honest to goodness

So, apparently (according to today's Staff Bulletin), today, April 30th, is

 

NATIONAL HONESTY DAY. 

I don't know if this is where the honor comes from, but the bulletin continued that George Washington was inaugurated as first US President on this day in 1789. I was pretty excited to hear it, because I'm a big fan of honesty. Then I got another message saying that today is also "Poem in your Pocket" day, though, so--honestly--I would like to know just who it is who decides these things.

But if this really and truly is Honesty Day, I'm excited-- because then people will stop stealing from Williams-Sonoma, America will admit that Kwanzaa is NOT real holiday and definitely not on par with Christmas and Hanukkah, and all the guys who have unceremoniously dumped me over the years with finally confess what idiots they were at the time. Oh, and Robert Pattinson, Simon Baker, and Daniel Craig et al will announce that I am their Ideal Lady.

BUT-- since I can't expect honesty from anyone else but myself, I thought today might be a good day to come clean about a few items of my own, instead.

Honesty Day Confession List 2009

1. Most of the time, I think newborn babies are kinda ugly. Sometimes they give me the creeps.

2. I once broke the law and climbed down to the Hollywood sign. When the chopper came, I held still and pretended like I wasn't there, so I wouldn't get caught.

3. I cheated on my diet last night and ate a chocolate chip cookie. I was hungry, that's the truth.

4. In Kindergarten, I was a bit of a hussy. One time, another little girl tattled and told the teacher that I'd shown a boy my panties during recess. I lied and said I didn't. I really did, though; they were cute with little pink hearts and I figured he deserved to see them.

5. I think KFC Popcorn Chicken is pretty dang delicious. Then I feel sick after eating it. Worth it.

6. I ditched school on Monday, using a sick day as a "mental health" day. As a result, I got sick today, and it might be the Swine Flu. Wait-- that's a lie. I already checked the symptoms, I don't have it.

7. My greatest fears used to be Unsecured Heights and Apathy, but they've been kicked to the curb by Spinsterhood and Childlessness.

8. I've never given anyone The Finger, but I have in the past few years taken up some minor swearing. Nothing R-rated, and not even as bad as PG-13 can be, but I'll be honest-- a good hearty damn every now and then can sure make you feel better or simply help you giggle a little bit. Rat Bastard is a favorite, too.

9. I don't really have any shame. If someone says "lick up that milk like a kitten", I'll do it.

10.  I also don't see anything wrong with eating off the street. Delicious pumpkin cheesecake should not be wasted, in my book! (Maybe such actions are why I get sick so much??)

11.  I wouldn't kick Zac Efron out of bed. But I'd still be chaste, of course. Feel a bit perverted, maybe, even though he's over 18, but still chaste. 

12. I am the coolest person in the entire world.

Ahhh, feels so good to get all of that out in the open. Knew it was the best policy.

Sometimes, feelings of jealousy are inevitable.

I almost hyperventilated at this point

Yup. Pretty much was given the BEST GIFT EVER yesterday,

via the lovely and fantastic Ballard Girls! I say "via" because, while they

were responsible for instigating and procuring this treasure, I'm pretty

sure Robert would have liked to have given it to me in person, were he able.


This ain't just a standard autographed photo, btw. This is signed TO JENNIE...!!!!

I can't believe I'm handling this without gloves--



Real, real, real. See the Sharpie sheen?? And, see the "X X" after

the signature? Yep, those are KISSES. Not kisses and hugs. TRUE LOVE.

this is not a hoax

No need to make plans to steal this.

1) It says "to JENNIE", derrr, and

2) the framed photo you'd snatch from my bedside table wouldn't be the original,

the original is going to be encased in an acid-free, oxygen-free and bullet-proof plexiglass

box, locked into my Halliburton and hidden. As soon as I can remember where

I have presently hidden my Halliburton.


THANKS, Julie Rebekah and Melissa!!!

SIX

There IS a reason for this photo being posted

(besides the non-obvious, which will be explained in a minute). 

My good friend Sam, at Compound Eye of a Dragonfly (though she is sooooo much more than a blog) TAGGED me (my first tag!) (I think!) to post the 'sixth' picture on my computer, or something like that. Which was a problem initially, because I have soooo many photo files/folders on my laptop, which to choose?

Finally I just did the easiest and went into iPhoto... and this gem turned up in slot #6.

