Sunday Time Waster on Monday

Here's a cute little meme I first viewed on Ticketaboo's website, and later on Kristyn's.  I like how this one goes from A to Z--it makes the questions a little more head-scratching-random.  I also like how it's called a "Sunday procrastination" meme, given that it's now Monday and I'm finally getting around to posting it.

A-Z: A SUNDAY PROCRASTINATION MEME

A. Age: 32
B. Bed size: King.
C. Chore you dislike: Folding laundry and putting it away (as evidenced by the current heap on my bed).
D. Dogs: A corgi named Cricket, and a giant Newfoundland named Moses.
E. Essential start to your day: Listening to the news.  Hearing other people's voices in the morning is my "coffee"--it wakes me up almost instantly and convinces me that I'm not the only crazy person up at 0'dark-thirty (even if those voices are usually talking about violence and stuff).
F. Favorite Color:  This one's tough.  Yellow has been my favorite color my entire life (it's cheery and reminds me of sunshine), but lately I have found myself drawn to purple. Sorry Yellow, old friend.
G. Gold or silver: Any metal is fine, so long as it doesn't turn my skin green.
H. Height: 5’4”.
I. Instruments you play: None.
J. Job title: Language arts teacher.
K. Kids: Two; a ten-year-old daughter and a seven-year-old son.
L. Live: Yes, I live (these really need to be more specific).
M. Mum’s name: Mum?  How cute!  My mum's name is a simile for "one cent."
N. Nicknames: Jo, Jojo, Fluff
O. Overnight Hospital Stays: Two.  They correlate rather nicely with the above "kids" question.
P. Pet peeves: Helicopter-parenting, lousy listeners, people who think "wife and mother" is a job-title.
Q. Quote(s) from a movie: "What's the matter Colonel Sanders....Chicken?"  (Spaceballs).
R. Righty or lefty: Righty.
S. Siblings: One twin sister and one half-sister.
T. Time you wake up: 6:00 a.m. on weekdays, whenever on weekends. 
U. Underwear: Sometimes.  ;-)
V. Vegetables you don’t like: Cooked carrots and lima beans.
W. What makes you run late: Listening to music, because I keep interrupting the "getting ready" process to rock out with my hairbrush and/or curling iron.
X. X-rays you’ve had: One when I was six years old (fractured wrist).
Y. Yummy food you make: Anything from a box or can.  Oh, I can also make French toast and over-medium eggs.
Z. Zoo animal favorites:  Anteaters (I just wanted to bring the list back to "A" again, but anteaters really are kind of cute).

Night-Time Skiing

I went skiing last night!  We arrived at Mountain High around 4:00 yesterday evening. This is a picture of the ski resort at dusk, but not one that I took (this came from good ole' google).  In real-life, it looked just like this, but full of skiers and falling snow.  There were snow flurries on the drive up, but overall it wasn't too bad; plus it was nice traveling in a charter bus for a change, instead of a school bus.  We ate Subway sandwiches in the lodge once we arrived, and then Clint and I got fitted for our ski boots. We started at the "Magic Carpet" hill, which is this little practice hill that most seasoned skiers don't even count as a hill (but of course, to me, it seemed like a sheer cliff). It doesn't have a lift like the others, but it did have an escalator-type thing to take you up. Mr. A. spent some time teaching me how to ski (even though he claims he didn't teach me how to ski, he just taught me how to stop). I got the hang of it pretty fast.  Once I was comfortable with stopping and turning, Mr. A said I was ready for a "real" hill. The only problem was the bunny hill was closed!  So we had to move on to the next easiest-leveled run, which from my perception, may as well have been a death-drop.

