Hey y’all—I’ve moved over to a new host and all that jazz! My site is still www.justatitch.com; however, you’ll need to alter your feed. A word of warning: PLEASE USE THE BUTTON. If you try and add me to Google Reader, it’s still not quite fixed. But, if you click on the big orange button and add me that way? You’re golden.
Hope you like the new look as much as I do!
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So, over the next few days, I’m going to be re-designing my blog. It’s been fun being over here at WordPress.com, but I think I’m ready for a more “grown-up” look. After seeing Moose’s adorable new design and having her give me a bit of a G-chat pep talk, I think I’m ready!
If you happen to stop by in the next few days and find me not “here” do not fret—I shall return, and hopefully, will look a lot prettier, too!
Finally, if you here screaming, crying, see curly hair being torn out or gnashing of teeth, it’s me. Sorry. Blog redesigns are a huge pain in the butt!
I’ll be posting Andrew and I’s Fun Friday over at Style Lush tomorrow, but that’s probably about it until I get everything else set up…
Catch ya on the flip side!
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This morning, as I drove to work, I was thinking about my mile-long to-do list and how grades need to be finished and I have a million holiday projects to start on and I was freaking out, because I knew there was something that I had forgotten. Something important. A phone call? A birthday? A work project or conference?
It wasn’t until I was G-chatting with KK when it struck me that yesterday was a VERY SPECIAL DAY that I forgot to acknowledge on this blog, and at all.
Yesterday marked 12 years since I have last vomited.
I know I’ve joked from time to time about my vomit phobia, but it’s real, y’all. Like, legit. If I so much as feel the urge coming on, I LOSE MY MIND, and engage in my steps of prevention, which are as follows:
STAGE ONE (early nausea): Immediately begin rememdies of Diet Coke and gum, to settle the stomach. DON’T PLAY. Most nausea can be warded off completely if you stay ahead of it. This is key.
STAGE TWO (feeling really, really queasy): Continue with Diet Coke and gum and/or Altoids. Find source of cold water, a cold pack, etc. and apply it to inside of wrists, face, and most importantly, BACK OF THE NECK. You want to lower your body temperature, STAT. Again, TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE. I also begin a few rounds of positive thoughts here. My mantras: “I am feeling FINE!” and “This too shall pass, you are stronger than the nausea!”
STAGE THREE (it’s real bad, yo): GET THEE INTO A COLD BATH. Don’t mess around. Run the cold water. Get your whole head under that faucet, making sure cold water is on the back of your neck. Expert tip: DO NOT DO THIS IN A FULL BATHTUB. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, will push you closer to the brink of barf than inhaling the water. Trust me on this one. Also? Begin singing, thinking even more positively and generally thinking about anything BUT how ill you feel. And wait it out.
This method works for me, guys. Swearsies. And it’s a time tested method, which had withstood some nasty food, bad medications and wayyyy too much alcohol.
Is it weird that I honor my No Vomit Anniversary each year? Probably. Do I care? NOT AT ALL. I plan to make this a life-long thing. Please do not scare me with pregnancy tales and the like: I AM STRONGER THAN THE NAUSEA.
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Things that are currently weirding me out:
What seems weird to you this week?
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Last night, as we were sitting on the couch, Andrew peered over my shoulder to see what I was looking at. This brings me to my first tangent: IS THERE ANYTHING MORE ANNOYING THAN PEOPLE READING OVER YOUR SHOULDER? Judging by my use of caps, I’m going to say not, but seriously?! It’s a constant battle.
Anyways, I happened to be looking at a list of the people I follow on Twitter, which prompted the following exchange:
ANDREW: “You follow Taylor Swift?!”
ME: “SHUT UP!”
ANDREW: “It’s okay, millions of LITTLE GIRLS follow Taylor Swift!”
