mom after my first full day of working on the house, she and my darling dad came and spent two days working on the house with me. I don't know what I would have done without them. Seriously. My dad fixed my kitchen faucet, my toilets, hung blinds, etc. My mom ripped out REALLLLLLLLLY ugly shelves in the entertainment center niche in my family room. The entire thing was painted black. She requested a picture of the after. I wish I had a photo of the before so that you could see the difference, but trust me, it looks worlds better.

Here it is now:

A dream is a wish your heart makes??

If Walt Disney is to be believed, I think I'm in trouble.

You see, Wednesday night I dreamed that I made out with this guy:




Tony Dovolani, from Dancing with the Stars. This is confusing to me, as I've never found him particularly attractive during my waking hours. But, he came walking right into my dream shirtless, and for some reason, soaking wet. Anyway, we kissed and kissed and kissed, and then for some reason I walked away and met this guy:



Maksim Chmerkovskiy also from Dancing With the Stars. Again, while Maks is a super hottie, I can't say that I'm particularly attracted to him. Anyway, I then immediately started making out with Maks and then Tony caught us and there were distraught tears and pleading (from the guys. I don't beg.).

I woke up and wondered to myself, "Why these two guys?" I mean, I'm totally in fake love with my boyfriend Toby



and I've never made out with him in a dream. Or any of these guys:






These guys, I'd understand. But PROFESSIONAL BALL ROOM DANCERS? What's wrong with me? Again. Don't answer. Because if Disney's right, I'm a cheeZy slut.

The *Poopy Clause

First of all, I'd like to say that I try not to swear on a day to day basis. I do pretty well with this (unless I'm hanging out with Jill on a regular basis. I'm not blaming Jill, we're bad influences on each other.)for the most part, but occasionally I slip.

I don't think that it's ok to use profanity when the mood hits, and I really try to find other ways of expressing myself.

There are, however, times when the only way to truly express your feelings is to use one particular profane word, and in those situations, no other word will do.

So, I'd like to codeify what I'm calling The *Poopy Clause. This clause states that you can say *poopy without any guilt feelings or judgy comments from the non-potty mouths.

Here are the types of conditions under which The Poopy Clause could be enacted:

1. You wake up at the time when you are supposed to be at work. You must run around your house throwing on clothes and trying to accomplish some semblance of your normal appearance and then attempt to break all land speed records in an attempt to make it to work as soon as possible.

2. You realize that you have forgotten a job interview/meeting/class/birthday party/family gathering that you HAVE to attend. The meeting is in 10 minutes and you are 20 minutes away.

3. You respond to an email from a co-worker/friend/partner in crime about a third co-worker/idiot/hell hound. After sending your response in which you refer to said third party as a friend of Dorothy/disco dancing drag queen you realize you sent the email to said disco dancing hell hound rather than your friend. Upon closer inspection you realize said d.d.h.h. has opened and read the email, thus embroiling not only yourself, but also your friend in scandal.

According to The *Poopy Clause you would have the right to repeat the word *poopy in tones ranging from the under-the-breath mutter to the outright scream of terror as many times as you'd like with no judging by yourself or others.

Whattaya think?

I'm sold on the idea, and I enacted the clause this morning at 6:40.

(incidentally, if Austen could vocalize actual words he'd have enacted the clause at approximately 6:45 a.m.)

*Oh, come on, we all know I don't say poopy. I can't write what I really say, my nieces and nephews read this blog. Plus, I'm G rated.

Hello Darkness my old friend...

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky -
I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Sleepless...
~William Wordsworth, "To Sleep"



This past Saturday I stayed up until after midnight completing my Master's Culminating Experience Portfolio. This is the project that replaces a traditional thesis, and required me to compile examples of papers, tests, lesson plans, reflections, etc. that I had completed as apart of my coursework or as a result of my coursework and then reflect in writing about each artifact. The entire portfolio fills a 3" three ring binder, and if I do say so myself, turned out quite nicely.

Anyway, after finishing this vast undertaking I was EXHAUSTED and headed to bed thinking, "Thank goodness tomorrow is Stake Conference and I can sleep an extra hour." HA!

Instead I tossed and turned, first too hot, then too cold, then my bed was too soft, then it was too hard, and this Goldilocks didn't ever find "Just Right". I took a bendryl at 2:30am and it made me even more tired and dopey, yet I still didn't sleep. At 3:30 I finally felt the beginnings of real sleep and the last time I saw on the clock before sleep took me was 3:50. I woke up at 8 am to the sounds of Austen and my brother's two dogs (I was babysitting. More on that later) crying to go outside and pee. We did so with them pulling my arms nearly out of the sockets and with me in a benadryl haze. We came back in and I fed them and went back to bed until 9 am when I got up and got ready for church.

