I've Moved!

I've moved over to a site on Wordpress. Don't know if it's better...just know it's different. Anyway, come visit me there! http://www.twiceasgood.wordpress.com. See you soon!

Why my lungs hate me

I actually don't know why. I don't know if it's the heat, or if it's the fact that I breathed in grass and air and dirt and dust all weekend, or if it's just because my lungs think it's funny. Either way, I can't breathe for all the coughing and my doctor thought it would be great fun to go on vacation this week. So I'm taking Mucinex, which doesn't work, but does make your pee stink, in case you wanted to know. BLECH. I hate feeling like crap. Plus I've slept at least 12 hours every night since Thursday and I still feel like I could sleep until next Friday, skipping most meals and everything in between.

And now that I've brought you down a few notches from whatever sunny, optimistic place you were in, I'll tell you that misery loves company. Welcome! I watched Regis and Kelly this morning, and I have to say that Mario Lopez, who guest-hosted since Regis is probably off at the Fountain of Youth getting his weekly tonic, is cute to look at but HORRIBLE to listen to. His voice got all high lately. When he was AC Slater on Saved by the Bell, I really don't remember his voice being so high, nor do I remember him being so girly. But today, he giggled. Ew. What a turnoff. On the other hand, I also watched Rachael Ray and am more in love with Mariska Hargitay that I already was. (If you're completely ignorant and live in a hole and don't watch Law & Order: SVU, she's the lady cop on there. She's fab.) Not only does she have great hair, she's also really funny. And she's best friends with Hilary Swank, who took her to Paris for her birthday.

I'm going back to bed now, where it's snuggly and comfy and where nobody cares if I cough all over everything. Enjoy your day...wherever you're spending it. I'll post an update later on Guiding Light, or Ellen, or Oprah or whatever it is I decide to watch after my nap.

It's an interesting idea...

Yes, Molly. We did offer ourselves up as human rotisserie chickens on Friday night. It lasted approximately an hour. We never saw the bride and groom (who were presumably inside the museum comfortably resting in the A/C) and we left when our clothes were so drenched that they weighed about 5 lbs. more than they did when we put them on. GOD. It was miserable. Poor girl having to be a bride on a weekend like this.

And so goes the weekend. Today the high is supposed to be 102, though I would venture to guess that it goes higher than that. Yesterday I almost gave myself a heatstroke by watering plants and walking to and from the mailbox - in this kind of heat, I don't think you should do anything except take cold showers and eat inordinate amounts of ice cream. I've done both, by the way.

You know what I haven't done? My table of links project that's due, oh, tomorrow. I'm in the process of teaching myself how to create a table using SeaMonkey, and I have, but it looks like crap and I've lost interest. So what shall I do instead? Blog about it. I put this project off as long as possible... I went to the outlets yesterday and bought shoes. I went to the movies and watched Sex and The City. PS, BEST MOVIE EVER. I cleaned out my closet. I did laundry. I watched shows off the DVR. I even took my Web Design book out to the pool today and splashed around a little. It got wet and is now as wrinkly as my shriveled fingers.

Then I sat down to actually do what it is that I was supposed to do this weekend and found that I'm much better at wasting time than actually using it wisely. I have decided that there should be some kind of award for Best Time Wasters Ever. And then we can waste time by having elaborate awards ceremonies, which we would've planned but were too busy wasting time to do. Genius. I am so much smarter than I give myself credit for sometimes.

There's also someone out there who deserves a little more credit than she gets, but it's not for the same reason. While she shall remain nameless, let's just say that Smarty Susie isn't quite as smart as she thinks she is. She might have a super-high-paying job and a fancy schmancy house in the big city of LA with a big diamond ring on her finger, but Smarty Susie just can't seem to get it together. Past Smarty Susie incidents include calling my husband by the wrong name, introducing me to people I've known all my life and saying not-so-nice things about people while they're listening. Her latest foray into the world of smarts is to write me a thank-you note for a party that I did not give her. Susie and I are relatively the same age, yet the letter starts: "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Baker..."

Well, Smarty Susie, the good news is that once I get around to planning the Best Time Wasters Ever awards, you will be the first recipient, my dear! Because that sweet little note you wrote me was just that - a waste of time. It was a nice thought, though, and I did get a good laugh out of it.

I'm off to table with SeaMonkey now. It sounds like a watersport, but sadly it isn't. I'll blog more tomorrow, I promise. I know you simply can't wait!

My kids

So you know, nauseatingly so, how much I love Heather Armstrong? Well, today I'm stealing a line from her, or actually from her daughter Leta: my kids. Apparently Leta has started calling her friends "my kids," and so Heather has started doing it, and you know if Heather does it, well probably I'll have to do it too. Example: Heather puts a cute dress on Leta, and Leta says something like, "I think my kids at school will like this dress." LOVE IT.

What's up, my kids? I'll tell you what's up. Last night BB and I were watching "In Plain Sight," this new USA show that's along the lines of "The Closer" and "Burn Notice" (read: along the lines of ALL THINGS GOOD), when I saw flashing red lights go by my house. In case you don't know, I live on a street that's way back in a neighborhood where random flashing lights don't happen much. Being the nosy drama hound that I am, I bounded barefoot out the front door and saw that two ambulances had stopped at a house right down the street from me. I'm staring, like I do, and Brian's all, Hey, you shouldn't stare. It's rude. I know it's rude. But it's also rude to be a neighbor of someone who needs an ambulance and not know what happened to them. God.

Anyway, my poor elderly neighbor Ralph had a heart attack. A bad one. His wife fixed hamburgers for supper last night and he thought he had indigestion really bad. She wanted to call 911, he didn't, she did anyway, and it's a good thing, because apparently it was a bad one. I haven't gotten an update this morning, but I've been thinking of them, and I hope Ralph is okay. You should cross your fingers that Ralph is okay too, because it's the nice thing to do.

So then after that, we finished watching TV and we went to bed. Somebody said something smart and we laughed for a while, and then I discovered that while I was dozing, BB disappeared. Apparently this oppressive heat makes me snore more (or that's what I'm blaming it on, anyway) so he went away to the guest room to slumber in peace. I woke up at like 1:52 am (I looked at the clock) choking. This has happened to me plenty of times before, so thankfully I didn't panic quite as much as I normally do. Acid reflux is a bitch, by the way.

Anyway, I went back to sleep after my ritual of prescription-I-should've-taken-this-morning-but-didn't-which-is-why-I'm-up-now + Tums + lots of ice water + some gum. BB wakes me up at 5:15 to tell me that the cats don't like the cat food he bought them. Huh? You are SERIOUSLY going to wake me up pre-dawn to imply that I should get my ass out of bed early and go buy them some tuna that they DO like? Oh, hell to the no. Miraculously, I went back to sleep after that and woke up just before 10am when Carolina Ballet called, probably to sell me some season's tickets to Swan Lake.

So now it's 11:20am, I haven't had breakfast, nor have I thought about showering until just now when I'm typing this, and the only thing I'm looking forward to doing today is NOTHING and going to see Sex & The City with my mom late this afternoon. I'm excited to see the movie, but a little nervous about watching it with JUST my mom. I mean, we've both seen the show (the whole thing, a million times), and we're all grown up and adult now, but there's just something unsettling about knowing that Kim Catrall will likely describe some sex act in detail during this movie - and I'll have to watch it sitting next to my mother.

Then after that we're going to a dance for a kid that's getting married tomorrow. Ordinarily I wouldn't go, but it's at the Ava Gardner Museum tonight at 9pm, and I'm interested to see whether or not the rumor is true that they're going to put a tent and a band out in the courtyard. I just think it'll be cool to dance in 100-degree heat amongst gowns Ava wore in The Night of the Iguana and Mogambo. (Not that I've seen the movies...I've just heard of them.)

Happy Friday, my kids. Some of you I'll see tonight. Others of you I don't know. And perhaps SOME of you I'll see someday when you hop on a plane and surprise me for my 30th birthday. Which is September 15th. HINT HINT.

Hasta!

It's Barack Obama Day

Tonight I was listening to the news, and I heard Charlie Gibson say, "And now Tom Joyner offers his perspective on today's events..." And then I hear Tom Joyner say, "Today is Barack Obama Day. Even if you're out there pumping $80 worth of gas in your Civic, it's still Barack Obama Day."

Tom, I'm gonna have to go ahead and disagree with you there. Yes, it's an historic event. And yes, today is all about Barack Obama (I loved when he told the story of calling his grandmother to give her the news). But Tom, $80 worth of gas in my Civic really has not much to do with Obama, and despite the day's events, I'm pretty sure that unless it's Christmas and Santa left me a money tree, I'm not celebrating anything in light of the $80 in gas. Just so you know.

In other news, Poofy came by with the baby today and he has the most hilarious hair I've ever seen on...anybody. Baby or not. I loved on him for a while and then BB came by to hold him and it was remarkable how much that kid calmed down when Brian had him. He kept looking straight up into his face, he took his little fists and clutched Brian's shirt and he looked so peaceful. And then Brian shot me that look, and I know there's a baby conversation looming somewhere in my future, I'm just not sure when it's going to pop up and surprise me.

Also, a big fat glass cutting board fell on my head tonight. It slid right off the counter and right onto my head (I was leaning down to close a cabinet) and BRIAN WATCHED. He just sat there and watched! Luckily I have a hard head. And in spite of the delicious pork tenderloin he grilled and the yummy new potatoes he roasted, I ignored him during supper. Who just watches a glass square fall on someone's head?! Brian, that's who.

