Holiday Reflection

So this won't be funny; but life this past year has been stressful and for the first time in my life I'm glad the year is coming to an end. At the beginning of the year I embarked down several dark tunnels and am just now seeing the light at the end of them and I'd like to share my relief and hope.

Tunnel number one was more like a roller coaster. Love of My Life and I decided to have a baby and began trying last December the moment he got home from deployment. In January I went in for my annual female testing and received word that my PAP test was "abnormal." Due to mix-ups, insurance and the general ineptitude of military doctors we had to put the baby making on hold for several months while they shuffled me from one place to another trying to ascertain if I was ok. It was stressful but everything was cleared up by March and we were given the green light to start making a baby again.

Our patience was rewarded in late May with news of a little one on the way. Again because of general shuffling and slow processes with military doctors I didn't get referred off-base for my first appointment until I was about 8 weeks along. A week before my appointment I was so uncomfortable and in pain that I honestly thought there was no way I would ever be able to mentally handle this for nine months. I felt weak and like a cry baby... every woman goes through this right? My first doctor visit was a herald of doom. I was honest at the initial consultation about how uncomfortable I was and that while we really wanted a baby I was worried and apprehensive about the pregnancy. My doctor was optimistic and said, "Lets take a look." So she looked at the ultrasound, asked many many questions and said, "You are going to miscarry." My roller-coaster high did a nose-dive. Even though I'd just said I was worried about the pregnancy I didn't want this news. I think she did it to try and make me more comfortable; she ordered another ultrasound with a specialist for the following week. She assured me that we'd know more then based on how things were growing- or not growing. She didn't say it at the time but at 8 weeks there was no evidence of a baby. The ultrasound a week later confirmed this. So the miscarriage came and went... and in many ways I was selfishly relieved that I had my body back and I wasn't in pain anymore.

So after a relaxing week at the beach with my family, summer ended and my school year began. I slowly began to crawl up the next hill of the roller coaster. In August we found out I was pregnant again! This time we had our doctor all set up and ready to go. I was in the office for my first visit at week 6 and when I saw the little heart fluttering on the screen I was so happy. I was also very comfortable and not experiencing any of the pain like before. The next few weeks brought round-the-clock sickness but it was more bearable than the previous summer. I'm now 4 months and the light at the tunnel seems bright and my shinning little star will finally arrive on May 21 2010.

The second tunnel was one Love Of My Life and I ventured into together and by the grace of God we are about to pull out of it too. In August, a few weeks before we found out I was pregnant again, we tore our kitchen down to the studs. Yes, we took out the walls, floors, ceiling, wiring and plumbing. Then we started the long process of putting it back together... or I should say paying others to put it back together. The walls are up, the floors are in and the cabinets come tomorrow provided it doesn't snow again. I'm optimistic that it will be finished by Christmas.

The third tunnel has not been all dark, but very long. In January of 2006 I started the ball rolling on getting my masters in "Secondary Science Curriculum and Instruction." Since then I've taken over 36 hours of masters classes, many of which were in the biology department. I've maintained a 4.0 average, won an award, and switched teaching jobs all within the past four years. Being pregnant and sick during the first trimester made this last class and my comprehensive exams a challenge but I'm now done and will receive my degree on December 18th this year.

So I'm looking forward to 2010, being 30 for a few more months and entering the next phase of life with a new degree, a new baby, and a new kitchen! I wonder what next year will bring? Thanks for all your support and reading my blog. Perhaps I'll have some more gut-busting funny stories next year.

(My 30th Birthday dinner)

Hiding from Eighth Graders

As many of you know I had a miscarriage in July so when I found out I was pregnant in late August Love of My Life and I decided to wait until the second trimester to make the announcement.

And then school started...

To really appreciate this story you must understand that I teach at a teacher's paradise. My average class size is about 16 students with a class as few as 5 and a max of 20 students. I have three 45-minute plan periods and a free lunch. To top it off we have an award-winning health and wellness program and as a result the lunches are actually good.

In this paradise I teach science to 7th and 8th grade students. Because I'm the only 7th and 8th grade science teacher I get to teach my lovely students for two years in a row. Needless to say, we get to know each other very well. To further deepen our relationship in 7th grade I act as an advisor/mentor to help them through the challenges of middle school.

Last year I was blessed with the greatest group of kids I've had the pleasure to teach. They are talented, funny, smart and all round great kids. There is not one of them I wouldn't take home to call my own (well maybe one or two) but you get the idea. Over the course of last year we had fun, learned science and I honestly thanked God each day for the wonderful kids and work environment. We got to know each other very well and I actually looked forward to this school year starting because I knew I'd get to teach my wonderful kids one more year.

That's when things got crazy..... I got pregnant. I figured out I was pregnant a few days before school started. So the year began with doctor visits, migraines and morning (round-the-clock) sickness. I missed several days of school and was battling fatigue and sickness. However, I've always considered myself a trooper and I was certain that while at school, my kids were getting the best of my day. I soon figured out when and what to eat and was prescribed some great anti-nausea medication. I was back on top of the world and feeling great. I was careful to not breath a word at school about being pregnant just in case I miscarried again I wouldn't have much to explain.

So about eight weeks along a fellow teacher approached me at lunch. "Now, I don't mean to pry but I have the 8th graders for study hall and they have some pretty wild ideas!" She is a motherly older woman and her face was full of concern. "Some of the 8th graders think you are pregnant!" She felt this would shock and concern me and quickly followed up, "but really, dear, I don't think you've gained a pound since last year so I can't imagine what has gotten into their heads." Wringing her hands, I'm sure she felt she would offend me. I laughed and patted her hand, "Its ok. I'm not sure how they know either but I am pregnant." Her eyes widened and she said "Oh dear! How wonderful for you!" I then quickly asked her to keep it quiet for now that I would announce it soon enough. She gave me a conspiratorial wink and said, "I'll keep an ear out in study hall and see if they mention it again."

This gave me one more thing for my poor brain to try and process. My pregnancy had not been leaked by anyone because there was no one to leak the information. I had too many other things going to worry about... until the next day at lunch my friend approached me again.

"Well they were discussing it again today in study hall." She apparently was enjoying the secrecy and stealth. We leaned in closer, "Today they were wondering who, if anyone, would ask you if you are pregnant. It didn't seem like they came to a conclusion." She looked from side to side to see if anyone was listening then continued, "apparently they concluded that you are because of the absences, you are eating in class and the fact that you are so much more cranky this year than last year seemed to be the clincher!" She smiled triumphantly.

CRANKY?!?!?! ME CRANKY??? That is middle school speak for witchy with a capital B!!! My head was swimming? Was I more cranky? Was I being mean to my favorite, sweet, innocent kids? I had to admit it was probably true.

Lucky for me there was a faculty meeting after school so I went ahead and announced it to all the faculty and staff. The following day I made the announcement in my classes. There were shouts of "I KNEW IT" from my 8th graders.

Yet again, proof that kids are watching you all the time.

Love Ya class of 2014!!!

Evil Nibbling at Toes in the Dark

Forever Friend lived just down the street with only one neighbor between our houses. Our lives couldn't have been more different. I had one grumpy quite brother, she had a rowdy brother and sister who were full of life to say the least. My mom worked and hers stayed home. My dad had moved on while hers was home each night bellowing with poorly masked love at his rowdy kids.

I had a dog and she had a cat. Granted, my dog was pretty mean to just about everyone, but at least he was honest about it and warned you to stay away. Forever Friend's cat Abby on the other hand was the catalyst that opened my eyes to real evil.

I remember when Abby arrived at Forever Friend's home. The quite and beautiful black kitten with orange and white flecks that almost looked like reverse tiger stripes was breath taking. I remember instantly loving the cute little fur ball... all part of its evil plan that was brewing since the time of it's conception.

After my first encounter with the purring motor boat sound of contentment as I gently pet the snugly fur ball in my lap I was in love. Then in the blink of an eye I'd somehow been lightly scratched and lightly bitten and the cat was no where to be seen. I stared in shock at my hand hardly believing the little ball of warmth could have done such a thing. Then from across the room I saw the yellow eyes gleaming from beside the TV. It was an awakening in me that this animal was not at all what it seemed.

