Last summer at about this time, I was in Cancun with a friend. We checked into the hotel and scoped out the beach and pool scene before making dinner reservations. The first available spot was at 9:30, and since we were dressed and ready by 7:00, we thought we'd do some sight-seeing. This was no big deal...exchange some dollars for pesos and wait at the bus stop. Once on the bus, I was entranced by the city...the lights...the people...the life bustling around me. We peeked out the window, enjoying the scenery. The bus made a right turn. The scenery changed from bright hotels, restaurants, and night clubs to more dimly lit grocery stores and sidewalk vendors selling tamales. I kept looking out the window, desperately hoping to see something familiar. (Just what familiar item I hoped to find in a foreign city, I don't know.) My hope faded as we made our way into residential areas of dark houses and busy streets filled with people of all ages walking to and fro. The street lights

Do you ever feel like your life is a movie? I hope so because I certainly do, complete with an occasional out-of-body experience and a soundtrack. Right now, I hear Journey in the background and see myself out running each morning, conquering the evil vacuum cleaner, and throwing away my old flannel shirt. The last few days were interesting. My husband and I had few good fights...and lots of laughs. I can't help but think they were related. I know they are. The fights were about establishing boundaries. We finished our budget for June and updated our to do list. At the end of the day, he was completed something he had to have done, and I was working on final edits for my book. I'm really proud of us. We looked at our situation together, set some goals, and we reached them. I'm really proud of him, too. He's the kind of man who doesn't stop until he's completed what he had in mind. I love that tenacity. I guess that's what makes us a good match. I see the big

My husband and I have had the same hand-me-down set of furniture since we married 7 years ago. I was thrilled to get it. At the time, we watched t.v. from the comfort of an air mattress. The big puffy upholstered furniture with it’s lavender and coral patches was a dream come true. If that furniture could talk. It’s the place where my nephew slept during weekend visits and where he threw up in the middle of the night and my dear husband soldiered his way through cleaning up an erupting five year old. We snuggled there watching The Simpsons and Seinfeld and countless rented videos that we would later debate about. I’ve written my life story, graded papers, and written essays all from the comfort of the right-side corner. It’s been the stage for some bloody battles and dear conversations. Our infirmary when too sick to stay in the same bedroom for fear of spreading germs. Our therapy room in the wee hours of the morning. Our dining table during the Superbowl and 24 finales. It’s b

Today was a blast. Hamburgers. Hotdogs. Bratwurst. (Oh, my!) Potato chips. Rum punch. Key lime pie. I floated around the swimming pool on my $1.50 Wal-Mart float along with Nadia and Sarah. Alan played pool. The dogs watched and dreamed up plans for joining me on the float without getting their coats wet. (They are made of sugar, you know, and will melt like the Wicked Witch of the West when wet.) We ate and told stories and laughed and soaked up the sweetness of the sun and friendship (and my dear one's grilling skills). After the sun set, Nadia and I stretched out on the pool deck and watched the homemade light show and talked. (Earlier today I bought a floating pool strobe light and could hardly wait until the sun went down so I could try it out.) As I stared into the blue and green orbs below, I was struck by the moment itself. Two people outside talking about life. In my book, life doesn't get much better than this. I realized all over again that the moment was a very spec

My favorite part of growing older is shedding the fear of what others think of me. I can remember distinctively the knot that would appear in my stomach whenever I found myself in a situation where I might chew my food the wrong number of times. Or laugh too strongly at a bad joke. Or wear a plaid dress with striped flip-flops. Ah, those were the days. These days I find myself not immune to the stares, but invigorated by them. It means I did something that shook another human out of a sugar-rushed, electronically-induced life coma. My husband and I decided at 4:30 this afternoon to host a cook-out tomorrow. I was on my way back from the beach with Nadia (where I spent a delightful time knocked out sleeping with a huge beach blanket covering me). Ugh. I had to go to the store. I'm not a shopper, especially on Friday night, and more especially since I've been having these exhaustion spells that hit me out of nowhere. But I had no choice, so I threw on a t-shirt over my swimsuit t

I entered Winnipeg in a puppy photo contest today. Please visit the link and vote for her...and tell everyone else about it so she gets all the votes she deserves! :) Winnie's Photo Contest

I'm still processing the end of the school year. For some strange reason, I keep thinking that I will be back in room 5002 Monday preaching the merits of finding inspiration in your own life to write about and share with the world. Before I went to bed last night, I wrote out a brief to do list. It was a noble idea...most of it isn't done. All is not lost. My first load of laundry was in the washer at 7:30 this morning...and I knew I would run the dryer cycle until it ended instead of stopping it for fear of a fire while I am away. I loaded and turned on my dishwasher this morning at 8:30...and knew I would be here when the cycle was finished to put away the dishes. This was one of the greatest feelings I've known in a while. Then I stretched out on my couch at 2:30 this afternoon to take a break from my mini-panic attack over how soon I would have my applications complete for Lee and Charlotte counties' schools. I woke up at 7:16. The house is still a mess. My resume i

I'm tired. I don't say this often. I'm usually too busy to even notice it, but this time it's unavoidable. I slap the snooze button three or four times each morning, while convincing myself that it's okay to skip a shower for 20 more minutes of sleep. Did I really just admit that? See how tired I am? Ugh. I'm going to bed...soon...I really am. When I recover from my current state of exhaustion, I have lots of ideas to share. To bed...I must go...

