Scattegories...

So...in a recent, heated game of Scattegories, there were several contested answers given. As an impartial voter, would you have allowed the following answers?

1) For baby foods that start with S: split-pea soup
2) For sports that start with J: jumping jacks
3) For things you keep hidden with D: dirty dancing
4) For menu items that start with D: diced peaches
5) For beers that start with F: Flat Tire (the well-intending responder meant Fat Tire)
6) For songs that start with M: My Endless Love (the acurate response is "Endless Love"

Yes? What's that you say?

Yeah, I'm jumping on the bandwagon. Mostly because I'm totally uninspired to write anything original. So...25 Random things about meeeeeeeeee....

1. I love the 3 dot thing, I can't remember what it's called...
2. I have a very high tolerance for pain.
3. I have a very low tolerance for Duke.
4. I stepped on my own fingers once. It hurt.
5. I am ridiculously clumsy.
6. I fell through a glass table when I was little. I was jumping on it. See #5.
7. I am not stupid. See #6.
8. I lived in London for a semester in college. While there, I somehow managed to miss going to Westminster Abbey. I am ashamed.
9. I love smells. Good ones.
10. I think most people look like I other people I know (or celebrities). I tell them this a lot. It's probably annoying.
11. I am annoying. In an endearing way.
12. My eyes are green when I stare directly into the sunlight.
13. I have damaged retinas. See #12.
14. I have numerous scars. Everywhere. Mostly small ones. Mostly related to softball, falling of my bike, falling out of a tree, etc.
15. One time when I was about 12, I was riding my bike up our street, which was on a moderate incline. I put my head down and stood up to pedal. I ran smack into a car that was parked on the street. I sat on the curb for about 30 minutes because I was a) concussed and b) really embarrassed and certain that people were laughing at me out their windows.
16. My sensory perception is very acute. I am a teacher so this serves me well. Yes, I do have eyes in the back of my head.
17. I am a really good judge of character = I can smell a rat.
18. I love snow.
19. My husband and I had a beautiful outdoor wedding at the end of October (planned). We worked for months on the farmhouse/property where we were going to get married. It poured down rain. We got married inside.
20. When I was walking down the aisle on my wedding day, I almost fell. :)
21. I can bend my tongue in half. You can't.
22. I LOVE to mow grass (on a tractor).
23. I despise snobbery. With a passion.
24. I LOVE maps. Especially old, random maps.
25. I LOVE to travel, fly, pay in foreign currency, look up directions on street maps, ride subways, etc.

Beware the Beast

I faced down a beast this morning. The face-off was planned. I ran out of the Aveda hair product I use and had to get more. Actually, I've been out of it really for about a week but I squeezed every last iota of the goop out of the bottle just to avoid the beast at the Aveda store.

The beast wears many faces. All soft and lovely. All offering hot tea and a nice smile. And then it begins...

Beast: What can we help you with today?
Me (walking directly to product, retrieving product, getting out wallet and walking directly to counter to pay): Oh, you know, the usual, Be Curly.
Beast (scrambling to put down tea and get to the register to ring me up): Great! Have you tried the blah blah blah with that?
Me (money is out, I'm ready to pay): Actually yes, I have some at home. Thank you.
Beast (calmly ready to live up to her title as she scans my product): Are you earning points with us?
Me (stomach churning, beads of sweat starting to form at my temples): No, I'm not, thank you.
Beast (with sly grin and faux charm): Well, why don't we sign you up? It's only $25 for an entire year of membership. You earn points every time you make a purchase. You can earn a free tea pot or even a free massage!
Me (avoiding all eye contact and mustering all my strength): No thank you.
Beast (growing desperate, ready to go in the for the kill): Are you sure, if you earn enough points, you could even earn a trip to the moon!
Me (on the verge of wetting my pants): No thank you. Maybe next time.
Beast (now judging me for not joining the points program): Ok. Your total is ______.

At this point, the Beast doesn't speak to me anymore. She looks down her nose at me, obviously scorning me for not coughing up 25 measly dollars to join the Avenda fan club. And really, it's not the money. Although the amount to join the points club is more than the product I purchase. I buy one thing there a month (at best). I'm never going to accumulate enough points for even a free sample of a half ounce tube of lip balm, much less a trip to the moon. And, I don't drink the stinkin' hot tea so I'm not going to give you 25 of my dollars to help pay for it!