Now I remember the one time skiing as a child, the hills all had logical names like "Bunny Hill" and "Intermediate Hill," so you always knew which hills to choose and which to avoid.  But the hills last night had names that were confusing as all get-out, such as "Coyote Ridge," "Snowflake," and Sunnyside-Up," etc.  It was mind boggling.  One student ran up and said "Hey, Mrs. P., you wanna go down Coyote with me?"  And I'm thinking, Aren't coyotes fast and sneaky?  Is this giving me some kind of hint as to what kind of run this is?  And is Sunnyside-Up called "Sunnyside-Up" because that's what you're going to look like when you tumble ass-over-head?  At any rate, since the bunny hill was closed (which was actually called "Snowflake"), we went down Coyote.  It was so high up.  I felt like it took us a half hour to travel to the top on our chair lift, although it was probably closer to ten minutes.  The chair-lift ride was sort of spooky, but only because it was night time.  When you first get on it, it's all bright and cheery, with lively music drifting from the lodge speakers and people all around you.  But once you continue up the mountain, it slowly grows darker and quieter.  Of course the resort still provides lighting, but it's a more orangy-golden-hued lighting that casts shadows everywhere and a kind of eerie glow (the color of dread, you know?). 

When we finally left our chair lift, the first half of Coyote felt quite steep and was a little hairball to maneuver.  Clint and I both fell twice.  The difference is when he fell, he got right back up.  When I fell, it took about ten minutes of Mr. A man-handling me before I could get back up.  It takes a lot of upper-body strength to get back up on skis, and apparently I have none...my arms eventually began to feel like jelly, trying to pull up all my body's weight using nothing but skinny poles.  At one point, I was so stuck that I told Mr. A that I was just going to sleep out on the mountain that night, and I would see them all in the morning.  Thank God he stayed with me through that run.  His positive attitude was pretty contagious, and it gave me the confidence to keep plowing forward. 

After those two initial splats, the rest of Coyote was a blast.  I can't even describe how exhilerating it was.  I figured out how to go back and forth in an "S" pattern with my skis, and I felt like I had much more control.  Clint also did really well the whole night, considering it was his first time.       

We left the lodge at 9:30, and the drive home was...crazy.  It was blizzarding for the first twenty minutes of driving off the mountain, and the bus driver's visibility was severely compromised.  But once we entered about 4000 feet, it was fine.  We arrived home sometime around 11:00 last night, and by then, I was famished.  After a hot shower that felt something close to paradise, Clint whipped us up some eggs and french toast.

Next Friday, the Ski and Snowboard Club is going to Mountain High again for the last time this season (they go a total of four times a year, with all visits usually taking place in February).  If they are in need of chaperones, Clint and I plan to go again.  I'm just hoping and praying that the Bunny Hill (or "Snowflake Hill"...is it just me or does that name seem even more insulting?) is open next week so I don't have to tackle the Coyote again--or more accurately--so the Coyote doesn't tackle me again.

Field Trip to the Bunny Hill

Yesterday was a tough day, but I am feeling a tiny bit better.  Even without the proper password, Clint was able to access my sister's blog and save it all the way back from May, 2010.  I'm still hoping to get the rest, but we'll see.  It is just way too much history to have permanently flushed simply because of someone's insecurities. 

Complete change of subject, but I'm going skiing tomorrow!  Well, "weather permitting."  According to tomorrow's weather report, it's supposed to start snowing in the mountains by 3:00 (I originally typed  "...it's supposed to start 'painting' tomorrow by 3:00...." Clint needs to stop talking in my ear about painting).  Tomorrow's skiing trip is a complete impromptu thing.  During lunch yesterday, one of the teachers I work with, Mr. A., asked me out of the blue, "Hey, do you and Clint want to go skiing on Friday?"  Of course I said, "Sure!" because I tend to agree with something first, then question the wisdom of my decision later.  We're actually going with our school's Ski and Snowboard Club, and it's all expenses paid for a total of four chaperones, so I'm not really seeing a downfall to this plan.  Well, except for the fact that I have only skied one time in my life, and I never left the bunny hill.  And the fact that I don't have any of the proper clothing/attire.  And the fact that I still have to go to work tomorrow (we're not leaving for the mountains until after school).  Okay, so besides those, there are no downfalls.

