Mountain Bound!

Well, the trip has arrived. Tomorrow morning at 10, three of the four boys and I will head off to North Carolina (the others will be heading out at noon). Approximately 6 hours later, we will arrive at our mountain home... which will hopefully be covered in snow. I'm going to set the boys to starting a fire immediately; luckily, we have an Eagle Scout traveling with us. So handy.

Before then, though, the task at hand is packing. Thanks to some neat freak gene passed on to me by my sweet mother (fortunately in rare, tiny increments), I cannot successfully pack until my room is completely clean and my closet organized, creating a bare canvas for laying out my wardrobe. We'll be gone for five days altogether, and you can guess what that means... lots of luggage. Traveling with the boys comes with pros and cons in the luggage department: there will be more room for my luggage because they surely won't pack as much, but I have a feeling they won't be as accepting of my excess baggage as the girls would be. Give me a break, though. We're going skiing, lounging around, going out, and that's very demanding of my wardrobe. I need ski wear (loaned to me by sweet Alice), lounge wear, going out wear, and a few things that can be dressed up or down. Not to mention scarves, jackets, boots and shoes, jewelry, toiletries, hair products and tools... etc. I mean, whoa.

On top of packing clothes, I'm spending the evening creating sweet confections to take with us... Oreo truffles, peanut butter cookies, Rice Krispie treats...

Clearly, a lady's work is never done.

Fahoo Fores, Dahoo Dores

Welcome Christmas, Christmas Day!

Well, if you haven't heard, we had a White Christmas this year. I'm not sure who was more excited, me or my cat. Macy rushed from window to window trying to determine whether or not the white specks falling from the sky wished to do her harm (think Wizard of Oz, "Are you a good witch? or a bad witch?").

As usual, Dad made breakfast and I slipped around the corner to see what Santa had left me. Mother says that Santa is running out of room on his sleigh for twenty-three-year olds; I insist that if Santa really loves me, he'll make room.

Christmas was good to me this year: riding boots, dresses, make-up, the annual Snow Baby ornament, a couple small home decor items from Anthropologie (Santa is so good to check my online wish list), pearl earrings (I have to mention that my dad picked them out because he did such a good job), and a few other this and that's. Spoiled much? Definitely.

Above all, though, I can truly say that the best part of Christmas was spending time with my family. Sure, I'm a little materialistic. I like pretty things, and I'm a sucker for name brands. But you can't put a price on tradition and laughter.

Every year on Christmas Eve, Mom and I watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Which means, every year on Christmas Eve, Mom and I crack up over the same animated faces we've seen time and time again. Something about that Grinch, though... Gets us every time.

Every year on Christmas, we play games. Oftentimes we play Scrabble, Dad's specialty, but this year we switched it up a bit with Trivial Pursuit because it was one of my Christmas gifts. Mom and I always play Monopoly, but Dad sits out because he only plays games he feels sure he can win.

Every year, Dad and I watch White Christmas. I should scratch that out because that was switched up a little bit this year as well: every year, Dad and I watch a Bing Crosby Christmas movie. We traded in White Christmas for the Crosby and Astaire classic Holiday Inn. It was cute, but we'll probably go back to White Christmas next year. Fred Astaire is a wonder to watch, but it's hard to beat Danny Kaye, in my humble opinion.

Every year, Dad suggests that we wait and open presents the next day. Or an hour before dinner. Or not at all. Basically, every year Dad tries to act like he doesn't know that we have a strict tradition enforcement policy around here.

It's been a few years since I've spent all of Christmas at home with my parents, and I've missed it more than I realized. I am so blessed to have a family that, gifts and jokes aside, celebrates Christmas because of a desire to celebrate Christ's birth, an event so incredible that I cannot find words to do it justice. How do you describe the God of Creation sending His Son to us, knowing all that He would endure... for us? Measly, complaining, wretched us.

What a mind-blowing day it is, really! Family, friends, food, laughter, presents, awful holiday sweaters... and the celebration of the most incredible, life-changing gift ever given to mankind. Whoa: Christmas is awesome.

it's the good life.

Christmas break is always so good to me.

I love spending time with my family and friends-- my hilarious aunts and uncles, snugs with my niece Mal, inside jokes with my dad, kitchen table talks with my mom, video games and ping pong with the boys, and lunch dates with the girlfriends.

I love spending time in my hometown with no worries about getting back to school to finish homework or study. I love reading on the couch while Mom watches the news and taking a beating from p90x with Dad and Dea, eating at my favorite restaurants (okay, I'm sorry I keep forcing you guys to eat at Mama's, but I love it so so much) and shopping at the local boutiques in my storybook town (the crowds are so much better than Target or Wal-Mart, and the customer service is the icing on the cake). And of course, there's the book table at Mike's. Oh man, oh man-- hours, literally hours, people. I love late night laughs in the living room at the Married Couple's house, long talks in the car with Clay, and midnight phone calls with JoJo (just to talk about the new board game she got today).

I love weekends with the pledge sisters, reliving the glory days and toasting memories long gone. I love that I always have something to look forward to because the Lord has so richly blessed me with people I can't get enough of.

And of course, it doesn't hurt that when I'm home for Christmas break the house elves magically do my laundry once a week and put supper on the table every night... Just one of the many perks.

Oh, and PS-- this is my 200th post. And I'm posting it at 2:00 am. Hip hip... hooray!

confession.

I've confessed before that I watch A Baby Story. Oh, how I wish this were my only guilty pleasure.

TLC shows a number of shows that I enjoy and am considerably less embarrassed to talk about: What Not to Wear and Say Yes to the Dress, for instance. For this reason, when I turn my TV on in the afternoon, it is often still on TLC from the night before.

Today, I turned the TV on just for some background noise while I typed out a few emails. I didn't realize how dangerous this practice is. An hour later, I'm watching a show called 'I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant.' Yeah, pretty self-explanatory, but in case you're having trouble putting the pieces together... this show documents stories of women who did not realize that they were, in fact, pregnant until they went into labor... usually sitting on the toilet in their dorm room bathroom. The show comes complete with reenactments... yup.

Now, I have no experience with being pregnant; however, this is an unthinkable thought to me. While I have never been pregnant myself, I have been around pregnant women, and I happen to be well aware that they're pregnant by their very pregnant appearance.

In the episode that's on as I type this out, the college freshman skips her period multiple times in a row, complains about crying over everything, throwing up at soccer practice, and gaining 15 pounds. Her mother says she noticed that her hips were getting wider, and the girl herself mentions that she'd gone up a cup size and is experiencing heartburn.

Hmmm. Call me crazy, but... absence of period, crazy hormones, throwing up, weight gain, heart burn, changing body shape... Oh, what's that? You went off your birth control a month before your boyfriend was deployed to Iraq? Yeah, I can see why this came as such a shock.

People, you are killing me.

little miss productivity

I know that no one likes a bragger... but...

I am having the best week ever.

I have been unusually productive in the past few days, which also happens to mean I've been unusually anti-social but you can't have everything, I suppose. But then again, the few days before this, I was extremely social... so maybe it's just a trade off. Play hard, work hard, or something like that.

First of all, if you didn't read my toilet post, I spent a few days last week in Dallas with my friend Clay. That city is awesome, eclipsed only by the people living there. I am in love with Clay's friends. The two girls in the group I am certain are my soul mates, and the boys are so much fun and such strong Christians. In-cre-duh-bull. (for all concerned, yes I know that's not spelled correctly. sound it out.)

Friday night, one of my very best friends came up from Auburn for some much-needed hang time. Blake and I were joined by a few of our other fellow Auburn-ites, and we spent the evening playing the Wii. Oh yeah-- I'm a total gamer.

I spent Saturday morning with my family. My wonderful, wonderful family. Am I the only person who still looks forward to family gatherings? I hear people groan and moan when they talk about "having" to go to a family gathering... My family fun days are the highlight of my week. Seriously, they are highlighted in my planner. And underlined. And circled. I spent most of my day playing with Baby Mallory and eating (about that whole hot tub thing...), and then we played Dirty Santa. I ended up with #1, of course, and I picked up my cousin Rachel's offering: it's one of those things you see on infomercials where you put this little spring mechanism under your chin and nod until you work your flabby neck off. I'm still puzzled as to why no one attempted to steal it from me, but you can be sure that I'll have the hottest neck in town come next Christmas. Then they'll be sorry.

Saturday afternoon I drove to Birmingham to celebrate the marriage of one of my pledge sisters. She and her groom are like the cutest couple ever. We danced the night away in our cocktail dresses and heels and ended up at Ihop with my dear friend Wade around 1 am. And to top the night off, we had a slumber party at JoJo's house. Practically perfect in every way.