And now, the caption:

Wife #2, Leigh, Wife #1

InterContinental Resort, Papeete, Tahiti, French Polynesia

And NOW, the explanation:

Went to Tahiti/Moorea and New Zealand with Eva and Sari in May of 2005 (Best trip EVER!). I had spent 7 weeks in French Polynesia and the Cook Islands the previous summer (working for Princess), and kinda knew my way around. What I did NOT know my way around were the island hotels, however; I knew good ones were not cheap, and I'd been lucky to have had my lodging taken care of in 2004 (either onboard or at the Le Meridien resort en route), but we were on a budget this time around so I pre-booked minor pension lodgings before we got there...

and we sure didn't want to pay for a hotel the morning we got there (2:45 am arrival), so had planned to just chill at the airport until daybreak (islanders get up early). LUCKILY, though, Eva and I were apparently looking foxy enough at 2:45 am for a young man to chat us up in the customs/passport line... which resulted in us staying at his schnazzy digs at the Intercontinental Resort, instead. Ohhhh, yeahhhh.

Now, STOP JUDGING. This young man was Leigh, and I'd actually talked to him in line to board our plane in Los Angeles (well, he'd talked to me... I just said "uh huh" and nervously walked off, I'm not used to handsome strangers making conversation). In the passport line, we found out he was from New Zealand (score!), was leaving on the same flight to Auckland in two days' hence (double score!), could take us around Auckland before we flew on to Christchurch later that same day (triple score!), AND, offered to share his hotel with us that morning (score, score, score!). (Not that kind of score, get your mind out of the gutter).  We hesitated for a minute... and then the fatigue won out, so we followed Leigh. 

Now, I do have a filter, and I am also not stupid. Pretty street-smart on the whole. I know that it looks idiotic that we went off with a strange guy, but 1) if you MET Leigh, you'd understand how he's really just an affable older brother, and 2) Eva and I would be a pretty strong duo in a tussle. Oh, and 3) this was well before the movie "Taken" had come out, which has ruined me for traveling forever even though I'm not a cute young leggy blond.

And... turned out to be a very, very good decision. In all honesty, we ran into a few sketchy situations in our 27 hours on Tahiti, and Leigh was like a guardian angel that had been sent to keep us safe. And plus we got to stay at the Intercontinental Resort!

Leigh got a good exchange out of it, too-- got to meet some classy young Mormon gals (his previous encounters were with a couple girls on a plane he'd chatted up... which Eva and I, after some questioning, eventually concluded to have been sister missionaries. It tipped us off when he said "How come you two aren't wearing skirts, too?" Ohhh, Leigh.)

And, he got numerous photos with his first two wives, the above photo being one of the first -- As we were all getting to know each other hanging out on the balcony of the hotel room, Leigh shared with us his deep-down desire to someday have seven wives and travel around in a Zeppelin with them. (Ohhh, Leigh.) So for the rest of our stay, he referred to us as his wives. I was the First Wife, of course. 

The view from our hotel balcony (below) -- how gorgeous is that??

The story of our Papeete lodgings doesn't end here, though.

Leigh went on ahead to Moorea, and we stayed behind in Papeete to pick up Sari from the airport at dawn the following morning, planning to meet him in Moorea (we were going there anyway) at noon or so (just a ferry ride over).

And once again-- THANK THE HEAVENS FOR LEIGH.

I am no princess, and I knew cheap lodging wouldn't be at all fancy on Tahiti, but there is NO WAY I was prepared for the conditions of the Hotel Josephine, across the 'street' from the airport, DON'T EVER STAY THERE.

Our private room had a futon bed with dirty sheets, no lock on the door, a flickering light and another fixture with a burned-out bulb, and a 'closet' with one shelf in it, some bugs, and a black plastic bag on the floor that we figured must contain a severed head or the like. The community bathroom was so disgusting I couldn't even go in it (and I'm the stronger stomach of the two of us), but Eva told me the bathtub was coated with black gunk. All that for SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS PER NIGHT.

Here I am barfing at the disgustingness of it all. (photo on the right)

And here I am, below, pointing at the blood stain-- yes, BLOOD STAIN-- on my "pillow".

Grody grody gross. 

