She's a Brick...House!

Ok, maybe not brick, but she's a house and she's mine!

Again, maybe not mine, but, I have a house to live in! With a front door and walls that don't touch any neighbor's walls, and a yard (full of dead leaves) and a huge garage (what what) and a basement with a (drumroll it, bizzo) washer and dryer.

That's right. Washer AND dryer. I'm a little excited. Bridge and I will be officially moved into our new place, well, soon. The kitchen is done--and gorgeous! New oak cabinets, big bright windows, my spice rack already looks kick-ass on the smooth counters. New carpet will be installed in the bedrooms this weekend (berber--so trusty) and then a new shower/tub surround and we are good to go.

I want to paint! I'm thinking one accent wall in each room. A rich brown in the living room (offset by pale turqouise curtains, do you love it?). Maybe a sage-y green in the kitchen. We'll see. I'm getting a little ahead of myself, seeing as how all of our stuff came out of the U-haul and was thrown into the living room. We've got some work to do.

But good work! HOUSEwork!

I'm going to rake this weekend and clean out the shrubbery lining the driveway to my new (slick Rick) 3 stall garage.

I feel so domestic! And I like it!

Good Lord, I'm getting old.

Ahhh! Why?

OK, so here is something I am NOT a fan of.

Naked males.

Allow me to explain (aside from perhaps obvious reasons). I like to check out blogs. All sorts of 'em. So, when I am just bumming around, I usually just hit the "Next Blog" button. Most of the time, I get to check out some pretty cool stuff. Or, I'll come across blogs written in Russian and have to move quietly on. Once in awhile, I land on a bible-thumper's holy musings. Just now, however, not so much.

I just got directed to a page dedicated to the naked male body, which isn't sooo bad, I guess, but it's a bit more problematic seeing as how I am on campus right now, and now the IT guys will think I'm a yucky perv. So, I am now just waiting to get called into the Dean's office for looking at pornographic materials while at work. There will be a huge scandal and I'll be in the student newspaper as some skeezy old lady who likes to look at naked blond boys. Stupid blogger. See if I look for random blogs anymore.

This is just fantastic.

Another Sunday Night ...

I have one and half more midterm portfolios to grade for the night. 12 down, 3 gazillion to go.

I'm procrastinating. Can you tell?

Sundays at the Cherry Street Grille in lovely Vermillion are delicious. The daily special is All You Can Eat tater tot hotdish. Does it get any better than that? Not so much. While I have yet to partake in this wonder, I can't hardly wait. Mmm ...

I was watching Bill O'Reilly the other night (his show is like the mangled metal of a car wreck; I can't look away) and it was a best-of clips show. I watched as O'Reilly went toe-to-toe with Spike Lee about racial profiling and then threatened to kick Phil Donahue's ass. This man is as about as ridiculous as they come.

I love Downy Wrinkle Release.

Is CSI on around the clock? I am beginning to think so.

Big, crunchy leaves fell from the trees today and were skimming off my windshield as if some kid tore off all his paper bag book covers and tossed them to the wind.

I played some ball today at the park. Love it. I ain't as quick as I used to be, therefore, I need to hit the gym ASAP.

Those last few essays are on the kitchen table, calling my name. On the bright side, my white button-down has been doused in Wrinkle Release and is ready to go for tomorrow. On the not-so-bright side, my tummy is not filled with tater tot hotdish.

Which probably isn't such a bad thing.

My Students ...

My students made me happy today.

They're funny kids. They are clever and talkative and even if they don't give a damn about English or writing a research paper, they still show up. They may want to be anywhere else, but they are here, with me. And showing up is half the battle.

Thank you, sections 525 and 485, for showing up today. You make me proud and you make me feel like we're not just strangers spending three hours a week together.

A good teaching day. Except, for some odd reason, I had two guys in two different sections insist the moon landing did not happen and want to use this as their topic for their research paper. What is the deal with that?

Crazy kids these days.

Some Things I Feel Silly About

1. Unbuttoning my suit jacket to the song, "Loosen Up My Buttons, Baby" and doing a car dance for a certain lucky lady.

2. Drinking burnt vodka cranberries in between drinking plastic cups of Bud Light.

3. Riding bike with no hands (something every 10 yr old has mastered), wobbling a whole bunch, then grabbing the handlebars again in a desperate attempt to not biff it. Time spent riding bike with no hands: 0.03 seconds.

