I Miss My Shoes

When I moved this last time, I moved without most of my shoes. Not because I wanted to, but because the person I was living with wasn't real happy about me moving out-again-and figured since they bought me all those shoes, they were keeping them as retribution and as repayment for letting me live there for a few months without a job, which means I didn't contribute a whole lot and my winning personality wasn't really enough to make paying my way worth it. Probably because I'm not exactly a joy and pleasure to live with.

I wasn't real happy about the confiscation of my shoes because as this person bought me shoes, I used them to replace some of my older pairs and the old dude bought me A LOT of shoes. But, as part of my whole "I can't control everything" realization, I also realized I need to start picking my battles and this was a battle I didn't want to fight. Again. Because the first time, yeah, I got my shoes back, but the battle it took to get them made them hard to enjoy. I mean, I totally enjoyed them because I had some beautiful shoes, but still.

It's easy not to think so much about my shoes on days when I don't work because I either wear my potato shoes or tennis shoes. But, on days I work and I see a certain skirt I want to wear but I can't because I don't have the perfect brown suede boots that I wore with it, I get slightly annoyed. By slightly annoyed, I mean madder n' a wet settin' hen. As I silently curse the Shoe Burglar (or maybe out loud), I find another outfit and put on one of my two pair of black boots or the only pair of brown shoes that look right with the brown clothes I made it out with (did I mention some of my clothes didn't make it, either). I don't like it one teeny bit, but I suck it up and I figure since I'm either always going to a different class or have several days off in between assignments, maybe no one will notice my lack of cute shoes.

Today, though, as I scheduled sub jobs for the rest of this week and a week long assignment for next week, I missed my shoes. There's gonna be a lot of dressing up, just like a normal worker person, and I don't have half my stuff. Rather than being super cute, like the good southern girl I was raised to be, I'm gonna be plain. Drab. Maybe even frumpy. And offsetting my not-so-cute-shoes with some super cha-cha accessories isn't an option, either. Betcha can't guess why? And I even bought those myownself. It's enough to make a good southern girl wanna cut someone and I'm pretty sure no jury would convict me for it. Well, no jury comprised of like-minded southern gals, anyway.

At least I know my make-up will look good and that counts for something.

But I still want my damn shoes back.

And my clothes.

And my big chunky rings and cute bracelets.

Dammit.

o

I Miss My Shoes

All Work and No Play

I'm not kidding when I say all I've done for the past three days is study and do homework. Okay, that's not all I've done. I also did laundry. Can we day dull? Therefore, I don't have enough interesting stuff to fill an entire post. I do have enough information about Erikson's stages of Psychosocial Development to create an entire post, but I'd like y'all to continue reading CTM, so I'm not going to bore you with that and instead will share a few random thoughts.

• Caught a snippet of that TLC show "19 Kids and Counting" which I hate anyway because all those kids running around pisses me off and makes me want a drink and I heard Michelle Duggar say something along the lines of "Jim Bob likes a robust breakfast before we go to the hospital to have a baby". Really, Jim Bob? Before you can get your wife to the hospital to push out yet another human being, you need some breakfast first? Yeah, I'm thinking if that were me, there'd be two people needing medical attention once we made it to the hospital: I'd need help passing a human, he'd need someone to stitch him up where the Nutri-Grain bar I hurled at him busted his head open.
• Grace got me sucked into the Miss America Pageant. There wasn't near enough big hair for me. It made me a little sad. It also made me sad that Miss Kentucky didn't win. She was the cutest little thing ever and she can fit in a suitcase. Seriously. She demonstrated it in the pre-pageant show. People just don't seem to get how handy that can be.
• Apparently, I'm a little OCD and can't concentrate on homework if there are any dirty dishes in the sink. I've also noticed I tell myself things like, "If you finish this chapter, you can vacuum the floor." I reward myself for doing homework by doing housework? That's a little insane.
• I've been trying really hard lately to accept that I can't control everything that happens in the world. That's harder than you'd think. Or maybe I just have control issues. I feel slightly more calm, though. Grace even called me nice. She never calls me nice.
• I heard a traffic report that said part of the road on one of our major highways buckled this morning. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good. Can you imagine being the person driving on that particular part of the highway as it started buckling? Because I'm so good in a crisis situation, I'd probably start screaming "EARTHQUAKE!!!" and jump out of the moving car, which would, of course, lead to even bigger issues.
• Grace might sing this song for her spring choir concert this year:

• I think she'll rock it. I just hope it doesn't give her any ideas because, I've said it before and I'll say it again, there is just something about a man in big ole white pick-up truck that makes me get all weak in the knees. This could be hereditary. I would probably cut her if she ran off with some boy and left the suds in the bucket and the clothes hanging out on the line. Partly because she ran off with a boy. Partly because she didn't finish the laundry.

