I’m tired of American politics.

If someone says the words “Obama”, “Hillary” or “white, blue collar vote” to me today, I may just kill myself with a stapler.

On the upside, this has brought me a great deal of joy this morning.

Don’t date boys named Teddy. Always buy the shoes. Be the first person to say sorry. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. Whitehorse is the capital of Yukon (a white horse= unicorn, sounds like Yukon). Frying an onion is the quickest way to make your kitchen smell like dinner.Keep your hand flat when you feed a horse. Bigger sunglasses are always better. Teddy Cannon will always be trouble. Moisturize. Count to ten before you say something you regret- and if you are still mad, count higher. Wear red. Give more than you want and you will get more than you need. When you are young and in a group of three girls, one girl will almost always feel left out- include everyone. You can always have more garlic. Hot curlers fix a bad hair day. No really, Teddy will break your heart. It’s color- not dye. A rake makes cleaning a horse stall a lot easier. Be brave. Everybody has problems. Own something leopard print. Invest in a good can opener- and stocks. Find something to like in everybody. You can tell how old a horse is by their teeth. It’s hussy, not whore. You really do need to sort your laundry. You are too young to use the word “old”. Don’t say something about someone that you couldn’t say to their face. Fresh flowers are not an extravagance but an necessity. If you want something- ask for it. Adding vanilla pudding to chocolate chip cookie mix makes them taste so much better. Look people in the eye. TEDDY IS TROUBLE. Take a photo of what you want your hair to look like when you get it cut. The difference between “your” and “you’re”. Buy lemons. It’s not really giving if you expect something in return. Your shortest skirt should not be wore with your tallest shoes. And lastly, never say ” I told you so”- it’s annoying and can usually be said only when someone has made a poor choice and needs your support. Especially when the choice involves boys named Teddy.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I hate going to the gas station.

I would rather go to the dentist and get a tooth removed with a rusty screwdriver than go to the gas station. I would rather go to the gynecologist and get a pap smear with a cactus than go to the gas station. I would rather be forced watch “The View” for 12 hours straight than go to the gas station.

I hate the gas station.

Why?

Because it’s one place that I have no idea what I’m doing. This is embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t know how to pump my own gas until I was 21 years old. I still don’t know how to check my oil. Change a tire. Monitor my transmission fluid.

I’m not a lump of inarticulate and uneducated waste. When it’s a topic I want to learn about- I learn. If I’m clueless about something that I feel matters- I will read up on it until I feel confident. Anything involving cars or car maintenance has never made my list of ‘Things I feel so strongly about learning, I’m willing to put down my copy of Instyle and cruise on over to the gas station for an impromptu tutorial on car servicing”.

Tonight I was driving home and noticed my ‘check oil’ light had come on. I responsibly detoured to the nearest gas station and pulled the lever to pop my hood. My young gas attendant came over and fiddled. And fiddled. And fiddled. And he could not figure out how to lift the hood. He asked me to show him where the ‘latch’ was.

I panicked.

Do I say “I don’t know how to open it”, do I pretend that I do and hope all my stored up karma points get cashed in and I miraculously find it, or do I suddenly pretend my phone is ringing and faux talk on the phone while making apologetic glances? Thankfully I didn’t have to make a choice, another attendant came over to help them. Then they asked me, “What kind of oil do you use?”, which my brain translated into “hdfakhbvweroiuvxd asdjkfhsriuy vbxakljfhasdlh?”. It made that much sense. I hedged my bets and said ‘regular’. They could have filled my car with apple juice, I wouldn’t have known the difference.

I drove away feeling itchy. (That’s been a new stress reaction- hives. Which? Are charming. With my luck the next thing on the list will be full-on body rashes, with a touch of pink eye just for giggles). It’s not so much that I hate not knowing what’s going on at the gas station (and yes, I realize that knowing what type of oil my car gets is NOT like having to master quantum physics- this knowledge is within my grasp), it’s that I hate the idea that I’m re-enforcing the stereotype of the dumb blonde who knows nothing about cars. I might as well have twirled my hair around my finger and giggled like Betty Boop at the gas station.

