It's 3 a.m. I just sent the last of the articles I've been writing to their new owner, and mixed with my relief that it's over is mixed with a gnawing feeling. So much of my time and mental power has been wrapped up in this project that I'm not sure I know what to do now. I have floors to sweep and papers to shred and laundry to fold and put away. There are lesson plans and a Powerpoint waiting to be completed. And I can't forget the *fun* stuff like crafts and business and more writing. It's just that the project has been a delightful excuse for neglecting my life. So I'm done and ready to move on to the next idea. Tomorrow I will be at a birthday party and shopping with my sister for the shower we're throwing. The invitations will go out tomorrow along with this treasure: It's still less than a month since the baby was born, so I feel like I'm ahead of schedule for a change. And I'm very proud of this work since it is my own design. So that...

My to-do list lately has looked a little something like this: Write 25 more articles for the real estate agent living in fantasy-land. Clean off desk in classroom. Wash enough underwear so you don't have to wear the 2-year old and 3 sizes-too-small stuff at the bottom of the drawer. Catch up on detention list. Call people for addresses for sister-in-law's baby shower. Crochet two rows on cousin's baby's blanket. Order take-out for dinner. Update resume and call principals at local schools. Buy gifts for cousins' children. Write 25 more articles for real estate agent who thinks she has brilliant ideas. Design sister-in-law's baby shower invitations. Make it to GRE test on time and score at least 1000. Count the change sitting in the computer fund can. Write analysis paper for grad school application. Make quilt for new neice. Somewhere in here I am supposed to clean my house, which for the record, now has a 1/2 inch layer of dirt across the entire floor, this we...

I'm having a hard time lately rising above the rage that seems to be seething just below the surface of my skin. Even right now, I can feel it burning, ready to escape as soon I unleash it. Such a lovely picture, right? I want to rage against the night right now. I want to scream and punch holes in walls and kick the nearest living being. I want to push and rip and bite chunks out of anything that seems too whole or perfect. I. Want. To. Lose. It. In the middle of this primitive desire is my knowledge that I'm really just feeling overwhelmed and don't know how to let something slide. I worked for two days this week with a low grade fever. I'm not sleeping through my coughing spells. My floors are layered with dirt. I have a five inch stack of papers to grade and way too much writing work to do. Now I have to go to a training tomorrow that I took last summer. Each weekend for the month of March is already booked with weekend guests, parties, and even the GRE. My head is ...

Looks like I'm a vegetarian once again. Or at least mostly vegetarian. Or more vegetarian than I was before. The first time I swore off meat products was during a college ethics class. In the middle of a lecture on Immanuel Kant, I suddenly realized that eating a steak was eating a muscle. From then on, when I thought of meat, all I could picture was someone with a fork and knife sawing away at my arms and legs. My poor husband met me not long after that experience, and that meat-and-potatoes man was such a good sport about tofu and soy cheese. It still makes me smile. I slowly started eating meat again a year after we were married when we both wanted to try the Atkins diet. It really was no big deal. Like most everything else I do, there's some logical reason inside my head that has little to do with what anyone else on the planet thinks. Today's sudden dietary change is the result of two experiences I had today that are completely unrelated to getting my teeth x-rayed. On...

People fascinate me. I think I've mentioned this before, but it's still true. We have a bit of a shake-up at work which is leaving many of us--me included--unsure about whether we will have a job next year. Sure it's a little disconcerting to think about facing another change, but we're teachers. For the most part, as long as you aren't arrested for a felony, you can get a job. That's pretty much my mantra. Someone threw out at me one of my favorite barbs this week: "Oh, you don't have anything to worry about because you don't have kids." In my book, that's right up there with saying, "Oh, you wore green today; I guess you don't like blue." The fact of the matter is that I'm just *not* a worrier. At least about the big stuff. I'm much more likely to lose sleep about suddenly losing a limb to gangrene. Or being knocked off a bridge by a large seagull. It kind of cracks me up sometimes how we all find excuses for what we...

Don't you just love lightbulb moments that blindside you? Those never-saw-it-coming epiphanies? I had one today. It still stings. Although I tend to be an open book, this epiphany was just a tad bit too personal for me to write about here. Let's just say that my twelve years of weight struggle suddenly became crystal clear while I drove home today. And I still ate a leftover breadstick well after dinner when I wasn't really hungry. In a somewhat related note, I decided that I want to follow some of the Christian traditions this year that always fascinated me, but didn't fit in with my Southern Baptist upbringing. It looks like I'll be starting with Ash Wednesday and Lent. Lent scares me, but I'm giving it a valiant effort. For the next few months I am giving up shopping for non-necessities. This is really a sacrifice for me, and it actually fits in with my epiphany. This scares me. Ugh, I have some shopping to do tomorrow. I've got to find some placemats tha...