Alright, y'all, off to learn about Piaget's Theory of Cognitive Development since I'm not working-AGAIN. If some teachers could get sick or have to go to some training or something, that would be awesome cause mama's got bills to pay.

o

All Work and No Play

Because One Kid Can't Play Well With Others...

I'm up to my eyeballs in homework, so this is just a quick post to let you know I've had to turn on comment moderation. Apparently, someone doesn't like me very much and comes back day-after-day (and judging from the many visits recorded on my stat counter, lots of time per day) looking for opportunities to be ugly. That's all well and good, but doing it anonymously is cowardly and I'm not going to give a coward a voice on this blog. Now, if you want to be ugly and leave your name and link to your blog if you have one, more power to you, but if you don't have guts enough to tell me who you are, I'm not giving you a platform to spew your trash. It's just that simple.

Sorry for the censorship, y'all, because I do love to just let people be free to post and I love when I get notification that comments have been left on CTM, but you now what they say about one bad apple.

Now, back to the grind... o

Because One Kid Can't Play Well With Others...

I Met a Super Awesome Man Last Night

No, not in a romantic way. It's me. I'm mean. And totally not on the market. Not cause I'm taken. But because I'm a mean old witch.

Last night the kids and I went on a rare and much needed date night with the kids. With funds being what they are right now, it was a stretch, but the kids and I also needed that special night of nothing but fun and family. No worries about money or housework or homework or anything. Just us, supper out and "The Tooth Fairy". It was awesome. That is, until we actually went to watch the movie.

Since it was a Monday night and responsible parents don't take their kids to the movies on school nights, the kids and I had the theater to ourselves. About 20 minutes before the movie started this man walked in-totally alone. This was a grown man, maybe mid-20's, early 30's. I sat there waiting for someone else to walk in and join him-a date, some kids, something. No one. Nothing. My I-Watch-Too-Much-Law-and-Order radar started going off and I started imagining all kinds of stuff, mostly him waiting until the lights went down and movie got loud and then attacking us and the movie theater workers finding our mutilated bodies on the sticky among the spilled popcorn kernels and candy wrappers. Yes, I am going to stop watching anything that promos itself with the words "ripped from the headlines", thankyouverymuch.

Finally, about five minutes before the movie started and the guy was still sitting in "The Tooth Fairy" alone, my mommy red flag turned crimson and I told the kids to leave our stuff and come with me to the restroom. We weren't really going to the bathroom even though I really needed to piss like a Russian racehorse. Nope, I was going to find a worker to them this about this guy and that I was CREEPED THE HELL OUT. I mean, if it was a movie with cool animation or special computer effects, I'd probably chalk it up to him being a techie guy that was just into that kind of stuff. But come on, y'all, "The Tooth Fairy"? It's Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson (a.k.a. My Future Lova) and Julie Andrews. Something wasn't kosher about all that. Not only did I find a worker, but I was lucky enough to find the manager.

God bless the manager for having to deal with me since I explained the situation like this: "So, my kids and I are here alone to see "The Tooth Fairy" and there is this grown man just sitting in there alone. I know you can't kick someone out of a movie just because they're creeping someone out, but he's totally creeping me out and if my kids and I don't come out after the movie, it's because he murdered us." The manager checked the computer and guess what, y'all? We were the only three people that bought a ticket for the movie that night. So, not only did this guy sneak in, but he snuck into a kids' movie. Yeah, to say I turned even more pale than I already am and started shaking would not even begin to describe what happened in that moment. I tried to stay calm for the kids, but I think they caught on something was wrong when I hollered, "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?"

