Foot Tour

While Jeff had practice today, I went for a run. There is no better way to see a new city, or any place for that matter, than by going for a run. Over the summer, Jeff and I quickly walked through the Case (Western Reserve University) campus, taking in the scenery, but I was eager to explore the campus and surrounding area in more depth.

Starting out anywhere new, the first few miles fly by as you are more worried about taking it all in than actually running. I spent some time running around the Cleveland Museum of Art, keeping me busy for about four trips around the lagoon that surrounds it. Behind this museum, is the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. That building donned life-sized dinosaurs that were scattered around it's park-like setting.

From here, I ventured through a park and mistakenly ended up in a not-so desirable location. As I heard someone shout, "hey lady!" I quickly made a turn and was heading back toward the direction of comfort. I looped around the Case football field, and up toward Little Italy, a cute, little brick street neighborhood. I bet there is some good food there!

Somehow, with my amazing sense of direction, I spotted this amazing glass building. With curiosity taking me over, I had to see what it was. It was the Cleveland Botanical Gardens.

I admired the building as I ran past it, surprised to find that I had come out back  near the museums. I decided I would run around the lagoon one more time. Only this time, a portion of the path was inhabited with geese. Dirty, squabbling geese. At least 50 of them. I hoped and prayed they would move as I ran through them. My legs were too stubborn at this point, to change their route. The geese casually moved out of the way, until I got to the last little clan. It must have been the king goose trying to protect his followers, because that squabbler came after me! He chased me, running a few steps, flying a flew flaps, and then back to running. The honking noise he was making was not a friendly one! I would have done anything to be back on that questionable street with the man yelling, "hey lady!" I am proud to say that I outran that silly goose.

I finished up my 10-mile foot tour right where I started:

The Veale Athletic Center. This is where Jeff's office is. I'm glad I got to see the campus this way. It certainly is beautiful!

Jeff and I are going to go trick-or-treating with a little baby dressed as a monkey! Then, who knows? A Cleveland Cavaliers game may be in our future.

Tropical Cleveland

The flight on my baby plane was good. The only drawback was the nausea I had from the combination of turbulence, motion sickness from reading while the plane was moving, and the pounds of treats I ate at the class Halloween party. I was pretty sure the barf bag was going to come into play on this flight. Luckily, I was able to pull everything back down as it kept rising.

My seat helped as I was in seat A-1. That's right! Apparently I am high priority. While boarding I was wondering if I would be a window seat or an aisle seat. Come to find out, I was both! I was the only seat in row 1. I basically was sitting inside the cockpit.

The nauseating plane right was, of course, well worth it. My heart skipped a beat, seeing Jeff sitting there, waiting for me. So special, isn't it? To add to my pleasure, I was excited to walk out to 73 degree weather in Cleveland, an area well known for it's tropical climate. Well, I am looking forward to tomorrow; our first full day together since Jim's wedding day (October 10th). Not that I have kept track!

Blondes

The day of Halloween parties is a glorious day at school. It is certainly a day full of fun and excitement as the kids trek through a student-made haunted house, parade around for the community in their costumes, and play games and eat at our class parties. Glorious, I tell ya!

My cosume was a surprise to the kids. They all got a kick out of it as all of the 5th grade teachers participated in the same theme.

(I can't figure out how to rotate it)

A bad prom date from the farm. What do you think? I love the blonde wig! I told my students that I was thinking of dying my hair blonde. One little boy was quick to give a whiney, "Nooooooo!" He continued by saying, "you don't really look that good with the blonde hair on." Thanks for the honesty buddy! I think he's right, no blonde for me!

Either way, I am leaving for Cleveland in two hours. For now, I need to get some quality playtime in with Shea. Don't expect too much from me this weekend, but you can at least expect something!

Face Mask?

Second week of basketball. Going into it, I was bitter about the way I was welcomed last week. I was more than motivated to play well. I laced up my pink Jordan's for an extra effect! Not only were these guys going to get beat by a girl, they were going to get beat by a girl with pink sneakers!

To my amazement, people talked to me when I walked in the gym. They asked me my name. They, in layman's terms, shot the sh*t with me. My team accepted me and passed me the ball right off the bat. The first shot I took I was wide open. Before I let it fly, I thought of Jeff, and how he always tells me, "don't take shots, make shots." What is the point of taking a shot if it doesn't go in? So, with that in the back of my mind, I made my shot. And, I continued to do so throughout the night.

