So I packed up a large rolling suitcase (that I had just scarcely un-packed from the previous weekend) and headed to San Antonio this past weekend.  Three colleagues from AHS and several others from around the district went to the ACTFL (American Council of Teachers of Foreign Languages) convention.  Let me just say, "NERD CITY."  Whoa.  We are an extreme group-- either very cool and fun or... whatever the opposite of that is.  I would like to say that I am one of the fun ones, but I have severe doubts when I take along a box full of papers to grade and go to bed at 8:00 on Friday night.  Both of those things are true, by the way.

Nevertheless, I had a blast.  Really!  I made fun of several people... oh my, the people-watching is phenomenal at one of those things.  Here is a sample conversation that actually occurred in an elevator:

(Laura, Delyte and I enter the elevator to go down to the lobby.  A gentleman is standing silently and politely in the elevator as we enter.)

Delyte:  Did you guys get one of those hot pink "first timer" badges?

Laura: No... I don't (think so).

Brooke: (cutting across Laura) FIRST TIMER BADGES???  They have those??? HOW NERDY IS THAT?!?!?!?!?!  (Elevator doors open and man walks off...)  WHO would wear one of those???

Delyte:  That guy...

(End scene.)

Actually, my life is one big moment like that after another.  I have no shame.

Luckily we only have one more day this week.  Perhaps I can minimize the damage I do to the precious young souls I am in charge of...

What's that line from?  Anyone?  Actually I don't remember the name of the movie, but it was a ridiculous Nicolas Cage/ Meg Ryan movie that came out while I was in college... City of Angels!  That's it!  The memory is the first thing to go...

They say that the 30's are the new 20's... which means I'm back to where I started 10 years ago.  Not sure how I feel about the new me just yet.  I wanted to run screaming from my 20's (that was some rough stuff) but not necessarily into the arms of my 30's.  That's kind of like sliding down a razorblade into a pool of saltwater.  But no matter how uncomfortable this whole transition may be, I did have the best time this past weekend.

Austin is just a cool place to be.  Love it.  What a beautiful place to have a wedding!  Toni and I drove down Friday morning and made it in time to meet Lauren and her friend Megan for Chipotle and pedicures.  Somehow I ended up drying by myself and got cornered by this senile old lady with a Prada bag.  She kept clutching it to her chest saying, "Well, you're OK, but these other Austin people look suspicious..."  Whatever, lady.  She was full of gems such as, "Be good to yourself or nobody else will," "This little girl (35-40 year old pedicurist) has to work 7 days a week... well, at least they're a hard-working people [Asians, apparently]," and "What do you do?  Oh... there's no money in that.  You should be a doctor, like all of my children."  I guess even though I'm the only one who'll ever be good to me and I don't make any money, at least I don't work like a dog... wait... I hope her kids are proctologists.

Anyway, the rehearsal and wedding were a lot of fun.  I always knew Lauren's wedding would be a party.  A par-tay, even. There were skits and songs and dances.  I felt like an understudy who'd just been called in last minute for the big show!  I mean, we were 5-6-7-8ing all Friday night.  It was a great thing to be a part of. 

AND, I'd be remiss if I didn't give props to the bride.  (She was totally in control, but no bridezilla.)  Lauren and I became friends 11 years before, to the day of, her wedding.  We were acquaintences at Baylor who worked together at the gym.  Lauren always had a soft spot for birthdays and somehow found out when mine was.  It was a Sunday night and I was alone, friendless and feeling sorry for myself.  I don't remember how she found me (we weren't roommates or even friends at the time) but she did and insisted that she take me out to dinner.  I had a birthday dinner at Pancho's in Waco that year, and I made one of the best friends I will ever have.  And at HER wedding reception she stopped, called me up to the front of the room in front of all of her family and friends, gave me a cookie cake and a present and had everyone sing happy birthday to me.  No one else would do that.  Nobody.  Just Lauren.  I'm crying right now-- that's how much that meant to me.  

Take THAT, Prada bag-having lady!  See, there are people who are good to me... better to me than I am to myself, I would say.

Do you ever say anything you just can't take back?  And trying to fix it only digs the hole deeper?  I do this daily, if not multiple times per day.  It's part of my charm, I think.   