Perhaps I need to get that tutorial after all. And I may swing by and pick up my gas station attendant to come with, because I think he could use it too.

Because I think I was the only one who hadn’t done it.. Tied together with a smile and kristen both tagged me for the 6 meme.

The rules are:

I often like to reflect on all the things I didn’t learn in university that I should have. Someone should have taught a class on how to work all the school office equipment (and more importantly, what to do when the photocopier breaks down for the 734th time and your kicking of the machine is getting you dirty looks). Someone should have taught a class on what to have your teacher assistants do- because finding work for them often is the hardest part of my planning. Someone should have taught a class on time management. On the trick to writing straight on a chalkboard. On what to say when you a child tells you that he loves you more than his mom.

I have turned the front of my desk into a showcase of art work. Students who do original drawings can put their work up there for all to admire. On Friday, one of my students drew me a picture of Darth Vadar and Luke Skywalker fighting. And underneath it he wrote ” I love school. Your the best. I wish you could be our teacher forever”.

Then he told me that he thought I would be a good Jedi.

I was filled with a sense of accomplishment. My kids- who I’ve been working like factory workers for Nike- are enjoying school. They are kind, thoughtful and creative. They know how to spell ‘teacher’ and ‘forever’. They are equally excited for recess as they are for math class. I’ve done what I wanted to do- what I wanted to prove to myself I could do. I’ve become a teacher who really cares about her students.

And I know it’s sappy and cliche, and this post is riddled with lines that will make me roll my eyes when I read it after I hit ‘ publish’- but it’s true. The 16 students I have make me laugh harder than Jon Stewart. They make me think deeper than Nietzsche- or a really profound Simple Plan lyric. I often find myself scribbling down the hysterical (and sometimes insane) things they say because I want to remember everything.

And I only have two months left.

Someone should have taught me how to say goodbye.

Secret Guilty Confession: You know those posts where people show off the contents of their handbag? I love those. Almost as much as I love Stephen Colletti after this weeks episode of The Hills (which had me singing like Sebastian the crab from The Little Mermaid “kiss the girl! kiss the girl!). Because I’m cool like that.

Hmm. I love how I just divulged my Colletti crush and THAT wasn’t my guilty confession.

As many of you know, I attended the wedding with the ice sculpture that required me to recite a sonnet last week. I have also recently figured out how to put my camera pictures on my computer (shhh! I know, I know it’s so EASY! And everybody DOES IT! But I was busy teaching children how to read and who Barack Obama was to learn any sooner), so naturally, I took a picture of what my bag looked like that I packed for the wedding. Because who doesn’t need a photo of that?

Prepared to be amazed:

In regards to the water bottle now being called ‘the cancer bottle’ THIS IS SERIOUS. I’m not sure what’s the dealio with the rest of the world, but the Canadian government recently put one of the chemicals that makes the plastic for many waterbottles on a danger list. All waterbottles from Naglene, Lululemon, etc got pulled off Canadian shelves and now everyone here is switching to metal water bottles. To know if your bottle was made with the harmful chemical, check the little recycling label and see if the number “7″ is in it. If it is, it’s made with BPA (aka “the bad one”).

Oh, and before I forget (hi, could this post be anymore random?) I’ve fallen back in love with Thursday night television. I even watched an entire episode of Grey’s Anatomy without wanting to give Meredith an ovary punch. Which? Is definite progress.

As for the real reason you are all here? The winner of The George Clooney contest was none other than Brookem. I know. You think I cheated but I promise- I did not. But, I’ll go all grade 2 school marm on you and say after reading all the nice things people have done for each of you, aren’t we all winners?

And if you haven’t choked on all that cheese, I wish you a wonderful Friday

I just watched Michael Clayton. And you know what I kept thinking through the whole movie? How crazy Tilda looked at the Oscars. Like that guy Powder, but in a dress. Thank goodness George in all his brooding handsomeness kept me entertained. I give it 3 swoons out of 4.

And that whole paragraph completely sums up why I’m not a movie reviewer.

Anyway.