I felt more than welcomed and accepted. For some reason, that felt good. There only seemed to be one guy, Dan, who wasn't too keen on me being there. Dan was still laughing at the people I scored on. I mean, what kind of man gets scored on by a girl in pink sneakers? I knew I needed to get Dan. I needed to prove something to him beyond hitting a jump shot or making a layup. For me, the worst feeling in life, not just basketball, but life, is when you get your shot blocked by the defense. That's what I needed to do to Dan.

My chance came in our second game. I had just made a layup and Dan wasn't thrilled about it. In his anger, he got the ball and was driving hard to the basket. I just knew he was going to shoot it. He had the look in his eye from the moment he got the ball. I positioned my puny body, and as he approached me like a bull in a china shop, I turned, jumped, and timed my scraggly arm to swat the ball away just as it was leaving his hand. THWAPPPPP! I blocked his sexist a$$! Like I said, no worse feeling. Of course this angered him further. You don't get blocked by a girl and not hear "oooooh's" and "ahhhhhh's."

In attempt to redeem himself, the next time down the court, I knew he was taking the shot again. So I positioned myself perfectly again, and THWAPPPP! Dan got his shot blocked by me again. Hahaha. I couldn't help but smile. It didn't look like he was going to redeem himself trying to score. Where else could he do it? He decided to try to do the same to me. At this point, I had nothing to lose. I was flying high. I didn't need to shot, I didn't need to score. For all I cared, I could sit at half court, watch the rest of the game, and leave happy. But, I would never do that. There was still more fun to be had, or at least I thought.

With the ball, Dan got a little carried away. He swatted at the ball in my hands and missed, knocking me square in the nose. Uh oh. Whenever I get hit in the nose, my eyes well up. I don't necessarily cry, but my eyes well up. I worked hard to keep the water in my eyes, while the blood daintily dripped out of my nose. People were not happy about this. I reminded them that I bring myself here and get right into the game. They just don't seem to understand that I don't want to be treated differently. I mean, I don't want to get hit in my money-maker of a nose, but it's part of the game. A little blood never hurt anyone.

Plus, tomorrow I am going to Cleveland! So, who cares? Life can only get better. With Halloween parties, parades, and a flight to my husband's arms, I wouldn't care if a bear mauled my face off, as long as I am alive to participate in tomorrows festivities. In order to add to the hilarity of the bloodied nose, I am debating showing up with Richard Hamilton's signature look: the face mask. What do ya think?

Runyon

I have been in a rut! Never in my life have I been so unmotivated to exercise and so motivated to eat chocolate and  lay down in bed. I see now how people get fat. I have tried everything to break myself of these disgracing habits, but nothing has seemed to work.

Signing up for races, writing out a schedule, getting dressed for the occasion, nothing! With that, I foresee my life soon looking like this:

Actually, I may take those little chocolates and add them to the top of the cake. Does this fat lady not know anything? With this vision encrusted in my mind, a friend came to my rescue, without even knowing it. The same person that two years ago ran her first race with me and vowed she would never, ever run again, has managed to motivate the closet chunky-butt that lurks inside me.

How did she do it? She proposed this race to me: http://www.damonrunyon.org/yankeestadium

How cool is that? You run through Yankee Stadium! The idea is awesome! I want to run through the concourses, ramps, and stairs of Yankee Stadium. I would want to do that at any stadium. To make the race even more exciting, the Yankees are still alive in the World Series. I feel like that fact, whether they win or lose, will bring even more energy to a race I already expect to be over the top.

This race makes me want to do well! It makes me want to run fast! It makes me want to take in all the sights and sounds! This is exactly what I need! With all this excitement, don't get any misconceptions here. You will not see me running the concourses of Yankee Stadium in a Yankee hat. That is absurd! I am not a Yankee fan. I will most likely have a Mets t-shirt on, like I wear to any of the games I go to at Yankee Stadium, whether they are playing the Mets or not!

I will run this race and I will do well in it. Sometimes motivation comes from unlikely sources. If only Jeff could be there to watch me. I always try to run faster when he is around. Lord knows I don't want to embarrass him by being slow!