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High Note

Today was a bit overwhelming, but it ended on a wonderfully high note.  I had to go to a mandatory workshop today with all the other language arts teachers at my school, which normally wouldn't be a big deal, except for the fact that my club was scheduled to do concessions for the basketball game after school.  This meant leaving the conference early, rushing to my school, and getting our snack bar ready before the game began.  We were in the gym from 3:15 until around 8:00, and it did turn out to be a fun gig, although the initial prep was a lot of work.  Once the game was over and we finished counting the money and cleaning up, I hurried home.  The kids met me in the driveway and gave me a big hug, which I didn't find suspicious at the time, but later made sense.  When I came into the house, after some idle chitchat, Clint told me I got an envelope from my university.  He handed it to me with this meaningful look, and I realized it was the results for my Master's Comps.  I was so scared to open it.  I just knew that there were two sections that I didn't pass, and I didn't want to end such a busy, overwhelming day with dejecting news.  But of course I finally opened it.  By now you've finally guessed the rest of this overly drawn-out story...I passed every single section and now have a master's degree.  I read the letter in stunned silence twice, and then tears started gushing out of my eyes.  Wow.  I can't believe I cried.  I swear I have felt zero emotion over a potential master degree the entire time I was in the program.  Even when I took the comps, I felt completely calm over the notion of failing and having to retake it in six months.  I honestly didn't know how badly I wanted it until I got it.

Right when I started getting all teary-eyed, Clint stepped out of the room and came back in with a giant "Congratulations" balloon and a bouquet of flowers.  After gasping with surprise and hugging him, I told him "That was a risky gamble.  What would you have done if I had failed the test?  Use a Sharpie to cross out 'Congratulations' and replace it with 'Sorry'?"  Turns out that while I was still at work, he held the envelope to the kitchen light and could see right through it.  So he actually knew the entire time that I had passed.  He also threatened the kids with their lives if they spilled the news.  He wanted me to open the envelope myself.

Needless to say, I'm somewhere on cloud nine right now.  I will be going to sleep tonight with an enormously stupid grin.  My college days are finally over.

P.S.  I wonder what class I should take over summer?  ;-)
P.S.S.  The graders of the comprehensive exams must have been suffering from fatigue when they got to my essays, because there is no way I should have passed.  For two of the questions, I had NO idea what I was talking about.  They were probably on their 80th exam and, all bleary-eyed and glazed over, thumped it with their giant red "APPROVED" stamp just to be done with it all.  That's my theory.

Weeping Fairy

This was a completely unexpected project.  I pulled out all of my paints today so that I could continue working on the tiger for Trin's room, but when I began, I quickly realized that the previous black sketch I had applied was still wet.  I was feeling bummed because I really wanted to paint something, and that's when Trin said "I love your fairy sketch, Mom."  I was so confused.  What fairy sketch?  And then I saw what she was pointing to.  I had sketched out a fairy about a month ago inside a pad of canvas paper, but I got frustrated with the complexities of it and decided to go back to painting flowers and trees.  Once I looked at the sketch again today though, I started thinking "Hey, maybe I can make this work."  So I started to paint it.  The above is my final product.  I've decided to name her "Out of Tears." 

On a somewhat related note, since this newfound art-interest doesn't seem to be fading, I decided to start an art blog to keep my paintings and related-prattling in one place.  I'm still going to show completed projects on this blog, but I'm going to use my art blog to display the different stages of unfinished projects, not to mention ramble on about what techniques I used or what new things I tried.  I have comments closed on that blog, because I don't want it to be yet another social networking burden on myself or anyone else.  I just want one set place to focus on art.  There are a few posts over on my other site right now, but it's a little deja vu, because I imported all of my "art"-labeled posts from this site to that one.  Oh yeah, I guess I should provide the link.  I named my new blog "Glazey".  Glazing is an art technique in which you apply a very thin pigment on top of a base color to create an entire new color (or to add shine)...something I have done with every single one of my paintings.  But I like how "glazey" reminds me of eyes being glazed over...the way I start to get when I've been painting for too long, or the way you probably get after reading long-winded entries such as this one.

Hot Springs Hike--Pictoral Version

I'm beginning to think I'll never get around to writing a real post on our awesome hike last week, so here is a stream of pictures.