For example, yesterday, I asked a kid if his jacket was a Transformers jacket.  He said, "Yeah.  Pretty rad, huh?"  So instead of saying "yes," I said, "Yeah... rad.  My boyfriend would love it.  He's a HUGE nerd... not that you are... it just that... well...um... he's nearly 40!  He shouldn't like your jacket! Transformers are toys!  Not that you're a kid!"  ...shoot me now!

And SOMETIMES you say something and the person responds with something so quick-witted and hilarious that you wish you were that brilliant... except it's NOT made up... NOR funny?  For example, this morning as I was running around trying to make copies before the bell a student approached.  Not just any student, mind you.  But a teeny, tiny little eighth grade darling who always wears a little pony tail with a bow.  I could feel my internal "excuse alarm" going off, so I said, "Walk with me.  I've got to run down the hall" knowing full well she was about to tell me why she didn't have her project.  Well, the legs on her little 4'10" body couldn't keep up with my 5'8" in-a-hurry stride, and I noticed she was limping.  So I said, "Hey-- you OK?!?  You're limping pretty badly!  What happened???"  And she said...

..."Oh... well, one of my legs is longer than the other..."

Internal monologue: I just called out a crippled child in a crowded high school hallway, didn't I? 

"Really?  I didn't know that about you.  I learned something new.  Now why don't you have your project???"

Internal monologue: I hope she falls for the ol' change the subject bit...

Yikes.

Whoa-- flashing pop-up!  Wait a minute while I get some construction paper and a piece of tape... Just don't have the strength to log out and log back in--again--, so I'm going to block it physically. 

Whew.

It's like someone hovering half an inch from your face and saying, "I'm not touching you!!!!!"  How can you be expected to blog with that thing in your face?  Geez.

OK, now that that's taken care of...   I can't remember what I was going to blog.  I have a very funny friend who used to say, "If I learn one more thing, I'm going to forget how to drive."  As if the practical knowledge would just be shoved out of her head at some point.  I can see that there's probably truth to that...

Ooh.  I just wrote a really negative paragraph.  Shudder.  Good thing I erased it.

That's all I've got. 

Can I get a "hallelujah!" if you're glad it's Friday?...

I'm requesting a favor.  If you're reading this, I 1) probably know you pretty well (you're probably one of 10 people or so) and 2) trust your opinion.  I need help thinking of a topic for a workshop I am supposed to teach.  Let me give you the break-down:

There is a technique that is used in a certain program at many schools across the nation (AVID, for those who know or care) that gets kids to learn to be critical thinkers and voice their opinion.  This technique is called socratic seminar.  Now, I missed most of this summer training due to a conflict, but I have agreed to teach this workshop (because I can't say no) without any extensive notes or examples of how it's done... oops.  I am asking around and studying up, so I should be OK.  But here's the problem-- I need a topic that is fairly common knowledge amongst adults and interesting to discuss in a group setting. 

The one example that has been given to me was a group of high school kids who analyzed the lyrics of a Bob Dylan song.  The teachers in the workshop will come from all backgrounds.  I feel like I spend so much time trying to put on a dog and pony show for a room full of teenagers every day that I am more in-tune with their likes and needs than with a group of people my age.  What would be interesting to you?

Ginger, I'm thinking maybe something like a Friday night salon topic might be in order???

I feel like I will always be at the "kiddie table" no matter how old I get.  I mean, I'm almost 30, and I literally DO sit at the kiddie table during holiday meals at my Grandma's house.  We've got some tenured folks taking up the real seats... Anyway, I have been trying to act more my age lately.  I am steadily paying off my debts, I am working through an identity theft situation without the help of my parents (thank you), I bought my first pair of Naturalizers this year; not to mention I will actually BE 30 YEARS OLD in a month.  Sheesh!  Just because I am not married with a couple of pups does not make me any less of an adult, right???  RIGHT??? (No, Brooke, it's because you have the attention span and mental agility of a 15 year-old boy.)

So, what really irks me is when I spend hours leaving a masterfully created lesson for a substitute teacher and then come in early (on the day off)to put the finishing touches on the lesson when the sub enters the room and asks (while I'm writing on the chalkboard...mid-sentence), "Are you the teacher?  I thought you were a student." 