Self Check Out

I went to the grocery store during lunch. I had a few things I needed to pick up. In choosing a line to check out at, I usually head toward the shortest line. I try to avoid the self check out stations because they always seem to take longer, whether it be because the people using them have no idea, or the computer errors that cause confusion.

Today, however, I took to the self check out. Looking at my basket full of items, I decided I didn't want weird, awkward stares from the cashier. Why would the cashier do that? I had to buy something I was not 100 percent comfortable laying out there on the conveyer belt. Something I didn't want to necessarily endure stares for from the cashier and the surrounding customers as they analyzed my purchase. Don't act like I'm creepy. You've all done it before; everyone has. That item that you try to hide behind or underneath other things. Well, I had one of those today. Lo and behold, to my excitement, the self check out lane exists. In fact it more than it exists, it is now a beloved member of the grocery shopping society!

Think about it, all of those drug store items that don't make you feel your proudest when you put them up on the counter, an embarrassing food choice, a corny gift, or a cheap way out can now be concealed at the personal check out lane. Boy, I wish there was one of those around when I was in high school. Just think of the things you could have gotten away with!

I have compiled a list of things that I feel people out there will feel more comfortable buying now that the personal check out line is an option:

1. Tampons
2. Excessive amounts of anything (such as seven pounds of grapes or seven cartons of ice cream)
3. Adult diapers
4. Anti-diarrheal medication
5. Condoms
6. Wart remover
7. Pregnancy tests
8. Weight loss products
9. Any kind of infection cream
10. Lubricant

A lot of those things, I, luckily, never even have to fathom buying. The ones I do, I have always tried to push off on Jeff in the past. That's hard now, with the distance and all. But, looking at my list, I am sure there are a lot more. What would you add?

Cat Ears

Halloween is approaching quickly. In years past, I could have cared less. I was not the person who planned out extensive details about dressing up, or collaborated with friends to wear matching costumes. I enjoyed the hub-bub that surrounded Halloween, but never put much thought into it. However, two years ago, I learned that Halloween needs to be big. I work with kids. With kids, nothing compares to Halloween!

My first year teaching I didn't realize this. I decided that simply wearing black pants, a black shirt, and little cat ears from the dollar store would suffice. Not true! My poor students were tagged with the stigma of having the teacher with the absolute lamest costume. Every year we have a parade. My initial impression was that the parade was for the kids. Little did I know, the teachers go all out for it too! As teachers were dressed as everything imaginable, ranging from apples and ladybugs to Sarah Palin, I had dinky dollar store ears on my head. Not cool at all!

But, I learned. Last year I took a trip to Wal-Mart the day before our parade. Way to wait till the last minute! Browsing through the scattered remains of what was once the costume aisle, I realized I was going to need to get creative. Roaming the store, I was trying to come up with something. I saw scrubs, maybe I could be a nurse. I saw a bathrobe, maybe I could be an old lady. I know my grandma is a big bathrobe wearer. Hmmm, what else? It was tough. But, with the help of a friend, here is what we came up with:

Simple to make and very unique! The kids were thoroughly entertained by it. I had a costume they could be proud of, not embarrassed by like a simple pair of cat ears.

In looking toward a costume for this coming Halloween, I turned to the people it is most important to, my students. Some students suggested being a geek or a witch. They claim these are not because that is what they really think of me. I have a feeling they are just being kind. A few got a little more creative and want me to dress up as Shea. And possibly my favorite suggestion was to be a dog bone and to bring Shea with me to the parade. I wish I could. If only Jeff were here to transport Shea (there is no other reason I'd like him to be here for).

So, on that note, I am no better off than before I asked for suggestions. Got any?

Trick-or-Treat

Cheap, frugal, penny pincher, tightwad, whatever you want to call it. I am it! I know it. I'm not necessarily proud of it, but I accept it. I always have been. As a child, I would search couch cushions and stash the money away in a hidden canister. I used it wearily, only to buy gifts for family members on birthdays and Christmas. I took these habits with me.

I am the person, a little hesitant to admit, that checks the flyers, then goes to three different grocery stores to get the best deal.  I compare and contrast before I buy. Forking over money for any semi-major purchase makes my heart skip a few beats. I even have trouble betting away chips in friendly poker games. But, somehow, I always come out alive.