I'm going to watch "The Bachelorette" now. It makes me feel better about myself, and I need to feel better about my baby-less, goose-egg-head self. Even though I don't want babies. And goose eggs are hot.

Raisins, vitiligo and other cruise stories

I'm. So. Sleepy.

Not just sleepy like, woo I need some coffee, but sleepy like I might have fallen asleep in the bathroom a minute ago. The cruise was a million tons of fun, but the exhaustion I'm feeling right now is akin to jet lag, and my flight was only 2 hours! WTF? Also, I'm sitting still, but strangely it feels as though my desk is swaying a little...

So here's a rundown of our days, and I'll try to follow it with some excerpts from my travel journal (do NOT laugh; if you've never done one when you travel, you totally should):

Thursday: Left RDU on time as scheduled, after lunch and a Viva Rita at some pricey airport restaurant. Smooth flight, landed in Miami and discovered that no one speaks English there, nor is there any other weather than 90 degree humidity.

Arrived at Mandarin Oriental after the hottest cab ride known to man, stuck in traffic on 95, and realized that Carrol's friend Liane is actually in charge of VIP relations. She gave us a quick tour of the hotel (include the infinity pool where Jennifer Aniston/John Mayer were caught smooching!) and then showed us to our suite. OMG. It's literally like no other place I've been. Ordinarily the suite runs for about $3000-$4000/night, but we paid $50 each. No lie. It had a bathroom and a half, a huge living room, chocolate sushi and strawberries upon our arrival and the most amazing view of downtown Miami from the 16th floor.

Quick dip in the pool, then off to dinner at Azul, where the restaurant manager sent over courses of hamachi and wild mushroom risotto before our dinner of crusted halibut. Amazing. We were so stuffed from our dinner and drinks that we crashed early. Highlights from that day: passing by the Miami PD, whose facade BB and I know well from watching "The First 48," and flirting with a 50 year-old French man who cooks. What more does a girl need in this world?

Friday: Breakfast at Cafe Sambal at the Mandarin, then on to the Port of Miami, where check-in was a breeze. Thankfully the customs lady appreciated my extra documentation effort when I handed her my birth certificate, marriage certificate, license and passport. Even still, everywhere on board that I used my SeaPass gave me a receipt saying "Margaret Davis." Seriously. It poured rain all day, until we finally got far enough out into the Caribbean. Andrea and I had drinks on the sun deck while the other two napped, and we had dinner and disco dancing that night before crashing around 1am. Our cabin was actually a lot roomier than we thought, which was nice, but the toilet is like an airplane one - if you're not careful, it will suck your bum down with it when you flush. (Aren't you glad I'm sharing all of this? You, too, can be prepared when it comes time for your first cruise.)

Saturday: Our attempts at sleeping in were for naught. We had breakfast, boarded the tender and headed to CocoCay, Royal Caribbean's own private island in the Bahamas. Heather and I rented mats that float and we laid in the ocean on those practically the whole day, laughing as we bumped into non-English-speaking people who didn't understand a) how difficult it was to steer those things and b) "excuse me" in English. Formal night was that night, and after Carrol's 17 outfit changes (by far my favorite part of the night), we had our pictures taken and enjoyed champagne with our dinner mates, Tony and Maria. Highlights of that day: CocoLoco, raisins and the cute little Indian girl who had on more gold jewelry than I own.

Sunday: Nassau. Maybe we didn't go far enough inland, but boy, it wasn't my favorite place. It reminded me a lot of Cancun, in that it had liquor stores next to Cartier next to cheesy tourist shops on streets all through town. Most places were closed since it was Sunday, and we never made it over to Atlantis or Paradise Island, which really didn't bother me much. Last night on the ship! We spent it shopping in the stores onboard, followed by drinks and dinner, then some late-night gambling. I didn't know how much I love slot machines. But I do. A lot.

Monday: In a nutshell, Monday went kind of like this: Get up, wait in line. Eat, wait in line. Play some gin, wait in line. Give Andrea the middle finger when she tells me my tan looks like vitiligo, wait in line. Pay $50 for my 57 lb. suitcase, wait in line. Laugh until I nearly split my side, wait in line. It was the longest travel day EVER, considering how not very far we traveled, but whatev.

Cruising isn't for everyone, I've discovered, but guess who it is for? ME! I loved it and am dying to take BB on one to Alaska. Enjoy the pictures...I'm sure when my brain recovers I'll have funnier stories to tell. Wanna see more pictures? Go here: http://picasaweb.google.com/elizabethbake/Bahamas2008.

Where has the time gone?

Things I didn't realize were happening, but which have happened:

1. Molly Ringwald and Kirk Cameron grew up. Don't ask me why I know this, but ABC Family has a new show coming out about a pregnant teenager (hello, Juno?!) and the mom is Molly Freaking Ringwald. I'm so not kidding. Also, Kirk Cameron has a new book about being the Christian father of 6 kids. (Which is significant, because if he were any other religion and had 6 kids, it wouldn't be? I don't get it.)

2. Someone decided it would be a good idea to recycle Beverly Hills, 90210. Like you can mess with perfection. For those of us that watched and remember, Tori Spelling is coming back as Donna, Jennie Garth as Kelly, and Ian Ziering as Steve. They're going to be the older, grown-up versions of their former characters, with Lori Loughlin and Rob Estes as the parents of the Mid-Western family that moves to BH. Of course, we all remember Lori from "Full House" and I remember Rob from "Silk Stalkings" - which still I wish I had on DVD. Anyway, I love a good flashback and this provided one for me.

3. Ryan Maxey went out and made something of himself. Please do not assume that I am surprised; I am not. I'm merely pointing out the fact that our class clown, our no-good trouble-maker friend, the hilarious guy who, when he was around, had our parents' eagle eyes on him, now lives in San Francisco and runs a poncy restaurant where he is also the sommelier. At EW's wedding, he was uber-friendly and remembered random things about me, like when I moved to Hendersonville and that I went to Sweet Briar because my grandmother went there. Boy I wish I'd kept in touch with him...

4. All the weeks until the cruise passed. One day, we had six weeks left. And then suddenly, we leave tomorrow. I'm not sure I'm ready, though luckily the birth certificate was located. I was born at 2:56 pm; my mom was 26 and my dad 38 years old at the time. Just in case you wanted to know.

5. I got old. My passport picture is from my senior year in college, and now I have wrinkles. I never thought I had wrinkles. I don't notice them in the mirror really, nor do I worry about them particularly. But I compared the passport picture with another picture of me, and oh my god. I got old.

More later...

Name Schmame

Leave it to me to wait until the last minute for important things, such as, oh, a passport. Yesterday afternoon I was going down my list of things I needed to get and do to be ready for our trip on Thursday. Laundry - check. Suitcase - check. Passport - oh crap. It seems that the last time I used my passport was on my honeymoon, and at that point in my life, I was still going by "Davis" as opposed to Bakdavi. (Holla, Higsley!) Lo and behold, I opened up my passport yesterday and there, in blazing black type: Davis, Margaret Elizabeth. Shite. That's not me! I'm Baker, Elizabeth Davis. Crap crap crap.

Cross your fingers with me, right now, that my birth certificate is sitting in my parents' lockbox down at First Citizens and can be retrieved after Memorial Day. Be ye not so stupid - change your names everywhere when you get hitched. You'll regret it if you don't. In the wise words of my mother, "Oh honey, just take your birth certificate, your passport, your driver's license and your marriage certificate - surely they'll just realize that you got married but that you are who you say you are." Uh huh.

So Friday night was a blast. Higsley talked me into going out (as in, out out) with her to meet Beth and Andy at White Collar Crime. My first trip to White Collar Crime was a little, well, trippy. Beth had a "Death to Beth's 20's" birthday party in February, and everyone followed directions to the letter - I thought I'd landed either in purgatory or some Goth version of a scary 30th birthday party. Turns out, as Higsley noted, that it's not so much that White Collar Crime is Goth, just that it happened to be that way for Beth's birthday. White Collar Crime is a mish-mash of people, as was evidenced by the half-naked teenagers standing at the bar. Overheard during a Phil Collins/Nine Inch Nails remix: "Ugh, what is this crap? My mom listens to this shit. I'm so over it."

Anyhoo, I feel a little guilty for giving Higs a hard time - she's in looooove with a nice boy named Mark, and she is in that fortunate honeymoon stage where the sound of his voice makes her heart race more than a little. They're all long-distancey and such, so her phone rang off the hook Friday night and maybe Beth and I weren't the most understanding friends ever. (Maybe I called her when I knew she was on the phone to tell her that I was feeling a tad neglected - but it was totally the Stoli blueberry talking.)

Saturday morning I woke up at my MIL's and we ate smoked salmon on rye and watched "Juno." Best. Movie. Ever. We had a cookout at BB's brother's house that night, and I must say that it wasn't nearly as painful as I thought it would be. The food was good, the kids were...not around me much...and we didn't stay late. Gotta love that.

Now if only I could will the bank to open so I can find my damn birth certificate...

Hello, old friend

Dear Shonda Rimes,

I am writing to thank you eversomuch for taking your head out of your ass and finally writing an episode of your show that's worth waiting for. I heard it was coming. I read and read all about how Shonda and her staff were coming up with the greatest finale to end a rocky season, and I have to hand it to you - you did it right tonight.

Before Grey's Anatomy became the in-thing, the popular show, the watercooler fodder it's become, I was a fan. I was a fan of the characters you created and of the story you told. It's a story that needs telling, and whether it occurs in a hospital, on a battlefield or in my kitchen, it's an important one. You have created characters that remind us a little bit of ourselves, who we want to be, and who we wish we weren't.