I hate this entire exchange. And, it doesn't just happen at Aveda. The whole credit card thing happens every time I shop most anywhere other than a grocery store. "Would you like to save 10% today by opening an Old Navy card?" NONONONONONONO! I've told you people this every time I've been to Old Navy for the past 10 years! Can't you keep a log book or something! The part I hate the most though is just trying to come up with a reason why I don't want the card or to be in the super cool points club. No never works. They always ask again. I feel bad saying no. That's the power of the beast. At least, they're power over me. I feel guilty for not joining the cool club. If the cool club was free, I'd join. But, I guess that's what makes it cool...it's exclusive. :)

Why So Serious?

Teenagers are weird on many levels. I'm sure there's a blog out there dedicated to just that topic. Today at softball practice after school, one of the girls (sophomore) asked me to hold a ring of hers. Of course, the other girls say "oohhhh, pretty ring", etc. Turns out, the boyfriend (junior) gave the girl her ring for Christmas. It has precious stones in it, including what appeared to be diamonds. How cute (the throw up a little in your mouth kind).

I used to pretend that the skin-tinting rings from Chuckie Cheese were given to me by some hopeless romantic (third-grader, not high schooler) But, who didn't do that?! However, serious relationships in high school, early high school, ones that involve precious stones are just radarndiculous. To think that at 15, you've linked hearts with your forever soul mate is just mind boggling. You can't remember to do your homework but you're ready to play house with someone else that can't remember to do their homework? You can't go to the bathroom without raising your hand to ask but you want to share a bathroom with someone that can't legally buy you cold medicine? Really?

The kicker is when the parents of said lovebirds encourage such serious behavior. They know their kids are kids...they still take care of them! Over our lovely sushi dinner tonight, I explained to Tie that our children (whence they come) shan't be having uber-serious high school relationships. The first time I see even a semi-precious stone being given or gotten, the hammer is coming down and the jewelry is being pawned for bars to go on the windows (to prevent the Romeo/Juliet scenario).

Now, aforementioned husband and I starting dating in high school. His junior year, my senior year. We dated all through college (different schools, 3 hours apart). We never broke up. However, all of this is completely irrelevant because we were totally an exception. We were (and still are) very independent, had our own friends and in my opinion (which is what matters in my blog, :), were never overly serious until it became pretty obvious that we were locked in (yep, romance is overrated). And yeah, we were just different. We didn't stand in the hallway, our noses 3 inches apart, looking into each others eyes, searching for acceptance (girlfriend) or less noble things (boyfriend) every time the stinkin' bell rang. We didn't plaster the inside of our lockers with pictures of each other from infancy to last week and of course, no semiprecious stones were exchanged. Seemed to work for us...

Welcome Mr. President

Having been inundated with inauguration coverage for what seems like forever, I've noticed how many people have so freely expressed their feelings about the historic event. I guess I'm finally ready to come clean...

Really, up until President Obama's Inaugural address, even through the swearing in and Mama Aretha and her hat, pretty much every positive feeling I had about the inauguration was counterbalanced by a not so positive feeling. I feel moved by the magnitude of the event. As a history teacher, I have read numerous primary source documents (first hand accounts) of African-Americans suffering through the Middle passage, slavery itself, black codes during Reconstruction, sharecropping, grandfather clauses and the list goes on. Often times when I read these accounts and study them with my students, I literally feel sick thinking about how many Christians and other "good" people simply tolerated if not perpetuated such widespread abuses of other, God-breathed, human beings. And then, I think about the fact that President Obama is biracial. He in fact, is only partially black. His father was not an American. He was African. His ancestors did not suffer through American slavery and the discrimination that has existed in our country against African-Americans. Why do so many people uphold him as an example of overcoming decades-old prejudice when his family experience was not a part of those decades?