After a much-needed nap Sunday afternoon, the productivity phase set in. I decided it was time to de-clutter my bedroom. Other than Christmas break and a few weeks in summer, I haven't lived at home since I've been in college. My college stuff has been bumped around from apartment to apartment; meanwhile, my bedroom at my parents' house has become something of a shrine to my high school career. For some reason, it has never occurred to me that we have an attic and I'm allowed to use it, so everything that has had some sentimental feeling attached to it has piled up under my bed, in various junk drawers, and in my closet. After hours of cleaning and reorganizing Sunday, I had two boxes of trash (it turns out, some things lose that "special" feeling after a few years) and two boxes for the attic (my Babysitter's Club books and a few priceless love notes, for example). I'm feeling much better already in my less cluttered space (please don't misunderstand: there's still clutter).

On Monday, I turned my attention to my car. It seems that I have collected every license plate registration receipt and expired insurance papers since I turned 16. Also, every nook in my car had at least 5 pens in it-- not that I could ever find one when I needed it-- and several dollars in change. Not to mention countless gum wrappers, straw wrappers, the occasional old fry, and a few empty water bottles jammed under seats. After the trash purge, I vacuumed. I even treated the leather. I told you I've been productive. Don't act like you're not impressed.

And lastly, today I did yoga with my dad. P90x yoga that almost killed us both, that is. This stuff is no joke. It's not your peaceful deep breathing yoga with a background soundtrack of Forest Sounds. This kind of yoga turns your body inside out, warping you into positions previously only used in medieval torture. My shoulder popped out of place briefly during one set of sun salutations, and I have rug burns on the palms of my hands. After arranging my body parts back into proper working order, I went out on the town to run some errands: bank, post office, last minute Christmas shopping.

I'm exhausted just typing it all out. I think I'm due some social time after so much productivity, although I have a sneaking suspicion that my mom could think of a few things to throw at me while I'm in this phase. Sorry, Mom, your window of opportunity has just closed. Try again next week.

I must be butter...

... cuz I'm on a roll.

So far this Christmas break I have finished three novels:

Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind

Phillipa Gregory's The White Queen

and Charles Martin's Chasing Fireflies

I get very, very attached to books-- like, really, I weep every time I read the Harry Potter series-- and so I always hate to turn that final page, but the sorrow is quickly eclipsed by my excitement to jump into a new literary world. Right now, I'm working on C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, and let me tell you: it's awesome. Awesome. It is such a fresh take on the life and trials of a believer, and satiric prose is the perfect fit for me.

Also on tap for this Christmas break:

F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise

Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence

Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey

Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief

and hopefully many more...

And now, I have a date with my man C.S.

cliche.

Right now, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Dallas. It's in an old house, every room is full of vintage couches and arm chairs, and the playlist is a Who's Who of indie sonsters: The Decemberists, Sufjan Stevens, Frou Frou, et cetera. Atop every table sits a Mac Book Pro, including the very laptop I'm borrowing right now, and I feel a bit out of place with no chai tea latte in my hand and no worn-out Toms on my feet.

It's the kind of place that hosts open mic nights and allows frequent fliers to post their homemade art on the walls in hopes of a big sell.

So, yes, this is a hipster cliche. But while I was amused when I first walked in, I'm falling more and more in love the longer I sit here. The more I gaze around at my coffee house comrades, the more Bibles I see accompanying the Macs, and the more I listen, the more I hear people my age discussing their spiritual lives with the person next to them. Immediately, I am in love and inspired. The greatest thing of all: the majority of the people around me are guys. This isn't awesome because I'm single (hello, I don't need a Dallas boyfriend). It's awesome because there are few things in life more touching than a man with a heart for God. I think it's so easy for women, more emotional and in touch with their feelings by nature, to talk about "what the Lord's doing" in their life and tell their friend they're praying for them. But a man who talks this way, who lives it out loud, seems like a much greater feat indeed.

I'm reading The Screwtape Letters-- in between blog posts-- because I left my book (Charles Martin's "Chasing Fireflies") at home, and Clay loaned me the C.S. Lewis classic. Just five chapters (letters) in, I'm obsessed. C.S. Lewis, you win again. You always do.

my cup runneth over.

Okay, it wasn't my cup. It was a toilet. And it wasn't mine, it was Clay's.

**warning: this is graphic and what some might call "over-sharing." But I don't believe in that.

Head's up: this is a blog of full-disclosure, and, though the most mortifying moment of my life, this story begs to be shared.

First things first, let's get some things straight: everybody poops. There. I said it. It's a natural, God-given function, and it is necessary and healthy. I'm not sure why we're so ashamed of this little process, but I'm no exception. If you're a guy, I hate to burst your bubble, but yes: girls, too, poop. Your wife, your girlfriend, your little sister... all poopers since Day 1.

Right now, I'm in Dallas visiting my friend Clay. Last night, we went to a Mexican restaurant called Manny's and then went back to Clay's apartment to play games. So there I am, with Clay and seven of my closest friends (read: seven strangers that I'm trying to impress with how cool and clever I am) when the urge hits me. Usually on trips, my colon is what you might call "shy," so when the opportunity arose, I had no choice but to embrace it.

I carefully timed my decision. Just after my turn, when I knew the other seven still had to play before I would be up again, I quietly excused myself. I stealthily slipped past the hall bathroom to the back bedroom. There I considered a test-flush to ensure that the porcelain throne was in good working order. Stop being paranoid, I told myself.

You know what happens next. I flush, and as I'm buttoning up and adjusting, I watch the water in the toilet swirl. Unlike most toilets though, this time the water is spinning in the wrong direction.

Cold sweat. Racing heart.

I think to myself that the toilet is just teasing me, some kind of bathroom version of chicken. Wrong. As the water threatened to spill over the top, I lunged to turn the water off, all the while whispering frantic prayers and promising to never be bad again if God would only fix the toilet. Some sort of Christmas miracle.

I think it's funny when God laughs at me.

So, I have no choice. After deciding that there's no way I can sneak back into the living room, grab my phone, and call my dad for advice (he's the only person I know that gets himself into more awkward situations than me), I drag myself into the living room and try to catch Clay's eye. He doesn't notice-- of course-- but his friends do.

"Clay, I think Lindsey wants you."

Great, all eyes on me. Um, yeah, hi... I broke your toilet. It started to overflow, but I cut the water off. (mental pat on the back)

Sensitive Clay, "So there's pee all over my bathroom floor?"

Okay, I'm horrified that Clay, thinking that I'm making a big ordeal about something as normal as pee, will run into the bathroom and save the day. So there, in a room of my peers, I have to confess immediately: No. It's not just pee.

Nice to meet you all, it's been a lovely time here in Dallas, but I must leave now so that I can bury myself under a rock and never make eye contact with any of you ever again.

They were all so sweet about it. Too sweet. Unbearably sweet. I wanted someone to joke about it, act like it was totally normal. But instead, they petted me, as though they wanted to save me from what they agreed was a totally miserable, mortifying experience.

They'll never remember my name. Months from now one of them will turn to Clay and say, "Whatever happened to that girl that broke your toilet?"

Before you go thinking that you can't believe I shared this, don't act like it's not your worst nightmare. I just said what everyone's been thinking for years. I wish we could get over it, and I hope this was a step in the right direction. Guess what: I poop, and so do you.

The Day My Brain Snapped.

Today I ventured into uncharted territory: first grade. I haven't been in a first grade classroom since 1996-- when Yours Truly was herself a first grader-- and so it was mite more difficult to get my bearings. First of all, everything is in miniature. (Yeah, yeah, insert "just your size" joke here). Second, as the teacher, I am the keeper of all of Life's answers. It is inconceivable to a six-year-old that I might not know their second cousin Bradley or that I am uncertain how to log in to their AR test.

We started off with a bang, as my lesson plans stated that from 7:45-8:45 I was to take attendance. Attendance for an hour. So for the remaining 57 minutes I fielded questions-- what are we doing today? what's wrong with our teacher? do you know Santa? do you have kids? do you have a boyfriend? are you for Alabama or Auburn? are you going to be here tomorrow? do you go to high school? can I go to the bathroom? can I trade snacks with Lucy? can I go put my gloves in my backpack? will you pull my tooth? and so forth-- and tried to keep my 15 students in their seats, an experience much like asking cats to roll over on command.

Conversations with first graders are hard. Their attention spans are much like that of a chipmunk and, feeling the need to explain their every thought, any request comes with a five minute description of why they need what they need, including a break between sentences to see what the rest of the class is doing.

Water is, apparently, a miracle cure. Any ache or ailment can be magically solved by being allowed to get a drink of water:

"Miss Hays, my belly hurts."... "Would you like to get a sip of water?"... "Mmmhmm."

Much better.

"Miss Has, my neck hurts."..."Why don't you have some water?"..."Thank you!"

