Sex and the City

I’m on my girls’ vaca/spring break with my BFF. For the uninitiated, this involves a lot of sitting around, a little bit of errand running, daily child drop off/pick up and lots of hanging out. The hanging out part…the BEST. We spend a lot of time talking as we go about our days no matter what, but this way we are actually together doing nothing. The cosmo cafe in the afternoon in her kitchen is utterly delightful as well.

For us, part of the joy…well that would be our Sex and the City marathons. Oh, how we love that show and the girls. Sadly, it reflects far more of my life than it does the BFF's. I have always loved Miss Carrie Bradshaw. In fact, frequently I have tried to channel Miss Bradshaw as I wrote my blog. I haven't always been successful. And sure, I am not a big city girl, shockingly beautiful or dating lots of men, but still. I think big thoughts ; )

I find that I am contemplating Carrie Bradshaw’s life, my own life and lessons I’ve learned dating.

First and foremost, I take pride in saying, I am crazy as any girl a guy is likely to date, but God help me, he will never know it. My crazy I keep on the inside…well and in many long tortured conversations with the BFF and other close confidantes. But the men, they don't get to know that.

An ancillary point to this is that all men expect every woman they date to be crazy. I have heard enough stories to know this is actually a reasonable expectation. I hate to admit it, but it is true. Women have a tendency to behave badly in relationships. I hate that. I wish it were different. I wish, in general, there were more best friends out there helping girls to not be quite so crazy.

Next, don't pick up the phone. Don't call, don't text, don't email. When I was a young lass, I can remember my mother telling me I was never to call a boy. Didn’t matter if it was to get homework or to ask a question or what…no calling the boys. Years later, this is one of those lessons that I must admit, mother knew best. If a guy wants to talk to you…he’ll call. Otherwise, you are really just bugging him. It is really hard to do at times, but just such a good idea: don't call 'em. They will call you. If they aren't calling you, well, that is information. May not be the information you want to be getting, but it still information.

This next lesson, girls have a terrible time with this lesson, I think it hangs nicely off the last one. There is no such thing as closure. We so hate for relationships to end. We want them to be finished neatly and put away. I have a friend of mine who said he got a call from the woman he was dating. She invited him over for dinner, and to tell him that she was dating someone else. He was to say the least perplexed. Why did she think that conversation required a meal? A call would have been fine, in fact, she probably didn’t need to call, she could have just waited until he called her the next time. At any rate, I can’t tell you how many girls I know that call guys because they want to know WHY the relationship ended and WHAT happened. I have bad news girls, they are never going to be fully honest, and you will never feel satisfied. Just walk away and know that it is over. That actually IS your closure.

Lesson five, my friend PR is always reminding me is to protect my heart. If I am going to step out and take a real chance with someone, I should try to be sure that he is stepping out too. It is quite awful to find yourself out on the plank as it were, alone. Looking around trying to figure out how you ended up there ...alone.

I may have to add to this post later...I know I've learned more, but these are the ones most on my mind.

I love Miss Britt

I love Miss Britt. She is a badass. She is on a journey. She and her husband have decided to sell their belongings and hit the open road with their kids for a year. In the process, she is discovering what stuff is and isn't. What things in life are important and what things ...aren't.

Right now, she is my goal. I am on a mission. I am getting rid of things. I have too much stuff. I don't need this much stuff.

I'm pretty certain I'm freaking my parents out, but how can I watch as many real estate shows and hoarder shows as I do and NOT find myself wanting to reduce inventory. I am going to spend the next 3 months figuring out just what possessions mean the most to me and that I actually use, and then I am getting rid of the rest. Craig's list...here I come!

A funny thing happened on the way...

I went up to the parentals Sunday evening. Sabrina and Cat were cremated, but they were waiting to be buried under new rose bushes. It's just a thing we do. I'm pretty certain when it is finally time to sell my parents house we are going to have to include a "don't dig under the rose bushes" disclaimer.