Life went on, and as Forever Friend's mom was my babysitter all summer I could hardly avoid this creepy sweetness that followed Forever Friend and I around. I tried to share my thoughts on the scheming of Abby but the entire family seemed to think it is just what cats did. This broadened my distrust of these animals to include any cat I ran into... not just the sly Abby.

After so many bone chilling looks of malice, intent and general disdain I tried to steer clear of Abby. At least Forever Friend had a pool... and cats didn't like water. I'll admit, to my shame, I often dreamed of throwing that miserable cat into the pool... but to my credit I never actually did it. So what brought on these base desires to play dirty tricks on a mere house cat? I thought you'd never ask.

One of Abby's favorite past-times was, what I have dubbed the walking tree. You see, Forever Friend's house had a long narrow hallway leading to the bedrooms. Half way down this hallway was the guest bathroom which one must pass to have access to any of the bedrooms. Because the hallway was long and narrow there was no way to circumvent this bathroom. So to the delight of Abby, everyone had to walk past it at some time during the day. She would crouch right inside the door of the dark bathroom, her dark fur making it impossible to spot her and she would wait. Wait for me, or anyone else, to walk by. Once in view she would leap up onto your legs and proceed to climb you, much like normal cat would climb a tree, and when she reached your shoulders or head she would leap off and scamper away. I've mentioned that I spend the summers with Forever Friend right? Summers in Georgia where it was not uncommon to hit 97 degrees with 95% humidity.... but I began wearing jeans to her house.

Abby would also hide other places around the house and reach out and give you a good scratch just when you'd relaxed. I think it was her way of reminding you that no where in the house is safe. She even jumped out from behind the shower curtain one day while I was using the bathroom. I managed to bat her away as she sailed toward me and I instantly jumped up and opened the door a crack so she could run away. In truth, while in the house there was no escape from her.

As young girls love to do Forever Friend and I wanted to have a sleep over. Her mom agreed to make us some of her wonderful pancakes for breakfast and we'd swim in the pool at night! The evening was great, swimming at night was such a treat. Then we settled down in the living room with our sleeping bags and New Kid's on the Block pillows to watch a VHS of one of the their concerts. After the concert we decided to tell ghost stories till we fell asleep. I read from the book of scary stories I'd check out at the library and we soon had goose bumps and were clutching our pillows and flashlights.

Forever Friend fell quickly asleep and I began to wonder where Abby slept.. if she slept at all. I began to worry as I'd not seen her all afternoon. I hoped she'd gotten herself stuck somewhere and wouldn't be able to get out. I finally clicked off my flashlight, telling myself it was only a cat and slowly fell asleep.

I dreamed of hundreds of cats. All sizes and colors of cats swarmed like roaches around the floors, counter tops and table of my dream kitchen. I was perched on the counter trying to open a window and get out... of course the window was stuck and it was dark outside. Suddenly a light came on outside and the temperature in my dream hit zero. I peered out the window I was attempting to open and the yard outside the window was teeming with cats as well. Then to my horror they all turned their unearthly yellow eyes on me. I could see my breath on the pane of glass when I heard a sound... a large thudding sound. I turned slowly back to the kitchen, sure I was going to be attacked by the cats in the house. They were all looking at me too when a large entirely black cat spoke, "I think I'll start with the toe."

Frozen in place I didn't know what to do... there were cats everywhere... all eyes intent on me. The larger black cat moved closer and licked my bare toe. I wanted to scream... knew if I screamed they'd disappear. I could feel the scream caught in my throat and tried to dislodge it. The black cat licked a few more times then bit down hard on my big toe. Finally the scream ripped from my throat and I woke, sweating with my sleeping bag in disarray around me.

I breathed a sigh of relief that it was a dream then felt a painful throbbing on my big toe. I sat up and clicked on a flashlight. Shining that flashlight on my toe chilled me to the bone. There was blood and a bite mark. I quickly scanned the room with the flashlight searching for the big black cat from my dream. The flashlight caught the green glow of eyes as it rounded the room. I quickly flew back to the spot to see Abby dashing down the hallway.

To this day I'll swear that the evil cat named Abby bit me in my sleep. The next morning I told Forever Friend about the bite, not the dream, and said her cat was the devil. Abby slipped into the room during my accusations and began cleaning herself with her back to us. I decided to prove to Forever Friend that it was indeed the devil and called out, "Abby, here Abby, kitty kitty." and of course nothing happened, the cat continued to ignore us. A few moments later I said, "Lucifer, oh Lucifer." and at that moment Abby turned and glared at both of us. Forever Friend's jaw dropped and we both ran into the kitchen to the safety of mom and pancakes.

From then on I called that cat Lucifer and it never failed to turn in my direction..... and I never slept anywhere but behind a closed door at her house again....

"Falling" in Love

Imagine me, the somewhat shy yet self-involved teen, entering 9th grade. It was the height of the 90's grunge movement that, like all the outcast movements before it, couldn't quite stamp out the jocks and "popular" girls. Nor did they seek to remedy the woebegone status of the geeks and terminally normal kids.

That was me, terminally normal. I wasn't ugly, wasn't beautiful, wasn't trendy, and yet not nerdy either. I was helplessly stuck in some ambiguous state of normal and thus ignored by everyone; including the nerds. Make no mistake, I was relatively happy. As happy as any self-conscious ninth grade girl can be. I had a few great friends and was lacking any serious self destructive obsessions that plague young teen girls. I made pretty good grades and performed pitifully at cross country but at least I was "involved" with school. I was cruising through the year with little trouble and had avoided developing any major social complexes when "he" arrived.

The moment he stepped foot on campus every girl, from the nerdy book worm to the hottest cheerleader, took notice. His name spread like wildfire down the halls and through classrooms, Luke. Luke was mysterious. He had shoulder length dirty blond hair that was wavy and unkempt and had somehow turned money into grunge. It was apparent that he was rich and because he was trend-setting grunge, he was every mother's bane. Every silly girl's dream.

My friends and I noticed him too. At first I was put off by his grungy clothes and then he dropped from my mind whenever the girls weren't gossiping about him. I couldn't get away from the stories and speculation that ran wild through the whispered longings of my peers. Apparently he was wealthy and sent to live with his uncle (the ROTC teacher) because he was too much of a handful for his poor mother. Not only were his parents rich but he was independently wealthy, having a trust fund of his own courtesy of Disney World when he lost his thumb on a ride there at the age of seven. The more I heard the more I though "freak" and tried to ignore the endless babble around me. This being impossible, I also learned that he played guitar and wrote songs and poetry. I had a few classes with him and like all the other popular people I ignored him and he ignored me.

Despite my attempt to remain ignorant I eventually had to introduce myself in order to complete a group assignment. I noticed he had two thumbs and decided not to believe a word of all the crap I was hearing. Like always I finished the assignment while cheerleader 1 and cheerleader 2 cooed like birds and flirted with Luke. I was happy when class was over and I could go fume with my friends about having to do all the work. Thankfully this was all the interaction I'd had with him and life went on as normal for about two weeks (which is an eternity for a high school girl.) During those weeks Luke hadn't asked out a single girl or showed particular interest which really had all the girls anxious and uptight. The subtle girl fight began to win his heart. The opening line of Pride and Prejudice rings true... if on a less "permanent" level. "It is a universally known truth that every single man in possession of a fortune is in want of a wife." It was apparent to every girl that he must be in want of a girlfriend.

I was having a strange week. It was only Wednesday but strange things were happening. Girls I normally talked to wouldn't say a word to me while those who never talked to me were giving me the evil eye. Guys who never looked twice were looking enough to make me blush and my friends had no explanation. On my way to my locker that morning was creepy. It felt like the whole school was watching me walk down the hall holding their breath in anticipation. Oh sure, I know, they weren't ALL looking at me; but many were and some I felt were trying to appear not to look. I mentally confirmed that I had put clothing on that morning and fumbled with the combination lock on my locker.