Problem solved.

"Miss Hazel, my head hurts."..."I bet a sip of water would make you feel better."..."Yes ma'am."

Ta-da!

Swear words are the new chicken pox. One kid whispers the "s-word" to his neighbor, who immediately reports, "So-and-so said &*it!!" He is in turn reported by his neighbor, who is then reported by his neighbor, and down the line until I have fifteen first graders blowing my room up with bad words. I calmly explain to my class that, regardless of who started it, we are not going to say bad words from here on out because you-know-who is making a list of who's naughty and nice, and I would hate for anyone to end up on the naughty list because of tattling or swearing. So there will be no more swearing from here on out because we all now have clean slates. At this point, a sweet child yanks my sleeve and says in his clearest voice, "Brandon said bull shit." Perfect.

Tattling, like swearing, is another epidemic. The majority of the time, the tattling child is in no way involved in the crime they are reporting; they are simply doing the civic duty to their neighbor by informing me that so-and-so stole so-and-so's pencil. These reports can be from the smallest infraction--"Susan put her hand on my desk"-- to the most ridiculous stories--"Dylan said you're his mom"-- to tattling on a tattler-- "Cody's going to tell on me but I didn't do anything wrong!" Halfway through the day I realized that this was not tolerated by any other teachers, and I had to put my foot down and inform the children that I was no longer accepting tattles, and I happen to know a jolly man in a red suit up North who doesn't care for tattlers either. This was a welcome break, as one more kiddie-breath (much like puppy breath, but worse) whispered tattle would have surely driven me over the edge.

As some point during the day, my brain snapped in half. I watched as reality melted around me and fought the urge to curl into fetal position and giggle to myself on the floor. No amount of lecturing, no severity of threat can curb these children. I could no more make a worm stop wiggling than I can make fifteen first graders simultaneously be quiet and still. They must swing their legs and tap their desks like they must breathe, and they must share every unfiltered thought that comes to their mind: "I colored the presents brown" (runs back to desk then returns), "I colored the house red" (runs back to desk then returns), "I colored the snow purple." You know what, why don't you just surprise me?

Let me put it to you this way: these kids are adorable. So freaking cute I can barely stand it. Like really, I'm not sure I can stand it. I want to teach first grade like I want to coach a basketball team of ducks, and I think I would be equally good at both.

It's not okay.

This is one of my many confession posts.

Okay, deep breath, here goes: sometimes, when I'm awfully low, or really just bored, I watch... drumroll, please... I watch A Baby Story.

There. It's out there in cyber world, and I am breathing just a bit easier.

Now this show, for anyone who hasn't tuned in, is ridiculous. One hundred percent, unadulterated ridiculousness. Why anyone would want to broadcast this "special day" on cable television is beyond me, but alas, there they are on TLC-- legs hiked up in stirrups and sweat flowing down their grimaced faces-- for all to see.

Yesterday I watched back-to-back episodes, which was a little much even for me. First, we had a couple who were first time parents delivering in a hospital. The dad was far too excited for his own good, continually peering around to watch the crowning and other such uncomfortable occurrences. He did what he called his 'daddy dance' and proclaimed proudly to the camera that he even got to "help move the Britney around to release the head."

**Note: "Britney" is code word for a certain part of the female body that my girl Britney Spears flashes from time to time to unsuspecting paparazzi. The proud daddy actually used anatomically correct terminology, but the v-word has no place on this blog.

Whoa, Big Daddy, there is no need for all that. That's what nurses are for. You sit back toward your wifey's head and let her squeeze your hand until your knuckles crack. At no point in time should you be south of her knees. Your sole purpose in that room is to take accept the blame for putting her in this lousy predicament via her soul-crushing accusations. You may also feed her ice and mop her brow. Nothing else.

Second up were, appropriately, second time parents. Their first child, Uva (oo-vuh), was born in a hospital after coming pre-term. The second time around, the Earth parents opted for a home birth, complete with baby pool in the living room in case of a water birth. Mommy laid in the floor chanting to herself as the midwife rubbed her and chanted back. When Mommy finally climbed into her swimming pool, Uva was there at ringside to observe the birth. Oh yes, you read that right. Two-year-old Uva watched her mom give birth in a baby pool in the living room.

Tee-totally normal. Not traumatic at all, I'm sure.

Some people shouldn't reproduce. Exhibit A: Uva's parents.

People, this is not okay.

Breakfast of Champions

Well, I'm back at the school today, so I'm up extra early. And you know what, it's extra cold. My hands ached as I gingerly held the steering wheel, hoping for as little contact as possible without careening my car into the icy lake-- which is something, morbidly enough, I think about almost every time I cross the Big Bridge.

True to my Operation: Hot Tub mission, I've been trying to watch my food intake as of late. Unfortunately, when I say I'm watching it, I mainly mean that I'm aware of it... not necessarily tailoring it to my Hot Tub needs. This morning, I'm noshing on a 100-calorie pack of Cheese-Itz... or maybe it's Cheeze-Its... I'm pretty sure there's a 'Z' in there somewhere... and a Diet Mountain Dew. Mmmm, nutrients.

I keep planning on making a grocery store run to stock up on more satisfying options, but it's so gosh-darn cold out and I so hate mass market places... Oh, and I'm extremely lazy, so there's a con. I am craving healthy options, though. The truth is, I don't have a sweet tooth. (My mother just gasped). I am a sweet tooth (feel better, Mom?). I feel like every meal must be followed up with a sugary treat to cleanse my palette (thanks for that genetic gift, Dad). Preferably something chocolate. Furthermore, while some people have an aversion to fast food, believing it to be gross or low-quality or some such nonsense, I love it. Yep, there it is. I love it. Chick-Fil-A: whoa baby, your milkshakes and spicy chicken sandwich make my heart sing. Arby's roast beef sandwich, 'H' yes. Krystal, your burgers are so tiny, I could eat a million-- and I usually give that lofty goal my best shot. And the worst of the worst, Taco Bell. Oh boy, Taco Bell, you are my tummy's delight.

That's what's up. I'm a glutton, and you're disgusted with me now, but I needed to confess that to get to this:

I'm over it. Lately, I'm craving rabbit food. Blame it on my road-diet on the way to and from Tuscaloosa; blame it on the rich Thanksgiving fare of late; whatever the reason, I need lettuce. I need fruit. I need water. I need things that are natural and juicy, God's own sweet gift to me.

Thank goodness the lunchroom is serving chili and corndogs today... Mmm, nature's bounty.

Testing, testing.

Today I'm subbing at the high school again, and I'm giving a test. An open-book, matching, vocabulary test. And yet, the groans of protest never cease. The whispering of answers and double-checking of neighbors persists despite my desperate pleas for silence and dangerous threats of zeroes: "If you're talking, you're cheating."

Just now, for instance, I had to look up from my blog respite to tell one of my iPod-clad students to stop talking. "Oh, I wasn't talking, I was singing something to him. You want me to sing it to you?"

Oh, just singing? Then, sure, go ahead. As long as you're not doing anything disruptive and totally opposite of what I've asked you to do multiple times. Sing away, my Grammy-bound friend.

No, dear, I do not want you to sing your song to me. I want you to be quiet. And do your work. And just nod in submissive acknowledgement when I reprimand you. Honestly, it's OPEN BOOK and it's MATCHING-- if this is hard for YOU then don't trust your classmates' answers either, for goodness sake. Really, the only way I could make this easier for you is to write the answers on the board.

And no, before you ask, I will not do that.

Ugh. Kids these days.

from Me to You.

Dear Flirtatious,

Hey girl, I got my eye on you. Yes, you. You know who doesn’t? Cutie in Camo in front of you. I hate to burst your hormonal bubble, but that stud muffin in front of you isn’t interested, no matter how many times you kick his chair or laugh entirely too loud at his joke. And that whole play fighting thing—give it up. It doesn’t actually hurt him when you flail your fists at him. It bothers him, but more importantly, it bothers me. So stop. I realize that you only have four years ahead of you to secure your run for ‘Biggest Flirt’ in the Senior Who’s Who, but girlfriend, trust me, you are working overtime here. Focus your energies on love letters if you must share your feelings, but please, for the sake of my sanity, cease your outrageous flirting.

Sincerely,

Elle the Sub.

Dear Sour Puss in Sixth Period,

Why yes, you do have to turn your desk around. And yes, you do have to copy the questions down. And yes, you do actually have to do work because you are, in fact, in school. Does that come as a surprise to you? Have you believed all along that you are part of some secret social society that meets regularly on week days? Sorry about your luck bud, but your frat days are many years ahead of you and this is neither a Christmas cocktail or band party. What’s that you’re muttering under your breath? You don’t understand why you have to do these things? Let me tell you an age old secret of why you have to do these things: because I said so.