With my stingy ways, on of my favorite words happens to be "free!" Sure, sometimes "free" comes with stipulations. Those aren't the "frees" I like. I like straight up free.This weekend there was a home show in the area. I love going to the home show. I have great interest in looking at houses, and the home show takes it a bit further and allows to me see different options to incorporate into those houses I love to look at. But, even more than this, the home show is a great place to get free stuff!

So, on my visit to the home show, I made sure to grab a bag. I would fill this bag to the brim before I left. I worked hard not be memorable, because that way, you can go around the whole thing more than once. For me, it is hard to not be memorable. But, I had to sacrifice. The more trips you take around, the more free stuff you can get! Now, don't think I am a horrible person. The free stuff I take, is not solely for my own benefit. You see, I take the pencils, I take the candy, and I take the rulers. My goal is always to collect 24 of them. One for each of my students.

Along the way, I stop and enjoy the sights and sounds of the home show. There are infomercial-like stands, demonstrating their products. Mops, brooms, irons, gardening supplies, cookware, patios, saunas, and tiling services to name a few. The sights are plenty and oh, so interesting.

Even more plentiful was the candy!  I made a number of trips around, noting where the good candy was and filling my bag. It felt like trick-or-treating. And, it sure had a similar result. I like to give out candy for birthdays at school. This particular home show may just have successfully stocked me up enough to last the rest of the school year. Lucky for little Billy whose birthday is tomorrow!

My loosey goosey, wallet flapping husband will cringe when he reads this. Sorry Jeff. But don't worry, I saved a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup just for you, baby!

Potty Pants

Early this morning I was requested as a babysitter for my little cousins. The oldest is a little girl, Rosie, who is 8, and my Godson, Joseph, who is now in his ferocious fives (an elongated version of the terrible twos). I was meeting their father at Rosie’s basketball scrimmage so he could leave from there.

I don’t know what you know about 8 year olds playing basketball, but it is so cute and awful all at the same time! Cute, because these little kids dress up in their uniforms, do team cheers, and try to talk the basketball lingo. Yet so awful, because they run around having no clue whether they are on offense or defense.

The game was over quick enough and it was time for dinner. We went to “Friendly’s,” a regional family chain known for their quick, friendly service, and ice cream. Our table was filled with more hot dogs and mac ‘n cheese than you could ever want to eat.

Joseph is very big for his age. He always has been. I think he came out of the womb weighing in at 15 pounds. He hasn’t stopped eating or growing since. So, I was somewhat taken aback when he left half of his plate of mac ‘n cheese. I had to push him to eat two more fork fulls. He did and immediately went to he bathroom to pee. He was back quickly, in time to order an ice cream for dessert. While waiting for dessert he asked to go to the bathroom again. When I questioned him, he said he had to go or he would poop his pants. Joseph was in the bathroom for about 10 minutes. I kept checking on him, and he was indeed sitting there on the toilet. A few minutes later he emerged looking like a proud man who had just done his business. All he needed was a newspaper under his arm.

Back home, the kids needed to get their pj’s on. When I collected their dirty clothes to throw in the hamper, only Joseph’s sweatshirt was on his bed. He said he hid his clothes under the bed and pretended to get them out. Why on earth is he pretending to get his clothes out from there? Why is lying about putting his clothes in the hamper? As I bent down to check what was going on under that bed, my nose nearly jumped off my face. The dog ratted out Joseph by grabbing his poop-stained underwear and dragging them out into the middle of the floor. Joseph admitted to having an accident in the “Friendly’s” bathroom. He was embarrassed and tried to hide the evidence. I assured him it was okay and we went to clean his butt. Fun, fun, fun.

After the kids were in bed, I was left with poop-ridden underwear. Glad for the large laundry room, I cleaned Joseph’s underwear off and deemed myself the Best Babysitter on Earth! The scary part, other than having to hold my breath, I was somewhat comfortable with the whole process.

If only I were in Cleveland this weekend. I would be out with Jeff, enjoying our time together, rather than cleaning poop of butts and undies. At least I am comfortable doing either!