The door swung open with a creak that shattered the silence and there, taped to the door, was a rumpled, folded piece of note book paper. For a moment I stared at the paper wondering who'd gotten into my locker then snatched it down and shoved it in my backpack. With my luck it was from some hopeless puppy dog type guy that it would break my heart to say no... so I didn't want to read it.. that way I didn't have to say "no". I unloaded my homework and gathered the stuff for first and second period. I swung the door closed hoping for some privacy before I read the note, whoever it was from.

Luke was walking up the hall, cool as ever. He did actually have beautiful eyes. I was startled when I realized those pretty green eyes were intent on my face. I must have looked amusing because he smiled a crooked little smile that made his eyes light up. My heart fluttered and I dropped my head hoping to brush by quickly. Obviously I was between him and some girl, how embarrassing. Even more embarrassing was when he grabbed my arm as I brushed by, "Paige. Wait." The silence in the hall was deafening and I wondered if everyone was slowly suffocating.

Startled, I stopped and looked up at him a little confused. "Hi Luke."

"Did you get my note?" His voice was honey with a bit of sand and gravel - sweet but rough.

I continued to stare. "Your note?" I said stupidly, my brain failing miserably to make the connection that the most sought after guy in school had put a note in my locker.

He began to look a bit nervous too. "Yeah. It was in your locker. Didn't you see it?"

Realization hit me and I blushed to the roots of my sandy blond hair. "Yes, I did. I have it but I haven't read it yet."

His smiled widened. "Let me know when you do." With that he continued strolling down the hall.

I was shell shocked but suddenly everyone was breathing again. Not only that - they were buzzing like flies on dead meat. And I was dead meat. My best friends were tugging on my arms squeaking things like "what did he say?" "did you read the note?" "WOW". I brushed them off and while it was still ten minutes before first period began I sought out the Algebra room for some peace and quite - because really... who'd hang out in Algebra class?

With trembling hands I pulled the note out and read a beautifully written poem asking me out on a date that Friday. (I'd insert the poem here but in truth I've lost it and I would never do it justice to attempt to recreate it.) I'd never really been on a date before; after all, who would drive? My mom? No way!

I couldn't believe it; the most popular guy in school had just asked me out on a date! Me! Plain, ordinary, terminally normal me! I realized that it must be some kind of set up or dare... I'd seen too many Molly Ringwald movies not to know what was going on... but still my heart soared at the idea that for a moment I was a star.

Knowing that it wouldn't last I decided to play it cool. This was my one shot to be the envy of every girl; I wasn't going to mess it up with all my stammering and blushing like I did that morning. True to my word I breezed by him in the hall later and at his questioning look said, "Oh right. Sorry! I'll read it next period. Promise!" and rushed off with my heart pounding at my dare devil self. Wheww this was fun! My English class with him was coming up quickly so I'd have to tell him my answer then.

What would I answer? If it was all a joke I knew I should say no. BUT. But what if it wasn't a joke? Country song lyrics, "ride this ride far as it will go..." floated through my head and I decided to say yes. Perhaps he wanted to get to know me, well, I figured I could get to know him too and thought I just might like alternative music and baggy clothes.

He seemed genuinely pleased that I said yes and slipped me a tattered spiral bound notebook with a black scratched up cover. I spent all that day reading through these amazing poems that were dark, edgy and endearing. They spoke of loss, heartbreak and loneliness. My mom is reading this blog now, understanding me so well that she knows I was on a mission. My heart was putty yet resolved to show him that he wasn't alone, that someone cared. I cared.

Thursday and Friday at school rolled by in an unreal haze. Apparently my accepting his invitation for a date on Friday was also an acceptance to being his girl friend. He walked me to every class, holding my hand and offering to carry my books. These strolls through the halls earned smiles from other terminally normal kids and scowls from the popular girls. I couldn't get enough of his poetry, the supply of beat up notebooks seemed endless.

Although high school football wasn't really anywhere we'd normally go; where else would our parents let us go together without them? So Friday evening his uncle drove him over to my house and waited in the car as Luke came to the door.

I was wearing an outfit I hoped was cute but a little sexy and a bit grungy (only a high school girl could even think that was possible). I'd even borrowed a pair of combat boots and my older brother's jeans and flannel for the occasion. The only thing that was mine was the small, tight cut off shirt that showed more than normal now that my brother's jeans were hanging on my hips. I was glad to have the flannel to cover my belly with.. I was quite shy.

I wanted to make an entrance so my mom got the door and let him in. Luke sat down on the sofa to the right of the stairs. My mom made a face at me from the bottom of the stairs and I waited at the top for another minute. I took a deep breath and started down the steps wondering if he'd like the outfit.

Once I cleared the line where wall becomes banister I looked over at the couch with the sexiest smile I could manage. That's when everything went wrong. I felt my feet stumbling over the untied laces of the boots, saw his eyes widen as my sexy smile became a grimace of horror knowing I would fall.

The baggy, flannel I was wearing over my too tight cut off shirt seemed to trap my arms at my side in the wealth of material. In what I know was an ungraceful, sloppy head-first fall I tumbled down the remaining stairs. I was more mortified that hurt, looking up from my back at my feet still splayed on the stairs, one boot coming off and resting by my ear. Then I heard a sound that I knew heralded my death by mortification... Luke was laughing hysterically. Like a doomed damsel turning to watch the light of the train barreling toward her, I turned my head just as Luke rolled off the couch holding his sides in laughter.

I wanted to crawl under the couch he'd just vacated and hide until high school was over. I knew that this was the climax of the cruel social joke and I'd handed it over like a fool. Visions of laughing students filled my mind and I wanted to cry. I put a hand over my face in effort to hold in the tears of shame as Luke finally got his laughter under control.

To my surprise he croaked out, "Are you ok?" and seeing my hands helplessly trying to hind my tears quickly came over to help me up. I let him, knowing for sure the date was over. "Hey that was pretty awesome. I needed a good laugh, I hope you're ok though." his gravely sweet voice was so sincere that I chanced a look at his face. There was no guile, no triumph, just amusement and concern. I let out a shaky breath unsure of what to say. "Well, are you ready to go?" he asked. It turned out to be a great first date.

So that was one of my embarrassing moments. Luke was a genuine article and we "dated" as best two teens without transportation can for about three months (forever in teen girl time). Instead of his catapulting me to fame, he dropped into my obscurity but stuck with me anyway. I was the happiest I'd been up to that point in my life and he became my first love. It fizzled in tearful good byes when he went back home, miles and miles away but I'll always have nice memories.

Bungees and Babies

I do realize it has been about two months since I wrote a good story for you.

Many things have happened in two months, some good some bad.

In May I found out I was pregnant; in early July I miscarried.

I was oblivious to just about everything about pregnancy except how to end up that way. Although unprepared, I was cautiously excited... it felt more like I was standing on a bridge about to bungee jump and there was no turning back. I was nervous and uncomfortable while my husband seems to be waving and mouthing "have fun!" while I'm throwing up. Well, I'm a chicken at heart and because of the miscarriage feel like I've been released from the bungee harness and have been given a chance to catch my breath and prepare myself. I would have preferred that everything go perfectly but because it didn't I can find a good side to this. It was a trial run so to speak. There is no doubt that I'll take the dive as soon as I'm able but it is nice to have a bit of perspective and be ready for the next time.

Having said that I'm feeling like my old self again... and ready to resume writing. So vote for the story that you'll like to hear and I'll write it before I go on vacation July 18th.

Thanks for your support!

Paige

Why I don't Babysit

At the age of eleven I was pretty snotty and self-centered. I thought I knew it all, had it all and was blind to anything that pointed out the obvious flaw in my thinking. Being the youngest sibling and the youngest cousin of a tight-knit family it never occurred to me to be aware of or pay attention to little children. I never wanted to buy anything so badly that I'd volunteer to babysit for money. I'd clean, I'd do yard work and wash cars but I wanted nothing at all to do with children.

Despite my self-centered view I did like to help others - it made me feel good. As my mother can tell you I attracted every stray or hurt person within my sphere of influence throughout school. So one beautiful Sunday afternoon my do-gooder attitude unknowingly stepped up to the challenge of a lifetime (well, childhood). You see, there is always one strange house on the block. Ours just happened to be right across the street from me.