We quickly determined that we would NOT stay there for two nights (Josephine was pretty pissed that I demanded a refund for the second night, but her stink-eye and French mutterings didn't phase me)-- we'd rather be up all night on the streets of Papeete waiting for our 3am flight to NZ, than to stay in that hell-hole. We had to get some sleep before getting Sari, though, so we went into town to get crepes, stayed out as long as we could, then came back and muscled up for the four hours we had to kill before dawn. For Eva, this involved bundling up so that her skin was as well-protected as possible. It was in the high 80's and humid, by the way. She didn't care. 

I didn't really sleep at all that night, because I'd given Eva my ear plugs (so no bugs would crawl in hers) and my earphones/music didn't quite do the job of drowning out the barking dogs outside and reveling youth hostelers inside (just on the other side of our slat-shutter door and interior "window".  I think I slept with all my valuables, too.

The second 4:45 am came, we ran out of there (literally-- RAN ... luckily the dogs were asleep so we didn't get nipped at the ankle) in our pajamas, down the alley and across the street to the airport, where we brushed our teeth and changed clothes in the public restroom.  And told Sari, when she arrived, that we were catching the 6am ferry to Moorea, where...

THIS was waiting!!

I don't quite remember how we had masterminded this kind of reunion, because we certainly didn't have cell phone access/contact there, but we found our way to the Moorea Intercontinental and to Leigh's 'private' beach bungalow, where there was a note under a rock on the railing that said he'd gone surfing and how to find the key he'd hidden.

SCORE, again!!

Another view of the resort on this picturesque island (Moorea is maybe my favorite of the Society Island group, with Bora Bora a close second)

How grateful we were to Leigh. And how grateful he was that we surprised him with Sari, so he could now have THREE wives. 

EPILOGUE

The four of us went back to Papeete that night to catch our 2am flight to Auckland, did NOT stay at the Hotel Josephine, also didn't pay for a room at the IC Resort, but the good people of the ICR (swayed by Leigh's charm) let us hang out on their grounds (on lounge chairs by the sandy-bottom pool) and kept our luggage for us. Then we got to the airport and found out it had long padded benches to lay on and was much warmer. Oh, well.

Leigh's brother picked us up at the airport in Auckland (boy, was HE surprised to find out he was picking up four, not one) and we spent the day there with Leigh as a tour guide before finding our way to the airport once again.

Sari, Eva, Leigh, Jennie.... Takapuna beach, North Island New Zealand

HOTEL EPILOGUE:

In Hamner Springs (central South Island) we stayed in a "Homestay" (pretty cool NZ tradition). Nice German couple, great (warm!) room, comfy beds (esp. for Sari, who hadn't slept in 48 hours or so), delicious breakfast at their kitchen table the next morning. I recommend the experience.

Westport, on the west coast of the South Island-- the private room of the hostel wasn't fancy, but provided shelter from the hail storm and we made do, exhausted after the terror of driving on the opposite side of the car on the opposite side of the road on a snowy mountain pass across the southern alps to cross to the other side of the island. Skeery!

(we're just so pretty)

Best of all... our hotel 'suite' in Christchurch, the final night of our whirlwind five-day trip. Astounding how much luggage we had for five days (but we were dealing with two different seasons, come on... as it was, we wore the same thing every day)

AND NOW, AFTER ALL THAT... I'm going to make my first tag effort. Tagging SIX people to do the same (post their sixth photo on their computer on their blog), novel-length explanations not necessary.

I tag...

A Little Sass

The Moh you Know

Selene's Things

Carot-Tops are Green

Stacy Smack

88 Miles per Hour

and really, anyone else who wants to. 

Give Me Liberty, and Give Me Death... and Taxes

I don't fear tax season for the same reasons as CPA's, their wives and children, the self-employed, or the shady tax-evader. I fear it for one reason, and one reason only.

THE LIBERTY TAX GIRL.

Below is a picture of my neighborhood Liberty Tax service station (right next to "Nail Slicks", or "Nail Sucks", if you're driving quickly past and can't read the late-70's font) just off the corner of a major intersection. I go through this intersection a lot, either to/from the freeway exit near my house, or to get to Target, OSH, etc... it's not a bad intersection, the lights turn regularly... but I really, really hate it during tax season.

BECAUSE-- Have any of you seen what Liberty Tax does to advertise? Dresses up a girl in a thin nylon Lady Liberty drape/outfit, complete with Miss-America-style sash and an NYC touristy foam headdress. That ain't so bad. Add the pointy-sign that the professional sign-spinner turns and tosses to get attention from passers-by, and it's still pretty tame. Makes me want to cut myself thinking about having to do that as a full-time job, but hey, it's honest work.