I also feel really hopeful thinking about Americans becoming excited about government. Again, because I teach high school students, I know how hard it is to relate government to their everyday lives. However, this feeling fades pretty quickly too and turns into skepticism. Why are the people who voted for the first time in their life, because they supported Obama, just now becoming involved? Honestly, there is no valid excuse in my book. More affected lately by the economy? Someone is always on the short end of the stick. Why aren't we concerned with the less fortunate when we aren't them? Tired of the War in Iraq? Newsflash: politicians need supervision and endorsements regardless of the issue they support. How else do they know that they're out of line or on the right track? Didn't like previous candidates? WRITE IN YOUR CHOICE! Allowing yourself to be silenced after blood has been shed so you can exercise your voice is despicable.

I could go on and on. Really I'm just trying to illustrate that although I thought a lot of things about today were good, I also was discouraged about a good bit.

Then President Obama gave his Inaugural Address. I know he didn't write most of what he said. They never do. But, the words were written to reflect his ideals and values. He said them. He stood on the platform and accepted the challenge in front of him. I honestly felt that his words were genuine and deliberate. A lot of things he said resonated with me. Some things he said made me scratch my head. But I will never forget these words: "What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task. This is the price and the promise of citizenship."

My duties are defined by my obligations as a child of God. How do you define your duties to your neighbor and your country? I hope we will all consciously think about what are duties are as American citizens. As the saying goes, many hands make light work. If we all accept our self-defined or divinely-inspired duties, how changed would our communities be? How changed would our country be? I'd love to see the answers to these questions.

Two-Faced...

Is it always bad to be two-faced? Or even three-faced, multi-faced, per se...

I definitely have a work face and an "other" face...I spend my days teaching honors and advanced placement high school students...history, no less. This is my first year at the school I'm currently at. I teach sophomores, juniors and seniors. I love the juniors (AP U.S. History), the seniors and I have a mutual understanding that works for both of us (AP European History) but darned those sophomores. I've earned quite a reputation amongst they're ranks. Example #1: Today, at the Mu Alpha Theta meeting (I was blacklisted from this math club, all math clubs really), the students discussed asking teachers math trivia questions on Pi day (3/14) and "pie-ing" teachers in the face if they got the question wrong. Apparently, when the club sponsor asked the sophomores which teachers they wanted to pie in the face, they all viciously shouted, "Mrs Watkins!!!" This lovely gem was recounted to me by one of my moles...actually, one of my seniors students noted above.

The sophomores see me as brutal, the "hardest teacher" in their grade. I make them do too much work, I never cut them any slack ("Can I steal this pencil?", "No, you may borrow the pencil."), my tests are too hard, we work ALL 55 minutes of class, I give homework over the weekend, blah blah blah blah....

Now, I really don't care, for the most part, that they think these things about me. They are fickle, irrational, illogical, subject to flights of fancy (and casual) and just altogether delusional sometimes. They exaggerate and dramatize like it will boost their GPA. They get together and a test grade of 86 (B) turns into, "I FAILED THAT TEST...IT WAS SOOOOO HARD!" Not joking...

Sometimes on days when I walk down the hall past their cluster of lockers and they stop talking and quickly throw on their garlic necklaces and wield their crucifixes in my direction, I just want to laugh and say, look peeps, I'm human! In fact, I'm so human and so not teacher-ly (when I'm not teaching) that my maturity level and adultness is oft-questioned. In fact, a family member recently said to me, in the midst of a card game in which I mercilessly (yet lovingly) annoyed everyone in my special charming way, "I can't believe you are in a position of authority over children!"

Indeed I am. But, that is my work face. I'm not sure it would be appropriate for me to talk to them in my Yankee voice or pretend smack them in the face (with my super hand shield of course) or steal the pillow from under their head just before they lay down or pour a cup of cold water on their head while they're in the shower (I've been clean of this habit for awhile, you can continue to patronize my blog without feeling like you're enabling a freakshow). I mean really, I'm pretty sure they'd prefer my work face to my real face. If I was teaching them how to test the patience of their friends and loved ones, my regular face would be just fine. As I'm not, I'll have to stick with the work face, even if it is tough and leathery!