Sincerely,

Elle the Sub.

Dear Over Achiever,

I delight in you. You, my dear, are the reason I grace this school with my presence. You come to class prepared, expect to do work because you are in school after all, and take full advantage of the free public education you are receiving. Sure, you whisper to your neighbor from time to time, but I love that about you. Why? Because you have learned the art of whispering, and that makes me feel like you are more accomplished than your peers who lack this life skill. You, sweet child, will go far in this life because you are so wonderfully agreeable and a refreshing change from the rest of your generation. Do you need a reference letter for college? Look me up, girl. Do you need a recommendation for the social sorority of your choice? I’m your (wo)man. Do you need someone to sit with you at lunch? Join me at the faculty table where your maturity will be appreciated. Are these other rambunctious children bothering you? Please, allow me to silence them for you.

Sincerely,

Elle the Sub.

Dear Twin Towers,

Hey, down here. Yep, waaay down here. How’s the weather up there, big guys? You two are entirely too tall to be freshmen. You obviously aren’t on a trendy organic diet because your height must be the result of the hormones pumped into grocery store chicken. What’s that? You think it’s funny that I must stand on this chair in order to talk to you? Yeah, well, I don’t like it either. Please make yourself available for my next class announcement, as I would like to sit atop your mountainous shoulders as I broadcast my edicts. Thanks in advance.

Sincerely,

Elle the Sub.

**Names and dates have been changed to protect the innocent... and the not-so-innocent.

Some things just can't wait.

Usually when I sub, I like to do a little compilation blog at the end of the day made up of all my favorite student quotes and stories. But some things can't wait. Some things must be reported immediately.

Currently, my kids are creating 15 Multiple Choice questions for section two of their chapter. No biggie. Meanwhile, I'm working on a Christmas list and corresponding with E via email. Imagine my surprise when a student catches my eye and blurts out,

"Is Africa in Europe?"

Holy moly. Maybe I should specify, for the sake of your shock and awe, that I am subbing at a high school... not an elementary school as the question might suggest.

For anyone wondering what the answer to this perplexing quandary is... No, Africa is not in Europe. Africa is, in fact, it's very own continent.

Here's the kicker: when this question was asked, I immediately expected an uproar from my other students, exclaiming what an idiot their classmate is... Nope. No one even acted surprised. It was as if she had asked the question that had been burning on all of their minds.

And one other thing: one of my students is pretending to be her classmate's baby. Baby talk and baby voice included. I'm not sure what ethics and discipline dictates here. On the one hand, she's no louder than anyone else. The whole class is maintaining a dull roar, and she's not necessarily any worse than anyone else. On the other hand, I can hear her ridiculousness, and I think my head might explode at any moment from unvented irritation. To call her out or not to call her out...

just a few things.

Apparently a prostrate problem has hit the freshman class. I know this because not a single student has been able to control their bladder today; instead, one by one they come to my desk and insist that they must go to the bathroom immediately. I also happen to know that beverages are not allowed in class, so outside of break and lunch there should be no liquid consumption. I, for one, have not been to the restroom once today, and I just so happen to have a pea-sized bladder. Not to mention my control top tights that are oppressing my lower abdomen.

With my discomfort in mind, I would think that my wee charges could "hold it" for just one class period. I have been for at least 6 periods. But no, my wee charges constantly have to... well, wee.

And Heaven forbid I say no! Even though I have been left with strict instructions-- No Passes Out-- those puppy dog eyes look at me as though I have denied them oxygen or Justin Bieber when I say no.

Tomorrow, I'm putting my foot down.

Along with my complaint, I'll leave you with my favorite student quote of the day:

"I really, really wish Britain would've won the Battle of 1812. That would've been really cool.... Then we could all go over to Hermione Granger's house."

with Wonder.

Confession: I stole this from another blog. Now, if I was really high-tech like some of my other blogging friend, the word 'blog' would be a hyperlink to the blog I stole it from... but since I'm not, I'll just tell you that the blog is called kisssing, and I found in through my dear friend Anna.

Drumroll, please:

“All our young lives we search for someone to love. Someone who makes us complete. We choose partners and change partners. We dance to a song of heartbreak and hope... all the while wondering if somewhere, somehow, there's someone perfect... who might be searching for us.” --The Wonder Years

I vividly remember watching The Wonder Years with my mom when I was very little. Don't act like you didn't want to fight for Winnie and Kevin, especially in the episode where Winnie moves to a neighboring school and the two young lovebirds promise to think about each other every hour, on the hour.

Lately, I've been feeling a little sentimental; maybe it's because I'm coming home for my 23rd Christmas, and that's quite a few Christmases under my belt... maybe a little more than I'm comfortable with. And so I love the finale quote from The Wonder Years, too:

"Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house, like a lot of houses. A yard like a lot of other yards. On a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back...with wonder."

--The Wonder Years

Operation: Hot Tub

With Thanksgiving and Iron Bowl festivities behind us, my attention has moved onto one of the many adventures I have planned for my winter break: New Year's Eve.

Now, I understand that I have a project and three finals standing between me and my break officially beginning, not to mention a trip to Dallas and Christmas, but my New Year's trip comes with a few "needs" that must be handled with haste. Allow me to explain with a few visual supplements.

Every time I've talked to Clay about my trip to Dallas, his agenda has included mainly one thing: eating. Awesome; I just so happen to be a huge fan.

Next up: Christmas parties.

I don't know what your Christmas parties entail, but mine consist largely of treats. Lots and lots of treats.

On top of Christmas parties with friends, you have, of course, Christmas dinners with family.

Yes, a smorgasbord of delicious Christmas goodies, and if your family's Christmas dinner is anything like mine, there aren't a lot of "lite" options floating around on the big day.

Now, why am I complaining about all this deliciousness soon to be coming my way? That's where my little New Year's trip comes into play. This year, I'll be ringing in 2011 high up in the mountains of North Carolina with 9 of my best friends. Total, that's five guys and five girls. Cute, isn't it? What fun! you might say... Well, sure it will be loads of fun. Two tons of fun, in fact, as I expect to weigh approximately two tons when we depart for our holiday destination.

You may be wondering what's the big deal. Winter is the perfect time to splurge a bit and hide away your holiday muffin top under layers and layers of cuddly clothes. You'd think.

Ladies and germs, I give you the highlight of our New Year's retreat:

Ahhhhh, the hot tub. What a delightful way to warm up in the snowy mountains. But who needs that when you've put on a thick layer of holiday "warmth," like a bear heading into hibernation??

So, you see my dilemma. In less than a month-- that's right, a month from today we'll be starting a new year, friends-- I'm going to have to shed all my layers of warmth and slip into hot tub appropriate attire: aka, bathing suit. Most people will start a tireless workout routine on New Year's Day to begin gearing up for Spring Break. Not I. I have less than a month to be bikini-ready.

Thanks to last night's Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, I have a little inspiration:

I'm sure this is a look that can be easily accomplished in just 30 days... even with all the Christmas goodies... right?

And so, Operation: Hot Tub has commenced. Every time a caramel brownie crosses my path, I'll picture that roaring hot tub and my VS Angels to help keep my eye on the prize.

I just won't count the brownie I ate on the way to work today...

Victory is mine!

Well, really, I share this victory with the entire Auburn family.

This past Friday, I attended my 3rd Iron Bowl as a student, my first as an Alabama student. For those of you wondering, I wore navy.

Truthfully, I dreaded the Iron Bowl this year. With all the mud-slinging going on surrounding my man Cam Newton and the Auburn Tigers, I knew tensions would be high and sitting in the Bama student section would be especially rough. As the big day approached, weather forecasts predicted rain and cold. So when I rolled out of bed-- my double bed that I shared with JoJo and Chasley-- that Friday morning, finding a warm, cozy place to watch the game instead was awfully tempting.

I fought the urge, though, and I braved the elements and the student section. A friend of mine and fellow Auburn alum in law school at UA invited me to sit with him and a few of his cohorts at the game, so I happily obliged. Little did I know I'd be sitting with 10 or more excited Auburn supporters.

Yes, we were booed. Yes, we were hissed at and cussed at. I've never seen so many obscene finger gestures nor heard so many f-bombs flung at myself and my team, but our merry band of fans just turned the other cheek.

Yes, the first half was tough. It was beginning to look like another shut out in Bryant-Denny was upon us, and I was dreading the shameful walk out of the student section. It was bitter cold, so I started dancing/jiggling to keep warm. And then it happened: we scored. Thrilled to at least have points on the board, I kept up my good luck dancing.

In the second half of the game, the Auburn Tigers really showed up. "We" didn't allow the Tide to score a single touchdown, and we pulled out victorious. I'm sure a lot of it had to do with my dancing.