The way that your show is written is important to me, not just because I have a deep appreciation for its wit, but because you push boundaries. You draw lines in the sand and then march right past them. Writers everywhere, in entertainment and beyond, would do well to learn a lesson from you, for you used your time wisely during the writers' strike- you recognized where your story had gone astray, and you found ways to bring it back to the life it deserves.

Most everyone I know rolls their eyes at me when they discover how seriously I take the shows I enjoy. But not everyone understands that the reason I love the shows I do is not because I'm a TV addict with no life (shut up, family); the reason I love them is because they articulate things in our lives that we find mundane, but that need that little extra exploration.

So thanks, Shonda. Thanks for a great finale. Thanks for finally realizing that your viewers aren't stupid, just a little impatient for the quality of writing we remember from long ago. Thanks for teaching those of us that aspire to write how to come full circle and hold yourself accountable.

Good luck with the fall - you'll need it. This is a tough act to follow.

Be careful what you wish for...

Oh, thank heaven. I'm home, sitting in my cozy little clean office chair, in my mammoth (compared to the Shack) house, which is clean and doesn't smell and I'm pretty sure also doesn't have...things...growing in the corners.

As vacations go, this one was right up there with High Hampton. BB and I had a fabulous time being together (which we never get to do), the food was good, and I read books like it was my job. But friends, let me just say that all wishes do not come true. A free vacation is a free vacation, and we get that, and while we'd like to consider ourselves low maintenance, the truth of the matter is that we actually require a few comforts that we've taken for granted thus far. That's all I'm gonna say about that. But just know that the sign on the front of the "cottage" that reads "Surf Shack" is really just cheap advertising for minimalist quarters designed to please college kids that want to smoke up at night, hit the waves during the day, and for whom showers are optional.

So last night after dinner, I found myself leaning up against the wooden rail of the pier leading down the beach. I was watching the sky turn a hundred different colors, from red to pink, then from blue to gray, and just as the horizon turned that murky shade that makes it hard to discern where ocean ends and sky begins, I felt a warm hand close over mine. Then softly, in my ear: "I love you." Aww, I thought, it's our last night here and Brian's being sweet because he knows I'm missing the old beach house and how we used to drink wine in the gazebo there at this time of night. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're worried that you're gonna fall off the ship next week, aren't you?"

Huh?

His smug little crocodile smile was ruining my sunset moment. "When you get to Miami on Thursday, you're gonna find a little gift in your suitcase from me. I'm packing The Poseidon Adventure and Airport 77 in there just for you!"

Oh, the meanness. He was right, though. I am just a teensy bit worried that I might fall off the ship, like that chick from New Jersey, and maybe I'm a tad anxious that my plane will go down. But do I really need to be reminded? I don't think so.

I have to say though, despite the, uh, basic living arrangements, we really did do some fun stuff. Monday we rode to Oregon Inlet, drove on the beach and briefly sat by the water until the wind forced us to leave. I got some pretty shells to add to my vase at work. We napped a lot, read lots of books and ate out a few times. Tuesday it rained off and on, so we rode to Duck and Corolla, and for the first time in the 7 years I've been going to Nags Head, I saw wild horses. There was a beautiful family of five, walking down the shoreline, where the water meets the sand. The daddy horse was black and walked at the front, a lot faster than the rest. The mama horse stayed at the back and the two juniors walked in between, keep a close eye on their sibling - a new foal! I only know he's new because his legs were all wobbly and his mother kept nudging him along with her nose. I got pictures on my phone, but they're fuzzy. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen - we were in the Pathfinder, not 5 feet away from pure, wild Spanish mustangs. Amazing.

We sat on the beach for a while yesterday morning, but the evil biting flies that come in with the wind from the southwest had at us, so we left after a few hours. We timed it just right though - just before the flies rolled in, we saw porpoises cross in front of us - the water was so calm it looked like they were slicing through glass.

Now we're home - classes have started and I'm helping BB figure out Blackboard. Laundry must be done, thank-you notes written and then sometime tonight, I'm going to take a hot shower in my clean, spacious (ha!) bathroom and crawl into my fresh, clean fabulous sheets.

Ah. That's a vacation.

The Surf Shack

Hello, kids. I'm writing to you now from the aptly-named "Surf Shack," the place my MIL rented (sight unseen) for us at Nags Head. I have plenty to tell you about, but Brian's got an eagle eye on my laptop's battery light, as I forgot to bring the charger and he's all panicked that it will power down right as he posts to his Finance 591 discussion board. (Bo-ring.)

Quick preview of what's to come:

We've been locked out. With groceries. The wind is so strong I feel as though I've had a facelift. And I can't wait to fill you in on all the juicy details between the locked-out episode and the new foal I saw on the beach at Corolla this morning.

Stay tuned!

xoxo,
Nags Head Girl

Gator Boxes

10 things I'm looking forward to in the next 10 days:

1. The beach with Anne. The beach with Brian. The beach in general.

2. Elizabeth's wedding. Kind of like mine, except in the Episcopal church and with twice as many bridesmaids. And this time, I get to enjoy it.

3. Using my Tory Burch red croc clutch. It's soft and supple and lovely and gorgeous and I'm hoping that many, many people will be jealous.

4. Sleeping. I've forgotten what it's like and I miss it terribly.

5. Reading. I've forgotten what it's like and I miss it terribly.

6. Listening to my iPod for longer than 30 seconds. It was comparable to brain surgery, but I replaced the battery in my mini and now it works. Hallelujah.

7. Summer school. I'm taking Electronic Writing & Publishing during the 1st session and I so can't wait. I'm hoping they'll teach me how to hack into The Herald's website so I can make up funny stories about people I know and post them there.

8. The next installment of "Ghost Man on Third." My brother plays in a kickball league (yup, I said kickball!) on a team called "Alligator Mailbox." It's what he would've named a band if he had one, but he doesn't. GMOT is the newsletter he writes to recap the happenings of his league. With names like Ballasgna, Alligator Mailbox and 2 Legit 2 Kick, these teams could be playing Yahtzee and I'd still read about it. Go Gator Boxes!

9. My haircut. I heard through the grapevine that my hair girl is pregnant. I've gotta get the scoop firsthand.

10. Celebrating our anniversary. It's today. Four years. Seems like 40 sometimes, but they've all been good ones!

I love it when I'm smart

So remember last week when I was talking about Heather Armstrong, and how awesome I think she is, and how cool her blog is, and how everyone else should worship and adore her, too? Well finally, ABC News listened to me. (Like they should've been doing all along, hello?!) Anyway, in case you haven't gotten the picture yet, I looooove Heather Armstrong and wish to be her one day.

Anyhoo, what's up? I'm perky this morning, mainly because I slept crazy good under the coziness of my down-alternative satin-edged blanket, which is unfortunately too large to take with me on the cruise. I have, however, found a lovely alternative! Lug makes this fabulous travel pillow/blanket set called the "Nap Sac." How cute is that? I got it in aqua and I'm in love with it. So much so that I brought it to the office yesterday to show it off. (No, I do not nap in my office, though that's not a bad idea.)

In other news, have I mentioned how annoyed I am with lucky people? Let me give you a for-instance. Take my brother. He's 26, single-but-dating, lives in a ratty nasty frat-type house with two other boys and a kegerator, has no job and showers only when necessary. Since the day he was born, he's waltzed through life not really giving a shit about much of anything. Yet...things just fall into place. Don't you hate people like that? So fine, it did take him 5 years to graduate from college, and yes, he's had a string of bizarro stalker girlfriends (current one excluded, of course), but mostly, he just does what he wants and magically things work out for him.

Last summer, he decided to leave his good job with regular pay to...do nothing. He worked on the farm project for a while, but since that's over, he's been sleeping late, playing on the Internet and organizing his kickball league (I kid you not). He drinks wine til the wee hours, sleeps until he feels like getting up, and has discovered hydroponic gardening. The current joke is that he has some mysterious "second income," but my mother says I need to stop talking about that, or else people will begin to think that he's growing something else in his hydroponic garden (is the idea really that farfetched, Mom?). Anyway, yesterday he goes in to talk to his former bosses, who are desperate for him to return to the fold, and he gives them his "demands:" he doesn't want to commute, he doesn't want to have to pay for gas or a phone, he wants them to open a Raleigh office basically for him, and he wants x amount of money.

Surprise! They're calling him back today with an offer. Are you kidding me?! Let me tell my employer, the US Dept. of Education, that I have "demands." That's like, code or something, for a hostage-taker. I'd bet my life savings that when his former bosses call him today, Drew will get exactly what he wants, when he wants it. It's just that way.

And finally, I forgot what classes I signed up for this summer, and so yesterday I tried to register for the second section of something I'm already taking. Burn out, maybe? Anyway, it turns out that I'm taking electronic writing and publishing! Yay! One of my projects is to design and publish a website (hello, new blog site!) as well as to learn HTML. Wish me luck...

4 days til the beach...

15 days til the cruise!

I'm Not Ready to be Awake

My eyelids are so heavy right now I can hardly stand it. Today is Day #3 of the Four-Day Summer Workweek bonanza, and I'm starting to become a zombie. It's 10:00 am, I've been here almost four hours already and the summer is looming large and long ahead of me. At least class starts for me next weekend, and I'll have something to keep me busy until the end of July.

If you're wondering how it went with Bill Clinton on Monday, check out the link and you'll see his front porch stump at the Raglands'. (The back of my head is in there at the beginning, 10 points if you find it.) Unfortunately I missed Bill himself, thanks to the fact that he was over an hour late and it was about 1,000 degrees out there on the pavement under the sun. I thought I might be a little in danger of losing my job when I'd been gone 2 1/2 hours for lunch, so we left early. But I did get to see the Secret Service guys and all of Hillary's little college interns. The best comment I heard about all the hullabaloo came from my dad, who said, "I'd love to go out there and shake Clinton's hand. Then I can tell him that I didn't have sex with that woman, either." Classic!

