There is something wrong with the way my mind works.

Why? you ask.   What's that?  You didn't ask?  Don't care.  I'mma tell you anyway.

I was sitting in class the other night, while some classmates were presenting a presentation.  My mind was wandering.  That makes me sound like a bad student, but I'm not.  I had this sudden flash of, "What would happen to me if I had some kind of accident and my left hand got chopped off?" (I'm extremely left-handed.  As in, my right hand holds the scissors, but that's as productive as it gets.  Some days I wonder if it's even qualified to shift my car out of "park."  Maybe I should move to England.  No, then it's primary resposibility would be flipping the bird at offending drivers. It might screw that up.  Then I would look really dumb.) Anyway.  I thought it might be a good idea to learn to write with my right hand, just in case I lose the left.  It wasn't working.  My right hand has the motor skills of a 3 year old.  No exaggeration.  If I wasn't sitting in the middle of class, I might have investigated the handwriting potential of my feet.  I might do that later. 

So I told my bestie about this thought that I had, and sent a picture of my efforts at being a right-handed woman.  Her response?  "You'be been spending too much time with 6th graders."

It has come to this.  She's completely right.  That is something I would have texted her after a group.  "This one kid was writing with his opposite hand because his good hand might get lopped off someday!"

I'm cutting myself some slack.  I had some medical dog drama.  I've told the story too many times already and I don't want to re-live the event again.  Just let it be said that at some point in his 11 or so years on this earth, the little guy ate a sewing needle, with a length of thread attached.  The doctor performed a miracle and he is home and very upset that I need to give him meds 5 times a day.  It was an intensely emotional week, full of fear, despair that I would lose my guy, astonishment, relief, happiness when we were reunited, aggravation when he decided to be allergic to a medication, near hallucinations due to sleep deprivation, and worry.  He is on the road to recovery and I watch him like a hawk, because if he ate a damn needle, who knows what other freak things he's been snacking on.

I'm owning that fact that I sometimes think like a 12 year old.  I deserve it.  It sucks to be an adult all the time.  This week is proof.

"Plaid is a really boring color."

???

"You know...the color plaid?  Its a boring color.  I like red."

Oh, these 12 year old boy groups.  I can only hope that they are learning as much from me as I am from them.  Definately need to move to Canada before these little people are old enough to run this country.

What else have I learned?  Grad school is no fun.  Professors who feel like it is their life mission to assign tremendous amounts of "busy work" for no reason are no fun.  I wonder how you get to the point in your career when you plan to kill your students for your own personal amusement.  I dreamed about this class last night.  I dreamed that he unfairly accused me of producing mediocre work, and I flipped shit on him.  I also dreamed that he accused me of being an alcoholic.  What a joke...as if I had time to drink!  I woke up stressed. 

And here I am, complaining, instead of writing a paper.  Think that might be contributing to the stress?  I have reached the point where I don't even look forward to a day off from work, because I know it will be filled with school work. Time off?  What is that???

If you know, please fill me in!

Taste of Summer

Yesterday, I had one of those delicious moments where it semed like summer really was just around the corner.  Finally.  Its been a crazy long winter here on the East Coast.  It's been winter since 2005.  Nary a ray of sunshine or day over 40 degrees in years.

But yesterday...ah, yesterday...

Finished a full day of being stuck inside, in a room without windows, with the knowledge that it was 8-stinkin-5 degrees out!  85!  Holy crap!  FYI.  Middle schoolers start to smell at around 75 degrees. 

Walked outside, no jacket.  Kid client waiting outside the school for his ride, waves at me, looks so happy to be free.  I miss how that feels.  I get reminded every summer when I'm done for the school year, but its just a taste of how that felt at 12 years old. 

Hop in my car, its so hot, but I don't even care! Turn the ignition and Jack Johnson starts blaring out of my speakers.  Windows down, and I'm rolling to get an iced coffee before night class.

In 3 months, I'll be bitching about all of this.  The hotness of the car.  The fact that the second it turns warm, the local radio stations become unable to play anything BUT Jack Johnson and Bob Marley.  Bugs flying in my open windows.  Ice in the coffee melts before I get where I'm going. 

But for now, I'll take it.

Or, rather...I took it.  Today, a mere 24 hours later, it is cold as balls and rainy.  And I've been bitching about that all day.

Things I did when I could have been ______________________.

Word Bank:
Sleeping
Cleaning
Eating
Watching TV
Cleaning something else
Doing laundry

These used to be perfectly nice candles from Bath and Body Works.  But I just can't leave things alone, so I made them vaguely disturbing.
I did not come up with this idea on my own, it was stolen, like all good research is stolen.  I will cite my references, like all good research, so I can say "I made this but not on my own.  But you can't sue me because I made a citation."

http://www.epbot.com/2011/02/candle-sticks.html

Her's look less deadly.

What a long, strange week its been...

So this week saw me through a massive cold/bronchitis/respiratory hell, class presentation, clients with ants in their backpacks, clients who sneeze all over themselves, clients who were as sick as I was and were in no mood to deal with me, a neighbor who randomly installed a storm door while I was at work, seeds and bulbs planted, and dogs who just wanted to play outside.  All.  The.  Time.  Its been exhausting.

I am now hiding in my bedroom as my husband and his father install siding on the side of my house, and try not to murder each other. 

Tomorrow's looking like a good day to clean and maybe work on a craft project or two.

When did I become so boring?

First!

Powered by a nasty cold.  Possibly incapable of making wise choices. 

Wondering if it is possible to actually hack one's lung out.  This might happen.

Also, it is raining like a motherfather out there.