This house was the one that let the lawn get out of control and let the shutters hang lose. As the tyrant children we were, all of us brats would stand at the fence and wonder what would happen if one of us got lost in the backyard. Of course every strange house needs a strange occupant. The man who lived there was a little older than our parents which made him, in our eyes, an "old man." Some kids said he was ex-military, some said he was on the run from the mafia, but most likely he had a boring hum-drum job like our parents. We had to speculate in secret because our parents all chastised us for talking about him. They would say mundane things like, "he's a very nice man. Just because he keeps to himself doesn't make him strange." Who were they kidding?

One day Forever Friend and I were out riding bikes and we saw an old beat up station wagon pull into the drive way and a woman get out and let herself into the house. The buzz starting flying and within minutes a kid meeting was held in the "pit" (abandon lot) several doors down from my house. We all wondered who this mystery woman was. Some said it was his daughter, others said it had to be his girlfriend; as the mafia must have killed his first wife and children. We all wondered but we only caught rare glimpses of the woman who always looked haggard and upset.

This bright sunny Sunday afternoon I was chatting on the phone with Forever Friend who lived a few doors down. (Yes, we were pre-teen girls so talking on the phone was way cooler than visiting.) Forever Friend was about to spill the news about the New Kids on the Block gossip when the door bell rang. My mom called out for me to answer the door. Full of exasperation I told Forever Friend I'd call her back and went to get the door.

I skipped down the stairs and looked out the glass storm door to see the strange woman lived across the street staring back at me. She looked upset and panicked. I could hear Cute Boy Across the Street's voice, "maybe the maffia is after her too." in my head. I opened the door and in shock said, "Yes?" While the woman was explaining that she wanted me to babysit, my mom came up behind me and introduced herself. Apparently the woman had three children hidden away in the house. How creepy! Three kids that none of us in the neighborhood had seen! How was that possible! I looked at her wide-eyed as she explained that she just needed to run to the grocery store and back and that she was desperate for someone to watch the kids.

My mom, seeking to rectify some of the "misconceptions" we kids had about the house and the strange people living in it smiled and said, "I think that sounds like a good idea Paige, why don't you help our a neighbor?" I agreed knowing I couldn't pitch a fit right there with the woman watching. At least I'd get to see inside the house, maybe I'd find contraband of some kind even though I didn't really know what that meant. But I'd have news for the neighborhood kids for sure!

"What time would you like me to come over?" I asked as nicely as I could now that I was eager to get back to the gossip with Forever Friend (she thinks her mom got her tickets to see The New Kids on the Block). The woman replied that she needed me to come over right away. To my satisfaction, even my mom seemed a little surprised by the urgency of the woman's request.

"Um, ok." I said and went to put my shoes on. The woman waited on the porch for me. We walked across the street to the strange house and went inside. So far everything looked worn but pretty normal. We lived in an older, less flashy neighborhood compared to the ones that were springing up around us. Three blond girls sat like angels in front of the TV in the family room. There was a toddler of about two years, a five year old and a six or seven year old. The woman told me their names and assured me the oldest would help out with the baby. The woman wasted no time tearing out of the house and peeling off down the street in her beat up car.

The moment she was gone the angels turned to demons. The youngest cried uncontrollably and when I looked to her for help, the older girl just shrugged her shoulders. I picked up the wet, bubbling snotty child and lamely attempted to comfort her. Rolling my eyes I realized I was no good with babies and this was going to be a long afternoon....but I didn't know the half of it.

Once the baby started to quite down the middle child began screaming and running through the house for no apparent reason. She squealed and ran, her high voice ripping through my throbbing head. She had no response at all to my orders to be quite and sit down. It was about this time that I realized the older girl wasn't anywhere around let alone helping. I hear a crash from the kitchen so I carry the baby down the hallway dodging the other screaming, running child and enter the kitchen to see white and red powders spilled all over the floor. The oldest girl looks up at me with an evil smile and says, "Mommy lets me help do the laundry." Well that explained the white power on the floor but what was the red powder? I attempted to persuade her to wait until "mommy" got back from the store sure she was going to ignore me and carry on with her "helping".

To my surprise she shrugged her shoulders and announced she was going to color in the living room. The littlest one started squirming so I put her down and let her follow the oldest into the living room. The middle child, still running, trips going up the stairs and hits her head on the wall. If I thought her high-pitched laughs were bad it was nothing compared to the wailing that now filled the house. While I tried to comfort her she continued to wail. The oldest, unconcerned with the noise just turned up the volume on the TV to overcome the crying.

I convinced her to give up the foot race and sit with her sisters in the living room. I decided to clean up the mess in the kitchen. I found a broom and dust pan and began to sweep up the mess. It became clear that the red powder was Kool-Aid. The smell was sweet and as I swept it entered my nose and mouth. Just about the time I had most of the mess cleaned up I heard three evil laughs from the living room.

I wanted to run screaming; instead I went to the living room. I thought I would be killed for sure. The girls were coloring alright... all over the living room walls! Sad to say I lost my cool and had there been ropes, tape, bungee cords of any kinds I would have tied all of them to a dining room chair. Unfortunately there were no ropes or binding materials near by so I yelled that they were brats and that I was going to tell their mother everything they'd done when she got home. The oldest one tried to look contrite but being a kid myself I knew she was not sorry and didn't care a bit that I was going to tell her mother. I took the crayons and put them on the top shelf in the pantry.

Because I'd found the broom, I knew the location of a bucket. I put some soapy water in the bottom of the bucket and made the two older girls start scrubbing the walls. As they scrubbed I could see faint crayon marks that were much older than the ones created today so I was certain they'd done this before; at least the woman couldn't blame me. The oldest one said she was going to the bathroom and disappeared.

Yep, you guessed it. CRASH!!! While attempting to climb the racks in the pantry she'd pulled most of them down. The noise scared the middle girl who was still scrubbing the walls and she turned the soapy water over on the carpet. I didn't want to move, didn't want to care what happened in the pantry. The oldest girl arrived back in the living room caring the crayons and sat down with a coloring book.

I was flabbergasted! Who were these little monsters? Who was allowed to behave this way? No wonder mom needed to get out and away from the house with these little devils. No wonder she kept them inside away from other children. They were evil.

In the process of sopping up the soap water from the carpet the woman came back. She looked around at the carnage and began yelling at the girls. For a moment I thought she'd unleash some of the fury on me but she didn't even seem to realize I was there. I stayed for a few minutes hoping to get a couple bucks for my ordeal but as she continued to berate the girls I decided all I wanted was to leave... so I did with nothing but a headache and mental trauma for my time.

My mom looked sceptical but believed me and I was gossip queen for a month with the neighborhood kids. I'd survived the crazy house, but just barely.

Who am I?

I am a middle school teacher who loves to laugh. I am a powerful force when inspired or angered. I am silly and compassionate and give the benefit of the doubt. I hear what you meant to say rather than what you did say and I enjoy interacting with silly pre-teen kids. I love fantasy and heros along with stories of the impossible and the imaginations of middle school kids. I love books, movies and writing.

All of these thing came crashing together one glorious day. Many of you know I LOVE Fantasy and Sci-fi books, games, movies... anything that takes the good of this world and amplifies it into something greater than ourselves. So I was intrigued when my 7th grade students asked what sci-fi/fantasy character I was. I had no answer but visions of elves and dragons filled my head.

They showed me a silly on-line test that promised to reveal my true nature. At last!! I would know who I really am deep down inside.

I took the test. The funniest question on the test asks if you would kill your best friend in order to be immortal. Good question! Hey Kim... what do you think I answered? (Devious smile). Others were about justice and the greater good.

To my lasting pleasure and dismay of my students I turned out to be Lord Elrond from Lord of the Rings. I announced to my study hall that they could now address me as LORD Elrond. They got a kick out of it and I'm sure went home to make fun of me on facebook. :)

If you'd like to discover your true self here is the link:

http://www.tk421.net/character/

Trailer Park Rats

Like many of you I have family members who live a completely different life. Some of my family are more wealthy, some are less wealthy. Some live in the suburbs of large metropolitan cities, some live midtown or downtown metropolitan cities, and some live a bit farther out attempting to escape the urban sprawl, and some live yet farther out still in small towns that make up the heartbeat of this great nation. Each member of my extended family is unique and precious to me. I see bits of my crazy soul in all of them.