Me and Clint

Clint, Matt, and I on the bridge

 Matt and Alana

 Matt on top of the world

 Alana and me on the beach (can you believe the Hot Springs has a beach?)

 Hiking through the brush

Crossing the stream

We met a new friend along the way, but he looked a little stoned.

 The hot spring we relaxed in was right at the foot of this river.

 The sky was a piercing blue all day.  This friendly pilot waved at us as he flew by.

  I wonder if he was chuckling at the naked people (but for the record, WE were wearing swimsuits).

I just think Alana looks gorgeous in this picture.

I have many beyond this, but blogger doesn't have a user-friendly way to display pictures in bulk, so I'm going to leave it at these.  I wish I had pictures of the springs themselves, but we had left our cameras safely tucked away on the beach while we relaxed in the springs (there's not really a safe place to store a camera in a bikini).  There were several different hot pools to choose from, and I still remember that delicious feeling of sinking into that perfect little pool right in front of the river and feeling utterly awe-struck that I was in a bathwater-warm jacuzzi right in the middle of the desert...in February.  But the highlight of the day for me was a tie between three things:  1.  Jumping into the icy river, 2. Realizing that I had been talking to an old naked man for about ten minutes and had forgotten that he was naked, and 3. Going to dinner at La Casita afterwards.  The third one was probably the most amusing to me, because for some reason Matt was dead-set against any of us "freshening up" (even though we had to stop at our houses first anyway because Alana needed to grab her wallet and Clint needed to change his painful shoes).  So we were one sorry-looking party when we walked into that restaurant.  And unfortunately our sense of class matched our hillbilly appearance; we were so ravishingly starving (13 miles of hiking works up an appetite that trail mix just doesn't quite satiate); we wound up eating five or six baskets of chips before cleaning off our dinner plates.  I really felt sorry for our waiter; we were a tough table to keep up with.

For being a "pictoral" version, this sure included a lot of words.  Wow, I just can't shut-up ever.

Everyone's an Artist

Apparently I am surrounded by artists!  Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration...I would hardly consider two being "surrounded."  But still...I have found myself in a state of perpetual awe over the talents that are emerging around me from the most unexpected sources.  The most recent example of this would be from our friend Matt.  When we were at the hotsprings, Clint and I told Matt and Alana how much we were enjoying oil painting.  At one point in the conversation, Matt mentioned that he had always wanted to try painting on cardboard; a sort of unique, urban-esque style he had seen in the past.  After our conversation, Matt felt inspired to give it a try.  Here is his first painting:

I love it.  The vertical streaks and the enclosing black give it this ripped, despondent quality.  You just know it's all over for that poor, hopeless tree.   

And then there's Clint, whose painting skills have now far-surpassed my own.  Here is his latest:

This one is on a 16 x 20 canvas, so it is obviously much larger in real life.  It is really interesting to look at in person.  I love how this vengeful tiger ferociously emerges from the clouds, transitioning from wispy and abstract to more realistic.

But this next one is my absolute favorite:

Again, he used a 16 x 20 canvas, but what's special about this one is that he didn't just model after some picture from google images.  Well, he did to a degree; most of the background came from google.  But he found ways to make it his own.  There was originally a wolf in front of the moon, but he decided to remove the creature and replace it with the silhouette of a female-figure instead.  In person the white cherry blossoms pop out against the blue, and the whole thing has a sort of eerie (yet strangely serene) mood to it.  Clint decided to create a blog to post his art work, but right now it's still pretty empty and only features his first two paintings.  He is planning to add these ones on tonight. 

So all of these paintings, and none of them are mine.  *spoiled sad face*  I have had to take a break from painting to work on Teri's scrapbook, which I promised her would be finished by this Friday.

I was planning to write a little bit more about our hike on Saturday, but I think I'm going to postpone one more time...or maybe two...(hopefully it doesn't fall into the same hopeless vortex as my yet-to-be-written Rose Parade post).

Novel Featuring Charmin and Chimichangas

I require my students to read five chapters a week from a grade-level novel of their choice and keep track of what they have read on a reading log.  The reading log also requires them to write a sentence or two summarizing each chapter.  Here is what Alexis' reading log said:

Chapter: ?   What was this chapter about?