This, my friends, brings me to something that is perhaps a bit troubling: my weird, adolescent-esque hobbies and musical interests. I like to think I’m semi-hip when it comes to music. I can name-drop a few indie bands, I genuinely enjoy music and I certainly try and expand beyond the Top 40 stations. BUT. I have to admit that there’s more Miley Cyrus on my playlist than I care to admit, and that I love Taylor Swift. I think that Taylor is more in touch with her feelings than many adults are. Plus, I’ve seen her interviewed and she seems extraordinarily eloquent for 19. Most importantly? Her songs sound good being belted out in my car.
Sadly, Taylor Swift is not my only adolescent-ish interest. There is my really embarrassing, slightly creepy love for new teen it-boy Justin Bieber‘s adorable little teen love songs. I realize that the Twilight phenomenon has swept the nation, nay, THE WORLD, but let’s be real: it’s a little embarrassing to be containing your excitement over “New Moon” along with the students you teach. I watch America’s Best Dance Crew. I really, really, really enjoy “your mom” jokes and other phrases that only 14-year-old boys think are funny.
Sometimes, like when your boyfriend catches you following along to Taylor Swift’s tweets, or you hotly contest Jacob vs. Edward, being into such youthful things can be embarrassing, but truth be told, I like it. It keeps me young and fresh and fun. A little light-heartedness never killed anyone.
I can’t be the only one, right?! What “childish” musicians, books, shows are you still into?
*Please let the record show that I do draw the line at items of clothing displaying Disney, Looney Toons and other cartoon characters. That’s not fun—that’s just plain weird. Sorry to offend my Disney-wearing readers. I still love you. Just not your Mickey Mouse sweatshirt.
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Today has basically sucked, for a variety of reasons, several that are totally my fault. Sure, I could spend my time thinking of ways to make it better, and consoling myself with the knowledge that other people have it worse, but instead, I’ve been fantasizing about things I’d rather be doing than teaching and coaching Academic Pentathlon:
Sigh. Instead, I’ll sit here in Room 45 for another few hours.
Where do you want to be today?
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CHRISTMAS!
I was raised in a family where Christmas was a big deal. The weekend after Thanksgiving was reserved for Christmas Preparation: getting a tree, decorating the entire house inside and out so that it resembled a Winter Wonderland. When both my brother and I lived at home, and were around most nights, we’d do Christmas devotions, a little story and prayer about the season. My mom bought us Advent Calendars with little chocolates behind the doors, and every night, we’d guess the shape that lived behind each door. Our family shared so many special nights laughing together and hanging out together—the Christmas season’s memories are some of the fondest memories of my childhood.
The older I get, the more excited I get each Christmas season. I love just about everything about the holidays: the bright lights, the colors, the joy and pleasant feelings that fill the air. It makes me happy to think about what to get my family, the fun times we’ll share, the treats and fun and the chilly nights I’ll spend with some of my favorite people. I live near (basically, in) my hometown, so friends from all over come home. Truth be told, I’ve had Christmas music on in my car for the past 2 weeks.
There are many little holiday traditions I’ve started, in addition to those that my family still celebrates. Every year, after I’ve finished my Christmas shopping, I like to go to Nordstrom, get a Mocha Blanca and listen to the piano player and watch people shop. I try and see the Nutcracker if possible. I love to get coffee and drive around looking at the Christmas lights nearby. I play Secret Santa with people at work, and spend mornings bundled up making Christmas cards.
This year, I’m looking forward to some new Christmas traditions. I FINALLY live in a place where it’s my own and I can put up a tree. I am going to attempt stockings for me and Andrew. And, perhaps most excitingly, Andrew and I will be spending a day in San Francisco. We have some plans in the city on a Friday, and are staying overnight to enjoy the holiday decorations in Union Square and beyond. I literally can’t wait. I have a few other hopes and dreams up my sleeve, including some cookie recipes and other treats.
As cliche as it may be, to me, the holidays just feel different. Sure, there is Black Friday insanity, grumpy people, insane parking, but for the most part, I feel like the world is a lot nicer. And I try to make the most of it.
So, your turn…I’m curious: what are YOUR holiday traditions? Anything I should add to mine?