However.


The girl they had last year... ohhhh my. She wore headphones and danced-- DANCED-- the curb, CONSTANTLY. Swinging around poles Fred-Astaire-style, skipping and bopping to the beat of music heard only by her, and smiling and waving at EVERY SINGLE CAR-- no, every single PERSON that drove by.

Now, I'm by no means a discriminator of sunny personalities... or talented 'dancing', yes, and probably burning a gazillion calories every day, but THIS .... well, it made me uncomfortable. Like when formal choirs sway and clap to non-sway-and-clapping songs, mimes try to get out of invisible boxes, or animals are dressed like people. Shudder. You'd know what I mean if you saw her. And every time-- EVERY TIME-- I'd drive by, she'd smile and wave at me... and when I couldn't avoid her eye, I'd feel bad and give a tight-lipped grin back. But inside, I was barfing.

So this year, though, she's gone (probably moved up to the big time, dancing for cruise ship productions)-- and in her place, the first day, there were SEVEN Liberty Tax girls (and guys), a mini outdoor hot dog barbeque, two turntables and a microphone. Awesome.

Have to admit, though, felt just slightly let-down. Kinda missed her.

Especially because this year's regular corner girl hasn't been quite up to par, DEFINITELY not at the gold standard set by Miss Liberty Tax 2008. I was not long disappointed, though...

as, one day, coming home from Target, I saw THIS--

...Whaaahhh??


Tax man? I think? Half-heartedly waving the sign, more like tilting it up and down slightly, no dancing or bee-bopping and definitely NO swinging around poles. I had to get a better look, so I went around the corner, stopped my car, and retrieved my camera from the trunk. And then went around the block for another go-round.

a closer look....

and... he turns around.

Oh, seriously, the POOR GUY. He HATES his job!!! Cruel and unusual punishment, and I'll bet he's an honest tax-payer. He does NOT deserve this. This is NOT liberty.

Needless to say, I never saw him again. I hope he's in a happier place, free of turquoise nylon and humiliation. And I, meanwhile, have learned that the best time to drive past Liberty Tax is after they're closed. :)

sugar, HAH!

I laughed in the face of sugar. And it laughed right back at me.

My friend Natalie has, of late, been giving up things (foods) (vices, if you will) on a monthly basis for the past few months. First she went thirty days without chips, then sugar, then I don't know what the current one is, but it's all pretty impressive.

The sugar one I first heard about when we girls went to a chick flick on Valentine's Eve; I was in the midst of rifling through one of the two individual grab bags of chocolate/Valentine's candy I had been given for movie treats as she explained that she would just be taking her bags home and not eat them, and thinking-- WHAT?! Seriously? Not ONE piece? Man. And then... I wonder if I could even do that?

Okay, so a little background first: I'd say I'm a pretty healthy cat already.

-no real diseases (but plenty of imagined ones-- I have at one time or another been self-diagnosed with elephantitis, peripheral neuropathy, possible leprosy, walking pneumonia, SARS, and the pleurisy);

-in general adore vegetables and abhor fast food;

-am not just sitting on my butt all day, happen to be in excellent cardiovascular condition;

-have beyond-perfect vision (I have pretty much determined that I see at a greater "zoom" than everyone else, perhaps due to a slight superhero genetic),

-dang good hearing (to the annoyance of my students muttering curse words in the far reaches of the room);

-and I have learned how to function as a left-eye-dominant-being in a right-handed body. (Tricky!)

In fact, if it weren't for the diseases/conditions referenced above and the constant back and shoulder stress tension which in turn gives me frequent headaches, I'd say I'm a model of good health and just a little bit bionic.

Despite all that, though, in recent years, my already- (inherently) lackadaisical metabolism has decided to be at COMPLETE odds with my 30's. In fact, they seem to be in a constant fight. No, it's more like my metabolism doesn't like confrontation, so it has decided to sit back in a La-Z-Boy instead and just kick it for a while. Thanks, Metab!

SO-- I took the challenge (given by me, to me) and GAVE UP SUGAR for 30 days!!! Not natural sugar like in fruit, that's just stupid... but any and all desserts, treats, candy, refined sugar, etc. (Sugar-free fudge bars and jello/pudding okay). Didn't think I'd get super-skinny by doing so, but figured it had to do SOMETHING.