It's amazing how much warmer it gets when you win.

To celebrate our victory, I headed downtown with some of my very best friends to dance the night away. As predicted, the tensions were high, and multiple bar fights broke out. Sure, it's dangerous and kind of scary, but it's really very entertaining to watch. It's amazing how fast the two fighters can move across the floor, and I'm pretty sure my life was saved by my dance partner shoving me out of the way at one point. Also very exciting: watching the bouncers put the most giant, drunkest guys into headlocks and remove them from the bar. Drunk people are funny.

So, even besides the win, with my best friends packed into my apartment and long hours of dancing and laughter, it was my best Iron Bowl in some time... possibly ever.

War Eagle to that.

Oh, the places you'll go.

i don't even know where to start.

My Thanksgiving break has been a whirlwind of activities, and I have loved every minute and slept very little.

Saturday, Clay arrived in Tuscaloosa, and we headed North to home. We packed an unwilling Macy into her Kitty Carrier and hit the road around 9. Around 10, Macy had a little oopsie. Unable to voice her need to hit up a gas station, she was left with little options. As we drove through Cleveland, Clay and I kept the conversation going as we both politely ignored the other one's outrageous gas... and then I heard Macy attempting to throw invisible litter on her... accident. Although I was glad to realize Clay wasn't suffering from horrendous gastrointestinal problems, the remainder of the ride home was pretty chilly with the windows down.

Sunday I went with Clay and his family to see Harry Potter. Whoa, whoa, whoa. I can't explain my emotional connection with this series. I just love it. I sob every time I read the books, and I can barely contain myself when even a preview comes on. Bring on Part II!

Monday, Chasley and I met Wade-o for lunch in Huntsville before we went shopping. Two things: Rosie's never disappoints and I could spend days in Forever 21. With Chasley's help, I found a gorgeous dress for KB's wedding at Belk. That wedding is on my "Things I'm Looking Forward To" list. Monday night, Clay and I went to see my dad's dress rehearsal for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Coat. As the title suggests, this show is uh-mazing.

On Tuesday I got to sub at the high school, and then I had to head to Tuscaloosa for class. Blah.

Erica and I met for breakfast and real talk on Wednesday morning. I love Huddle House with my whole heart, but I've got to be more persistent about Mama's opening for breakfast next time I'm there. After breakfast I went to blue grass practice with Dad. I think I nailed Away in a Manger-- a favorite since preschool-- but my attempts at Joy to the World were just plain scary. After that, I took Dad to get his very first spray tan-- a must for Pharoah Elvis. Later that night I did his make-up for dress rehearsal... Another things list: Things I Never Thought I'd Say, "I have to get home to do my dad's make-up."

Thursday thru Sunday were so exciting that they deserve their own blog posts. On a less interesting note, I'll be spending today unpacking and reorganizing my closet.

outwit. outlast. outplay.

The reality show that started all reality shows: Survivor.

I had never really followed Survivor until last season's All-Stars series.

I was living at home last spring, and it became mine and Mom's bonding time (along with a number of other guilty pleasure reality shows of the Real Housewives variety).

For fall's Survivor season, the contestants are in Nicaragua and I'm back in Tuscaloosa.

My passion for Survivor has only grown, although I'm the only twenty-something I know that watches.

I love to hate the villains: NaOnka, a PE teacher straight out of Compton with the worst imaginable attitude; Brenda, a snake in the grass former professional cheerleader; and Sash, who frankly just gives me the creeps.

I love to love the loveable ones: Chase, who is pathetically in love with Brenda but still adorable; Fabio, who is a walking caricature of a surfer dude; and Kelly B, who competed with a prosthetic leg... and was incredible.

And I forget about the ones who fly under the radar: Dan (why is he still there??), Kelly Purple, Holly, Benry... there are probably others...

For months now I've had a dream: I want to try out for Survivor. Some people laugh when I say this, but I think they're underestimating my capacity for roughin' it.

I don't know if I'll ever pull the trigger. I think I could live in Survivor, but I'm not sure how well I would do in the challenges. Some of them are pretty crazy, but then I look at the people doing them and can't help but think, "If they can do it, surely I can." Surely. Maybe.

So we'll see. Maybe one night I'll get crazy and put in an application. Otherwise, I'll keep watching as long as they keep Surviving.

Here's what I do know.

I eat a bag of kettle corn for dinner at least once a week. My mom says she's worried about my diet, and I'm beginning to see why. My food intake today looks like this: rice & beans around 10:30 am, a graham cracker and peanut butter around 2:30 pm, two snack size Hershey bars, and a bag of kettle corn I'm munching on now. There's also a Diet Dr. Pepper in my near future.

I'm not sure how I made it this long without Otis Redding. This is the kind of music I listen to when I study-- much to my class's chagrin when I'm subbing: "Miss Hays, have you got the blues?"-- and every now and then I take a study break just to dance around the living room. It kind of makes me feel like Meredith Grey and Christina Yang.

Speaking of music, Christmas music before Thanksgiving is a MAJOR NO-NO where I'm from. For one, if I start listening to Christmas music too early, I'm completely over it before the glorious holiday even arrives. And secondly, give Thanksgiving some credit, people! Turkey Day is all too often looked over in anticipation of Christmas, and... it just ain't right. Take a moment and be thankful for Thanksgiving. And then, the day afterward, crank up the Christmas tunes and sing in the season to your favorite Christmas album. My personal faves are Mariah Carey and Bing Crosby, but this year I'm open for suggestions.

For one of my last assignments in my Thursday night class-- Principles of School Counseling-- I have to turn in a curriculum vita (it's like a big-girl version of a resume). I haven't started yet, and for good reason: it's just not going to take me that long to type out my half page CV. I mean, really, my professor's CV is 34-pages. I am a nobody with no experience. Ho hum. Maybe I'll list 'blogging' under skills... That's gotta count for something. It makes me media savvy, maybe?

I was going to devote an entire post to the Prince William and Kate engagement, and maybe I still will, but in case I don't get around to it... Congrats, kids. It's a long time coming. Wills, it never would've worked out between us. Frankly, I've been after your brother since my first trip to London the summer after 8th grade. I'll be back in May, so... double date? Better yet, I bet Harry needs a date to the nuptials anyway.

must. do. real. work.

Random thoughts on a rainy Monday

Now Playing: She Knows Her Way Around by Act of Congress

It's funny that it's gross here-- rainy and gray and in slow motion-- and my mom's sitting on the deck in Gulf Shores watching waves crash onto a sunny beach. But she deserves that. If I had to bet, I'd say she and my Aunt Deb are sipping Coca-Cola Classic and telling the same old stories.

I like having conversations with my dad about football and professors. It's like some kind of weird affirmation of my maturity, these grown up conversations. My mom is my very best friend-- maybe it's my ego that wants to say that we're closer than most, or maybe we just are closer than most mother-daughter duos-- but I'm very sentimental about my dad. Everything he does is special to me. I guess I'm just a daddy's girl. A very proud daddy's girl.

My remaining work load looks like this: 4-page paper, 10-page paper, curriculum vita, portfolio, study guide, three finals, and a few projects to do in my grad assistant hours. I need to cross a couple, or several, of those things off my list today, but my work ethic and motivation is about as crappy as this weather.

I believe that laughter and chocolate have healing powers, and when combined they can make miracles. Right now I'd love to be in mine or Erica's room, eating sweet treats, with Erica and Anna (although I'm sure Anna would abstain from the treats; she has a defective sweet tooth) and going over every detail of our lives in disjointed, interrupting conversations. I'm already in my sweat pants and fleece pullover, now I just need the baked goods and my two best friends.

Over the holidays, I'm going to read as many books as I can get my hands on-- novels, biographies, series. And I hope I go to the movies several times. Sometimes it's inconvenient that we have to drive all the way to Huntsville to see a movie, but most of the time it's nice to pile into the car with your nearest and dearest for a mini-road trip. And I love-love-love watching a movie in a theater. What comes out Friday? Harry Potter. Could I be more excited? Definitely not. And besides Harry Potter, there are a host of other movies coming out just in time for the holiday break.

I have little to no food in my apartment, but I refuse to leave my apartment and fight the drizzling rain. Looks like instant grits and Ritz crackers for dinner! Although Chasley said my Ritz crackers were a bit soft...

And with all that said, I'm off to buckle down and get to work. Probably. Maybe.

Good, Great, Grand

I have great friends.

No really: they're the best.

One of those best friends came to visit me this weekend, and honestly, I don't think she could be a better best friend if she tried... and the thing is, she doesn't even have to try. That's just who Chasley is.