I read the Stater Bro's newspaper, and I found out that artichokes are two for $4 and chimichangas are two for $1.  I also learned that Charmin Ultrasoft is $6.99 on sale.  P.S. Bounty is $6.99 too!

Okay, I'll admit that I gave her a 100% on the assignment for making me laugh.  But I did warn her that her future reading endeavors needed to involve actual novels, with chapters and stuff.  I'm not sure how well the message was received though...this IS the same Alexis who thought a good antonym for the word "session" was "bouncy ball."

Hot Springs Hike--Abridged Version

Yesterday was amazing!  Sometime this week I'll write a more detailed post about it (and put up some pictures), but I am just so worn out, I think I'll stick with a quick summary for now.  Yesterday we hiked to the hot springs with Matt and Alana, and it was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.  The hike itself was six-and-a-half miles into the canyon.  We left at 7:15 a.m. and reached the hot springs sometime around 10:00.  Once there, we soaked in nature's jacuzzi until about 2:15 in the afternoon.  We hiked the six-and-a-half miles back out of the canyon, and finished our day by going to La Casita for dinner.  Today I'm left with throbbing legs, wobbly knees, a hell-of-a- sunburn, and a big goofy smile plastered on my face from such a great day.  Oh, and I have a picture of a naked man blowing bubbles.  I tried to snap the photo from the backside, but he turned around at the last second, and the camera went click.  Oops. 

Hyper Day

Three day weekend--YES!  I was really hyper at work today.  I think I might be high on Airborn.  Many of the teachers at my work have been sick this week (not to mention Clint and the kids), so when I came to work on Monday with a little bit of a sniffle, Ms. Tilli sent Airborn and a bottle of water to my classroom.  I didn't ask for any, but she's like the mama hen of our family of teachers, taking care of everyone.  I had never tried Airborn before (I'm not much in the way of medicines; I prefer to let my body's immune system do its own kick-ass job), but since it is made from herbs and plant extracts, I decided to give it a try.  On Tuesday, Tilli sent more Airborn my way, and by yesterday, I had bought my own.  I've ingested this stuff for four days now, and I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but I am still not even remotely sick.  Whatever I "started" to come down with never fully materialized.  So I think I might forever be a fan of Airborn, even if it was probably just some psychological placebo.  At any rate, I woke up this morning feeling ridiculously hyper.  I watched the news for the first half hour, but it was so mellow that I finally turned it off and cranked on some music.  I did the typical dancing in front of the mirror while curling my hair...and I may or may not have used my curling iron as a microphone.

At work, I invented a crazy spelling game that involved a big circle, a mush pot, and taking your friends down with you if you get caught.  It had some very jacked up, unfair rules that I was making up along the way, and was hysterically fun.  The kids and I were laughing so hard all the way until the bell rang.  After work, I came home, ate a Californian Omelet, and watched Three Men and a Baby on Netflix with the kids (I love getting to relive all of the cheesy flicks from the '80s).  After the movie, Clint and I worked out, and now my stomach is sore.

I am really looking forward to this weekend.  I have a heap of persuasive essays to grade, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to shove those aside in lieu of enjoying the spring-like weather we are supposed to have this weekend.  On Saturday we are going hiking with Matt and Alana to the Hot Springs.  It's a 6-mile hike up (12 miles round trip), so it will pretty much be an all day thing.  The area we are hiking to is gorgeous (some sites actually rate it number one as far as hot springs in California), so really the only downfall is that visitors there have a tendency to not wear clothes.  Yep, that's right.  They're naked.  Apparently the water's almost perfect temperature (averaging 105 degrees F.) is much more enjoyable when you're al' natural.  I figure though since I'm going with Bible study friends and all, maybe I ought to keep my clothes on.  ;-)