Right here, I would like to give kudos to the manager on duty last night at the Cinemark 14 in Denton. I didn't catch his name, but I plan to find out so I can e-mail the Cinemark Powers-That-Be and I tell them what a gem they have in this particular man. He told the kids and I to go sit back down so it wouldn't seem obvious that we ratted him out and that he and an usher would come in and do a "ticket check". We went back in, right as the movie started and I held my phone in my hand, ready to call 911 just in case. A few minutes later the manager came in. I'm not sure what happened with the creepy guy because I tried not to turn around, but it took a while for the manager to get him out. There wasn't any yelling-or any that I could hear over the movie anyway, but I could tell he wasn't pleased when he was asked to leave. Then the manager came and asked to see our ticket. As I searched through my huge purse and pulled out every receipt I've ever had (I included that part for you, Rosa, because I know how much that makes you insane) but no ticket stub he whispered, "I know you bought a ticket. I just wanted to make sure he really left." How awesome is that?

A few more people came in a shortly after the movie started-none of them creepy and the rest of the movie went off without incident. When we came out, the manager was there waiting on us and walked us out of the building and watched while we got in our car. He said he didn't know what the deal was with that guy, but something wasn't right and he wanted to make sure he wasn't lurking in the parking lot. I totally heart this man!! He didn't have to do any of that or possibly put himself in harm's way for some strange woman and her kids, but he did and was super humble and kind about it. He totally rocks!!

Look, I don't know if I overreacted about the guy in the theater or not (and I swear to God, if anyone comments that they know the creepy guy in the theater and I don't even know him and I need to grow up, I'm going to have a moment...) but when it comes to my kids, I'm not taking any chances. We are super lucky this manager was on duty and that he was willing to help us out and not just shrug his shoulders and say there was nothing he could do like I was scared was going to happen. We would've left if that had been the case because I was that scared.

I generally don't have much faith in human-kind, but this guy? Rocked the house!!!!

P.S. Two other awesome guys came to my rescue last night, too. We had a flat on the way home and my ex-hubby and the roadside assistance guy are both my heroes, too!!

P.P.S. Sorry for no pic and type-os. Gotta run and buy new tires. I'll proofread it later! o

I Met a Super Awesome Man Last Night

So. Uncomfortable.

Friday was the big interview at the small town paper. I've spent the past couple of days trying to digest what happened there because it wasn't a total bust but it was, hands down, one of the most uncomfortable job interviews I've ever suffered through. Okay, fine, I wasn't just digesting it. I was also taking the rare weekend without any kids to try to do some of my mounds of homework and I'm still sick. I felt better for a few days, but woke up feeling like total ass yesterday and still feel quite assy today. But, I'm not drugged right now because I still have more homework to do, so I figured I should blog since all 152 of y'all are dying to know what happened.

I already had a bad feeling about this interview when I realized that, along with lots of my clothes and shoes, three of my writing samples also didn't make it to the new pad and I couldn't print what I had saved because my printer won't work with this computer. I knew the clothes and shoes wouldn't make it because they were "gifts" and that's how things work with this particular giver of gifts, but the writing samples are my work. There's no reason to keep them except to hurt me. But whatever. That's not the point. I already had a bad feeling, but when I walked into the newspaper office and the two ladies there a) looked me and my business suit up and down and not in a flattering way and b) looked totally shocked I was there, it grew by about 10,000 times. I was like, "Uh, I have an interview with The Publisher at 2:00" and they were like, "Uh...Uh.., he'll be back in a minute" Looked the suit up and down again and then "We're really casual here." Really? It's a job interview. Did they expect me to wear jeans?

Then, the two women spent a couple of minutes figuring out "what to do" with me and the one, the other reporter, decided to tell me a little about the job. Okay, have you ever worked with that woman (and it's always a woman) that has worked in a place so long that she runs the office and my Lord, she's a hard worker and they'd never be able to make it without her and she sure does a lot of work, even beyond what she's been asked to and no one, no one could ever fill her shoes? And this is her description of herself and not that of anyone else because she doesn't let them talk since she knows what's best for everyone and she appreciates that they want to hire someone to help her, but the job really is thankless and she can't imagine why anyone would want to work there because, really, she's got it under control? Yeah, that was the other reporter. OMG, by the time the publisher got there, she had basically told me you have to be married to the job, the hours are long, it's hard to get info from people, it's work-work-work and Fridays are relaxed days for everyone. Well, everyone except her, of course. She never gets a relaxed day because she works so much harder than everyone else. I was thinking, "I've worked with this woman before. I've worked with her before-lots of times-and I always wanted to slit her tires.I called the last lady like her Mimi from the Drew Carey Show and used to flip her the bird when I caught her watching me out her office window."