"Have you been on Sheikra yet?" "Oh yeah!" "How was it?" "It's awesome!" "Does it shake your head?" "No." "Okay." "Have you been on Sheikra yet?" "Oh yeah!" "How was it?" "It's awesome!" "Does it shake your head?" "No." "Okay. I think I'm going to ride it." "Have you been on Sheikra yet?" "Yeah." "How was it?" "It's awesome...unless you're afraid of heights." "I don't care about that. Does it shake your head?" "You mean like Kumba?" "Finally! Someone who knows what I'm talking about!" "It's not like that." Um...this roller coaster is incredible! (And I'm not really a roller coaster person...see this post .) It really is. My stomach didn't drop. My face never felt like it was slowly peeling away. I was actually smiling in the park&

Lately, I've been in the mood to clean. Not the "wipe down the bathroom counter with the towel I dried off with " kind of cleaning. I'm talking about the "pull everything out of the cupboards and change the shelf paper" kind of clean. So far I've emptied the desk in the guest room, rearranged the hall bathroom closet, cleaned up three kitchen cupboards, organized the cleaning supplies, and straightened the dining room buffet. What has struck me most today is how much stuff we have. I'm not a pack rat by any stretch of the imagination. I have no use for gallon size Ziploc bags filled with old twist ties. I don't reuse cottage cheese tubs (mostly because I can't stand the thought of using a plastic tub that was growing mold in the refrigerator). My guest room is not a museum for my childhood toys. Basically, if I don't see a use for something in the near future, we don't need it. That's me. I married into a family that I sometimes

Tonight was the 8th grade dance. I strutted inside, looking around the dance floor, openly pretending to not see my students (who were playing the same game). Someone called my name, and as I turned around to wave, a kid plowed backwards into me. He popped my cheekbone with his elbow or fist...I'm not sure of the body part, but I know it hurt. It's still a little sore. Back in 1991, at the last 8th grade dance I attended, I would have been mortified and spent the rest of the evening staring into Lake Mirror and holding back tears. This time, I took in my student's laughing faces and joined in. I meant it. Then I ran around telling the story as many times as possible so I could laugh even more.

A few months ago, I agreed to help with my nephew's school fund raiser. I searched the list of available magazines and considered deeply whether Southern Living or Alternative Medicine would benefit my life the most. In the end, I selected my standard health and fitness magazine, but I also felt the need to live on the edge a little and choose something a little out of the ordinary. (After all, I have been enjoying my complimentary Rolling Stone subscription this past year.) My eyes landed on the title American Legacy ...and I laughed at the thought of me devouring my little bi-monthly history periodical. It arrived today. The joke's on me... Apparently American Legacy is "the magazine of African American history and culture." Not that it matters much to me--I plan to read each issue cover-to-cover. I just thought it was funny, and most of my friends are going to laugh, too. I only wish I didn't have all these papers to grade tonight so I could settle back wit

Weird little tidbit about me: I don't care for fiction. Maybe one day I'll get into all the ins and outs of it, but the bottom line is that real life is just infinitely more fascinating to me. Hmm...I get the feeling I've mentioned this before. So I've been having fun spending a little bit of my gift card each Tuesday, which is the only day of the week I am anywhere near not one, but two Barnes & Noble stores. Here are today's purchases: a vegetarian cookbook, Kurt Cobain's journal, and a book on the history of the calendar/seasons. I forced myself to leave behind a book about the "bloody history of knights and pirates" and a collection of poetry. Sigh. I can't read any of them yet because I had a stack of papers to grade and international shipping to figure out. Today's Bliss: Reading my students' spontaneous prose on the topic "NAMES" and telling the story of the time my name was Shaniqua.

I spent most of the morning wishing like hell I could find a valium...or a xanax...somewhere in the deep recesses of my purse. No such luck. It's hard to describe what it's like to be caught between the feeling of my soul forming a black hole and spontaneously combusting, but that's pretty much it. This old beast apparently appears when I've ignored my intuition for far too long. The thoughts in my head are jumbled like oak tree roots. I have this overwhelming desire to just rip my skin off. (I started writing a poem about wanting to rip off my skin.) Nothing takes my mind off the flashing lights in my head. It hurts to breathe. It's bad this time because what's in front of me is very quickly becoming a time issue. I have a hard time saying this to the one person who needs to hear it the most, so I guess I'll just practice here. I'm struggling with loneliness right now. It's not simply a matter of not having friends. I do have friends. I love them de

Here's one of those classroom exchanges that keeps me in stitches: Me: Mr. Q, I have had it with your negativity today! Q: What? I'm not negative...I just suck at everything.

One of my many pet peeves is STUPID drivers. That includes anyone who tailgates, runs red lights, blocks intersections, cuts off other drivers, driving too fast, and those who cannot seem to talk on a cell phone and drive at the same time. This afternoon, I waited through three traffic lights at Orange Ave. and South St. All was well; it was, after all, quarter past five. Just as I was about to turn left, a white Chevy Cavalier cut me off as he “merged” into my lane from the straight only lane. No half-hearted thank you wave. No nod of the head. No “I’m sorry” look. I had enough! I rolled down my window (his was open) and yelled as loudly as I could: “Get off the phone so you can drive!” He looked at me open-mouthed and continued his conversation, but I know he heard me. And I felt better. Today’s bliss: ~ a reaffirming phone conversation with my brother ~ homemade macaroni & cheese for dinner ~ a poignant epiphany ~ shopping at Barnes & Noble with a gift card