Fluffy Little Fantasy World of Self-Preservation

We all mess up.  It's a fact of life.  We all have those moments that make us want to bury our head in the sand.  But I think the way we handle our screw-ups says a lot about our character.  There are some people who, after wrongly hurting another, will choose to eliminate any and all parts of their life that remind them of that mistake.  A few years ago, for example, Clint and I had a friend who decided to walk out on his marriage.  Despite our disappointment in his decision, we decided that our friendship with him was unconditional, and we chose to loyally stick by him.  But as time passed, he could no longer handle being around us.  Even though we never brought up the past, we were a constant, sore reminder of the person he no longer wanted to be.  So he washed his hands of our friendship, and we have never talked to him since.  My view on this?  He was a coward.  Instead of facing up to his demons, he chose to bury them as if they never existed and live in a perpetual state of denial, even to the point of obliterating a fifteen year friendship to maintain this denial.  Many people do this.  They make mistakes and, not having the courage to cope with them, will eliminate all reminders of their "old" self; the self that made the shameful mistake...all so they can live in their fluffy little fantasy world of self-preservation.

Then there is that other kind of person.  He or she makes mistakes just like anyone else (let's go with "he" because the he/she combo gets wordy, and I'm not some woman's-libber who thinks that the generic "he" is offensive) .  But the difference is this particular person will go through hell and high-water to atone for his wrong doings, even if this means awkward (or even painful) confrontations with the people he has hurt.  He will never choose to eliminate those from his life who remind him of his shameful acts, because he refuses to cower like some dog with his tail between his legs.  Nor does he seek to make life "better" or more "comfortable" for himself, because he knows that true peace only comes from seeking forgiveness from those who he has offended, even if that forgiveness is never achieved.

The self-preservationist is the easiest kind of person to be.  It doesn't take much effort to hide from your shame or to pretend you don't care.  It doesn't take much effort to patch up your own life and seek out your own happiness while simultaneously pretending ignorance at the shambles you have left in your wake.  Nope...not much effort at all.  So if you have succeeded in this endeavor, good for you.  Good for you for choosing the easy path.  Good for you for adopting the philosophy "ignorance is bliss."  Because, let's face it, life can outright suck for the person who actually confronts his mistakes.  It can be excruciating to force yourself to have conversations you don't want to have, or to admit over and over again that you are a fallible human being who screws up.  But the road with the most character isn't usually the smooth effortless freeway, is it?  Hell no.  It's the rough, bumpy trail full of ditches and potholes.  It's the road that leaves you battered and weary by the time you reach your destination, but you come out of it with a little more wisdom and a lot thicker skin.  You come out of it with a thing that's overrated in today's society: Integrity.

Shooting and Indoor Caves

Today was the Superbowl!  Congrats to Green Bay for their exciting victory!  You know what my favorite part of Superbowl Sunday is?  Blowing off the game and doing something that's actually fun.  Like shooting stuff.  Okay, I just re-read that, and it sounds pretty messed up.  But the Superbowl is just so long.  My eyes start to glaze over staring at a television for that length of time.  So today we opted to go shooting in the mountains with Shan and Jeremy instead.  I finally was able to try out my new shotgun, and it was so fun!  It is light, comfortable, and easy to aim. 

I also shot Jeremy's M14 rifle (very top picture), which can be pretty thrilling because the scope allows you to hit nearly 100% of your targets.  It makes you feel like you have this amazing skill for precision-aim, when really you don't.  It's just the rifle making you look good.

After target practice, we went to the Stockade for a late lunch/early dinner.  They had the Superbowl going in the restaurant, so we were able to catch glimpses of it, although I was more interested in scarfing down my hot pastrami sandwich and chatting with my sis.  We later returned to Shan's house, where I learned something incredible.  They have a cave in their house!  And no, I am not being metaphorical.  They actually have a friggen' cave in their house.  I'm sure this is just a typical part of mountain homes; some sort of access area within the house, but coming from an area of bland, plain ranch-style homes, I was pretty awed by it.  In the mini-kitchen they recently cleared out, there is a small cabinet-type door at about chest-level.  Trinity kept pointing at this door and asking me, "Hey Mom, you wanna see the cave?"  After dismissively waving her off a few times, thinking it was just her being overly-imaginative about an everyday storage cabinet, I finally said, "Yeah, sure hon."  When she opened the door, there it was:  a cave!  With rocky mountain walls and everything.  The entrance is about the size of a large doggy door, but theoretically a full-size adult can wiggle their way into the cavern, at which point they can stand at full height and walk around.  The kids had a great time playing in it, until the men started yelling for them to get out  (you know, spider webs, dark creepy corners, etc.).  At one point, after examining the cavern from the outside with a flashlight, I collapsed on the bean bag and whined, "My house is so boring."  And of course Trin and Elijah have begun the tirade:  "How come I can't have a cave in MY room?  I want a cave too!"  Hey, I thought the fact that they had TVs in their rooms, a DVD player, a turtle, two rats, a walk-in closet, and their own bathroom was pretty cool.  But no; they want a cave. 