4. Bringing up the death of Anna Nicole Smith's son in class. We were supposed to be talking about writing research papers.

5. Two-stepping with and spinning former professor around on dance floor while while trying to appear suave, not drunk. However, was exceedingly drunk.

6. Leaving all my winter clothes two states away and it snowing the tiniest bit in SD today.

7. Singing the Georgia Satellites brilliant, "Keep Your Hands to Yourself" during karaoke to the over-fifty crowd at the Eagles.

8. Paying fifty dollars to see Kenny Rogers in concert. Who am I kidding? I'd do it again, bizzo.

9. Driving a 2000 Ford Focus with a cracked windshield while rockin' it to Reba McEntire's "Fancy." Have I mentioned I'm white?

Beat Kids!

OK, the title of the post this evening comes from this weirdo TV show called "Wonder Showzen" and they have this sketch where kids are on-the-street reporters. They call it "Beat Kids!" It's a horrific title, obviously, but it's pretty damn funny.

That aside, I love kids. I love making them laugh and playing some intense four square and showing them how to do a layup. I love their spontaneity and their imaginations and even their tempers and indignation. I love their clunky jokes and the feeling of strong little arms wrapped around my neck. When I ran an after school program, evidence of kids enveloped me: K'nex pieces in my pockets, play dough under my fingernails, the faint smell of Raisin Bran in my hair. I've spent most of my life around them, whether they be family or kids I am being paid to take care of. I know children are a ton of work and expensive and that they are demanding and clever and I, in no way, am ready to have them right now, but I want them. I want a little boy, especially. I want to dress him in train conductor overalls and little board shorts and tiny onesies that say things like "I drool."

Everything is more fun with kids: the zoo, the park, the library, water slides, waiting rooms, grocery stores, the Footloose soundtrack. My friend Kelsey and I were talking the other day and she expressed this sentiment. I totally agree. If I had a kid to take around, I could go trick-or-treating and candy catching at parades, for example, and nobody would raise an eyebrow.

Tonight, Bridget and I were invited to dinner at her former professor's (now Dean) house. The Dean has a lovely home and a funny husband and two awesome kids that I got to meet for the first time. Within a half hour, I had both kids playing "slap" with me and thumb-warring and laughing and squirming. It felt so nice to be around that playfulness again.

I miss my little cousins. I miss Bridget's niece and nephew. I miss my after school kids. My sister got married a few months ago, so the possibility of me becoming an aunt is perhaps on the horizon. Maybe in a few years, I'll have someone of my own. We'll see. I could also coach 5th-grade girls basketball or something. You know, just test the waters.

Somehow, though, I don't think that will be enough.

Lock It Up.

The past three days have sorta sucked. OK, they've really sucked. I've got this annoying cold that I can't shake. And it's been, like, 80 degrees here in Vermillion. 80 degrees. In October. In South Dakota.

I'm a little concerned.

Oh, and also, I suck at teaching. I've been doing OK so far, keeping my head above water while I'm doggy-paddling my ass off, but Monday, things just came to a head. A hot, sweaty, lazy,bored, huge head. My students and I have been trudging through quizzes and essays and reflective writings and all that, but on Monday, I just didn't know what to do. I am having trouble with my noon class. My 2:00 class is fun and talkative and awesome (and my favorite, except one day, I lost control of them over a heated discussion of that documentary "Grizzly Man), but that dang noon class!

They just stare. At the floor. At the wall. At the clock. At anything but me. And that's OK. I get it. I know they're freshmen and it's nice outside and they'd rather be anywhere but here, but I'm getting a little frustrated. I need to work harder with this class. I need to bring in essays and articles and classic pieces that hopefully, will interest them. I'm throwing some William Carlos Williams at them on Friday. If that doesn't spark their interest, I don't know what will.

I bet grabbing them by the shoulders and shaking them would get their attention. Threatening to beat them with their own shoes may as well.

Or maybe, just maybe, treating them like adults and expecting them to get their too cool for school selves in gear. No, they're not bad kids. They have promise. And tons of potential. I better let them know that.

Lock it up.