So let me take you on a childhood journey a little out of your comfort zone and zip code to visit some of my family. As a child, every year we would travel from our home in Georgia to visit my grandparents in Paris during the summer. The car ride was about 13 hours..... oh wait... I meant Paris Texas. While I hated the car ride in our old green and wood paneled station wagon, I LOVED visiting my family in Texas. For me as a child, even at the tender age of 7, Paris was a wonderland of country roads, farms, wide open spaces and the home of my two favorite cousins - together we made up the Musketeers.

We were all the same age and we dubbed ourselves the three musketeers. These two were so much fun! I got to do crazy things that I never got to do at home like shoot bb guns, play on old clunky pontoon boat in my grandmother's backyard and go to the skating rink where they sold dill pickle juice for 10 cents. I was in heaven every time I went and yes, I did like the pickle juice. The three of us were inseparable. Every evening was an argument over who's house we'd spend the night at. Of course I was staying at Grandma's house and in the ever present tug-of-war to get away from my parents I always voted to stay with one of them.

They would be on the phone with my dad's siblings while I begged too. "Please can I go spend the night with Musketeer 1 or Musketeer 2? Please!" My mom, ever patient, would say, "Lets wait and see what your aunts say." Once we knew our options the musketeers would reconvene secretly in the back yard to plan our assault on our parents. There was a down side to any choice we made. We all had a sibling about four years our senior. They were not musketeers and did not want to hang out with each other so one of them would be where ever we slept. M2 has an older sister who either left us alone or bugged us to death wanting to make our three musketeers into four. M1 had an older brother who pretty much left us alone. My older brother would either ignore us or pick on us. Our options clearly indicated M1's house. His mom was the best cook of the bunch too after all we had to think about breakfast! (My grandmother's cooking is another story too).

So more often than not we spent the night at M1's house or at Grandma's but we never ended up at M2's. Well there came a day when M1 had something to do at home and our trio was down to a duo. M2 and I had a blast of course and in the evening when it was time to pick where to stay M2 and I begged to go to her house as I'd never been there. I was excited about a "girls" night with M2 and her sister. My mom agreed with a worried look on her face. I was too excited at the time to notice.

So mom packed up my things and M2 and I loaded ourselves into our station wagon with Dad at the helm. We drove through town and turned off down a bumpy dirt road. The farther we drove the more my apprehension grew. I wasn't going to back out though, it had been a hard won battle with my mom to stay with M2.

We parked in front of a small, time-worn trailer. The cinder block steps leading to the door wobbled a bit as M2 marched up and opened the door. I stood by the car wondering if I was brave enough to sleep in an old trailer in the middle of a field. My Dad gave me a hug and a look that said "are you sure?" but he didn't say it out loud. I nodded my head in response and followed my friend up the wobbly blocks, took a deep breath and let myself in. If M2could do it every night then I could do it for one night. I was a musketeer after all, and I'd heard my dad drive away.

The inside was well lit which might not have been a good thing. A small trailer with three girls, who apparently weren't expecting company, was a sight to behold. As I surveyed almost the entire trailer from the small square of laminate by the door I wondered how things had gotten this messy. My Aunt smiled at me from the kitchen end of the trailer and my fears, doubts, and the mess were erased from my mind. She was like a ray of sunshine with her bright smile.

M2 tugged at my hand saying, "Let me show you my room." The only thing I remember clearly from M2's room was her twin bed and the TV on a rickety little cart across from her bed. M2's mom did something with my bag and M2 pulled me on to the twin bed. "Lets watch a scary movie and stay up all night!" She was excited as I'd been about an hour before. As she was holding up movies and choosing the perfect one my Aunt came back in with a tray of popcorn and soda. She set them down on the bed and said sternly to M2, "Remember! These go back to the kitchen before you got to bed!" M2 absently waved at her mom and popped in a movie.

I surveyed the room while the opening music pumped a creepy song through the room. "Where am I going to sleep?" I asked looking at the thread bare carpet. "Oh," said M2, "We are both going to sleep on my bed." I glanced at the twin mattress and as much as I loved my cousin I did not want to share a twin bed with her. "Don't you have some blankets or a sleeping bag?" If I was wrapped tightly enough I could sleep on the floor. "I can sleep on the floor." She was focused on the movie now with it's opening scene that would surely make us scream. She casually and absently answered me like she'd absently waved her mother off, "Oh you can't sleep on the floor. The rats come out at night."

DADDY!!!!! My stomach did a flip and I thought I might lose the popcorn and soda. RATS? Seriously! She'd said it so calmly like it was a natural fact of life. Flashes of my mom's concerned face flooded my mind. My mom must have known and been worried that I'd be eaten by rats in my sleep! I'd heard a story of rats eating the toes off of babies once and I sincerely wished that I was back at my grandma's house sharing a room with my mean brother and eating my grandmother's cowboy food.

I calmed myself, rubbing my toes, not willing to admit defeat and call my dad to come and get me, I tried to relax sitting on the bed with M2 who was now completely engrossed in the horror film. Who wanted to watch a horror film when I was in one!?

Gradually as the movie rolled on without me watching I began to relax. M2 and her mom were fine with all their fingers and toes as far as I knew. If nothing bad happened to them living here, surely nothing bad could come from my sleeping here one night. Right?

The movie was almost over and M2 was snoring softly still holding the popcorn bowl with a couple handfuls still in the bottom of the bowl. I looked at the TV across the tiny room on its cart with the VCR on the rickety shelf under the TV. I was drifting to sleep myself and wondering if I should turn off the VCR and TV when I saw the little pink nose and whiskers appear in the space between the VCR and TV.

With a good bit of force I shoved M2 attempting to wake her up. She jolted awake, knocking the popcorn bowl and last cup of popcorn on to the floor and it spilled everywhere. "There's a rat by the TV." I said quietly hoping the rat wouldn't notice me. She rubbed her eyes and nodded, "They come out at night. Just go to sleep." and she switched off the light and got comfortable on her half of the bed. No way was I going to be able to sleep! There was popcorn all over the floor! My mom worried about ants when we left food out.... this was like a beacon calling all varmints to the floor by the bed I was sleeping in!

I shoved her again, "Hey shouldn't we pick up that popcorn? Your mom told us to take it back to the kitchen." Yes, take the rat food to another room! She just grunted and said, "I'm not doing it." and fell back asleep.

I was left with a real, life-threatening (or toe threatening) dilemma. Do I leave the perceived safety of the bed and pick up the popcorn in the dark hoping I didn't grab a rat or do I stay here, under the covers and hope dawn comes soon? I did what most 7-year-olds would do. No I didn't cry, but I wanted to. Instead I stayed exactly where I was under the covers snuggled up to the only other human in the crowded room and prayed for sleep to come.

Sleep was just seconds away when I heard a soft munching. In the dark my imagination ran wild. I could hear soft little bodies moving through holes in the wall. I could hear hundreds of small teeth-filled mouths chomping away on popcorn. I wished that M2 snored like my brother, it might have drowned out the real and imagined sounds of the rat feast going on just feet away. There would be rest tonight.... and maybe no more toes. I pulled myself into a tight ball and held my toes. I hoped the popcorn would fill them up and that they wouldn't want my toes. I tried to tell myself they were like her pets... they liked her and wouldn't bother her or her friends. But munching and sounds of nocturnal rodents continued either real or in my imagination. Either way it was terrifying.

Needless to say it was a very long night in which I got only snatches of dozed slumber. I remember the grey pale light of dawn lighting the sky outside the window like a saving angel. As soon as light allowed I peered over the edge or the bed, sure I was going to see swarms of rats or their little footprints like in cartoons showing everywhere they'd been. Nothing. There were no rats, no little footprints .... and no popcorn. I shuddered and woke up M2. "I'm hungry." I lied hoping that would rouse her out of bed. I certainly didn't want to be the first one to put my feet on the floor.