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Last week, a student stated that “school shouldn’t be mandatory because it sucks.” While I know that at 13, many of them think that anything NOT meeting their exact specifications at any exact moment “sucks” this particular comment INFURIATES ME. So, I was totally calm and let it roll off my back started in on a rant that would hopefully INFLUENCE THE CHILDREN, and make them school lovers.
At the end of said rant, I mentioned that in other countries, students and their parents have to pay for them to recieve educations, even as young as kindergarten. I said, “Some students would give their left arm to be educated for free, that’s how much they want to be in school!”
I felt very smug until a student raised her hand and said, “What if they’re right handed?”
I was confused.
“You know, if they’re right handed? Wouldn’t they give their RIGHT hand, since that’s like, a bigger sacrifice?”
I’m really glad they’re getting THE BIG PICTURE of what I’m teaching.
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Sometimes, when I clean our apartment, I get very indignant, and think (and mutter) things like, “UGH! This takes FOREVER!” and occasionally look up maid prices while huffing and puffing around. Really? It’s not that bad. At one time, it took me 3-5 hours to clean my apartment.
No, you didn’t read that incorrectly. 3-5 hours for a fairly small apartment.
Let me just tell you about my old living situation. I lived with another girl in her 20’s, who for the sake of the blog, I’ll nickname “Sara” who I found on Craigslist. What I didn’t pick up on was the cautionary tone of her ad, which read something along the lines of, “If you can’t handle someone who leaves their shoes in the living room and their keys on the coffee table, we probably shouldn’t live together.” I thought I could handle it, and moved in.
Let the crazy games begin!
First, the thing that spurned this blog: THE MESSINESS. Yes, there were shoes and keys, but there were also dishes with month-old food in them molding over. There were piles of clothes, and her thousands of books. And her EVERYTHING, all kept in our living room. At first, I would dutifully clean up after her—pile all of her crap in one area and really scrub down the house. It would take hours, and tons of garbage bags and really wreaked havoc on my gag reflex. One time, I out and out refused to do her dishes for a month. I guess she finally caught on, because I brought a friend home to watch a movie in my room, and when he and I walked by my bathroom, there was Sara: DOING ALL HER DISHES IN THE BATHTUB. There were soooo many, and we had no dishwasher, so she figured filling up our tub with hot water and dishsoap and carting alllll her dishes into the bathroom was her best bet.
Suffice it to say, I didn’t eat at home for awhile.
Secondly, the girl was out and out nutty sometimes. And RUDE. After the great Bathtub Dish Washing Incident, our shower was clogged. She refused to get it fixed, claiming that my hair was to blame. Um, what!? She really didn’t see the link between the two, and refused to pay. I offered to halve it with her, and she refused. Thankfully, I was basically living with Andrew at that point, and could just shower there. Let me just tell you how much I LOVED paying rent for a place when the shower was unusable. She, by the way, continued using OUR CLOGGED SHOWER, as if there was no problem.
My favorite story, though, was how she accused Andrew of downloading porn on her computer THAT HE NEVER TOUCHED. Apparently, she contracted some virus that populated her computer with ads for golf, hair loss and erectile dysfunction. She called me—while I was vacationing in Napa with girlfriends, no less—to accuse my boyfriend of downloading porn on a computer he didn’t know existed because those ads were clearly things “a guy like him would be into.” Sara told everyone she knew—her parents, co-workers and friends—that her roommate’s boyfriend had an addiction. She also threatened to evict me. Until she took her computer to the Geek Squad, and they informed her that she’d downloaded a bad copy of a video or some such. WHOOPSIE.
When I finally told her I was moving out to move in with Andrew, the snide comments began. First was, “It’s so funny how life turns out—just LOOKING at you and I, you’d never guess that YOU would be the one moving out with a boyfriend. I thought it’d be me!” Thank you for essentially saying you think I’m not hot enough for a boyfriend. Next came her asking me if I’d seen a tall, thin guy hanging out in front of our apartment. When I said that yes, I’d seen him, she said, “He’s my new roomie! The total opposite of you—he’s tall and skinny, you’re short and…dynamic!”
Needless to say, moving out wasn’t the hardest decision I’ve ever made.
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