YOU KNOW WHAT, LADY?  YOU HAVE SUBBED FOR ME ON AND OFF FOR THE LAST SEVEN, THAT'S RIGHT, SEVEN, YEARS!  YOU SAY THE SAME THING EVERY TIME!!  AND DON'T SAY IT'S A COMPLIMENT B/C I KNOW I DON'T LOOK 14.  HELL, I DON'T EVEN LOOK CLOSE TO 18.  I WOULD HAVE TO BE THE WORLD'S OLDEST HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT, BARRING THOSE FAR-FETCHED EXAMPLES OF 80 YEAR OLDS WHO COME BACK TO GET THEIR DIPLOMA AND EVERYONE GIVES THEM A STANDING OVATION AND MAKES THEM THE SPEAKER AT GRADUATION... YEAH.  BARRING THAT.

Anyway, that happened this morning.  I feel better now.  Thanks.

When I was a kid I occasionally got monster headaches, and as I grew into adulthood I would look back and imagine that those were probably migraines.  But I don't really know.  I have rarely had a headache that a nap, cold compress or a couple of advil couldn't fix since... until this week.  I have had a headache since Wednesday.  And, mind you, it's not the kind that leaves a person curled-up in the fetal position vomiting, but it has been nagging, ever-present, causing my brow to furrow (which is not my most attractive look) and making me replay that Arnold Schwartzanegar (sp?) line, "It's not a toomah," over and over in my mind.  Don't worry-- I'm sure I'll survive.

About half-way through class today, one of my hispanic students looked up at me with his head tilted and eyes squinted as if he were just seeing me properly for the first time.  A veil had been lifted from his eyes...

...and he said, "Miss?..."

"Yes?"

"Are you hispanic?"

"No, Julian.  I'm not.  I'm white."

"Well... take away the blonde hair...  Yes. You could be hispanic.  You've got what it takes."

"Gracias."

"De nada."

I never found out exactly "what it takes" but I have a feeling I should just accept it and move on.

At the risk of sounding incredibly Kathy Griffin-like, I love m' gays! 

I worked a Saturday afternoon shift at GAP this past weekend.  One of my favorite boys came up (out of the blue... he was working in the baby department and I was in the adult section) and just blurted out, "You look really good.  I mean it.  You're all Cosmo these days.  Last year, you just looked like sh** all the time.  I mean that too.  But, good for you-- you're fantastic."  And then he disappeared as fast as he had appeared.

I think I was just standing there, scratching my head wondering if I had just received a compliment or a put-down for about 5 minutes.  Never worked it out.  Oh well-- we'll call it a compliment!  Love ya!  Mean it!

After I graduated from college I moved to Denver for approximately one year at the suggestion of my very cool cousin, Jeff.  Jeffie and his wife Monica let me move in and live with them for about 6 months until eventually I found a roommate and an apartment.  Monica owned a lending business and I worked as a loan officer for her and worked with some really neat small town banks.  I drove my car through mountain passes, over rocky streams to obtain signatures on documents.  Charming.  But I digress.  Anyway, I knew that I had student loan debts coming due and that I would need additional income.  Plus I needed friends.  So about a week after I moved to Denver I began waiting tables at Chili's.  I quickly made some friends that are so dear to me still, to this day, that I will always treasure that year of "walkabout" time. 

One night, after I had been working at the restaurant for a while, I was feeling frustrated and stressed.  I remember being in such a hurry and while I was back in the kitchen I just dropped a huge bowl of... chili?  I don't remember.  Not important.  My darling friend Jaci came to my aid.  We cleaned up the mess, got the new food and had it out pronto.  And as we were cleaning, Jaci looked at me and said, "Man, I'm glad you did that.  I've never seen you drop anything.  It makes you a lot more real." 

For some reason, that stuck with me.  I mean, we're talking 7 years later and I'm still pondering. 

I think there have been several times in my life when I've symbolically "dropped the chili" while trying my best to be perfect.  Sometimes I feel like these "real" moments open the flood gates and allow my imperfections to pour out of every orifice until I'm sitting in the dish room covered with bits of mashed potato, salad dressing, gravy and BBQ sauce.  Guess there's nothing left to do at that point except take a nice, long shower, put on a freshly laundered set of clothes and apron and try again the next shift.