M2 slowly woke up and said, "Man I missed the end of the horror movie. How'd it end." I glanced up at the rolling TV screen that I'd not switched off and replied, "The heroine lived." She looked at me funny then got out of bed and left the room for the bathroom. Well nothing bad happened to her when she put her feet on the floor so I got up and dressed quickly. I refused a shower and breakfast, as my only goal was to go back to Grandma's. I told my aunt I didn't feel well and since I obviously didn't look well, she called my dad to come pick me up. I decided to wait for him outside. I was safe and asleep in the car before we made it back to Grandma's.

I'd survived the rats with all my fingers and toes and though I love M2 and her mom I vowed never to spend the night with her again.

Pay Toilets

Who really knows how powerful the flow of water through a toilet can be? A friend of mine recently had a funny experience with a public toilet.

The University of Nebraska in Omaha has, like all colleges, ID cards. These ID cards are used to purchase things around campus from bookstore items to parking and food. Even the vending machines, copiers and printers in the library take these convenient ID cards. Because they are so handy and useful around campus many of us carry them in a pocket so we don't have to dig through our bags to whip it out every few minutes. My friend, like myself, carries hers in the back pocket of her jeans. Normally this is a safe, easy to access location. Normally.

After hours of studying and downing coffee in order to get that last assignment finished just before class it is inevitable that nature will call. My friend took a break from the latest Molecular Biology assignment to answer that call.

In the process of dropping her jeans while poised just right over the porcelain throne her ID card, unexpectedly wiggled halfway out of her pocket. It is not until she is standing and pulling up her jeans in one swift motion that she hears an unexpected "plop" and splash of water.

Like any woman in a strange toilet who's heard stories of "creatures" coming up through the plumbing she quickly turns, backing into the door of the stall. Her mind calms as she realizes she's three stories up in a large building. Convinced that it wasn't a creature she peers into the toilet. Her face is there, smiling up at her through the lemonade colored water. Her ID card has gone for a swim.

It would be quite a hassle to lose the ID card yet no one in their right mind would reach into the bowl and retrieve it now. Perhaps if the water were "clean". She decides to flush and await cleaner waters before retrieving the card and thoroughly washing with soap.

She takes a breath and flushes. Her jaw drops in astonishment as her smiling face is whisked away down the hole she would have sworn wasn't big enough. In a daze of amazement she returns to her papers sitting across from me and says, "Apparently the toilets are pay toilets now." After telling me the story I remarked that I hope she didn't get charged each time someone flushed.

So would it have been worth it to brave the "dirty" water to retrieve the card? I didn't ask because honestly I would have been reluctant to retrieve it from "clean" water at my home not to mention a public toilet. I didn't want to know her answer.

I Didn't Mean to Say Yes!

"I didn't mean to say yes!" I said hotly to my exhausted roommate, soul mate, and best friend, Kim.

It was around 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night in a small college town. Kim had just walked in the door from a long afternoon and evening of waiting tables and was ready to call it a night. When she'd come home I'd been nervous and my stomach was rolling with dread of what was to come. She'd come home early and I expected her to be a good best friend and save me from a terrible mistake. She was not thrilled with the idea and was staunchly refusing.

"I can't believe you said yes!" She was getting irritated with my persistence.

"He never said it was a date! We are meeting his friends at a coffee shop! Which means I can bring a friend too! His is exact words were, 'hey, wanna go hang out at the coffee shop, some of my friends will be there.'" Even though it is obvious now, it never occurred to me to call him and back out, to make up some lame excuse like washing my hair. I was a freshman in college and in the grand tradition of meeting people and making "life-long" friends it was important to go places and meet people. Why would he want to date me anyway... I was certain I wasn't his type... after all I did shave my legs and eat meat products.

So I didn't think twice when this acquaintance, Matt, called up and invited me to come hang out with him and some friends at a coffee shop on Main Street. Matt was pedantically unique. He was the artsy guy who may have been brilliant but looked homeless. If you've ever been on any college campus you know the type. He was tall and skinny with dark hair and enough whiskers to make his face look as dirty as his clothes and worn out Birkenstocks. You couldn't quite tell if he was witty and high or just slow, which only made him more curious to me, a sheltered girl from the burbs. Of course he didn't have a car and it was a bit chilly for his bicycle, so I'd be driving. This was a plus because I could leave when ever I wanted; gave me some control if things got granola weird.

The nausea and despair began minutes after I hung up the phone. The very last thing he said was, "I'll shower and be over in about half an hour."

Shower! Oh NO! He was going to shower! That had to be reserved for special occasions... I mean you could smell this guy coming! That's when it dawned on me he must think this was a date! My agony about what to do lasted for about 20 minutes. Then arrives Kim, my savior and the ensuing argument.

"No! I'm not going on your date with you!" Kim rarely fought me on anything so this was harder than I thought.

"Please! It isn't a date! He said we were going to hang with some of his friends!" I began to beg. "Please! You won't be the third wheel, there will be lots of people there! I'll owe you big! Huge!"

Kim eyed me and finally gave in, "Fine I'll go, but you owe me big time. I can't believe you are doing this to me." Her shoulders sagged.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You are the best friend ever!" I was so pleased. Now all I had to do was look innocent when I announced that Kim would be going with us.

While Kim was changing I picked up an awesome Eddie Bauer pullover of hers that I'd coveted all semester and she sometimes let me borrow. She returned from the restroom with Matt in tow as she'd run into him in the hallway. As they enter I asked Kim, "Can I borrow your pullover?"

Matt looked from me to Kim and then back to me. He held up a dark red thin wool sweater that looked fairly clean and announced, "I brought this for you to wear." The awkward silence was palpable. "Oh. No thank you." I said quickly and pulled on the jacket before Kim could answer. Standing behind Matt, Kim rolled her eyes and gave me a dirty look.

"Mmm, since we are meeting some of your friends I invited her to come along." Now it was Matt who gave me a dirty look and eyed the pullover as if it were offensive. I smiled in return wishing I'd just drop dead and be done with this whole awful situation. "Well, lets go!" I said wanting the night to be over as quickly as possible.

Now, you have to understand my situation. Just about everywhere we went together, Kim drove. It was habit and six little habitual words flowed from my mouth before I realized what I was saying. "Kim, do you have your keys?" Her eyes narrowed and if looks could kill, I'd have been put out of my misery.... in fact, all three of us would have been relieved if I'd just keeled over.

I didn't drop dead but the big nasty boulder was rolling down the proverbial hill now with no way to stop it. So the three of us, me wearing Kim's jacket, Matt carring an extra sweater and Kim jingling her keys, all walked down to the parking lot from the dorm. And then I made things worse.

Again, not thinking and acting out of courtesy, I deferred the front seat to the taller person and followed Kim to the diver's side back door. It wouldn't have been too bad if Matt had been thinking the same thing.... but no.... to my horror and humiliation he got in the back seat too. Now Kim was really pissed off, Matt was marginally placated with the new turn of events, and I'd have beat my brains out if there was anything but Matt's dirty sweater in the back seat with us.

If you are wondering if the night could get any worse, let me amaze you. If you are a sympathetic creature who is already writhing in my humiliation, or feeling so awkward you wish YOU could hide.. I must warn you to stop here. It does in fact get much worse.

By this time Kim has started the car and slammed it into gear. We are off and headed for the coffee shop. She wasn't sure which one so she got short clipped directions from Matt. That was all that was said in the 15 minute car ride. She kept her eyes on the road not looking back at us. I was leaning as far into my door as possible. I wanted to get to the coffee shop as soon as possible so that we could dilute this foul tension that was continuing to grow.

We finally arrived at a greasy, run-down, dirty little shop reminiscent of Matt himself. Here's where it gets worse... the place was empty except for us. Kim was about to murder me and Matt was looking a bit dejected. She went and sat down at a rickety table with a worn chess board on it. Not knowing how to play chess left Kim and Matt playing a "friendly" game while I looked on. The silence was worse than the tension and I didn' t know what to say. I felt I had to vindicate myself somehow so I asked, "Matt, where are your friends? Did we get the right place?" He rolled his eyes and assured me we were in the right place. I figured if I kept playing dumb my last brain cell might actually die and this terrible night would be over. But it only got worse.