When I finally sat down with the publisher, she kept going and going and he started looking more and more stressed and kept pulling at the skin on his face. I finally got aggravated enough that I wanted to ask them if they really wanted someone to take the job because they way he looked and she rambled, it didn't much seem like it. Then I said something about Grace and she did that the whole, "Oh, you have children? You do know this job requires a lot of hours, and they aren't regular office hours. I mean, I can stay in the evenings if I have to. I volunteer to all the time, but this is a lot of hours." thing. I knew she was dying to ask me if I was married and if my husband would help. So, I just started throwing things out about having a great support system and having all the help I need, all the while keeping my left hand just out of her eye shot so she couldn't see if I was wearing a ring. It was driving her nuts, and I knew if I had to work with her everyday, it would drive me nuts and I pretty much gave up at that point and started throwing out whatever came to my mind. The following is a re-enactment of a few of our interactions:

Martyr Reporter Lady: We have to write everything. Wedding announcements, birth announcements and obituaries.
Me: I love a good obituary. (Okay, I didn't actually mean for that to fly out of my mouth. It just did.)

MRL: This is a really long drive for you. If you have to cover a City Council meeting that's a 7:00, it won't make sense for you to drive home and all the way back out here. You do have children.
Me: Yep, sure do. I used to drive to Irving everyday, so distance isn't really an issue and my children are fine. Thanks for your concern.

MRL: You can't come in here with a big city attitude and expect to get any information from these people (I guess because I was wearing a suit to a job interview I'm "big city").
Me: I've got small town handled, okay? I live in a town so small it doesn't have a red light. My entire family on both sides are small town people and I've spent as much time living in small towns as I have big ones. I have no problems doing any job I'm hired to do and I know how to handle people. Thanks for being so concerned, though.
The Publisher: I don't think she'd have any problem, Martyr Reporter Lady.

MRL: The Publisher is married and expecting another baby.
Me: Good for them.

And it went on-and-on like this, until the very end when, come to find out, I wouldn't be working with her. I'd be replacing her. WHAT THE HELL? If I was replacing her, why was she peeing all over everything, including the Boss' marriage? I blurted out, "She's leaving? Because the way she was acting, I thought I'd be working with her." He kind of smiled. She didn't.

After he told me the salary, he told me if I didn't want the job, I could work with them on a freelance basis. I told him I needed the weekend to think it over. He seems super nice and the newspaper is a great little paper considering it's a small town weekly. But, I worry that I won't be able to give the paper and school the time they both deserve and I would more than likely leave them as soon as I got hired full-time with a school district, which wouldn't be fair to anyone. Plus, I can make more subbing for a few school districts and as a first year teacher than I can make there. I need money since I have kids and they like stuff like food, clothing and shelter.

I think I'll take him up on the freelance thing. It offers a couple of cool benefits, including doing a column for them which would be way awesome and doing some marketing consulting stuff. I can help them out, still do what I love and give school and my kids the time they all deserve. Sounds like a win-win to me.

I guess that is unless he somehow ends up on this blog and gets pissed because I think it would benefit him to leave her out of interviews because she's a downer. Then I guess I'll be back to square one.

But he totally should if he ever wants to hire anyone.

Seriously.

PS: My aunt came through surgery with flying colors and the tumor was benign. YAY!! Thanks for all the good wishes for her! Guess they worked.

PPS: Sorry for no pic today. I have to get started on the rest of my homework before the kids get back because once they walk in the door, I can kiss any chance of concentrating on anything good-bye because it'll be "Mama, Mama, Mama..." until bed time, when I will again take the Benadryl/Nyquil cocktail cause it's the only way I can sleep and breathe. o

So. Uncomfortable.