I could go on and on about everything I love about Chas: she's adventurous and fearless, she dresses like a real life Carrie Bradshaw (and she's not a bad writer to boot), her faith in God is unshakeable, and I can't say how much I admire her love of people-- all people. But I won't go on and on. I'll just say that Chasley is one of the rare people you meet in life that will truly inspire you to be a better person... to be more like them... to be more like Christ.

I've seen other acts of friendship lived out this weekend that have warmed my heart more than I can say.

People ask me often if I've run into my ex-boyfriend since we broke up. The answer is no. Even though we share a hometown and a university, we have blessedly had no painful/awkward run-ins. This weekend, as my friends and I walked up to a restaurant for lunch, I saw someone standing in the door wearing a t-shirt that sparked the immediate thought, "He would have liked that shirt." Why would he have liked that shirt? Oh, because that was him. Right there in the doorway. I turned to my friends and said, "I can't go in there. He's right there." Without questions, my sweet friends turned and started looking for another restaurant. They didn't make me feel like a baby or say I was making a big deal out of nothing, which for guy friends I thought was kind of major since the male species is not exactly known for it's sensitivity.

Later this weekend, we went out to hear live music-- this band was pretty much amazing-- and I danced and laughed with three of my best friends for hours. And Chasley didn't even complain when we had to walk over a mile back to my car... in heels.

Today I finished out the weekend with lunch with David, our game day weekend tradition. (Sorry, Dad, still no romance blooming). I think David and I see the world through the same lens, although he's quite a bit calmer than I am. The conversation is always top-notch though, from high school stories to favorite tooth paste.

And of course the weekend was sprinkled with text messages from Anna and a phone date with Erica, as if we could go more than a day without checking in.

I know most people hate to see the weekend end, and I probably fall into that category more often than not... but this Sunday evening, I'm looking forward to tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and so on... My mommy is coming to town this week, and then I'm heading home for the holidays (minus a few days for finals). And with the holidays come more great times with grand friends, not to mention my wonderful parents and family.

Here's the outline version of Weekend Update:

-Sushi and shopping with Chas

-Dinner and drinks with Dave and friends

-Tailgating on the quad

- My first ever Yellow Hammer at Gallete's

- Chasley's first ever Bama game

- Auburn victory over Georgia (who we never beat in my entire tenure at Auburn; you can thank me for graduating later, AU)

- Dancing at The Red Shed to ZZTop, Hank Williams, Jr., and the like

- Lunch at Mellow Mushroom (not quite the same as Mama's)

- House marathon and much needed rest

bring it, Monday.

the silver lining.

On the phone with Mom:

L: And I'm just going to leave Macy at home when I come back from Thanksgiving for finals. I just don't want to have to pack her up so many times. And it'll only be for a few days.

C: Are you sure you can go that long without her?



I guess one way of look at it is this... if nothing else, I've accomplished one thing this year: I am quite possibly the world's youngest cat lady.

No Sleep November

This is more for me than you. The rest of my November is in hyperdrive, and there are some pretty exciting items on the agenda. Somehow, seeing it all written out calms me and gets me excited all at the same time.

Tonight, I'm giving my multicultural presentation. Outside of a final on December 1, this is the climax of my time in a class that has almost done me in. For 20 minutes or more, I will stand in front my peers and present information about my experience interviewing a friend from Mexico. I'll present all of my research concerning this population, including seminal articles on the topic as well as assessment tools specifically for this people group. And finally, I'll open the floor for questions from my classmates and... my professor. This is where it could get sticky. So shoot a quick prayer up for me.

After class, my friend and classmate Laura will be spending the night with me. Tomorrow we've got to film a video of ourselves demonstrating our counseling theory of choice. If you're in the field of psychology, you might be familiar with the Gloria tapes. If you're not, this won't be funny to you. In mine and Laura's tape, I'm going to be Gloria and she's going to be Fritz Perls, possibly the most frustrating, confrontational theorist of all time. We're going to dress up and use props, namely "smoking" dozens of cigarettes in a 20-minute timeframe as the Gloria tapes were filmed at the height of the smoking craze in the early 60s. And tomorrow night, I'll go to the first of my last two Thursday night classes for the semester.

Friday, Chasley comes to town!! She's never been to Tuscaloosa, so I'm going to do my very best to show her everything this city has to offer. My cousin Luke gave me his student ticket for the game so Chasley will get to experience her very first Bama game with me in the student section. Other than the game, we'll do some shopping, lots of eating, and we'll of course hit the night life. A couple of other friends from home are coming down for the weekend, so I'm anticipating a really good time. But really, Chasley's always a really good time.

Next week, my mommy is coming to visit!! I have always loved when my parents come to visit me at college because I enjoy having a little piece of home in my "other" home. She's going with me to the Bama- Georgia State game on Thursday night, and then of course we'll do some shopping in Northport, home of many a cutesy gift shop.

Sometime late Friday night, Clay and his friend--Stephen, I think-- are dropping in. They'll be en route from Texas to Alabama, and my apartment is serving as a layover for the travelers. Saturday morning, Clayton and I will head to Guntersville and his friend will go to his hometown-- Decatur, I think-- to celebrate our respective Thanksgivings. Although, before I ever get to Thanksgiving, I'll have to come back to Tuscaloosa once more for a pesky Tuesday night class. Skip, you say. If only: our final projects are conveniently due that night.

Thursday, November 25, will be spent with my extended family in Guntersville. This means that my house will be flooded with crimson and white and studded with navy and orange in preparation for the other November holiday: the Iron Bowl. Several friends and I will head down to Tuscaloosa late Thursday night, in hopes of beating game day traffic. I can't wait to have an apartment full of my closest friends: Jordon, Laura, Clay, Anna, Josh, Trey, Marlena... maybe more? I'm sure there won't be room to walk amongst the air mattresses and luggage, but I'm excited just thinking about it. Black Friday will be spent by some of us in Bryant-Denny Stadium, while others tailgate around campus. Tensions are already high in anticipation of what will be one of the best Iron Bowls in years... and don't you worry, I may go to the University of Alabama, but come Iron Bowl I'll be decked in orange and blue with an AU tattoo on my cheek and a shaker in my hand.

The Saturday after Iron Bowl, we will get up after what's sure to be a long night and head home. Saturday afternoon, I'll be meeting up with pledge sisters and old friends to head to the big city (I won't say where because I'm not sure how much of it is a surprise) to celebrate Katie Bolt's last few weeks as a free woman. I can't wait to get together with all of these familiar faces and catch up, and I can't wait to celebrate Katie, who happens to be one of my very favorite people.

When I return Sunday, Mom and Dad will have all the Christmas boxes dragged out. Beside the holiday itself, this is one of my favorite days of the Christmas season. Mom and I will finally-- I say finally because in our household it is an outright sin to do so before Thanksgiving-- break out the Christmas music. We'll decorate the tree to the tunes of Bing Crosby and Kenny G, and we'll relive memories of Christmas past all day as we go through ornaments that are several decades old. Meanwhile, our Cokes will be chilling in the freezer and our red and green sprinkled sugar cookies will be baking in the oven, nearly ready to be enjoyed on Christmas dishes. (This is a tradition that we are very strict about) My specialties are the place settings on the dining room table and the nativity scene on the table in the foyer, and I get a little froggy should "someone" jump the gun and try to do these things before I can get to them.

And with that special day, November comes to a close. I'll return to Tuscaloosa and the real world for a few days and finals before the winter holidays begin. And when those blissful days do arrive, I have many a book to read and craft to do. :)

Cop Out

I know that this isn't an original post, but I really love to read other people's surveys... so I'm going to gift anyone that stumbles onto the old blog with one today. You're welcome. And thanks, Erica, you know how excited I get when you blog.


1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
I have a scar on my knee from falling down the bleachers at the 4A state championship football game in 2006. Leave it to me to fall down the bleachers when my entire town is packed into Legion Field.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
A mirror, my sorority paddle, my diploma, a clock, a few pictures...

3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH, OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP
I definitely talk in my sleep from time to time.

4. WHAT TYPE OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
It would be easier to tell you what I don't listen to, namely bands like Nickelback. Gross. Gross. Gross.

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
Around noon, I think. Correct me if I'm wrong, Mommy.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
Christmas break would be stellar. I hate to fast forward through Thanksgiving, but it doesn't offer the whole "break" feature that comes with Christmas.

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS ?
My friends, living with my parents, Auburn

8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION(S)?
I'd be lost without my phone. My cat is my life. And I'm really into pictures and books.

9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5'3

10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Very.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Sometimes.

12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
I think I make myself cry more than anything. I get a little worked up sometimes.

13. WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
My biggest phobia is not being able to breathe.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
I like a variety, thanks.

15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF PROPOSING?
n/a

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
I only drink coffee that doesn't taste like coffee--e.g. white chocolate latte-- and I suppose my energy drink of choice is Vault (tastes JUST LIKE Surge!)... but I really don't drink either often.

17. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Mushroom or pineapple... although I love a good slice of plain cheese sometimes.

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
I'm dreaming of one of mine and Erica's Friday night dates at Mama's Pizza now.

19. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME?
Green. Green. Green.

20. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?
No, but I've actually seen people do this. Odd that you should ask.

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU'VE EVER RECEIVED?
Off the top of my head, my dad made me a really cool wooden chest for Christmas last year. I think it's one of those things that will be special to me forever because my dad made it. I also get a Snow Baby ornament every year for Christmas, and my mom always picks them out based on something that's going on in my life. It's pretty cool to go through them every year as we put the tree up.

22. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?
It's safe to say I have a new crush every week.

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
Oh yes.

24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
Free People, Ann Taylor, Gap, Forever 21, Urban Outfitters, Anthropologie

25. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY?
John Krasinski and Jennifer Aniston

26. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?
Macy would prefer that you not refer to her as "pet" as she is the part-owner of this establishment.

27. WHAT KIND IS IT?
SHE, not it, is a gray no-name cat. Simply delightful.

28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
I would at least try not to, I suppose.

29. A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED.
3

30. ARE YOU WAITING FOR ANY UPCOMING EVENTS?
Chasley is coming to Tuscaloosa this weekend!!!!

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
I'm currently blonde. Check back in six weeks and who knows.

32. FAVORITE QUOTE?
I love quotes. When I looked around my room, this is the first one I saw because it's written on my mirror:
"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail." Lamentation 3:22

33. FAVORITE PLACE?
Auburn. If you're looking for something more exotic, my favorite place to travel is probably Stockholm because of my family there. Oh, and the beach for relaxing.

34. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF THE US?
Lots. I'm very blessed that way.

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
CHOCOLATE.

36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
I was extremely close to Ben Folds once...

37. FIRST JOB?
Other than babysitting, I started working at Haralson Drugs when I was 15.

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
I was never really into prank calls. I was definitely into the three-way calls though. Whoa, drama.

39. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOULMATE?
No, I'm not so sure that I do. I'm sure that if I was dating someone that I really loved, I would desperately want to believe we were soul mates.

40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Watching Gilmore Girls.

41. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?
Yes.

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
When I braid my hair and my peacock necklace.

43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
Nope, and I'm probably the only person that ever really wanted to have them. My cousin Rachel had them, and I'm not sure if I wanted them because she had them or if I just wanted to be her.

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
That is a long way off, thank goodness.

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT AND THEIR NAMES?
Whoa- let's work on finding a groom first.

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My middle name is Cheryl, like my mom.

47. WHAT IS THE BIGGEST TURN OFF OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Arrogance. Video games. Bad taste in music.

48. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU LIKE(D) ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL?
Cheerleading. My friends.

49. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?
Loreal Rosemary Mint for volume, and Redkin Blonde Glam or something like that

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes, I'm quite proud of it actually.

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
I love a combination of turkey and roast beef.

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
I check my Facebook entirely too often.

53. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON?
In a word, yes.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
I hope so. I'm two tons of fun.

55. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS?
Definitely not.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER?
Sure.

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
I call my mom and vent.

58. WOULD YOU RATHER GAIN 58 POUNDS OR LOSE 58 POUNDS.
Of course I don't want to GAIN weight, but I would be pretty terrifying minus 58 pounds. 18 or 28, much more do-able.

59. WHAT'S YOUR MAIN GOAL IN LIFE?
To have a job that I love, to travel, to have a family

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
Barbies and dolls. My favorite things to play were House and School. And sometimes Bank.

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
Lots more than I actually use.

62.WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID?
Eh, not particularly.

63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
It's my primary language.

64. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Macaroni and cheese

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Sense of humor, outspoken Christian, intelligence, tall, good teeth, excellent taste in music, style... At least I'm not picky...

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Linds, Lindsanity, Z, Hays

67. FAVORITE SUPER POWER?
I would want to control time.

68. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW?
Glee, Grey's Anatomy, Say Yes to the Dress, How I Met Your Mother, Friends, Community, Scrubs, The Office

69. WHAT'S THE BEST WAY TO DEAL WITH YOUR ENEMIES?
Avoid at all costs.

70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Mint chocolate chip

71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?
Yes

72. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?
My computer goes where I want it to: handy-dandy-laptop.

73. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?
Class and spend-the-night party with Laura

74. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO LIVE WHEN YOU ARE OLDER?
I would love to live abroad before I have a family. Once I settle down, though, I want to be near my parents and extended family.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Sure

76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
Still Standing is on television.

77. LAST THING YOU DRANK?
Coke Zero and lemonade

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My dad

79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Height and clothes, I think.

80. WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?
Read, shop, craft, blog

81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?
Homework

82. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR?
Fall- football season, fall clothes, changing leaves, crisp cool air

83. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF CANDY?
Chocolate. Anything chocolate.

84. HAVE YOU EVER REALLY AND TRULY HAD A BEST FRIEND?
The very, very best.

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
For the moment, blonde.

86. EYE COLOR?
Blue

87. SHOE SIZE?
6.5-7

88. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
Lately, Firehouse Subs

89. FAVORITE RESTAURANT?
In Tuscaloosa, Cypress Inn and Hooligan's. In Guntersville, Mama's.

90. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Yesss.

91. WATCH TV TODAY?
Everyday. I can't sit in silence.

92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
I love any holiday I get to spend with my family.

93. PLAY(ED) ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
I fiddle with the guitar and piano. Fiddle... get it?

94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
I'm a registered Republican, but I don't really consider myself one or the other due to my dislike for politics.

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Yes, please.

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Relationships. Duh.

97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
Dinner from Firehouse last night.

98. WOULD YOU EVER BE A HOUSEWIFE?
Only if I was being paid by Bravo.

99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
Gone with the Wind, and a plethora of textbooks unfortunately.

100. DESCRIBE YOUR LOVE LIFE.
Non-existent.

Teacher's Lounge

There's something kind of nice about being able to use the restroom in the teacher's lounge. Now that I have this golden ticket to a private restroom, the student restrooms seem all the more disgusting to me. However, there is only one teacher's lounge, and it happens to be on the other side of the school. As I walked to the lunchroom earlier, I decided to duck into the nearest restroom instead of fighting the crowds in the hallways to get to the Promised Land.

Whoa. Talk about unwanted. A hush fell as I walked into the restroom. Girls standing in huddles around the mirror gave each other knowing looks and mumbled, "I'll tell you in a minute." Obviously I tripped an invisible alarm as I walked in, alerting all those within: Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Contraband cell phones were stuffed into back pockets with ninja-like speed.

Obviously the bathroom is a sanctuary for note passing and secret telling. My entrance was unexpected because most teachers wouldn't stoop so low: unexpected and unwanted.

My bad, guys. Didn't mean to cramp your style.

Monday Playlist

I'm subbing today-- Geometry, my favorite (sarcasm!)-- and I have first period planning. So while I sit here and prepare, I've got my iTunes on shuffle. I've always been a slave to lyrics, often listening to the same song over and over not because of the beat or catchy refrain, but because of a lyric that expresses what's on my heart... or just makes me smile.

So here's what's up today:

1. Ben Harper- Gold to Me
"you make me wanna sing/ with all the joy you bring/ you look like gold"

2. Kari Jobe- Revelation Song
"Filled with wonder, awestruck wonder/ at the mention of your name/ Jesus, your name is power/ Breath, and living water/ Such a marvelous mystery"

3. John Mayer- Clarity
"But this morning there's a calm I can't explain/ the rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain"

4. Rilo Kiley- Breakin' Up
"Betrayal is a thorny crown/ you wear it well/ just like a king/ revenge is the saddest thing/ honey, I'm afraid to say/ you deserve everything"

5. Brooke Fraser- Shadowfeet
"When the world has fallen out from under me/ I'll be found in You, still standing/ when the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees/ when time and space are through/ I'll be found in You"

6. Jason Mraz- Beautiful Mess
"Although you were biased, I love your advice/ Your comebacks they're quick and probably/ have to do with your insecurities"

7. Taylor Swift- Last Kiss
"You can plan for a change in the weather and time/ But I never planned on you changing your mind."

8. Tim Myers- the Lucky Ones
"Lately I've been smiling outside/ I feel good, I feel light as a feather/ Open up the windows, look out at the sky/ Everything's better"

9. Nickel Creek- This Side
"One day you'll see her and you'll know what I mean/ Take her or leave her, she will still be the same/ She'll not try to buy you with her time/ But nothing's the same as you'll see when she's gone."

10. Otis Redding- Try a Little Tenderness
"You won't regret it, no no/ Some girls they don't forget it/ Love is their only happiness, yeah"

Reality Check.