Nanny Cam

I'm wondering how hard I'd have to try to convince my husband that we need to invest in a nanny cam. For the umpteenth time lately, I've overslept, despite diligently setting two alarm clocks before going to sleep a mere 5-6 hours prior. Just before slipping off to slumber last night, we discussed alarm clocks and their effectiveness. I was debating whether to set my actual alarm clock in addition to my phone alarm or just go with the phone alarm. Tie wanted to know why I would set both (apparently he didn't notice that I do and have for about, oh...years now). I explained that with two, I'm certain to wake up on time.

Enter purpose #1 for nanny cam. I would love to see what I/Tie look like as my two alarms go off and his one alarm goes off for about an hour every morning. He sets his WAY earlier than he needs to to get up...generally about 45 minutes to an hour earlier. I set two and set them both for about 30 minutes before I need to get up. One of mine is 4 minutes faster than the other one. We like to hit the snooze button, ours are both programmed for 10 minutes. So, between the three alarm clocks, each set to go off at different times and each being "snoozed" at different times, I'm 100% positive that we look like complete bafoons flopping around on the bed hitting the snooze button every two minutes.

One variation of this process include wrestling with terrible uncertainty as to which alarm clock is going off and struggling to swat the right button before the other one goes off. Another is when I turn off or snooze one of my alarms, thinking it's Tie. Yet another still is when who ever's alarm it is thinks it's the others and doesn't turn theirs off. More often than not, Tie does this. My favorite response of his when I tell him, quite nicely and quietly I might add, to turn his alarm off is his puny and unnaturally (given the hour of day and lack of functioning state of being) defensive tone, "Stop yelling at me!" Yes, I would be willing to subject myself to worldwide humiliation and post said video footage on YouTube in hopes of earning a spot on Stupid Human Tricks or something of the like.

Reason #2 for nanny cam is for my mental health. On days when I oversleep, I am 100% positive that I set my alarm(s) the night before. So, what the heck happened? I didn't turn it off. I double checked to make sure it is set properly. What is this madness? Who is conspiring against met to foil my day? I have a couple theories. I wreaked havoc on the tooth fairy for a little while as a kiddo. Pulled numerous teeth that weren't ready to come out and kept the lady hopping when she had more worthy teeth to confiscate. Perhaps she is exacting revenge. My dog, really the cutest thing ever (and I don't mean rat dog with rhinestone collar cute) might be using his paw to cause me great paranoia. After all, he is pretty smart and down right spoiled (I've only recently come to this conclusion) and it wouldn't surprise me at all to see that he botched our highly scientific and effective rousing routine. He loves burrowing down in the covers or basically hogging any warm spot on the bed. In fact, for a mere 18 pounds, you'd think he was a burly boulder for how much success we have nudging him out of the middle of the bed at night. However, when I get up, his major source of heat is gone. 2 + 2 = 4, right?

I believe I've sufficiently proven my case for purchasing the nanny cam. Of course, my money might be better spent on getting one of those alarm clocks that gives you an electric shock when you hit the snooze button, or throws out a few puzzle pieces that must be correctly assembled for the alarm to stop sounding. Or even better, that bounces around the room as you chase it. Wait...maybe all of these gadgets plus a nanny cam is the way to go. :)

Who Am I?

For the love of pete...I can't figure out who I am today. Don't worry, I don't mean abstractly. Although, I probably couldn't figure that out either. I'm referring to the seemingly endless number of username/password combinations that I apparently utilize on a daily basis to conduct my not-so-important business. Mind you, I'm not a flashy agent to the likes of Terrell Owens or an investment banker spending and shifting people's money here there and everywhere. I don't follow many blogs, I'm not on MySpace, I only use one bank, I don't utilize third party bill payment systems (I don't even know what those are) nor do I do much of anything else that requires much security on the internet.

I do, however, utilize several online teaching tools and databases. Just today, I needed to access three (two video databases and a document database) and I signed up for another. I did this, mainly out of frustration for not being able to log into another of the databases. Yes, I took out my frustration by making the problem worse. Thank you internet for your assistance in that matter!