MyQuil

On Monday, students were required to make an advertisement incorporating ten spelling words:  remedy, venture, evidence, specimen, session, effect, invest, destiny, delicate, and pressure.  Here is the ad that one of my students, Mitchell, turned in: 

Depression hurts.  Don't let it affect you.
 

MyQuil.  Helps cure depression.

You should try MyQuil because it's the perfect remedy.  You'll be so unsick you can venture out all day.  Doctors have evidence that it works (maybe).  We've tried it out on many specimens.  If you don't believe us, go to one of our informational sessions.  You won't get every side-effect (yes you will).  So you should invest in MyQuil to help you.  It's your destiny to take this medicine.  But be careful with this very delicate bottle.

*Side effects may include bleeding, crying, depression, suicide, diarrhea, internal bleeding, giving into peer pressure, explosive diarrhea, and pooping uncontrollably.

I'm not sure how an anti-depressant would lead to succumbing to peer-pressure or pooping uncontrollably, but let's just roll with it  And is it just me, or did Mitchell elude to diarrhea in his list of side-effects THREE times?  Seventh graders.  *Sigh*

Continuing on with Our Dream Theme...

I had a dream last night that was so vivid, I just have to get it out of my system.  It was so realistic that I half-expected a volcano drill to go off during work today (what would one do during a volcano drill?  Duck and cover?  Run?  Turn off all your lights, lock your doors, and cower?).  At any rate, in the dream, I am sitting on the cement walkway outside my classroom, talking to fellow coworkers.  Suddenly, the volcano near the W portables starts to erupt (this makes perfect sense in the dream, cuz you know, our campus is equipped with all of your typical school-type facilities: one cafeteria, one gym, one library, some basketball courts, a volcano...).  We walk toward the low rumbling sound, but at some point my coworkers disappear, and I am alone.  I find myself standing on top of the volcano, staring down in horrified fascination (this part reminds me a lot of Kristyn's rock dream, so I'm obviously quite impressionable.  She needs to slap a copyright on those suckers next time).  Transfixed, I slip and fall (at least I didn't jump in).  I now find myself balanced precariously on a cluster of black, sharp rocks at the bottom of the pit.  A man stands on the rocks with me.  I frantically look around, and I am surrounded not by lava, but by foaming, boiling water.  The water is chaotic and tumultuous, hissing at my bare feet as it slowly rises (did I forget to mention that it's Barefoot Friday?).  It has a current all of its own and churns madly around me, sloshing up the sides of the wall, exploding upon the jagged rocks, and spraying white hot mist up my calves.  The man wraps his arms tightly around me.  I think he's going to help us escape, so my body leans into him with relief.  But I slowly realize that the opposite is true; he has no intention of saving me.  He is pinning me in place.  The water rises higher, and I can't move.  But I don't really care.  I already know the ending, and it doesn't matter that the mountain walls seem easy enough to climb; I know that it is our fate to be overcome by the water.  The scalding water seems to take a life of its own as it sizzles around my ankles.  I cling desperately to him...and then wake up.

Sorry, I swear I'll try to quit writing down dreams.  Hey, at least I didn't go into detail about the dream I had two weeks ago in which my small intestines were unraveling (poor Shannon had to hear about that one).  Hopefully my next post will be more grounded in reality.