PB Please

I envy my dog. In reality, I envy him for many reasons, but one thing sticks out in particular almost everyday. As a nearly daily treat, I fill Shea's Kong with peanut butter. Do you know what a Kong is? Kong claims to be the "world's best dog toy." Pretty cocky statement don't you think? It is the equivalent of Michael Jordan claiming he is the best basketball player ever; it is 100 percent the truth! The Kong is by far the most superior dog toy out there. http://www.kongcompany.com/

Every time I jam pack Shea's Kong full of peanut butter, I have the urge to devour a knife full of peanut butter. For the most part, I can suppress this desire by thinking about Shea frantically licking the peanut butter out of the Kong. He lays down, closes his eyes, and stretches his tongue into all the corners of hid beloved Kong. It is a very emotional and time consuming process. And while I love Shea and all that he does, his layers of slobber covering the Kong, makes me think twice about using that same knife to lick a glob of peanut butter off of.

On days when I plan ahead, I will fill Shea's Kong with peanut butter and put it in the freezer. This makes Shea's special treat last even longer. The amount of envy I have when Shea simply has a Kong full of peanut butter, multiplies when it is filled with frozen peanut butter. Something about the frozen peanut butter sends an aroma into the air unlike any other. Definitely a step above regular peanut butter. Since I was really on the ball this morning, I not only put Shea's Kong in the freezer, but I put a little cup of peanut butter in there for myself as well. While Shea and I shared our peanut butter treats this afternoon, I felt my envy momentarily dissipate.

My friends, the only thing better than peanut butter, is frozen peanut butter! Think about it. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Does it include peanut butter? Have you ever had a frozen peanut butter cup?

It seems as though all frozen things taste better with a touch of peanut butter (even babies)!

I know someone in Cleveland would certainly agree with me. So, Jeff, if you are missing Shea, which I know you are, put a little PB in the freezer, then snack on it in an hour or so. Not only will it satisfy your taste buds, but the delicious smell will remind you of your furry buddy!

I Didn't Realize I Had Leprosy

The past two years, Jeff has let me play on his intramural basketball team. Since I graduated college, and my basketball career ended, I have had a very hard time finding any women's leagues. So, I had to play with the men. It has been the only real option. I loved on Sunday nights, heading over to the gym with Jeff, playing on the team with who I thought was the best player in the league, and then leaving with him because he was my husband! What a great feeling! 

Since Jeff is no longer here, I can no longer play in that league. With nothing else available, I signed up for an adult education basketball league within my school district. A few days before the league was to begin, I received an email asking if I had meant to sign my husband up. She thought I must have mistakenly put my name on the slip. After convincing her that I could hold my own, she let me know that I was entitled to play. 


The league started tonight. When I got in the gym, you may have thought I smelled. I was probably the best smelling person there, but nobody would come near me. At the start of the first game, all of the guys shook hands. They were asking each other their names. Not one person was interested in shaking my hand or knowing my name. In fact, one of my teammates said, "it's us four and her." Almost like I was a leper. I was pretty sure there was no chance they would pass me the ball. Oh, well, at least I'd get to run around.  

It took a while for them to pass to me, but eventually they did. When they saw that I didn't drop the ball, pass it to the other team, or take stupid shots, they began to pass it a bit more. In between each game, they all talked to each other, whether they knew one another or not. Nobody spoke a word to me. It was very bizarre. On the court, I noticed the men had started to make fun of the guy I was guarding. Why wasn't he scoring? Why was I able to score on him? Why was he so tired? I do kind of enjoy this taunting, but at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder if these men thought I was deaf. I was standing right in front of them, and by making fun of the guy, they were in turn, making fun of me. 


Anyways, I continued to play. I didn't turn the ball over, I made good passes, I made shots when I was open, and I didn't let my guy score. Nothing great, but I held my own. That was my goal. That was all I wanted to do. By the end of the evening, the guys came up to me and shook my hand. They said they have no problem with having me in the league and that it was obvious I would be okay playing with them. I guess nobody talking to me and berating me in front of my face was all a part of the initiation process. A process that is very much different than when your husband gets you in with his team. I will miss playing with Jeff, but I am glad that I have a place to play. I need it. It makes me feel much more fulfilled. 