I usually try not to get involved in football trash talking. I'll be the first to tell you that I don't know enough about the rules and regulations of football to back myself up in an argument. I can't tell you how many times Alabama's been number one versus how many times Auburn's been number one, and I would struggle to talk about either team prior to 2005.

This week-- yesterday, specifically-- our little corner of the Southeast Conference was rocked by news of a so-called NCAA investigation into Cam Newton and his family. I was glad to see the Auburn Family unite and stand together immediately-- really, it gives me chills to think about this special group of people-- but I was equally horrified to see how many people were absolutely giddy to see this happen to a man, a YOUNG man.

I won't lie or pretend to be innocent: I would have trouble stifling my grin if news broke that Greg McElroy were in trouble. But I can say with conviction that I would never stoop to the trash talking as seen on Facebook and in the media. Because Greg, like Cam, is a real person, not just the face of a football team.

When Tim Tebow was on top, it was the same thing. People love to see the mighty fall. Tim Tebow was an outspoken Christian who lived his Christianity out loud and unashamedly, and I frequently listened to fellow Christians belittle him, claiming he was "too good to be true" or that he had "won enough." What is it about the human race that truly can't stand to see others rise above the norm? What a witness Tim Tebow was! Can you imagine how many people looked up those Bible verses he wrote weekly on his face (I'm sure those black stripes have a name, but you know what I'm talking about)? But no, I'm sure he was really a grade-A dirtbag who beat his girlfriend when he got black-out drunk...

**that was sarcasm**

Pardon the detour, but I think Cam is a similar-- but not identical-- situation. Here's a kid (KID) who has messed up in the past and gone on to live an incredible story of redemption. He was given a second chance, and he has earned his stripes on the football field and off. He may never live down his (big) mistake at Florida, but leading an undefeated SEC team is a step in the right direction. And on top of that, he's a genuine nice guy. Why can't we cheer for the nice guy instead of hoping it's all a farce?

Football is a game, albeit a game that I love and that consumes my Saturdays from August to November (and hopefully beyond). But the bottom line is, it's a game. And it's players are real: real people, real kids-- and at risk of being overly corny-- with real feelings.

So to those of you who so dearly want to see a guy in the prime of his life fail, shame on you. Get a hobby. Pick on someone your own size (because I bet you won't pick on Cam face-to-face). And Cam, shake them haters off, big guy.

Rock the Vote

I voted for the first time this summer. It should be noted that this summer I was 22 years old and long past the legal voting age, so shame on me. I've never cared for politics, though. Since I was a child, I've always been a people-pleaser. Disagreements upset me and arguments are divisive, so what exactly would have pulled me into politics in the first place?

At 23, I don't like politics any more than ever before. Even the public figures that I agree with turn me off with their abrasive personalities. Today, as I pulled into vote, one candidate greeted me with a wave in the parking lot while his opponent's team waved signs of their candidate and his young family. That's another thing I hate about politics: someone has to lose. And you know, there's not always a bad guy. Sure, in some situations there's a clear choice; in other races, it's sometimes a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. But every now and then there's a race between two good candidates, each having poured relentless time and energy-- not to mention funds-- into their campaign.

And then there's the smear campaigns: This Candidate is a member of the Ku Klux Klan, This Candidate is endorsed by Adolf Hitler, This Candidate's wife slept with Charlie Manson. And no side is innocent or one more guilty than the other. Every time my television is own, it seems, my living room is filled with one politician or another being blasted by the opposing camp.

And whoa at the signs. My hometown happens to be one of the most beautiful in this great state, and seeing So and So's sign doesn't make me want to re-elect him so much as I want to punch him in the face for being a blemish on my city.

I don't vote liberal because I'm young, and I don't vote conservative because my parents are Republicans. Am I the most responsible voter? Absolutely not: I voted for Young Boozer because he sounds like a good time, and I voted for Twinkle Cavanaugh because her name is delightful. But I do vote now, at the ripe old age of 23, and I guess that's a step in the right direction. Really and truly, I'm just ready to see the campaign trail come to a grinding halt.

the one with all the driving.

In the past week, I've driven several hundred miles. I came home Wednesday to sub on Thursday, drove to Birmingham after school to ride with a friend to Thursday night class, drove back home after class, drove to Arab Friday to do the last part of my interview with my friend from Mexico, drove to Grant Saturday for a Halloween party, rode to Wallace yesterday for 'Little Shop of Horrors' with Erica, and tomorrow I'll drive back to school.

In between all the driving, I painted Halloween t-shirts, ran a 5k, went to Wal-Mart 3 times, ate at Ichiban, Rock House, and Gunter's Landing, went to Trunk or Treat at the church, and finally read another chapter in Gone with the Wind.

What's missing? School work. I did a little work on Thursday while I subbed, but since then my effort has diminished. I just emailed one of my professors, so I'm going to count that as effort since it's a holiday weekend. Sometime today I'm going to start my last multicultural assignment: 7-9 pages-- excluding the cover page, references, and appendices-- describing my interview with my Mexican friend; 4-must-read seminal articles; 4 potential web-based sources, 4 empirically-validated assessment tools (where does one find such things? I wish I knew); and a PowerPoint describing and compressing the previously mentioned requirements.

You'd think with this amount of work in just one class looming over my head, I would be in a rush to get started. Oddly enough, my reaction to this kind of pressure is the opposite. My reaction to an overwhelming workload is, instead, paralysis. I can't get started; I can't even look at it or open a blank Word document. Rather, I'll watch re-runs of 8 Simple Rules to Date My Daughter and write a blog. I will even go to the gym in lieu of facing this assignment.

I might even drive somewhere.

You're little hands wrapped around my finger
And, it's so quiet in the world tonight
You're little eyelids flutter cause you're dreaming
So, I tuck you in
Turn on your favorite night light
To you, everything's funny
You got nothing to regret
I'd give all I had, honey
If you could stay like that

I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart
And no one will desert you
Just try to never grow up, and never grow up

You're in the car on the way to the movies
And, you're mortified
You're mom's dropping you off
At, fourteen there's just so much you can't do
And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots
But, don't make her drop you off around the block
Remember that she's getting older too
And don't lose the way that you dance around in your PJ's getting ready for school

And no one's ever burned you
Nothing's ever left you scarred
And even though you want to
Just try to never grow up

Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room
Memorize what it sounded like when your dad get's home
Remember the footsteps, remember the words said
And all your little brothers favorite songs
I just realized everything I had is someday gonna be gone

So, here I am in my new apartment
In a big city, they just dropped me off
It's so much colder than I thought it would be
So, I tucked myself in and turned my night light on
Wish I'd never grown up
I wish I'd never grown up

Oh, I don't wanna grow up
Wish I'd never grown up
Could still be little
Oh, I don't wanna grow up
Wish I'd never grown up
It could still be simple


Last night, I put a request on Facebook for a copy of Taylor Swift's new album, 'Speak Now.' Within minutes, I had a text from Jane saying the pirated CD was ready for me. Brilliant, instant gratification.

I wish I could say that I didn't sob while I listened to the above song (edited for length). But I can't. I don't consider myself a crier, not in a mainstream way anyway. I can count the number of movies that have made me cry on one hand, and I'm always the only dry eye in the funeral home. But last night, as I drove through the dark fog on 79, this song struck a weird, unexpected emotional tone deep within me (side note: fog + crying... not the ideal driving situation). The last verse especially-- So, here I am in my new apartment-- that's when tremors and misty eyes turned into full on whimpering and sobs.

I look at myself and my friends-- striking out on our own, paying bills, getting married, having babies-- and I'm terrified. It seems like just last week we were being dropped off at the Albertville theater by one parent or another. Just yesterday the only person I wanted to think I was cool was my big brother, Break-ups were a weekly thing and not a life crisis, and hearts were healed quickly by a new flavor of the week. Once upon a time, my biggest worry was whether or not I made cheerleader or got into NHS.

These days, my students call me Miss Hays as I pass them at ball games and in Wal-Mart, a wait-listed class determines my graduation, and relationships seem to be forever or bust. In some ways I wish I would give anything to rewind-- play Sega Genesis with my brother, climb the tree in my grandparent's front yard, plan my life with Jonathan Taylor Thomas or Devin Sawa (takes you back, doesn't it?)...

And in many ways, I wish I could fast forward, even for just a glimpse. I love to know the ending... I read the last page of Harry Potter first, and I almost always find the plot of a movie on IMDb before I watch. It makes it easier: I know not to get attached to the character that dies, I know if there's a happy ending or a weird 'Break Up'-type ending that leaves you hanging. I can't help but think life would be less stressful if I knew not to get attached to a guest star but only invest in recurring characters, if I knew what the next chapter held...

Life would be so simple.