Kim came to the rescue, but not by stabbing me with a chess piece and putting us all out of our misery as I'd hoped she would. "Well, looks like they're not coming, lets get out of here." I jumped to my feet at her suggestion and we all head to the car. I didn't make the mistake of heading for the back seat again and took the front seat. I gave a weak smile and they both looked annoyed.

Matt, never giving up hope, suggested he show us a cool little place with a nice view of the town. So off we drove again taking directions from Matt. As we made numerous turns and twists just outside of town, Kim looked at me with agitation in her eyes again and said, "I think I know where this goes...... up to the cemetery on top of the hill right?" Matt didn't respond but kept giving directions.

Sure enough we ended up at the gates of the local cemetery. Now, it was on top of a hill overlooking the city and on any given day when the gates were open it might afford a good view, but it was dark and the gates were locked.

Kim sounded incredulous, "I'm not climbing a fence into a grave yard at night! That's it! we're going home." Matt began to protest but thought better of it when she whipped the car around slinging him around in the backseat. On the ride home Matt looked bummed, I was humiliated into abject silence and Kim was furious. I knew she was going to rightfully verbally abuse me the moment Matt was dropped off at his dorm. I'd wished all evening for this to be over and now I dreaded going home with Kim.

Once Matt was out of the car the verbal abuse came out flying. I was stunned to hear her abusing Matt and not me. "What kind of pervert brings a sweater for a girl to wear on the FIRST DATE that he lied in order to get! Like some dog collar, like he was claiming you or something. JERK!" She was yelling so loud and fast I almost didn't catch it all. "What kind of pervert takes a girl to a cemetery in the middle of the night!" I was amazed, jaw hanging open. Then it was my turn.

"And you!" She turned on me as she parked the car in our lot. "Something could have happened to you! You don't just go out with people you hardly know to meet 'friends' of theirs you don't even know!" She was shaking with rage but not because of what I'd put her through, but at what might have happened. Her justified anger and comments only sliced me to threads. It almost would have been better to face her anger than her love.

To this day she has never let me live it down, nor should she. But I learned more about my best friend that night than in all our four years living together. I'm proud to say she is still my best friend and still right there with me through the good, the bad, and the stupid things I do.

Love you Kim

P.S. Matt never talked to me again and Kim gave me that Eddie Bauer pullover after graduation. I still have it and wear it occasionally when I need a reminder of the comfort and love of my friend.

Bikini or not to Bikini

If you've ever been to the beach you know the ratio of bikinis to hot babes is way out of proportion. More often than not you see chicks in bikinis that probably shouldn't be wearing one but at the same time it isn't obscenely gross either. You walk away saying, "What was she thinking?" Well here is your answer.

So why do these average, soft around the middle types wear string bikinis at the beach? I can tell you because believe it or not... I've done it. Please don't cringe... I'm not sure I'll ever do it again; but there is a reason I joined the ranks of those I'd criticized in my slimmer days.

Any girl can tell you that when you're not fat but don't have a hard, slim well-defined body bathing suits are especially cruel. I began my search for a swim suit to wear in Hawaii; and yes, I knew it was coming and like any typical girl I went and got a gym membership. The problem was that the gym only helped marginally - there is only so much you can do in three months without drugs and starvation (neither of which I'm willing to do) while working full time.

So the search is on; at first I exclusively tried on one-piece suits..... after all I knew how soft and wobbly my belly was. Now I know swim suits have to be tight so they don't get pulled off by the waves but seriously! Every suit I tried on that fit the leg holes and straps around the back and arms were always tight. So tight that the one piece suits actually created fat rolls in my back, gave me four butt cheeks and bulges just above the straps near my arm pits... eww gross! Now I know some of you are thinking, "Just get a bigger size." Well I tried that. I'm short and in the world of one piece suits bigger also means taller.... so I end up with a suit that doesn't bulge but has straps that reach my ears or a crotch that reaches my knees. What's a short, wobbly girl to do?

So now I've gone from having somewhat of a nice shape to rolls, bulges, and multiple cheeks that hadn't been there before. After days of shopping and a myriad of complains, a girlfriend of mine threw a blue polka-dot string bikini into the dressing room. "Just put it on!" she said. So I did.

I was amazed! No, I didn't look fabulous, but all the rolls and bulges were gone and I was back to my standard two butt cheeks. Not only were the bulges gone but it wasn't tight and the circulation to my legs was flowing normally. As I stared into the mirror I realized the problem. My tummy wasn't too attractive.... and I was looking at someone I would have thought shouldn't be in a bikini.

My choice was either a tight, uncomfortable one-piece that created unsightly bulges or a two piece that was comfortable but might have people shaking their heads at me saying, "What was she thinking?" Remembering the black one-piece at home that Love Of My Life referred to as the "baby seal" suit I made up my mind to buy the silly polka-dot bikini.

My first day in Hawaii I was too self-conscious to put it on... so off I went in my blue and white, full-coverage, vertical-stripe one-piece with the bulges and rolls. After being on the beach for a day I realize that I looked about like all those other not-ugly but not-pretty girls out there and I could handle that if it meant comfort.

So there you have it... those girls aren't attempting to say their mushy tummies and soft thighs are the next hottest thing.... bikinis are just more comfortable at least physically... it takes some mental courage to wear them and thus those girls should be applauded. I'm a little older now and a bit more squishy and I've discovered tankinis... perfect solution to cover the belly wobble... so you'll not see me in a bikini again (at least I say that now but comfort will rule out in the end!)

My Best

Ok... so all of you who are checking out the blog for the first time,

Please go read "Bats and Vampires in the Night" from August 8... it was the strange but true tale that got me started blogging... and just don't think they've been as good since.

Also, feel free to say hello... sometimes I wonder if anyone reads this except for my mother who always leaves messages... making me feel all warm inside (but that could be because she's my mom)... lol.

Christmas Vacation - The Last Leg / The Last Straw

December 24:

We woke up early that morning and caught the shuttle to the air port in the gently falling snow. Love of My Life was nervous and so was my stomach. Once in the airport Love Of My Life watched the weather and the flight information boards while I searched for Dramamine and Rolaids.

At the gate I sat munching Rolaids and reading while Love Of My Life paced by the wall of widows watching the snow fall. I could tell he was making observations and calculations about if we were going to board the plane at all. Not that the air line wouldn't fly... but we might not. Two hours rolled by and it was now 9:30 and we were still waiting on our plane to arrive from DC. I was nervous we'd spend another day in the airport... Love Of My Life was nervous the plane would take off in unsafe conditions.

We were both relieved when our plane arrived, the snow let up and the airport crew did a great job plowing the run way. Another hour later we finally boarded yet another tiny plane. The ride was bumpy but not as bad as the day before. Whether it was the Dramamine or calmer skies I couldn't tell you. I was just happy to still be in possession of my breakfast by the time we landed in Metropolis around lunch time.

Tired, hungry and happy to be home I embarked on a wonderful Christmas vacation with my mom, her two sisters, my brother and his family and in-laws and many more. It was a great Christmas. Everything was what it promised to be and I could not have been more at peace and content until the night before our flight home.

We'd packed up our presents and laid out our clothes to get up early and head to the airport. Finally in bed at 10:00 I realized I'd forgotten to go on-line and check in to print our boarding passes. I slipped out of bed and went to take care of this last detail so I could sleep. I logged onto the computer in the quite of the house and entered all the necessary information to pull up my flight itinerary.

Something had to be wrong. The bright screen said it could not find any reservations for me or my husband. Frustrated and logged off and logged in again three times knowing for sure there must be something wrong with my mother's internet connection. I search our original flight number that left Po-Dunk and pulled up our itinerary.

My heart began to pound and my mouth went dry as I realized we were no longer booked on any flight leaving Metropolis going back to Po-Dunk. We were no longer booked anywhere.... according to the airline website we'd completed our trip. Near tears and full of anger I scribbled down the 800 number and marched back to my room, phone in hand. I explained to Love Of My Life that when they re-booked us in Milwaukee they must have cancelled our return trip and gave him the phone.