And of course, the problem is that I can't remember any of the stinkin' username/password combos for all these sites (I also have to log into the blog site too). Yes, thank you very much, I click the "Remember me on this computer" button provided on the site or the similar option Firefox gives me (at random times). This generally doesn't work though because I've usually typed in the wrong username or password to begin with. It's like having food in your teeth and kissing someone...you're already badoff and then the offense is magnified in a manner that results in increased offense. what a doozie! I must say though, if you are willing to kiss someone when they have food in their teeth, you forfeit any right whatsoever to chastise them for this unfortunate event. I digress...

This problem simply wouldn't exist if I could create the same username/password combo for all the accounts I have. But no...one site wants a username with your e-mail addy and one doesn't. One wants a password with 14 numbers and 3 letters and the other wants one with 6 letters and 9 numbers. Are you kidding me! I'm not accessing Pentagon files that reveal the true location of WMDs in Iraq. I'm not logging in to move carloads of cash from one falling stock to another. I'm trying to look at boring (to the mass population) videos about the Renaissance and Reconstruction. I'm trying to access a chart comparing Thomas More and Lorenzo Medici. I'm trying to find political cartoons about Andrew Johnson's impeachment. If someone wants to hack into my account badly enough to access these gems and similar ones, have at it. I'd love to share said gems with the world. Especially if it meant that I didn't have to spend 10 minutes and approximately 5 (on average) failed login attempts to get to the blasted info.

A byproduct of the 5+ failed login attempts is the electronically induced shame I feel when, after whatever attempt alerted the "officials" at the educational databases (think rent-a-cops at your local once glamorous now depressing roller rink) think that some dastardly villain is trying to get to their highly valuable educational resources and they instantly throw down the gauntlet with the red, all caps reply of "LOGIN FAILED- TRY AGAIN LATER" Try again later? Translation- we've got you now you fraud...move on to trying to hack someone else's account because ours is rock solid...huh! Or (depending on my mood), the translation is "come on, you're 27 years old, childless and reasonably intelligent and you can't remember a measly username/password, perhaps you shouldn't get out of bed tomorrow." Whatever translation my mood causes me to accept, invisible internet judgment has been passed and I'm ashamed.

I'll get over my shame, I'm sure. My plan of action at this point involves keeping up with the 6 or so mini Post-It notes I have on my laptop keyboard right now with username/password combos for the sites mentioned above. I realize this isn't a permanent solution but it was the best I could muster today. And anyway, I've about decided who I am. I'll get back to you with that...presuming I can log into this site in the near future. :)

Work to live...

At the risk of alienating the prospective venture capitalist that's only interested in the back-of-the-toilet-set prose, I think I'm about to venture into some weighty waters.

For some reason, the concept of value, I guess, personal value has come up several times throughout my day today. I got an e-mail out of the blue from a former co-worker recommending me for interviews for legislative positions that are opening up in the state senate. From January to May of 2004, I served as the legislative intern for the Senate Speaker Pro Tempore. The legislative member that holds the Pro Temp. position is essentially third in line to be governor in TN, should the need arise. She was an important lady. She worked really hard. But, she always thought she was right, that her ideas were superior and had priority over those of her constituents. I firmly believe that politicians should be public servants, working to carry out the will of the people that elect them. She wasn't that kind of politician. In fact, that kind doesn't exist anymore, unfortunately.

Anyway, the point is that when I got the e-mail about the interviews, my stomach did flips. I'm a high school history teacher at a great school with great students teaching advanced classes. I left my embryonic political/legal career in the dust 3 years ago. When I have bad days (generally several in a row, which isn't that frequent), I regret not going to law school or not getting a public policy degree. But, aside from these moments, I'm very happy with the career path I've chosen. I know that I still have options, in terms of where I teach and what I do with my teaching experience.

So, I spent awhile trying to figure out why in the world I would feel anxious/excited about this e-mail. The person that sent it to me is a lobbyist for the law firm I used to work at. She complemented me in her e-mail and I guess those complements were the basis for her interest in getting me interviewed. However, she is a lobbyist so, the complements certainly had a political objective (although I'm not politically significant in the least). After some contemplation and for considering (only for a nanosecond) having a movie moment and quitting teaching and charging back into the political arena (you know, this is the stuff that Hallmark movies are made of, right? just throw an addiction or some kind of warped relationship anyway), I discovered that my excitement came from the complements this person gave me.