In other news, at least two of our students that were planning to graduate Tuesday won't. My favorite part is that they're all shocked... "What?! I'm not walking?! I failed?! But I thought I could pass even if I didn't turn in that paper/ever show up to class/do anything my instructor told me to do." Probably I should feel bad for them, but I don't. Probably I'll feel bad for me when they show up next semester all whiny because they don't want to retake the classes they failed. Blah blah blah...can you tell it's summer?

There are only 21 days left until the cruise!!!! We got our documents on Monday, which tells us in detail what excursions they offer (there are about 50 of them, and they all cost about $100 for like 10 minutes of stuff). The book also tells us, in great detail, exactly what they'll do to us if they find we've smuggled alcohol on board. Luckily for me, Andrea is in charge of that. Wouldn't it be something if they booted her off in Nassau? Extra vacation days, anyone?

And finally, I had to go to the optometrist yesterday afternoon so that he could dilate my eyes and make sure my retinas are all happy and pretty (which they are). Afterwards, I had to ride home with my eyes shut behind sunglasses, because the sun hurt so doggone bad I wanted to cry. Today is BB's birthday, so I attempted to make his birthday cake and the black bean salsa I need for our graduation party while my eyes were still a little fuzzy. Baaaad idea. After the can of Rotel went into the cake batter, I decided to call it quits on the cooking. Here's hoping that nobody bites into their Mississippi Mud Cake tonight and chomps on a surprise jalapeno! On the other hand, that black bean salsa won't be near as hot as it should've been...it'll be a little sweet with a faint hint of fudge brownie. Rock on.

More blogging later...I have to pretend to do some work now.

One more thing

Every week or month or so, I find someone that I really wish I could be. Like when I was a kid, I wanted to be my camp counselor, Kim. Then after that, I wanted to be my other camp counselor, blank. (I can see her face clear as a bell, but her name...I have no idea.) Later on in life, I wanted to be one of those people who knew a bunch of famous people.

Now, I want to be Heather Armstrong and Sloane Crosley all rolled up into one. Check out the list on the right of my favorite blogs this week, and see what I'm talking about. Perhaps you don't think they're funny. Perhaps you think I'm weird. (Then go read somewhere else.) But I'm telling you, these girls are genius. And my ultimate goal, other than becoming one of those women on tv that elicit a "Daaamn!" from Brian Baker, is to write and be funny and not care what people think and attract a following like these girls have.

In my little, itty bitty world, these women are my heroes. Aside from you, Mom. And speaking of moms, Lucy and Charlie should absolutely go out and buy me "I Was Told There'd Be Cake" for Mother's Day. Not because I deserve it or because I'm a good cat mommy, but because I want it desperately and need it for my vacays.

Oh, and also, check out Jonathan Martin's blog on Politico.com. He's a smarty too, and not because I knew him in college and because he broke up with my former BFF (this is going to come back and bite me in the ass, but great move, Martin!), but because he just is really smart.

Happy May Day to meeeee!

It's here, it's here! Finally, May has arrived. May of the birthdays, May of the anniversaries, of Mother's Day, and May of the VACATIONS! That's right peeps, the Baker Beach Extravaganza commences on May 18, three days post-anniversary, 9 days post-BB's birthday, and 11 days pre-cruise. Can't wait, can't wait, can't wait.

So I've been MIA for the last week or so, mainly because a lot's been going on and I just haven't had the energy to blog about it. But here are some highlights, followed by some lowlights for kicks.

1. I had my Silpada jewelry party. It was fun, people bought stuff, I got free jewelry. What's not to love?

2. Dad's birthday featured the best food ever. And Brian showed up in time for jokes and stories. Always the best part of a Davis family birthday dinner.

3. The slideshow and ode to Toney Bond were not only hits, they've been the talk of the school this week. Our creativity abounds and we're starting to get reputations for being witty and fabulous. As if we didn't have those before. Puh-leeze.

4. Tonight is my last night class. Ever. Or at least for now. I can go home every night after work and rest assured that no one will call me to ask me where the answer key is to the 6-way paragraphs, or why one of my students didn't show up. Thank god for small things.

UPDATE:

I never posted this blog, because I got busy doing other stuff and, well, I forgot. But I do have breaking news (and no, for the 35th time, I am not pregnant!!!):

Former President Bill Clinton will be in Smithfield tomorrow! I kid you not. He's going to be at the home of some friends of my parents (ok, "friends" is an exaggeration, but they do know them) at 1:30 Monday afternoon and hello?! I'm so going to be there.

To clarify: I do not like Bill Clinton. I do not like Hillary Clinton. I particularly don't like Chelsea Clinton (there's no need to be rude to strangers). I think anyone whose friends suddenly "disappear" after pissing them off is entirely suspect and completely sleazy (and probably has Mob ties). However, this is Bill Clinton. How often does star power like that, sleazy or not, come to Smithfield? Never, I tell you.

So I'm going. 10-hour days start tomorrow and since I only get 30 minutes for lunch, I'll probably have to take time off to go, but it's so worth it to me. If only I could find a date...all my Democratic friends that might actually enjoy it live far away. The rest of the people I know are Republicans and would rather watch paint dry than go.

I'm going to Rite Aid right now to buy a disposable camera and I'll report back tomorrow afternoon. I have high hopes that not everyone in Johnston County was invited, and therefore I'll have a good view of Slick Willy. But we'll see.

Stay tuned... the NC primary is Tuesday and a lot can happen between now and then!

Thanks

Somewhere, deep down inside, I found the strength to save a friendship. I found the part of me that needed to let go of frustrations and indignities and hurt, and I found the courage to move on and salvage a relationship I love. I have also found it apropos to thank whoever it is I should thank for these next few weeks - they are precious.

My dad celebrates another birthday tomorrow. I didn't know last year how much this year would hang in the balance, but it has; I think we will all blow out the candles together and cross our fingers for moments of joy.

I am utterly grateful to the man that taught me how to go after what I want, to take nothing for granted, to protect what's important and to never sell myself short. I love you and I will miss you...and I feel as though an important chapter in my life is closing.

My marriage and my cats turn four. I know that five is somehow symbolic of a milestone, but I choose to think that four years are a milestone in and of themselves. Four years - four of us. It fits.

For all of the holidays, the celebrations, the good-byes, the good-lucks, the welcomes and the I-miss-yous, here's hoping that I can say what I feel to those that need to hear it.

Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put ‘em in quotations

Say what you need to say

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead,
If you only could . . .

Say what you need to say

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You’d better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open

Say what you need to say

-John Mayer

What's with the Mondays?

Here it is again...another disappointment for the home team. Without too many details, let's just say that a) people aren't who they seem to be, b) never trust a stranger from Craig's List (it seems so obvious, doesn't it?) and c) optimism does occasionally set you up for disaster.

So anyway, the treadmill guy never showed and didn't have the balls to call me about it. He sent me an email late last night and was all "the wife wanted to shop around" and "we decided on a different one." Blah blah. Tell me you don't want it and get it over with so I can go about my day and not sit around the house waiting for a phone call. Ugh, the lack of manners never ceases to amaze me.

Then I show up for work and the first words I hear (yet again) are, "Oh, you didn't know that?" If I had a dollar for every time I heard that over the last four months, I swear I could retire. No lie. While loose lips might sink ships, secrets certainly don't make friends. So I guess the question is - do you want a ship or a friend? Marinate on that one for a bit.

In other news, I somehow bent the key to the Pathfinder and almost couldn't leave at lunchtime. That would've been super bad since BB has the wagon in Goldsboro and the spare key to the Pathy with him. Bad news bears. I shoved it in there far enough to at least turn the engine over, but almost couldn't get it out. There's a reason 10 year-old cars with 175,000 miles on them end up being the third-car-we-don't-drive-but-keep-around-for-hauling-stuff-in.

Also in other news, I logged into Facebook this weekend and found this whole other world that I forgot that I belong to. (No, not the Facebook world, the world of I-used-to-know-you-when.) The world is getting smaller and smaller and people that I know also know other people that I didn't know they knew, and well, it gets confusing. I remember now why I went to Sweet Briar and lived in DC for a bit. It's that whole clean slate thing. When the world I live in gets too small, claustrophobia sends me packing. Might have to delete the profiles on Facebook and MySpace.

Somehow the lady that cleans our offices has gotten the impression that I am interested in her bowling league. I really don't know where that came from, nor do I know anything about bowling. But I've started getting weekly updates on her "frames" and "anchor bowlers" and "scratch" games. Seriously with this? I used to fake phone calls when I'd hear her coming down the hall, but she caught me with her silent sneakers today. I never had a chance.

And finally, thanks for asking, the bangs are...bangs. They're fine for now, but probably I won't get them cut again. I always think they'll be magical, but they just never are. Oh well. Live and learn.

Red, red wine, you make me feel so fine...

Happy Sunday! Want to know why it's happy? Oh, sure you do. Let me tell you about it...and the rest of my weekend.

1. Today is the day that some strange man who found me on Craig's List comes to my house to buy the treadmill! Yay! (Quick backstory: I thought I would use a treadmill every single day if I bought one. So I did, from my co-worker. I didn't tell Brian. He got mad, because I don't use it and because it weighs more than our house and he had to move it. So he made me put it on Craig's List. I'm getting rid of the damn thing, but I'm also upping the price - if I can't keep it, I should at least make a profit on it.)

