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.