Dad started the holes, I finished them, and mom lit the candles that we placed on their wee graves. Then we drank to lives well lived.

Monday morning, well, Monday morning I rolled out of bed, pretty sure I did not brush my hair and threw clothes on. Absolutely no make-up. It was chilly so I added my favorite blue fleece. Very old, very full of dog fur. SEXY.

On the way to the airport I had a vague memory that I had a first class ticket. I was traveling on miles, and there weren't any cheap seats available, so I figured how better to start my holiday than in first class. So, as all this came back to me, I thought to myself, I have anecdotal evidence that God has a sense of humor, I am totally going to end up next to someone cute. Yeah, you know what's coming.

As I walked towards my seat (row 5 seat A, thank you very much), and saw my seat companion, I once again kicked myself for looking like shit. I mean, really. Of course he was going to be totally hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, just HOT.

We spent the next two hours talking. It was really, really nice. By the end, it was obvious there was a connection, but how much of one and would we really do anything about it? He wanted me to go out that night, but it seemed wrong to immediately abandon my BFF, so I told him I couldn't. BUT he was only in town for the night and headed back to his home town of Orlando. What? This will never work. I am going to meet a guy on a plane and he isn't even going to be from Dallas? So, so wrong.

He gave me his info, I gave him mine, he walked me to the baggage carousel, (where I was picking up my new Europe luggage. HUGE. LEOPARD SKIN. HARD BACK. That should have scared him.) Then we stood on the curb and waited for the BFF.

She showed up. Waved, yelled, called. I was ...distracted. She finally got my attention, and I was off. A few more text messages, some talk with the BFF, next thing I knew, I had borrowed clothes and made plans to meet with Mr. Airplane. The good news is that I swear I looked so bad on the plane, it wasn't difficult to improve on that look. The better news is that he is very good for my ego. (On a side note, I still need to write about St. Patrick's Day fun on Greenville Ave. This very topic came up. I want someone who will be as crazy for me as I am for him. There is a lot to be said for someone being crazy for you.)

O.M.G. That's all I got. Fantastic conversation, very interesting, charming and a possible keeper? I know this is not the first time I have thought a guy had great potential. But Mr. Airplane is rocking it right now, and he is just fantastic looking AND he likes me. Hang on, I have to go fan myself off for a minute.

...

...

OK, I'm back. No details for now. We had a lovely date last night. BFF picked me up at the Metro and now I am back to my little vacation. All I shall say about my interlude, is perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

Now I'm bulletproof

Have I mentioned I am going to Africa? Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum...

I work at a fairly (read this as very) affluent school district. We invite "gurus" of the industry to come speak to our staff and to work with us as we improve what we do. Turns out one of these gurus said that a problem with American students is that they have no empathy for the rest of the world. Go figure.

In an effort to build relationships and forge bonds with our brethren around the world, a position was created within the district, let's call it "global guru." So, GG starts working on finding places via the internet also interested in forging relationships. Lo and behold, if a district in Ghana didn't say, Helllloooo there.

Long story short, yours truly is on the short list of 3 people going, GG, a middle school teacher and yours truly.

Yesterday, MST and I go to get a yellow fever shot which we know we must have to be able to go to Africa. We had been told we had to pay for our own shots, but we figured what the heck.

The very nice lady at the "so you want to leave the country, here's what you have to do to stay alive" office went through a very long list of diseases we could get etc. Disturbing to say the least. Yellow fever, my ass.

In addition, it seems that rabid animals are a bit of a problem too, but there is nothing you can do about that. The instructions? "If you are scratched or bitten BY ANY ANIMAL, you should EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY." Sweet Christmas, great. fantastic. can't wait.

She then goes through exactly how much it would cost and how many shots would be required. Let me tell you, had I known in advance, not sure that there would be a plane ticket with my name on it... Not. Kidding.

I left the office and immediately went to get a drink because my ARM REALLY HURT.

Then I concocted the note I was going to write to the superintendent in my head (and the principal and the head of curriculum and my friend PR because, well, that's the kind of girl I am). Which I did. See below.