2. My weekend has been all kinds of full of Anne P. Friday night - deliciously fun. Saturday afternoon - surprise phone call with invitation to spaghetti dinner. Saturday night - more delicious fun in a stunningly beautiful house. I might have to stalk that family, if only for their back porch. Brian wouldn't miss me if I moved there, I don't think. I should move there.

3. I poisoned Heather. It wasn't on purpose, because I like Heather very much. But one minute she's all happy and drinky, and the next minute she's all sick and green. The only thing that happened in between the two was a meal I made for her. Who knew I had the power to inflict illness? She says it wasn't the food, but I wonder...

4. This weekend in April is always one of my favorites. It's Cotillion (which I'm not invited to but still enjoy because I get to pick out fun clothes for my mamacita) and the Masters. Azaleas, warm weather, green everywhere you look, happy drunk people wandering around Smithfield. What's not to love? It's a reminder that spring has sprung. Oh, and go Immelman! You be sure and beat the pants off that Tiger Woods - he has too many green jackets for one man's closet already.

5. I am covered, and I mean covered, in ant bites. Friday night while we were sitting on the patio, I apparently stepped in a giant ant hill and stayed there. And with all the red wine coursing through my veins, I didn't feel the bites until yesterday morning. The itching is akin to poison ivy and I can't find a thing to alleviate it. (And don't email me to tell me to take Benadryl. Nothing has touched these babies.) My feet and ankles look like I have a terrible case of chicken pox, and it's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to scratch. And scratch. And scratch.

Must go scratch now. And prepare the treadmill for it's final destination. Here's to you, the end of my favorite weekend in April; stay sunny, warm and lovely.

The Charmed Life

For the past two days, I've been trying to write this blog and nothing comes out like I want it to. Witty ends up sounding bratty, sarcasm sounds just plain rude and chipper comes across as condescending. Don't ask me...it's just the way it is. Normally when I'm like this I just write a list, but even my list isn't working.

My boss is leaving to take a dean's position at another college. I'm sad because our relationship has taken a drastic tumble ever since Christmas and we're not speaking unless absolutely necessary. I think about it every day, he probably never thinks about it, and I'm mourning the loss of a good friend, a great mentor and wonderful leader. And I have no one to talk to about that and the changes that are coming. Normally I would talk to him. But now...

BB and I are going to the beach in May. My MIL has rented a tiny little oceanfront house for us for 5 days as a birthday gift to Brian. I'm so excited, but also wondering if there are ulterior motives here. Last year he got a shirt.

The cruise is six weeks from today. I have six weeks to figure out spray tans, grippy flip flops and dinner attire. I will be off for almost two out of the four weeks of May. We go to the beach, come home, I unpack, re-pack and then head to Miami. June and July are going to be awfully boring. Kristen? Alissa? Anyone? Visit? Please?

Tonight I get to see Anne. The ways in which I love her are too numerous to mention, as is the amount of booze we will consume together. Heather's coming with me - if she and Anne don't get along for some strange reason, my friendship with Heather will meet its unfortunate demise. But I feel sure that they'll be BFFs. It's impossible not to adore Anne.

And finally, I'm considering bangs. It's a big decision for a girl like me. I have an appointment at 12:30. Wish me luck.

The Cynic Olympics

You know you know them. Those people that on the outside look normal, but on the inside, are really just swirling cauldrons of cynicism and irony and negativity. My life has suddenly become inundated with such people and I'm not quite sure how to rid myself of them.

It's one thing to be all witty and sarcastic and ironic. It is quite another to become a wet blanket in conversation. I really feel as though I'm too old to deal with persistent cynics on a case-by-case basis, so if you are one and plan to spend much time around me, here are some ground rules.

1. Do not underestimate the power of bubbly. No, I don't mean champagne; I mean being outgoing and friendly and inherently full of cheer. I am bubbly. Don't take away my bubbles. They are important to me.

2. Not every conversation I have with you is meant to be an argument. I have an opinion and so do you, but it is not necessary for you to take your opinion, whack me with it and then force it down my throat. It's just not nice.

3. Your sunny demeanor confuses me. It has fooled me into thinking that you actually are sunny, when in fact, you just appear that way. For the benefit of those around you, knock it off with the Pollyanna and just be the sourpuss we all know that you are.

Whew! I feel so much better. Now if I could just email this list of guidelines to all the cynics I know, I'd be in great shape. You don't think they'd be offended, do you?

Really? They make those?

Today was a good day. It began with sleeping in, all the way until 7:30, which is lovely. Then I had a nice conversation with my professor on the phone, where we discovered that I might know a little more about what I'm doing in this class than I originally thought. Always good. And then Lindsey came! I tried to point her past the clutter in my house, as she hasn't seen it since before the wedding and I wanted it to at least not look like a bachelor pad. I'm not sure that I succeeded, but I digress.

So we went to lunch, sat outside, munched on some chips, enjoyed some good convo. And then we went shopping.

I'll preface this by saying that Lindsey is pregnant with her second child, who I'm hoping turns out to be a girl. She's due in September, and I'm also hoping that she picks my birthday for the baby's arrival date, so that she and I will be exactly 30 years apart, but we'll see. Anyway, on to the story. So we go shopping for a bra for Lindsey, because it seems that your boobs get big when you're expecting. I see one of my students there, I'm secretly hoping that she gives me an employee discount like my other student does at Kmart, but no such luck. So we find a bra, or three or four, and that's that.

We're about to leave when Lindsey spots a maternity clothing store, so we decide to pop in. And then I see it. An entire section of tops, from tanks to tees to sports bras, all devoted to nursing mothers. Now maybe this isn't odd to you. Maybe you have kids, or are aware of the whole fact that nursing tops are specially designed. I, however, was not. Probably I just thought that you either wore a v-neck or a button down, and strategically positioned yourself for maximum lunchtime portability.

These things are nuts! There are these little clippy things attached to the strap, and, as Lindsey demonstrated for me, you just pop them off and wham! Easy access. I mean, I get the whole thing about how you don't want to disrobe completely when you're nursing, but I had no idea that there were such things as this. And they don't just come in bras; there were cute little sleeveless tops, tops with sleeves but with built-in easy access areas, dresses, and the list goes on!

But the best part of all is that in maternity stores, there are these strap on bellies in the dressing room. Like if you're two months pregnant but want to buy clothes for when you're 8 months pregnant, you just strap on this cushion thing and try stuff on! I mean, who thinks of this stuff?! I guess it's smart, but not being on the pregnant bandwagon myself, I just didn't know these things existed. But apparently they do, and I guess pregnant people are glad. So...yay. For the pregnant people. My favorite moment was when Lindsey, who isn't really showing, pulled the strap-on baby around her waist and I noticed it was lumpy. (Not her belly, the strap-on one.) Hopefully real baby bellies aren't that lumpy, because it looked like this thing needed to be re-cushioned. Like my chair.

So now I'm in class, still laughing to myself over the drunk kid who had to be carried out of school and put into a cab this afternoon, and lamenting because I missed it all. But then I remember that while I missed that, I did get to see Lindsey wear a fake baby belly, and that makes it alllll good.

Breaking News: I'm a baaaaad student

Oops. I just got an email. Well, four of them, actually. It seems that I don't know the difference between an annotated bibliography and a literature review. (Oh please, like you did.) Also, it seems that I haven't checked my ECU email in a while, and I'm supposed to moderate a discussion on Blackboard uh, this week. Which means that I'm supposed to have already read roughly 150-200 pages on empirical evaluations of concept mapping, information design principles, and visual-based modules for teaching writing. Oops.

So tonight, while BB's in class reading his own share of crap on accounting principles and spreadsheets, I'll be tucked into my chair, cat at my feet, crying into my...Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi...because I'm behind. And also because frankly, I don't know what visual-based teaching modules are. The worst part of it all is that I don't care. (Yes, yes..."It's not that I'm lazy. It's that I just don't care.") I mean, yes, I care about getting my degree, because it means more money and I like money, true. But I don't care about research in technical and professional communication, nor do I care about discussion boards or projects or comprehensive exams.

A little bit I want to quit. But then, I don't like to be a quitter. Unless it comes to things like teaching night classes. Boy, would I love to be a quitter then. The unfortunate thing about quitting is that I'll just have to take the class over again, and who wants to subject themselves to more semesters of Research Methods than they have to? Certainly not me.

Other breaking news:

One of my co-workers got arrested last week for leading police on a high-speed chase. I kid you not.

Also, my brother got some fish to add to his animal kingdom and it got me thinking: should I get some fish for my office? I contemplated this for a while until my mom asked me what I'd do with them over the weekend. Can fish live without food for a weekend? I'm going to investigate this, and I'll get back to you.

I don't come in a decaf version

My caffeine addiction is slowly spiraling out of control, and I find that when I deprive myself of the joy and love that is found in some sort of diet drink, my head wreaks havoc upon the rest of my body. That's probably not good, huh? Anyway, these are things racing through my caffeinated head this Monday morning.

1. During the desperation I felt Saturday night watching the Carolina-Kansas game, there was one bright spot, albeit a very important one. Somewhere, some wonderfully talented camera man panned over the Dean Dome and found a banner that said "Take everthing. Give up nothing." That is my new mantra, my motto for life. Take everything. Give up nothing. A little bit it makes me sound like I'm going to shoplift, but actually it means that world domination is not quite as far away as I thought. Fabulous.

2. It rained the entire time during our trip to Morehead City. This did not stop us from consuming large amounts of fish and stocking up on seafood to cook at home. It did stop us from going over the causeway and wandering around on the beach. Very sad.