Dick's Sporting Goods

I keep hearing about how there is a new Dick's Sporting Goods at Crossgates Mall. For those from outside of New York's capitol region, Crossgates is one of the bigger malls in the entire U.S. It offers over 300 shops and restaurants. It's big! I couldn't help but remember there already being a Dick's in the mall. Apparently they have moved the location of Dick's to a bigger, 2-story spot. Thus, enabling them to post this sign along one of the more well traveled highways in Albany:

Yes, this new Dick's Sporting Goods is bigger! This play on words has no limits. For example, they could have said "Huge Dick's." What else could they say to advertise the "Bigger Dick's?"

Tweet, Twit, Twat

I don't embarrass easily. You know it's serious when I am a bit embarrassed to admit this. After putting it off for numerous reasons, I have joined the wondrous world of Twitter. I couldn't take it any longer, I needed to know what was going on in Miley Cryus' life every moment of everyday. Actually, I'm not all that interested in Miley's life, but I was told it was a good way to publicize my blog to a different audience.

http://twitter.com/lishgo

On Twitter, I have been tweeting and twatting, and trying to understand how the whole thing works. It is kind of cool, and very vague at the same time. I like to express myself a bit more than with one-liners (as you can tell), but I am getting used to it. I definetly see why business owners and celebrities use it. I guess the rest of us are just along for the ride.

I think what originally turned me off from Twitter was the name. The words Twitter and tweeting seem so ridiculous. Why don't you just call the website Booger and post Buggies on it? In my eyes, that wouldn't be any more ridiculous. The little bird of a mascot doesn't help. He looks like he would be flying around with a pink wig on singing show tunes from The Sound of Music if he could.

One last thing that pushed me away was the idea of "following" others. I am not gung-ho on being a leader or anything. But, when I think of following, I think of cult members, chanting, doing ceremonial dances, and bowing down their leader. Not a big fan of that, for obvious reasons. But I got over that once I started doing this and gaining followers.

Either way, Twitter isn't that bad.  I have found myself roaming to that page to randomly check out twits (what I like to call them) and search for anybody or anything that pops into my head.

As I have begun to change my narrow-minded views of Twitter, Jeff suggested what seemed like a wonderful idea. Since schools, including mine, are always pushing to integrate more technology into the curriculum, why don't I create a Twitter account for my class. Parents and grandparents can become followers and my students will have to update the twats (the other thing I like to call them) throughout the day. This combines the technology piece, and improves communication with parents, another big focus. I love the idea and could only think of one downfall; we cannot access pages like Twitter on the districts network. Understandably so. I thought the idea was so good, and modernized, I was considering approaching my principal to see if he would allow the website to pass through the filter into my classroom. I decided to take a little time to think about, and thank goodness I did.

Checking my Twitter account this afternoon, I noticed I had a new follower. I checked to see who it was and the name was rather vulgar. It read "F*$# it, S(rhymes with F*$#) it." The picture that accompanied it wasn't all that appropriate either. Not appropriate for children and not appropriate for the average adult. Jeff and discussed if this would happen if the Twitter account only sought out parents as followers. I starting thinking that was probably correct. But, at the same time, I hope you believe me when I say, I was not seeking out anybody like "F*$# it S*$# it!" I may be lonely with my husband in Cleveland, and there may be a week and a half until I see him next, but that is not the answer! I've come to the conclusion that Twitter is too much of a risk to have in the classroom setting, although it could be very beneficial when used properly.

Fire!

As I was cooking dinner tonight, a sudden panic struck as an ear piercing ringing began to blare through the house. "Fire, fire," it shouted. "Evacuate!" In my panicked state, I reeled around and checked my surroundings. No fire. Definitely no fire.

I was cooking, but I wasn't burning anything and nothing seemed to be smoking extensively. With Shea's barking adding to the compounding fire alarm, I opened the windows and glass doors so all of the neighbors could hear the lovely sounds. It wouldn't have made a bad song. Certainly not any worse than what Balloon Boy's family considers music:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmcpgAcLC8k

With the fresh air coming in, and the apparently smokey air flowing out, the alarm finally shut down. I felt like cowering away to the attic and hiding in a box while awaiting the fire department to come. How ridiculous was I going to look when fire trucks pulled up this highly suburbanized neighborhood to find a fool like me holding a spatula?