I mean, look at all the candy and treats I DIDN'T eat:

Valentine's chocolates from my aunt? into a Ziplock. Girl Scout cookies? Straight to the freezer (where they go every year, anyway). Cadbury Mini-Eggs? Purchased, but not opened (I knew I'd want them SOMEday...)

My willpower and resistance didn't end there. I also had to NOT eat the bevvy of delicious desserts that I baked for various events in the past 30 days.

A-- Key Lime Pie for KJ's Bday;

B -- White Chocolate Buttermilk Lemon Cake with mascarpone and

lemon whipped cream, topped with strawberries and raspberries and

drizzled with a raspberry jam glaze... also for KJ's Bday

C-- chocolate chip cookies for my students (celebration/consolation

cookies for when I gave out semester grades)

D-- Coconut-Pecan Blondies... why? Why NOT

E--S'mores Cupcakes for the class period that paid the highest percentage of lab fees

Didn't eat ANY of those. Not a bite. Wait, I take that back; I took a tiny bite of each, tasted it, and then spit it out. (Great trick, did it more than once this last month.) Oh, and the photo above? It's of the slices/pieces/bits I stuck in the freezer to save for later, so I could REALLY taste them in the future... that's why they look a little worse for the wear. Here were some of them in all their fresh and tasty glory:



And it was HARD. Well, at first, that is-- mainly the first 24 hours were the hardest, I was pretty much going through drug-type withdrawals or the like. Lots of shaking and babbling and screaming sugar-obscenities. After that, it just became a matter of habit and willpower and determination, and since I like to compete with myself, it was a challenge I wasn't going to back down on! But not eating something like this sitting in front of me... I'll admit was just a little bit of torture. I mean come on, LOOK at it! LOOK AT IT!!

And so, thirty days later... I made it!! I did it! Not so hard after all, though I did decide I definitely don't want to be a diabetic. Yay me!

But what did it do for me?



NOTHING.

NADA.

ZILCH.



In terms of my outward physical appearance, that is. Not one pound. My insides? I guess... I mean, sure, I bet my teeth are happy and all, but cutting out sugar didn't seem to make me any healthier or even affect my overall energy level.

NICE.

What it DID do, though, is give me a Kick-A (sorry, the lack of sugar is making me partially swear) WILLPOWER. My 30 days were up as of last night, and did I go to the freezer? Only to display the stashed and saved goodies for the photo shoot. I did take a tiny nibble of the corner of one of the cookies, I'm only human. But that was it. And I'm sure I'll eat a little bit here and there, sometime. But I am NOT going to have a binge-fest as reward...

...Because I found that I really really love fruit, and now that I've kicked the habit (30 days to break one!), and the aftertaste of sugar really kind of grosses me out, and though-- I'm not going to lie, I'd like to go eat three chocolate chip cookies right now-- I would like to end my Lent-ish abstinence, ... unfortunately, since the no-sugar thing didn't do anything, it's time to take drastic measures. So the sugar fast continues... Hand-in-hand with my kick-A willpower, and the gym.

That metabolism of mine is going to get KICKED to the CURB! Along with its precious La-Z-Boy. HAH!

see jane pose

In case you were wondering what the best-- in sooo many ways -- show on TV is right now, wonder no more!

Any of you seen "The Mentalist"? I turned it on initially because Simon Baker, the principal actor, is just delish. Didn't really care about the premise or the plot or the acting, just wanted to see his beautiful Australian sexy self... and was not, repeat not, disappointed.

Baker plays the title character of Patrick Jane, a "mentalist" (whatever that means-- I've seen portions of maybe 3 episodes now and I still don't quite get it) and goes around solving crimes and/or helping out the police/detective force and trying to figure out what happened to his own wife or something (I'm right here, Patrick), all the while looking beautiful and giving just the right hint of a smile even when everything looks grim.

And so far, I haven't really been able to follow along with the storylines, individual or overall. I think there's a premise/plot in there somewhere, as well as maybe some writing-- but mostly, the general script and direction seem to go something like this:

(Jane enters the room, strikes a casual pose leaning against

desk and flashing a smile)

PJ: "Sooo... what's the problem?"

(sidelong glance at the camera... "hey there, you..." sexy eyes)

shuffling of papers, secondary actors running around sharing vital

information as Jane listens attentively with sexy concerned look

PJ: "My extreme mental capabilities sense that something is wrong... "

(turn, pose, profile shot, brow slightly--sexily--furrowed)

PJ: "...but it's going to be okay soon."