3. In other news from Morehead City, we went to the "PERSIST" conference, which was basically a day-long training session on how to retain and graduate some students. The "training team" was comprised of all these TRiO directors and some chick who used to be a Senior VP at NBC Universal and Lorimar Pictures. Explain that one to me. Bizarre connection. I wanted to ask her how come she didn't work for them anymore, and if she still had connections that would get "Chuck" back on the air sooner, but I didn't.

4. Brian thinks it's strange, and maybe it is, but I can't stand whistling. It grates on my nerves, it rattles my insides, it makes my ears quiver. And right now, as I'm typing, some jackass down the hall is whistling. I think the caffeine makes it worse...

5. I read "The Appeal" and "Compulsion" this weekend. Quality stuff, though "The Appeal" had a rotten ending.

Happy Monday to all, and to all a good...day. I'm off to pretend as though I like my job and my boss juuuuust fine, thank you.

Bletiquette

Edit: I just Googled "bletiquette" and now I see that Susan isn't the first to come up with that word. However, I still think that she is the greatest of all time.

It's a new word. I can't take credit for it, but Susan can. "Bletiquette" hereafter refers to the etiquette of blogging, for both bloggers and readers. Here's how the convo went:

Susan: "Yeah, I saw that on your blog! Can people respond to that?"

Me: "Sure. You can leave comments, or email me."

Susan: "Ohhhh...because I don't know the etiquette for blogging. The "bletiquette!"

Me: "Great word. I love it when you can combine two words like that."

Susan: "Sometimes, when my students, like 2 or 3 of them, sit together, I combine their names. Like Heather and Brittany are Hittany. Or Breather."

Me: "That's such a great idea! Like Brangelina."

Susan: "Absolutely, like Brangelina. Or bletiquette. I love that."

See, Susan's like my girl soulmate. Sometimes we talk about how we're the same person, just born a few years apart. She's an awesome mom, and the kind I hope to be should, you know, that ever happen. (Ex: She recently said that the biggest parenting mistake she has made is letting her 13 year-old watch "Knocked Up." Priceless!) Plus, she's super smart and really aggressive but not in an obnoxious way. And she loves to talk a lot, but what she has to say is important! Or at least, it's important to me.

So basically I think that if I were to have a big sister that I got along with, she'd be it. Susan's the kind of friend that really and truly doesn't care about the size of your dust bunnies, because probably hers are bigger. She's the kind of friend that will show up with large grocery bags and say that while she didn't have time to cook for you, it doesn't mean she wasn't thinking of you. And she's the kind of friend that makes up fun words, with a serious face, and will probably use those words in class tomorrow.

If you don't have one of these friends, you should get one, posthaste. (Also a fun word.) And then you should make ample opportunities for the both of you to get together and discuss the ways in which you are alike, smart, and ready to dominate the world with your powers.

I'm hungry...for good books

I love books. I love the way they smell, feel, look. I love how they're lined up on my bookshelves. Yes, I'm weird, but you know what I'm talking about. A good, new hardback is as exciting to me as a plateful of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I have discovered that new releases on Amazon can also possibly be found in the community college system's Interlibrary Loan. Do you know how happy it makes my wallet to know that I'm not paying for a slew of new releases? Although I have to admit, my bookshelves look gorgeous when filled with perfectly conditioned spines of colorful paper. Here's a rundown of my "on hold" account through ILL.

1. The Other Boleyn Girl - Philippa Gregory
2. Deep Dish - Mary Kay Andrews
3. Remember me? - Sophie Kinsella
4. Everyone Else's Girl - Megan Crane
5. Compulsion : an Alex Delaware novel - Jonathan Kellerman
6. The Devil's Bones - Jefferson Bass
7. Carved in Bone - William Bass
8. Beautiful boy : A father's journey through his son's addiction - David Sheff
9. Tweak : (growing up on methamphetamines) - Nic Sheff
10. I Was Told There'd Be Cake - Sloane Crosley

Read any of these? Let me know how you liked them (or hated them, as it were).

Could I write a manuscript, too, please?

So it's Monday morning, the office is (unsually) quiet, and now that I've jinxed myself, the masses will come pouring in, just the like rain. Half my office is gone, and frankly, I like it that way. Susan came by this morning with the first few chapters of "The Susan Chronicles" and I am madly in love.

Hopefully she won't care that I'm sharing this, but...the backstory is that Susan went to college at ECU back in the 80's and while she was there, she met three other Susans and they all became best friends. Their lives collectively are like telenovellas but better, and she's turning that all into a book, but with only three Susans. So far, one of them is dead but we don't know which one, and then we find out how the three Susans meet each other in college.

Have you read "Charlotte Simmons?" Rush out immediately and read it. It might take you 6 months, but it's so worth it. Then, when you're finished, rush out immediately and get Curtis Sittenfeld's "Prep." Shorter, also worth it. And maybe by then Susan will have a few more chapters done and I can keep you posted on what happens to the fictional Susans.

Five years ago, my former BFF Melissa talked me into writing about society in Eastern NC. I got about four pages in before we had a (huge) falling out and somehow that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I've never been able to really write fiction, (yes, John Gregory Brown, we know how much you hated everything I ever wrote), but creative non-fiction is a no-brainer for me. I desperately want to escape into fiction, find a character, explore him or her, and be surprised about where his or her journey takes me and the reader.

There are so many reasons not to, like grad school, my regular job, my night-teaching job, my life in general. But then I remember the days back at Sweet Briar, in my deepest, darkest depression, and how writing was a catharsis for my soul...really, like no other, not even cigarettes, and oh how I loved them.

So Susan, you and the other Susans have inspired me. Perhaps I won't start writing, perhaps I'll give in to all the excuses I can find, and perhaps I'll just be content reading your manuscript, which I hope to goodness turns into a phenomenal published novel. In the meantime, I'll keep blogging and I'll tell myself that this kind of writing is just as good for the soul.

Blips on the Radar

So here's my weekend, in no particular order.

1. Bennett was here for Caroline's game. Seeing the two of them? Wouldn't have missed it. Fabulous. Watching a soccer game from the backseat of a hot, cramped car? Not so much. But hey, who am I to eschew a little variety every now and then?

2. Sometimes people tell you things, and they don't necessarily need for you to give them your two cents. For instance, if I tell you that I'm going to do such and such to my house, don't tell me it's a waste of money. I'm likely to tell you how you've wasted your money.

3. Friday, it was 82 degrees here. Saturday, it was 42 and raining sideways. My closet, my sinuses and my cats are all confused, as well they should be.

4. I had a conversation with a very important person this weekend about my career plans. Here's hoping it goes somewhere. I also tried very hard not to have a conversation with a not-so-important person this weekend. I don't like her, she doesn't like me, and eventually I'm going to have to consider a cease-fire. Damn diplomacy.

5. I had the incredible pleasure of visiting the almost-completed farmhouse on Friday. The wood floors are the most beautiful I've ever laid eyes on. The wall color brings in the light and highlights the wood grain. The cabinets are custom built and have beadboard inlays. I told Drew he needs to be one of those carpenters on HGTV or the DIY network or something. He said he would hate that. I think people would love him. If you live here, know us and want to see the farm, please do. The transformation is remarkable.

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret

For those of you too old or too young to remember, that's the title of one of The Great Judy Blume's fantastic books. Tonight I went to a fabulous party, and while I was there, I ran into people I see all the time and people I never see. The former group was polite and said hello, while the latter group said, "Elizabeth! Oh my gosh - I love your blog!"

Are you kidding me?!

Mostly I write this blog because I have things to say, or write, that clear my mind of its clutter. About 95% of the time, those things are meaningless to people in my life, so I write them here in order to feel like I've talked as much as I want to. (Yes, people...even as much as I talk, there is still more to say. Hard to believe, I realize this.) What only occurred to me tonight is that people are actually reading this.

People are actually reading this!

Should I edit myself? My previous posts? Have I said something that's too incriminating (or worse, not incriminating enough)? Have I offended anyone yet? For about five minutes I had this debate with myself, and then I realized that frankly, I don't care. Have I offended you? Don't be so sensitive. Have I incriminated myself in any way? Oh, please. I was never as good as people thought I was in the first place. Should I edit myself? No way.

So I'm here. And so is my blog. Just like Judy Blume's Margaret, I'm here saying what it is I have to say. And it feels good and I like it. Maybe I didn't know you all were out there reading, but now that I do, I'll try to be somewhat entertaining.

And last but not least, speaking of entertaining, you two girls that invited me to San Antonio have no earthly idea what you're getting yourselves into. Tequila?! In Texas?! Don't ask me twice!

Lady on the High Seas

That's right, I said "high seas." Where are those seas? Oh, those would be the ones between Miami and the Bahamas...the same seas my cruise ship will sail in May! Woo hoo! My girlfriends from work and I are celebrating our 30th's a little early this year. We're sailing Royal Caribbean to Coco Cay and Nassau, with a stopover in Miami first at the Mandarin Oriental. You might have read recently that Kate Hudson and Jennifer Aniston have been staying there while Jen and Owen Wilson film their new movie, "Marley & Me." Hopefully we'll spot some more celebs while we sip our own lychee martinis on the beach. I'll keep you posted.

Easter lunch on Sunday was fabulous, mainly because (step away if you don't want to get hit by the lightening) I didn't go to church first. Gasp! I know, I know. It's Easter. But in my defense, I really haven't felt well for last couple of weeks and I missed every service during Holy Week. That aside, I did feel good enough to eat with the family, or some of them, and we had such a good time. I'm not sure if that's because of who I was with, or because of the entire bottle of champagne I drank mostly by myself. Either way, good times.