So what's better than a new pair of impractical fushia shoes? A library card! I finally made it to the library during operating hours and have officially checked out my first books in the county. I've had a library card since I was 8 years no matter where I have lived. Since I am officially banned from buying books (a decree from my dear husband who finds my reading pace obscene), I must have that lovely piece of plastic that gives me entrance to the world of books. Today's treasures are a book by Chris Kuzneski (He's adorable and answers his emails!) and book about Bosnia. I recently found out that one of the sisters in the novel I am writing is married to a Bosnian refugee. (I just love when the characters spring things like this on me.) Now I need to do some catch up on the history of the region. My to-do list is growing, and my receipts don't really look anything like the shopping list I took with me this morning. I did pick up the bok choy and trouser socks. I ...

Every woman should have at least one pair of entirely impractical shoes. I don't care if you only put them on to go to the bathroom. They should be there in your closet to remind you of your dress-up roots. (We all have them buried somewhere within us; it's part of the female DNA.) I bought another pair of impractical shoes today. They are fushia. Stiletto sandals. (Not too tall.) I'm in love with them. I found them in a small shoe store filled with all sorts of unpronounciable Brazilian brand names. I've only worn them to the bathroom so far. My purchase today got me thinking about my wandering roots. I'm not much of a shopper because I equate shopping with hunting. There'a s purpose in mind, and purpose doesn't usually bring me the refuge from the world that I crave. Wandering, on the other hand, has no purpose. There's no time frame. I'm not obligated to load plastic bags in my car. I wander more than I realized. Sometimes I hop in the car and dri...

I went to the beach today. Although I've been remiss about actually going to the beach since I've lived here, I love the beach. I love living in a beach town. This was my first time at Sanibel, and the first time I've seen the Gulf in 8 years. (Indialantic and Melbourne were a much closer drive from our old house.) This was very much a spur of the moment event. I was sitting at a stoplight and noticed the signs toward the beach. So I followed. The trip was brief. I walked for about twenty minutes along the white powder strip and let the ocean's roar fill my head until it pounded out everything else in there. Lesson plans? Gone. House cleaning? Zip. Bills? Nada. I suppose that's all I needed. I have no recollection of the people there. All I recall is the crash of the waves, the brightness of the sun reflecting on the sand, the salty air filling my nostrils. And the joy of wandering. I didn't realize until this afternoon just how much I miss wandering.

Politics. Got it. Religion. Okay. People are funny to me sometimes the way we get so worked up about particular subjects, as I'm about to do. You are forewarned. During a rather banal conversation, I threw in that I want to have a home birth. (When I am finally pregnant.) I should have just said, "Do you know how BIG your BUTT looks?" or made a few "momma" jokes. That would have been more acceptable. I just love when someone feels the need to lecture me about a decision. I'm all for input. In fact, I like hearing what others have to say before making my decision. That's the reason I RESEARCHED HOMEBIRTHS before I decided that it's what I would prefer if my pregnancy was normal and a hospital was near enough in the event of an emergency. Like I said, people are funny sometimes. I've heard enough child birth horror stories that are supposed to convince me that I must be in a hospital to give birth. Now I have another to add to the collection. Each...

Sometimes it blows my mind that I still talk to people I've known since seventh grade. (That's 18 years for those of you who don't want to do the math.) There's something about going through the junior high years with someone that really seals a bond between souls. Anyone who has listened to you sob for the millionth time about some sappy guy or stuck by your side through the self-absorption and melodrama years really can't expect to see much worse. Truth be told, I like knowing that someone in this world has seen the worst of me. And knows me. And isn't afraid to remind of who I am. And doesn't have the extra ties of being married to me. Sometimes we all need that. That's what I needed this weekend--to find the motivation to dig deep within me and bring back to the surface some critical character traits I had buried years ago. It's funny how easily we can adapt to our circumstances and wander off-course. That's where I am right now. Just a littl...

I ate my breakfast Monday morning in the bathtub. Yep, and it was delightful and felt a little naughty. In fact, I wondered why I have not tried this before. So I followed the rabbit trails in my head and considered other areas of my life where I need to escape my rather narrow ideas of what's acceptable. There's quite a bit there, and I needed to remedy this. So I did. * I hung only 1 towel on the mostly decorative towel racks. (We're the only ones who use the bathroom anyway, and we usually throw our towels on the toilet seat or over the shower curtain.) * I didn't worry about my unmade bed or the toilet paper roll sitting on the floor. (After all, it's not like Good Morning America is going to show up unexpectedly at my house wanting a live tour or anything.) * I went to work with Crocs on my feet and capris on my legs. And I didn't shave or wash my hair. * I looked a kid in the eye today after he told me I wasn't being fair and said, "Yeah? Well, y...

“This is the best Christmas ever…yep, ever!” “How did they know you wanted that?” “This is the best Christmas! I finally get my first Christmas present!” We had our “party” yesterday. The students all thought they were selected to take a test for the state. As they sat there with their pencils ready, the pizzas arrived. Then the chips. Then the cokes. Then the presents. I can’t remember ever seeing smiles as broad as these. Some kids tore into their gifts. Others wanted to keep them wrapped so they had something to open Christmas morning. I cannot begin to explain exactly how it felt to witness such a display. We all dug deep into the wells of our souls, both to give and receive. I know for a fact that one girl had not ever received a gift before that moment. (She screamed when she heard she was getting a stocking filled with candy.) One boy ran around the room chomping pizza and telling us, “I don’t know how you made this happen, but thank you.” Another girl literally stopped breathin...