I didn't even have the stomach to sit and listen to the argument that ensued so I left to fix myself some hot tea. Several minutes later I hear him march to the office and log onto the computer. "No, you'll stay on the phone with me until I've printed the boarding passes." was all I heard. Well at least we were going somewhere. It was one of those evenings I wished I could hang up adult hood and move back in with my mother.

Much to my relief Love Of My Life worked everything out and we were scheduled for our original trip out the next morning. And... fortunately for me, unfortunately for you.... there is nothing more to tell. The flight home was pretty smooth with no delays. Work began again and life moves on... but we'll never fly MidWest Airlines again.

Christmas Vaction - The First Leg

As so many people do, I look forward with great excitement to Christmas. My memories of Christmas time are beautiful memories of cut-out cookies, the smell of fresh cut pine, warm meals and cool crisp days. Even in my teens Christmas was magical and my mother somehow single-handily filled our home with love, joy and ... people. People who had nowhere to go were always welcome at our house. It seems over the years we all brought random guests to our home to include them and share our food and merriment. My mom had other single friends, my brother even brought home an exchange student from school one year and I managed to find every helpless stray teen boy who was struggling with his own family. So growing up our house was always full of people... and I'll never forget the meaning of Christmas is to share and to love... everyone. It never mattered that we'd never met this kid from Japan who was going to show up from college with my brother or that the guys from the VA were a little worn and ragged ... all were welcome.

While this is important to my story; I digress. This is just to illustrate why I have an overwhelming longing to return home for Christmas every year; one longing Love Of My Life doesn't understand at all. I feel the need for comfortable crowds of people all eating and cozily rubbing elbows. This Christmas promised joy of the deepest kind as both of my mother's sisters were going to be there celebrating with us along with my step sister's fiance and his family, my sister-in-law's sister and her family. All in all my mom was expecting 18-20 people for Christmas dinner. It was a Christmas of epic proportions and being 900 miles away and thinking I might miss it gave me the holiday blues.

Why you ask would I miss such an occasion? I'll blame it on the uncertainty of the military. Love Of My Life was deployed and scheduled to come home sometime "before Christmas". I've learned from experience that sometimes "before Christmas" can mean 4:30 a.m. Christmas Eve. Poor Love Of My Life was battered with questions about a concrete date he was coming home. I was desperate to buy plane tickets and each day I waited the prices climbed higher. I was so worried and a bit depressed that I didn't even bake cookies or decorate my home. I didn't even buy a tree... the first time in all the 6 years we've been married that I didn't buy a tree.

Then, on December 16 I got confirmation that he was coming home on the 21st. I felt the spotlight from heaven and angels singing as I rushed to search for flights home. The heavenly blessings continued to flow as I found round-trip tickets for $300 each! The normal price was around $600 so I was thrilled and ordered them right away.... we were going to get to stay for 10 days!

Little did I know that there is always a reason things are cheap.... even for plane tickets. No, it was not the inattention to detail on my part as some of you may guess. There were no hidden fees or overlooked restrictions. Even in the dead of winter it wasn't even weather trouble. It was simply a terrible airline attempting to salvage a little used route from po-dunk to metropolis with a layover in Milwaukee.

Tuesday, December 23:

Love of My Life is tired and worn from is flight back to the states two days before but he is gracious and supportive; keeping his grumbling from deflating my elation. My excitement builds as the cab arrives and steadily moves us to the airport while I munch on Rolaids like candy to calm my nervous stomach. In my enthusiasm I miss read the tickets and we are two hours earlier than necessary. Still my husband is patient as we sit and wait. He is stoically patient still, when my excitement upsets my stomach and I have to get something to eat right away and bring back bad airport subs they sell at the gate.

Our flight finally arrives and off we go to Milwaukee. I've flown in many small "connection" planes but this one was tiny. The skys were rough too.... I hope you see where this is going. I was all out of Rolaids by this point and I'm not sure they would have helped anyway. While sweating and turning green the plane finally landed and began to taxi to the gate. Love of My Life is holding my hand with silent encouragement not to revisit the bad subs from Po-Dunk Airport. It was all in vain... as we pulled into the gate I, discreetly as possible, filled the plastic-lined paper bag from the seat pocket in front of me. I felt immensely better but now had the sweats and shakes. Suddenly my joy melted into apprehension of the next leg of our journey.

We exited the plane with my little white bag and our carry-ons. Love of My Life quickly rushed to buy me a sprite as I sat down at the gate. Sitting there I looked up to the digital board to find our next gate. CANCELLED flashed in bright red next to our flight number. Sure it was snowing but it took me a minute to realize that ours was the only cancelled flight. So it wasn't the weather... everyone else was getting out. I didn't know if I was relieved or upset... both made me want to cry. (Love of My Life can tell you I'm a master at crying in the most helpful moments.... we once got a great apartment for cheap that way... but again I digress.)

Love of My Life reappeared with a sprite and once I pointed at the board he quickly went to "take care" of it. The sprite was good and helped me hold in the tears. He comes and picks up our carry-on luggage and his stoic patience is gone. In a heated but hushed tirade he informs me that he hates small planes, he is weary from traveling and being deployed, and he wants to spend Christmas at our home and in his own bed. Things were starting to unravel. Our flight was cancelled due to "Personnel Conflicts". No apology, no hotel room, nothing... only re-booked seats leaving tomorrow morning at 7:55 am with a front of snow coming in overnight. Once the stoic front broke, Love Of My Life's mind began working on how to end this awful trip - planes home, trains back to Po-Dunk, rental cars, hitchhiking... I think he might have even considered a hot air balloon.

The Holiday Inn Express desk clerks were impervious to my tears and drama about my soldier husband just returning from the Middle East two days ago and trying to get home to see family he hasn't seen in two years. While I do feel a bit bad about playing these cards (all of which are true) I was surprised that they were so unmoved by my plight. Not even a voucher for a drink at the bar.... some people have no compassion. It was an uneasy and fitful sleep that night.

Wednesday December 24:

Stay tuned.... Did Love Of My Life find a way for us to return to Po-Dunk and skip this whole messy business? Did we make to Metropolis for Christmas? Did I conquer my rebellious stomach on the next leg of our journey? Is there a happy ending? You'll find out when I get around to it. :)

Hair Trauma

Thin hair with a bit of wave can be boring; especially when you have no interest in spending time primping in front of the mirror. So in college I cut it very short, about 3 inches long all around. While I was confident I didn't look like a boy - I didn't look too feminine either. Once my hair grew out again I did long layers and it has been that way for the past 7 years. Boring!

So Love Of My Life gets deployed to the Middle East for three months and I jump at the chance to mess with my hair. All you girls know how guys get about hair; so you know why I waited. My wild hair for a change turns into a bunch of wild hairs. A spiral perm (no matter how big the curls) was a terrible idea. I knew from the moment the rods starting coming out of my hair that I'd made a colossal mistake. Talk about a throw back to the 70s, I looked like a free-love hippy. Part of the choice to perm was that I thought it would be a wash and go type situation. Well after the perm fried my thin hair it was nothing

but curl and frizz.

At least I had the sense to laugh. And laugh I did; all the way home in fact. When I got home I followed my first survival instinct when things go horribly wrong in life - I called my mother. Of course there was no way to describe my new do so I snapped a few pictures and sent them.

Always diplomatic and supportive my mom remarks that "it doesn't look bad". I laugh at her evasion and attempt to get her to say it looks terrible. After prodding I finally got her to say "Well, I wouldn't like it on me." Close enough.

With no remorse and high hopes of restoration of boring hair I washed my hair the very next morning with lots of pulling and brushing. Then I blew it dry using a brush to pull it straight. Surprisingly it worked. My hair was still fried and the perm was tenacious but the next day at work no one noticed anything.

I decide never to tell Love Of My Life about my $80 lapse in judgement. In the end we went to visit my family and I decided to tell him on the way there just in case my mom brought it up. She did; and he still makes fun of me.

Now, four months later my poor hair is still dry and damaged but at least it is growing out.