To whom it may concern,

Yesterday I went to Passport Health in preparation for the trip to Africa. I was expecting one lone yellow fever shot. I received EIGHT shots inoculating me against every major disease on the planet. I return in a month for TWO more. The total cost...wait for it...$1150.

That being said, I would like to officially offer myself up for any and all trips to scary places that require shots. Because I have my shots, and they were expensive, and the only way to get my money's worth is to go EVERYWHERE.

So, with total dedication and a lot of pain in both arms right now, I say, I'm ready to serve.

Your devoted employee,

The Diva

I haven't heard back from anyone. What's up with that? At any rate, as the BFF said, with all those shots in me, I am practically bulletproof! Hence, my desire to travel the world while I am fully immune to all diseases. Except for rabies. Which is unfortunate because I am a tasty morsel to the dog population of the world. Other than that, I am bulletproof. Oh, and the flu. I hate flu shots, so I don't ever get those. I could get the flu still. Other than that, I am bulletproof. Well, and the common cold. There's no defense against that, and let's be honest, I work with wealthy kids, but they still get sick, a lot if you ask me. Aw screw it, I am only bullet proof against the following illnesses: yellow fever, polio, mumps, measles, rubela?, typhoid, Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Malaria, Dengue and cholera.

Happy Birthday!!

Tuesday was my BIRTHDAY. I love my birthday. I don't care if I am feeling older and more blind and deaf. I have taken a page from my father's book. He is always happy about his birthday. He says it is because he'd seen his life flash before his eyes so many times by the time he was 22, that each birthday after that is pretty much a miracle.

Anyone who has been in a car with me knows I could say the same thing. Let's face it, there's a lot going on out there and it is all interesting. Staying focused on just one thing is tricky.

So, I am happy about my birthday. In addition, my students rock because they always get together to get me a pair of shoes. This year's? Beautiful...

Oh, and those amazing flowers in the background? From my BFF.

It was a good day. Yes, it helps that I wear a tiara on my head all day. I think it reminds people to not mess with me, and quite frankly, it is difficult to not smile while wearing a tiara.

I guess I am teaching something

During the snow storm, I discovered that I had trolls. Sounds like some sort of disease, I know. I was talking with my big sister about her blogs (actually she has two blogs, but only one was under attack so to speak.) She had trolls. Someone had come to her site and started going back through the posts writing basically mean stuff. My sister is a researcher at heart. So, she began trying to figure out from where the trolls came. Lo and behold, they came from the last blog post on my old blog that said "Gone."

Four women (I swear they might have made up names) posted. ALL posted mean stuff about me. In fact, one had started her own blog and the only post was a picture of me saying how I tried to steal her husband away...Yeah, cause in addition to every OTHER reason that would never happen, some time during the crapfest 2010 of Sabrina's life, I was out looking for a MAN. sigh.

At any rate, I deleted my one post. My sister then did a post on "Trolls." It was awesome. Part of the awesomeness was due to the fact that the troll is really an idiot. Sis's blog is clearly about developing self awareness and thinking about how she has messed up parenting in the past, and she's learning from it. Perhaps she uses too many big words cause it is obvious the troll, she didn't understand a bit.

Under comments, my sister had given me a shout out because some newspaper had done a poll, and I was runner-up for best teacher in the district. Sure it is a really small district, and sure, I was runner-up to a 1st year 4th grade teacher at one of 5 elementary schools in the district, and yes, it is very likely only 5 people voted. But it was sweet of my sister. The troll wrote a mean comment to the effect, I shouldn't be allowed to teach. That is A LOT of venom to have inside.

A week ago, one of the women sent me a facebook message "Hi." That's it. Nothing else. I ignored it, but it seems like a lot of energy to put into someone when I don't recognize ANY of their names or anything. Who are they???? I was starting to feel a little down. But THEN, one of my editors-in-chief let me see her college essay. It made me cry. She let me attach it. (Mostly because she knows only 5 people read the blog. Hooray for censorship and fear of the machine.) Any way - here you go.