(leaning forward intimately, reassuring warm smile, eyes crinkled,

soothing sexy voice)

(AND REPEAT)

And, well... that's basically it. It is so bad, it's GREAT. This week he went temporarily blind-- THAT was a tele-treasure!! The acting really is iffy, it's super-cheese and I truly am pretty positive Simon is directed to "just look pretty" and pose continually, no matter the shot (which is usually up-close on his gorgeous mug), but hey-- I ain't complaining. AND, somehow, this show is rated in the TOP TEN of new shows! (Good job, TV-viewing public -- I now have new hope for the future of America.)

Those directors and producers aren't fools. They know what the people want. Thank you, CBS!

heeheeheeheeheeheehee

*names have been changed

So my beloved T.A. Lauren* was a little sad today, more like stressed. I noticed right away that her usual smile wasn't quite as easy when she came in, so she sat down in her reserved chair next to my desk and we chatted about school woes, college anxieties, etc.

I was listening really well, but I was also quite distracted by the scene behind her:

...because, come on, how do those pants STAY UP??? It drives me crazy to see

them that low, and it HAS to drive those guys crazy to have their pants

half-hanging off of them all the time.

So I said, "Lauren, do you want to be cheered up?" and she said YES--!

So I called out, "OMAR*!"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Can you do something for me?"

"Sure, what?" (he's a nice kid)

and I told him to walk over to the open doorway on my right,

leading to a mini courtyard between my room and the next,

parallel classroom building... he did... and then I said,

"I want you to run as fast as you can from here to that wall, and then back"

and he said "but my pants will fall down!"

and I replied, "EXACTLY."

So he did, and they did. I demurely looked away as they were starting

to fall, because even though I'd been viewing his underwear/gym shorts or

whatever for 15 minutes already, a young man deserves his privacy.

And when he got back, it was good times and we were all having a great

laugh but I still told him, quite sternly, to PULL (HIS) PANTS UP.

It was soooo great-- and Lauren* was soooo diverted--

and then we continued the fun by making the other two boys

next to him do the same thing, their pants were too low, too, it was only fair.

pink is the new green?

I'm not sure how wearing pink translates to saving jobs for teachers, but it hopefully does show support for our poor pinkslipped colleagues.

As many of you know, today--Friday the 13th, how appropriate--was the deadline for giving teachers the Pink Slip in California. At my site alone, 25 teachers were given these layoff notices (and now have to wait until May to find out if it's final, or not... how anxiety-ridden is that!)

So the California Teacher's Association (CTA) came up with the "genius" idea of having teachers, students, and supporters wear pink today, to show our protest in the budget cuts being made towards education in California. (Approx. 40% of the state budget goes towards education; approx. 60% of the GENERAL statewide cuts are coming from education-- huh?) I doubt Arnold Schwarzenegger is going to be so scared by the amount of pink he sees today that he's going to just throw money back at education, but I guess we can hope? I think it's futile, but I did wear pink today in honor of my colleagues. It's tough times.

AND, the word got out and a lot of students wore pink today, and that was pretty cool to see!

some of my first period students

Artis wearing it well


lots of kids carried this support for a pinkslipped English teacher

and a fellow art teacher went ALL out... ohhhh, yeaahhhh :)

This group of kids (above), in my third period class ended up looking like the poster for an after-school special or something like that-- soooo stereotypical, picture-perfect high school. When I told them this (while I was giving them photo shoot "look like high schoolers" instruction), they laughed and said "but we're missing the token black kid!" And it's true, they're in a mostly asian demographic, and while this picture itself is pretty PC, we were missing an african-american. I told them no worries, that's what Photoshop is for.

There! (as promised). They're good sports :)




But the best news is... I GET TO KEEP MY JOB! PHEW.

I love my job so so much-- screen printing, five classes, hello?? Love the kids, love the school, love the art/medium, love the location, love almost everything about it (except for grading, but duh who likes that)... it would have broken my heart to have lost it. And there was a scare, I haven't slept well for a couple of months; just found out Tuesday that I was "safe" and I haven't fully realized the relief, yet.

And if wearing pink everyday would help the problem for the other teachers who weren't as fortunate this Friday the 13th, I'd be out shopping this very moment.