Which brings me back to the issue of value. The e-mail caused me to contemplate my value in terms of my career. I do this on a regular basis. Nearly daily. I think it's natural to do that to some degree. In addition to this natural inclination, both my parents have very strong work ethics and taught me that my work ethic was a measure of my character. I do believe this. However, it's not a measure of my value as a person. Neither is the condition of my body (I'm trying to improve it) or how many times I smile at strangers or how often I try to not judge others (again, trying to improve) or how much money I save. My value comes from God. He valued me enough to sacrifice His son for me and me alone. Nothing I can ever do will be more valuable than that love he has for me. I guess in light of the improvements I feel very determined to make, this realization has shifted my determination from doing these things to improve my value to doing these things because there's no reason not to. I've felt a weight lifted off my shoulders to achieve these goals because they reflect on my value as a person. The pressure is off to earn my value. It was already earned for me with the blood of my Savior. The opportunities I have now to make improvements are opportunities to fulfill my role in His kingdom.

Actually maintaining this line of thinking and prayer long enough to come to any kind of conclusion is an improvement in and of itself! Go team!

Howdy Ya'll/Y'all

Yeah, so, hopefully you'll never see/hear me utter those words again- the howdy part. Having grown up in Nashville, I'll admit that I did go through the obligatory country music phase (circa the best years of Garth Brooks' career) and I was just about over it when the Dixie Chicks blessed my life with "Goodbye Earl". In fact, that one song alone extended my country music listening phase by a good solid year. However, what I'm trying to get to and I guess I should just say is that I pretty much despise country music and I don't say things like howdy. There's no real rational reason for not liking it, it's just that terrible images come to my mind when the twang is turned up and sometimes I even throw up in my mouth a little. Yeah, welcome to me, by the way.

Speaking of welcome to me, this is my first blog, ever. I read a few here and there and one regularly and make fun of a few others more than I should. I'm not sure I can nail down a reason for actually starting a blog. I mean, with the new year here, I've been thinking quite a bit about changes/improvements I'd like to make in my life. The blog falls into the changes category but perhaps if some bored venture capitalist stumbles upon my posts and is looking for something to blow money on (they are, by definition) then maybe they'll ask me to write a back-of-the-tolietseat book of musings and life lessons. Right, I know. But, a girl can dream, no?

So, I guess I'll gradually introduce myself to all of God's green earth (I don't like country music but as a true southerner, I can't help using terrible Scarlett O'Hara-esque cliches) gradually. I mean, I've got to keep you coming back for more, right? :) And on that note, I'll get back to the original inspiration for this post, which is the word ya'll/y'all. I give the two spellings options (despite the fact that only one is really right) because until about 5 hours ago, I spent all 27 years of my life thinking y'all was ya'll. Don't know why. However, I use the word in writing quite a bit so I'm forced with the tough decision of maintaining a fairly innocent bad habit or fixing it. We'll see how that goes. I actually noticed the proper spelling while driving back to Nashville from Cincinnati this afternoon. There was a billboard that had y'all on it and the epiphany occurred. It was actually a really good thing because I was having a terrible time staying awake while I was driving and realizing that I'd been living a lie my entire life juiced my mind for a good 5 minutes (nearly running up under an 18-wheeler kept me alert for the next 15 minutes).

Anyway, the billboard caused a moment of self-realization. I frequently notice really obscure things and sometimes don't notice overtly obvious things. The y'all is obvious- shoulda probably picked up on that one a while ago. However, I've been known to also notice unzipped pants on complete strangers a good 50 yards away. I can even detect cell phone calls before they ring- not really on my own though, only when I'm near my laptop and the science things jumble up and loud static occurs. I guess that doesn't count. Oh well, literally all the wonderful examples I thought of while alternately holding each eyelid open with one hand and the steering wheel with the other have escaped my mind now. The thing is, if you stayed tuned to this blog, I'm sure you can start your own list of ridiculous things I notice. :)

p.s.- I just noticed, for the first time remarkably, the red underline of ya'll via spell check.