An Unforgettable Character

Perkins: Like you’re mom but worse. She stands 5’4” in her pink sparkly designer Christian Louboutin stiletto heels—a gift from our journalism class last year as a token of our appreciation. Everything about her is asymmetrical; it is no surprise when she stands with her left hand extended, her right hip cocked, with a semi-fisted hand saying, “This is Perkins,” circling that fist with her right hand through at least three revolutions, she continues, “and this is the world…!” All the things my mom tried to teach me are acted out on the journalism stage every day of high school. The starring role is played by Ms. Elizabeth Perkins, my journalism advisor.

Lesson #1: Dress to impress. “Don’t dress like you are going to work on a street corner.” When dealing with inappropriate dress choices, most teachers avoid confrontation by passing the student on to the administration. Not Perkins. She deals directly with each of us, and we are quick to learn what is and is not appropriate attire for school. Because of Perkins, I am increasingly aware of the small range of appropriate clothing in dress—especially when I am relating to teachers or students as yearbook editor-in-chief. She takes her position seriously and demonstrates her self-respect with a flair for fashion by playing the “Diva” role with confidence and aplomb.

Lesson #2: “Do as I say, not as I do.” Perkins never sets herself up as a perfect example—quite the opposite. She always admits when she is at fault and actually wants us to do a better job in respecting authority. Last week, during the school mandatory lockdown drill, Perkins opted to send students out to take pictures of the event. Once again yearbook “is more important than pseudo student safety.” Unfortunately our school resource officer did not agree. He captured Perkins and Company and officiated at our in-class criminal lockdown lasting three days. By letting us in on her escapades, we become comrades in crime with a worthy cause of surviving the school day and publishing our annual yearbook, The Highlander.

Lesson #3: Be good humans. “If there is one thing I want to teach you in this class, it’s how to be good humans.” Last month we had an incident with stolen money from the yearbook fund. Perkins appealed to our sense of humanity and justice by asking for our help. Because she believed and trusted in us, we were successful to use our student web of contacts to find the thief. As she teaches us to be good humans, she models it by standing up for the staff. Recently, an anonymous group of girls created a Twitter account to slander several of us on the staff. Not only was she determined to find these “mean girls”, she was “out for blood.” Her lasting advice about our emerging humanity always mentions the necessity to, “bring each other up with your words, not tear each other down.”

Whether Perkins is delivering a light message on fashion, or a serious message on what it means to be human, the thing that I’m going to remember forever is the delivery itself. She preaches her message with the humorous characterization of a Diva mixed with the high drama of a philosopher. Her obvious lessons are represented by the quotations above, but it is the subliminal undercurrents that I will take with me to college. I want to define my own character by taking risks for the people I lead; laugh not only at others but myself; and most importantly, create a character for my life story who makes people want to be better. Underneath all the bravado, Perkins lets herself be vulnerable so that her students rise up and help her. Her leadership style allows us to feel valuable and needed as we develop mutual empathy. Whether it’s dealing with my college roommate, my professors, or future boyfriends, I know on some level, I will be modeling Perkins, or as she is otherwise known, “The Dallas Diva.”

Day 4: Snow day

Totally edgy. I mean 4 snow days later of not leaving the house, I am ready to get out. Instead I've been watching HGTV, "Flip This House" and the "Nate Burkus Show." I am so itchy to buy a new place, fix it up and sell it, I can hardly stand it. I don't know if I can stand it. I've got a little less than two years before I need to buy a house again to prevent a tax nightmare, and I'm going to need every minute of it to pay down the old credit cards. I guess I can at least say I refigured out my finances this week. I can really bust out the bills if I can keep my spending under control. I think we all know that is a really big IF.

However, if I can stay focused, I'll be able to rock it. And then I can return to the flipping business. Remind me of this the next time I have my eye on a cute pair of shoes...I need to remember this is going to be a marathon not a sprint. Long term low spending people. LONG TERM.