My sweetie stormed through the front door Saturday morning asking me if I knew where the shovel was. When I asked what was going on, he yelled, "You don't want to know" and stormed back out. I knew this wasn't good, and I continued scrubbing away at the bathroom counter while I made a list in my head of what could be going on in the pre-dawn darkness that required a shovel and my blissful ignorance. When he finally came back inside, my never-miss-a-meal husband washed his hands, sat down at the table, and told me he wasn't hungry. It turned out one of the cats outside had been hit by a car sometime during the night. It's moments like that that make me so appreciative for that certain quality this man has. He took care of something gruesome because he knew I'd need a mega dose of valium to get through it. And then he fought back the tears at the thought of what he had just seen. I love that mixture of masculine strength and humanity rolled into his broad sh...

The weather outside is just the way I like it. Gray. Dark. Drizzly. It's kind of the way I've been feeling lately, and that's okay. I was musing just a few days ago about how much we complain about the rollercoaster of life. We always seem to be either up or down. And yet, isn't that what life really is? We're either up or down or somewhere in between. And that's okay because wherever we are, there's a purpose. So there must be some poetry or essays buried within my soul right now. I woke up yesterday with the wonder that goes along with not going to work. (Even though it was for a dentist appointment). In that wonder, I sat at my computer and wrote the beginning of two essays that I will be sharing soon and read The Federalist No. 10 . It felt so liberating to surround myself with words, and I know I've missed that. Sigh. I chopped off my hair yesterday. And my coloring fiasco is mostly repaired. I feel free-er. And it's pay day.

Yesterday morning, Alan and I both woke before the alarm rang and stayed under the sheets in that last desperate attempt to squeeze a few more minutes of sleep before the day. He reached over and wrapped his arms around me. This is one of my favorite moments and always shifts my mood. As I lay there, my head swirling with all sorts of gratitude for this wonderful man and the precious quiet, he leaned onto my shoulder and whispered into my ear: "I REALLY need to pee." This is real love.

"What's going on with you today? I should not have to ask you to stop talking more than once." "It's your fault. You put me in a group where you knew I would talk." "Okay, so do you want me to move you out of that group?" "I'm not saying that!" (Slumps down in chair.) "Then what are you saying?" "I'm saying that you knew I would talk in that group and you put me there anyway. I don't know why you did that." "You talk in every group I put you in." "See, you know that. Why did you put me there?" "Okay. So you're gonna talk no matter what if you're in that group?" "Yes." "Okay. So if you're gonna talk in that group, then do you think you need to move out of that group so you don't get in any more trouble?" "I'm not telling you what to do! You're the professional!" "I'm glad you know that." (Suppressing a laugh.)

So far, this school year has been...well, just different. Of course, my mascot has changed, the map is shifted, and my classroom is a much farther walk to the restroom. It's been a rough year. I've made it through some days with only enough energy at the last bell to plop my head on the desk and cry. I've screamed. I've ranted. I've struggled. I've even considered giving up. (Surely, there has to be an easier job. I've had one!) The one thing I had not considered was just being myself. If you *really* know me, then you know that I'm one of the most intense people you will ever meet. I talk with my hands. I talk really fast. My conversations jump around and about. So do my ideas. Get me going on something, and I will wear you out with my thoughts and research and even an anecdote or two. This is usually way too much for most people. (Even my own father has been ended discussions with me!) For much of my life, I have held back that personality. You could s...

I woke up Sunday morning in such a grateful mood. The end of Daylight Savings always feels like a special gift. An entire hour to do whatever I want. It's like finding $20 in a coat pocket and being able to spend it without rewriting the budget. I don't think I've ever slept away that hour. I'm more likely to sit on the front porch with my notebook and a cup of coffee. The time change has also affected my drive to work. The only road that goes to my school cuts directly southeast from my house. My drive yesterday can be described in one word. Sucked! I wore sunglasses and sat up as I high as I could to block some of that glorious sun, but I still left 20 minutes earlier this morning. The sun still rose and was perfectly poised to blind me again. However, this morning, I found myself behind a beer truck. This delightful beer truck formed a perfect eclipse between me and the sun. I said out loud, "Thank you, God, for the beer truck." Oh, how I loved that truck t...

I found "The Chub" last night. This is a small, thick spiral notebook that I had carried around with me for several weeks last winter and spring. Its sole purpose was to be an immediate reservoir for any brilliant ideas I had during the day. The only thing I ever wrote in there (besides grocery lists and bill schedules) was during my family's reunion-birthday-anniversary cruise last January. My words were interesting, and I clearly remembered writing them on the little boat that took my aunt, sister, and cousin to go snorkeling in the Bahamas. The funny part was that I wrote about how the breeze was making the weariness "seep from my bones". I read it yesterday while I was home from work. That is, after I was sent home for nearly fainting during a class. Apparently, the look of my skin was so bad that my students thought I was pulling a Halloween prank. While driving myself home, I was thinking about the recent events that led me to the afternoon and how embarra...