So, I’ve seen some bloggers have “Pay It Forward” contests and although the term “Pay it forward” makes me cringe (I just think Kevin Spacey as a burn victim), I really liked the idea. So I’m stealing it, but renaming it “The Clooney Contest” because well- I just have been thinking about George a lot lately and I like how it sounds.

Is it weird that I’ve been thinking about him a lot? Or is it just weird that I had to tell you all that I’ve been thinking about him a lot? I feel awkward typing today. Sort of like that episode of The Office where Pam keeps asking if she’s talking too loud. Because she feels like she’s talking too loud.

Anyway.

All you have to do to enter is leave a comment telling me what’s the nicest thing someone has ever done for you. I’ll randomly pick a winner on Wednesday (using some technological randomizer device I’ve yet to become friends with but will soon learn how to operate) and they shall win a car from me! Okay, no car (seriously, with gas prices soaring would you really even want one?) but something wonderful just the same.

I’m going to lay down and untangle my thoughts and find an antidote to the awkward pill I’ve apparently swallowed. Hmm, maybe not so much an awkward pill but an inarticulate pill. As for you- leave your comment and cross your fingers!

Are you ready? Go!

1. I will never be that super cool girl who hears good news regarding an ex-boyfriend and responds by saying things like ‘Awesome!’ or “Good for him!”. I will be that bitter, hostile woman who thinks “him? why him? why doesn’t he just go fall in a manhole and save the world from himself?”. And then I will drink heavily. Or, if it’s a school night, I will wrestle my blankets and mentally re-organize my closet.

2. “Parent Trap” was Lindsay Lohan’s best movie performance. And anyone who disagrees should be prepared to duel. To the death.

3. Sometimes I get depressed with the idea that I would be just a little bit better at everything if I just had a little bit more time.

4. I’m teaching a unit about Pirates in June. Not because I’ve found amazing resources on pirates, but because I think pirates are fun. And my theory involving grade two education goes something like this:
1 part educational content + 2 parts FUN = unbridled joy.
And quite possibly a scavenger hunt. And one of my professional goals is to have as many scavenger hunts as possible.

5. The world can be divided into Sawyer people or Jack people. I am a Jack person. Because when I see Jack, I feel like I swallowed a rainbow. And because Jack washes his hair.

I’m alive.

There were a few times in the last five days that I thought I was going to die. A few times I wished I would just die, and once or twice where I actively went looking for things that would put me out of my misery but alas- I’m still standing.

Remember last Friday I was driving 10 hours to read Shakespeare at a wedding? Yeah. I did that. Then I danced like I was famous, got pictures taken in front of the elaborate wedding ice sculpture and won $50 in the hotel’s casino at 3am with one of my friends and two 21 year old men boys.

And then this happened:

A snowstorm. A serious, all-out, find your damn mittens again, snowstorm.

One of those painful, windy, tornadoes of cold that shakes you to your very core. The kind that leave your eyes watering and your skin chapped. Oh, and in case you were curious, here are all the shoes I packed for the trip:

Not an appropriate winter shoe in sight. Which made it tricky when trying to navigate my way through the icy ocean of a parking lot:

.
Thankfully my friend (of smiley face fame) lent me some running shoes. So for the next three days we inched our way home staying at friends homes and in hotels (avoiding the icy and scary roads when possible), I wore trusty running shoes and hid away my beautiful, impractical shoes.

The last few days have honestly been some of the longest in my life. I’ve cried a lot out of frustration. I’ve consumed a lot of gluten. I’ve seen car accidents, dealt with a poor mannered bride and may have possibly gotten strep throat from someone…

But? They’ve also been fantastic. I met an elderly woman who loved me so much she told me her son commented that I was a ‘looker’ when he came to pick her up. I’ve laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. I danced until I was sweaty. I played a lot of cards. I sang to Nsync, solved my first logic problem in my puzzle book and realized I’m not the only one who makes mistakes.

I’ve spent far too much money and the idea of ever staying in a hotel again- or even getting in a car again leaves me searching for my hidden bottle of gin, but it was worth it.

Well, I can’t say that with 100% confidence, but I know I will one day. Especially when I look at the ice sculpture photo.