I considered going back to bed and skipping Stake conference, but am so glad I didn't. It was the best meeting (other than General conference) I've attended in a long time and I was really touched and motivated to make some changes in my life.

When I came home I was determined to take a good long nap, but when I lay down in bed I just couldn't sleep. I was exhausted, my entire body ached from fatigue (where does insomnia hurt? EVERYWHERE.) and yet I couldn't sleep.

My sister Christy (who is one of those disgusting people who falls asleep the minute her head hits the pillow and doesn't wake up three to four times a night having to pee) called and I told her how I only got 4 hours the night before and couldn't even manage to take a nap. Because she's never had a problem sleeping she's always incredulous to hear that I can't, even though I'm so tired I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hibernate for several months. She asked me a few questions about it and then concluded, "Something's wrong with you."

Finally. Someone other than myself had the nerve to tell me what I've known for a long time. There IS something wrong with me. Maybe some THING (singular) isn't the issue. Maybe it's more like MANY THINGS are wrong with me. What do you think? Never mind. Don't answer that question. I don't want to know.


Oh, and then there's this:



I may never sleep again. Or eat yogurt. Wouldn't want to risk it.

Draggin'

I'm tired today. Bone deep, world weary, yawning in the middle of teaching, tired. I know that this isn't news to anyone who has had to listen to me whine for the past two year. Teaching full time + UNLV Masters program = tired, cranky me. However, today, I have NOT brought the exhaustion on myself. I mean it!

I had my class last night, and then remembered that I needed to go to Costco to get batteries for my AVID class (all of our TI-84 calculator batteries are shot) and then it was too late to make dinner, so I had to get that, and then I remembered I was out of plastic forks in my classroom... Anyway, long story short, I didn't get home until 8:00 pm. Usually this means that I don't get to bed at a decent hour, but a combination of nothing on television and exhaustion had me in bed by 9:30 (on a side note, Austen is so sick of being locked up that he's going to declare war on me any moment. I feel it coming.).

I fell asleep by 10:00, a shocking development in this insomniac's life. Then at 1:30 am I was awoken by the horrible sound of a car's engine revving, tires squealing, and brakes screaming followed by the unmistakable thud of impact.

Then, wide awake, I was treated to a string of profanity, from whom I can only assume was the driver, that could have landed him in the Guinness Book of World Records.

When I peeked out my window I couldn't see the accident, but I could see my super KLASSY (yes, with a K) neighbor, who is 17 at most, running down the street in a pair of shorty shorts, a tank top, and NO SHOES while screaming profanities at the person involved in the accident. Then, her even Klassier mother came out of the house and proceded to inform the driver that she was going to call the F*&#*ing cops! I know that she was serious because she repeated that phrase approximately 467,000 times.

The thing is, this isn't the first time I've been woken up by the gunning of engines or the screaming of brakes. In fact, it's not even the first time this week. I think that we've got some super Klassy drag racing going on in the middle of the night. At least that's what I have surmissed based on the sounds I'm hearing.

I think they see themselves like this:




When, from the sound of the engine it's probably a little more like this:



The thing is, it always takes place between 11:30 pm and 2:00 am, and ALWAYS involves The Klassy Family teenagers. Always. My question is, why are they up draggin' down my road instead of in bed?

I think someone (perhaps a parent?) needs to be draggin' some Klassy teenage hiney back into the house for some beatings and bed time.

Hmmmph!

This is how I feel today:

(found via CNN.)

Daylight Savings Time Out

I hate daylight savings time and it's set-your-clocks-ahead-one-hour-and-screw-up-your-internal-clock nonsense. I mean really. What is the point exactly? Does this really save us energy and money? And, if it does, in fact save us money (which I doubt) doesn't the hassle negate that? I know that Arizona is kinda crazy and all, but I'm with them on this one. Humph!!

Did someone slip me a mickey?

Hey all. I'm tired. Yep. That's all I have to say. I'm tired, and although I didn't exactly go to bed early last night, I can't quite figure out why I feel like I took a benadryl instead of my vitamin this morning. I think I'll blame it on my mom, dad, and sister who are in town visiting. Yes. That's it. This is all THEIR fault. I'll remember that when I'm at class tonight falling asleep during my presentation. Humph! Family!