Sunday before last BB and I were also treated to a marvelous meal. My MIL took us over to the Umstead for their Sunday champagne brunch (are we seeing a pattern here?) and while it was trés chic, we were there with my SIL and her two daughters. Oh, me (as my Nana used to say when we told her something shocking, interesting or not-so-interesting but which needed a response). Let's just start with the facts: the hotel on the outside is pretty, but looks like an office building. Inside, it's gorgeous and is filled with millions of dollars worth of art (and tulips and orchids). The food...well, it was a little "eh." I mean, it was good, but it was a little boring and while the service was impeccable, brunch took over two hours. Is that really necessary? I think not. Especially when Carolina is playing Clemson for the ACC title.

Overheard at the table during our Umstead experience:

Niece: "Mom, can I go play outside?"
SIL: "No, you may not. You need to tell this nice man what you want for lunch."
Niece: "Mo-om, you KNOW what I want to eat. I want chicken fingers with fries, a steak and a fruit plate."
SIL: "Sir, is that possible? I know steak isn't on the children's menu, but can she have one?"
Waiter: "Uh, let me check with the chef."
Chef: "She wants a steak? Like a filet? I can find one for her, if that's what she wants."
Niece: "Yes! That's what I want! And I'm hungry NOW, so can you bring the bread, too? My mom didn't give me any breakfast and I'm starving."

Needless to say, the plateful of petite filet, chicken fingers, french fries and fruit went mostly untouched, until SIL ate some of it. Instead, Niece #1 and Niece #2 spent their time in the ladies room, where they used a hotel notepad to require guests to "sign in" when they arrived in the ladies room and "sign out" when they left. I wouldn't have believed this unless I had seen it with my own two eyes - Rachel Jenkins and Amy Stephenson, whoever you are, thanks for signing. You saved us all from some horrendous tantrum.

Tips on how to pack for a cruise? Let me know...I only have two months to narrow down my choices!

Saturday Quickie

Just a follow-up from last night's antics...

1. I didn't pass out at 7:30 like I thought. I can hang longer, like until 4am. I'm so proud of myself.

2. Champagne goes down a little too smoothly, and after a while, so does wine, beer, tequila shots, vodka and late-night-vodka-with-pomegranate.

3. Though we don't know the outcome of Miss Cabana Tan 2008, I can safely say that she was tall because of her 6-inch heels, hiding her cellulite with her spray tan and her body glitter, and had a tattoo on her lower back of some Chinese character that inevitably is spelled wrong.

4. No matter how much you protest, if you spend enough time in a piano bar, you will wind up on stage pantomiming "I'm Too Sexy" in front of 200 people.

5. My friend Shelia, a black grandmother, enjoys Heineken and Billy Joel. I don't know why this caught me so off guard.

6. Susan's husband Keith is a little lewd and lascivious, but somehow that makes me like him more.

7. Tamara should never wear fishnets, and I'm afraid no one will ever tell her that. It's so very unfortunate.

8. Conversely, Carrol should always wear a fedora when her hair is curly. As was pointed out to me this afternoon, it's oddly sexy to see a girl in a fedora. Who knew?

9. My top-hostess ranking has fallen to #2. Heather has stolen it from me with her very chic bath products in the shower, making breakfast for 4 people after 3 hours of sleep and cleaning up after everyone. It will take time for me to figure out how to top that one.

10. Finally, I think that I shouldn't be in the presence of cameras after midnight. If those pictures of Andrea and me show up on the Internet...well, I'll have some 'splaining to do.

Friday Quickie

Ok, so here's what I've got for this Friday afternoon.

1. I love 2-hour lunches. All lunches should be two hours, and they should all involve shopping.

2. My new favorite blog of all is Stuff White People Like. No matter the color of your skin, this thing is hilarity taken to a whole new level. Read the Hip Hop entry and tell me it's not true. You'll be lying your ass off.

3. Tonight, I'm going to Rum Runner's and after, according to Heather, "out for some good dancing" (said in her completely adorable American-cum-British dialect). I think I've forgotten how to go out, and I'm pretty sure I'll be wasted at 7:30, because that's where my tolerance stands.

4. Alaina Whitaker was wearing my Kenneth Jay Lane earrings Wednesday night on American Idol. I know this because I tried to order them from Bag, Borrow or Steal and there's a waitlist. I can only imagine that I'm waiting for them because she was wearing them. And she got booted! What a waste of good jewelry that could've been worn out tonight.

5. Song of the day, stuck in my head until I hear something better: "Oh baby YOU...you got what I nee-eed...but you say he's just a friend...you say he's just a friend..." Biz Markie. I love you and I love that you made the Hip Hop Songs White People Love top 10.

He's Baaack...Oscar, That Is

Happy Birthday, Oscar! In case you fell asleep before the 4-hour show was over, Oscar turned 80 last night! The stars were out in show, the dresses were hot and couture and amazing and where, oh where, can I find someone to distract Sarah Larson while I steal George Clooney from her? We watched Michael Clayton Saturday night in anticipation, and my love for him is still strong, despite the age and miles between us. *Sigh* In celebration of the 80th anniversary, there were clips of "80 Years of Oscar" throughout the show...the only one that interested me was the rundown of each year's Best Picture winner...and I'm proud? to say I've seen 30 of the 80 films. Not too bad, considering that's one Best Picture for every year of my life. Jennifer Garner was smoking hot, which I'm so glad for since she normally is mommy-geared to the hilt. Jessica Alba went from a little bit pregnant to ready-to-pop last night and Heidi Klum might be the most gorgeous person to walk the earth. Aside from George, of course, who really is doing himself a grave disservice by dating a Vegas cocktail waitress. Really. Oh, and kudos to Jon Stewart, who wasn't overtly comical but, as every host should, faded into the background and tried to pass the hours with a few good jokes.

In other news, Mom and I went down to the big metropolis of Clinton on Saturday, inevitably got lost trying to find a fabric store, and wound up spending far too much money on things we didn't need. One happy note: I found all the birthday gifts I need for Nieces Birthday Season, which officially begins in March. There are six. Whew. Also, BB and I rented Rendition (along with Michael Clayton) and I have to say, those are two of the best films I've seen recently. Both are very serious and dramatic, but super-good and totally worth it. Sometimes it's surprising to see movie actors outside of their roles, but none so shocking to me as poor Tilda Swinton. Boy.

And finally, TRiO Day is over! By the numbers, we had 63 students, 2 alumnae speakers, 3 vice-presidents, 4 James Sprunt guests, 70 faculty and staff and just enough slices of cheesecake to cover the crowd. I gave myself a huge pat on the back for not allowing my 7th annual TRiO Day to collapse around me despite the 30 extra people that showed, and took Friday afternoon off to show myself some appreciation. If you don't toot your own horn, who will?

Tip for the day: Those sticky strips of rubbery stuff that are supposed to anchor rugs to the floor don't really work on furniture, particularly if you're trying to dissuade your feline friends from using your fine nice new chairs as scratching posts. If anyone has a better idea, I'm all ears.

If it's only Tuesday, how come it feels like Friday?

Actually, it doesn't feel like Friday, it feels like it should be Friday. Several things that have come across my radar in the last few days:

1. The new line-up for Dancing With the Stars is out. Priscilla Presley. 'Nuff said.

2. My friend sent out the requisite "we're-so-excited-'cause-we're-pregnant" email. I love her, but she signed it "Pregsie Megsie." Honestly.

3. My other friend Ali had a baby girl this weekend. That makes the score Bakers-0 babies, Friends-10,000. A losing score I'm okay with.

4. Apparently Ty Lawson's ankle has a mind of its own, and it doesn't want to play ball. I took sports medicine in high school. Can I help?

5. TRiO Day is Thursday. It's the day that we celebrate our program and our students, blah blah blah. I love the day, really I do, but not when I'm in charge of it and not when I have a workshop to do and two night classes to teach. There are 120 people coming. Feed them and they will come.

6. I read up on nocturnal cats. The circles under Brian's eyes are going to need makeup soon, because Lucy's business hours are 1am-5am. According to my notes, we have to wake her up everytime she's sleeping and play with her til she collapses. What about me? What if I collapse?

7. Kristen is back from Mexico, where she participated in Tequila Bingo and Coconut Bowling. What I'm wondering is whether you have to be in Mexico to play Tequila Bingo. Sounds like a fun Saturday night in SmithVegas to me! Although, Mexico also sounds like a fun Saturday night to me.

8. Speaking of fun, there are only 3 takers for the Bahamas cruise on May 30. Wanna go? As long as you take baths on a regular basis, you can be my roommate. I snore, though. Ask Carrol.

9. Eleven people came to my workshop today. That's up from two at the beginning of January. Does that mean my approval rating is going up? I sure hope so.

10. Tomorrow is hump day. I've never liked this term. The implication, of course, is that we should all be humping, but the only person I know who humps is my dad's dog. Why can't they come up with a better word? This sounds like that horrible cell phone commercial: "When you don't have to worry about how much you're spending on your monthly plan, you're free to talk about...other things."

I wish I could say that I'm finished with my random ramble, but I'm not. I have class tonight. Expect more where this came from.

Why I Love My Husband

In the spirit of Valentine's Day (disclaimer: I've always thought this day was a crock of hooey), I've decided to sing the praises of Brian, who puts up with more crap than any husband ever should. In a nice long convo with my BFF Alissa yesterday, we discussed how hard it is (especially, apparently, in Los Angeles, where boys are jerks and only want Barbies) to find someone nice, normal and somewhat responsible. I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve this, or when it will come back to bite me in the ass, but I've found that person and have managed to keep him for almost seven years now. It's remarkable, really, when you consider how many people there are in the world and how few of those actually know you. And then when you narrow that small list down to the people who not only know you, but will also put up with you, it seems like quite a miracle to find love.

But I have.

In case you don't know the story, Brian was the childhood friend of my college friend, Cady. They were prom dates once, and since their parents were such good friends, Brian and his parents wound up at an anniversary party for Cady's parents in 2001. The party was at the beach, and I, one whose love for the beach is endless, took Cady up on her offer to come for that weekend and attend the party. I did, met Brian and his parents, and never looked back. It was almost instantaneous and we've been inseparable ever since.

The reasons I love Brian have changed over the years, as most reasons do. In the beginning, I loved that he was a Southern gentleman who treated his mother like a queen and loved his father enough to call him "Daddy" out in public. I loved that he opened car doors for me, called my mother ma'am, and followed me around as I partied with girlfriends I knew he didn't care for. I loved how much he loved me, and that sometimes his feelings made him cry (like the time his chocolate lab died). Mostly, I loved that Brian's family was first in his life (well, maybe second after me) because my family is first in my life. It's hard to find someone who understands that above all, your family is yours and you shouldn't take that for granted.

I still love all those things about him, but now, I love Brian for his strength. He was solid as a rock when his dad passed away after our wedding. He knew it was coming, he cried for days on end when it happened, and yet he still stood strong and was the man his mother needed in the months after. He works like a Trojan for his company, which treats him as if he were expendable, and rarely complains. He tirelessly supports me in my efforts to conquer all things Community College and in my neverending quest to earn a master's degree. He grocery shops (yes, even for um, feminine products). He knows when I've had enough and tells me to plop on the couch while he does the dishes. He loves children and knows that he wants us to have a little girl who looks like me one day.

In short, Brian isn't perfect. Our marriage isn't perfect, but it's ours. We work hard on it, we stumble often and we know that it takes effort and compromise from both of us to make it work. Above all, we know that we can depend on one another - which is great, because we both know we couldn't make it by ourselves.

So, for what it's worth, happy Valentine's Day, Brian. I love you more today than I thought I ever could. You sometimes make me mad, you most definitely make me crazy, and you are my dream come true.

My funny valentine

Here's to you, dear Lissy - my promise to post this weekend. I expect an email from you shortly giving me a detailed list of job possibilities in the Raleigh area and when you plan to take advantage of them!

So, hi to the rest of you that wandered here and are reading this (I imagine you are few and far between). It's been an interesting month or so since last I posted. Here are the highlights in no particular order:

1. We made new friends! We love Heather and Glenn and are grateful they "get" us. So many people don't.
2. The new green chairs in my den look marvelous with the new pillows. A little bit I feel like a decorator, though I certainly am not.
3. Now I teach a class on Tuesday and Thursday nights. It's...interesting. I'm not the biggest fan of the other instructor but I'm a HUGE fan of my students.
4. My toughest student so far, the one that's driven me to the edge time and again, gave me a yellow rose for Valentine's Day. Sweet, unexpected and a great big pick-me-up.
5. I helped sell Krispy Kremes as a fundraiser for the Staff Association. If I never see another donut in my entire life, it will be too soon.
6. I got a new laptop! The Student Services VP wanted a new one to travel with and needed to unload her "old" one (it's like maybe a year old and it's the swivel-screen tablet kind) so I volunteered. It's pretty and wonderful and I love it.
7. I am now a true blue member of Bag, Borrow or Steal. I think it might change my life.

More to come...but never let it be said that I don't keep my promises!

Golden who?

So, to be honest, I really didn't miss the Golden Globes. I watched what I thought was the news conference announcing the winners, but actually what I watched was some Access Hollywood watered-down version. Where was the glitz? The glamour? I missed the dresses! I didn't miss the awards not one single bit. Though I was super excited that Mad Men and John Hamm won for AMC. Thrilling! One fabulous show, I tell you. But I must say, those writers have way more power in Hollywood than I ever thought. It's pretty impressive that one group can shut down the entire television season.

In other news, I could not have been more excited about Nate and Jen being eliminated last night on The Amazing Race. For recaps, check out www.televisionwithoutpity.com. Hysterical. My favorite part was when Jen yelled at Nate on the street in Taipei, "You NEED to make the decisions, Nate! Don't ruin my birthday by not making the decisions right now!!!" Rock on, Nate. Make her make those really tough subway-or-taxi decisions. Nate cried at the end, and I tried to feel bad for them, but I didn't.

Weekend recommendations: Definitely order the Szechuan short ribs at Bloomsbury, but don't order the salmon if you go. Also, their wine list is full of things that normal people can't pronounce. If I can't say it, probably I shouldn't drink it. Also, I discovered that if I need something, I should just mention it in my MIL's presence and it will magically appear. Like yesterday morning, I was telling her about how our coffee pot got mysteriously cracked one day and she opened up a cabinet door and said, "Here, want this one?" Um, okay.

Things to look forward to this week: BB goes back to school! Woo hoo, I have finally have my Monday nights back. He's taking grad-level accounting, bless his little heart. Also, school started for me on Friday and I'm already behind on my reading. Way to keep those resolutions, E. Baker! I'm definitely looking forward to tomorrow, when my work-study student comes back to work. And I'm also looking forward to Thursday, when it's supposed to rain...or if it's really cold, like it's supposed to be, maybe something else?

Happy Monday!

All Clear...For Some of Us

This week has been "cancer screening" week in my family. Frank's PET scan showed cancer on two lobes of his liver and he was scheduled for surgery yesterday. Daddy's scan was this morning.

Good news first: Daddy is cancer free! He goes back in April, but every three months that goes by without a recurrence lowers the risk of the cancer returning - at all. Fabulous all the way around!

Now the not-so-good news: Frank's five-hour surgery was over in half an hour. According to family, the cancer is so widespread that surgery would do no good, so they closed him up before they really got started. This morning my aunt is meeting with the doctors to see what the options are, if there are any. Of course this is discouraging news; Duke flew a doctor from Johns Hopkins down here to be on stand-by to "freeze" any remaining tumors that couldn't be removed during the surgery. Turns out his trip was for naught. So now we wait...and hope for the best.

In other news, I went out (meaning waaaay out in the county) on Tuesday night to West Johnston High School to judge senior boards. They emailed looking for volunteers from JCC and I'm thinking, Hey, how hard can it be? Judge some projects, meet some peeps, be seen and put a notch on the resume. Uh huh, riiiight. So I get there a little past 5pm because hello, you have to drive 30 minutes from here and suffice it to say our county is rather large. Anyway, people are already assigned to their spots and are already munching on sandwiches. I get assigned to one table, get moved to another and start reading through project portfolios. Basically they give you a big bin with the portfolios of the projects you'll be judging; the notebooks explain what the project is and the process the student has gone through.

To make an extremely long night a very short story, let's just say one of the judges in my room was a know-it-all band parent who'd judged twice before. The other was a first-year guidance counselor at the school, straight out of graduate school and very serious about his job as judge. The projects ranged from pregnancy and smoking to making a ghillie suit (for those of you who don't know, it's that bushy looking thing that soldiers wear in the woods as a disguise). Some of the students spent a super long time on their projects and their presentations and it showed. Some were nervous but still had put a lot of work into it and some didn't care enough to start this thing until Christmas break. As judges, our scores have to be a consensus, and consensus in this case means within at least 7 points of each other. Let's just say that on several different occasions, I scored students at least 15 points lower than did Genius Guidance Counselor. Band Parent fell sort of middle of the road. After the 7 or so students finished their 10-15 minute presentations (during which there were numerous technological difficulties which extended the time we spent in there), we gathered score sheets to tally.

By this time, it's seriously going on 9:30pm (and I have to drive half an hour to get home) and GGC doesn't want to budge on his scores. "But if I come down a point or two then it won't be consistent with what I gave Olivia Overachiever!" he whined. We reminded him that you can't compare student to student, and that basically we just needed a number close enough to mine so that we could get outta this joint. "But what if we ruin Sally Slacker's senior year? I mean, what if her senior project grade isn't good enough and she doesn't get into college? And then she fails high school and her life is over and it's all our fault?" Oh my GOD I wish I was kidding. This dude went on and on and on. Finally he conceded on that one, but not on other students, so I made the decision to give credit where it wasn't due so I could actually get home before midnight. And this is after the in-charge lady made an announcement that if there were any volunteers still left in the building we should pack it up, 'cause they're locking the doors. We're done right?

Not so much. GGC walks down the halls of the high school whining the whole way. "I don't mean to beat a dead horse," he complains. "But I really feel like we shortchanged some people. I mean, they spent months and months on this. What if their confidence is ruined? How will we explain that?" Here's a tip, buddy: we don't explain it. The project sucked, she coulda done better, we did our job and now we're done. And it's 10pm. And maybe I would've had a little sympathy if he'd been the senior guidance counselor, but no! He worked strictly with freshmen!

So now the question becomes whether or not I will judge again. Because inevitably they'll ask me. I asked around and apparently ours was an isolated case - most everyone else was out of there before 9:00. I might give it some time and do it again, just to see what it's like with different judges -and maybe some smarter students?

One last commentary on the whole night: The girl who presented on pregnancy and smoking did so because she'd just had a baby and like, totally hated it when her friends wanted to smoke around her. And when she talked to her other pregnant friends, they like, all agreed with her and stuff. Babies aside, she was a cute, blonde cheerleader-type. And so were all her friends, as we saw from her powerpoint presentation. Cheerleader moms. What an interesting concept.