As I was running through  the scene in my mind, I remembered that this is a private house, not a college dorm. Perhaps I have not come to this realization because of the lasting effect setting off a fire alarm in my college dorm has had on me.

Flashback to my junior year: my boyfriend at the time, my current husband, was working nights and had come to my room to take a nap. Fast asleep in the bedroom, I was hungry. With all of my masterful cooking skills, I decided to heat up a roll I found in the freezer. From what I have learned, frozen rolls do not heat up in the microwave very well. I had only set the microwave for one minute. Before that minute was up smoke was seeping through the cracks of the microwave door and the little roll had turned from a nice doughy color to an ashy black. I picked up the roll and placed it outside of the window thinking I had saved myself. Moments later the fire alarm went off and the entire dorm had to evacuate.

I woke Jeff up, because the alarm didn't, and we went outside. Soon thereafter the fire department arrived, storming the building with axes. It was just a little roll, no need for axes! I hadn't done anything on purpose, but I felt as though I was a criminal. "Go on," Jeff urged. "You need to tell them."

If I had a tail, it would have been sunk between my legs. I felt like I was walking to electric chair as I approaching the overseeing firefighter. I had just opened my mouth to explain that I was the one who had set the alarm off and it was no reason for concern, just a scorched bun, when a fully-clad firefight emerged. "I got it!" he shouted. In his hand, he held up the dinky, black roll I so badly wanted to snack on.

I like to think that this was the beginning of me interrupting Jeff's sleep. Once married, he wrongfully feels that I hog the bed and the covers. I feel quiet the opposite is true. Either way, Jeff, I advise you to use these last nine months to catch up on all of the sleep I will deprive you of for the rest of your life. Do it now, before your time runs out!

Treats

After an exciting trip to the park with Shea, I was going shopping. In my mind, I decided that I would get Shea in his crate and give him a delicious peanut butter ball treat that my students made for him on his birthday. These specific treats were stored on a flimsy aluminum plate in the refrigerator. All of the other treats are in the freezer.

To my surprise, the plate of peanut butter ball was gone! Hmmmmm. Weird, very weird. I came to the conclusion that my uncle had thrown them out. He had a friend over last night and it was obvious he had done some prepping for that. He had done little things like putting the dog gates away, making his bed, and putting the dishes away. He must have figured if she looked in the fridge, that tacky aluminum plate would stick out like a sore thumb.

Without thinking another moment about it, I grabbed a treat from the freezer and gave it to Shea. When I got home, my uncle was playing with Shea. He informed me that the peanut butter things I had made were absolutely delicious and that he had finished the rest of them. Ohhhhhh no! My uncle ate dog food! And, he liked it! I stuttered, trying to figure out how to explain to him what he had done. My uncle is a pretty calm guy, but I didn't think he would be too happy hearing that those "peanut butter things" weren't people food!

"Oh, yeah?" I responded. "Those were pretty good, weren't they?" It just came out. I thought about the ingredients (peanut butter, honey, and Chex Mix), and decided that no harm was done. He didn't need to know that those delicious treats were for Shea. In fact, they very easily could be a human treat. Apparently they taste as good to people as they do to dogs. I know Shea has enjoyed them.

Then, I thought about it more deeply. Not only were those treats meant for Shea, but my students made them. I flashed back to Wednesday, in the classroom, as I was washing some equipment in the sink. "Shouldn't we wash our hands?" one student asked. She got an answer from a classmate that went something like this, "Nah, we don't need to wash our hands. It's for a dog." I remember laughing to myself and being okay with that answer. He justified his point further when he added, "dogs eat dirt all the time." The kid was right. I couldn't argue, so I didn't.

As a teacher, I dearly love my students. They are great kids and I would do anything for them. However, a major rule I have is to never eat anything one of them hands to me. I politely say thank you, put it aside, and throw it away when they have left the room. Kids aren't the most sanitary people out there! They sneeze all over themselves, they pass their belongings to anyone and everyone, and they stick their little fingers in their nose, mouths, and ears nonstop. This doesn't mean they are not smart and kind, it just means they are kids. So, these kids, with their unwashed, grimy little paws, hand-rolled those peanut butter balls. Yes, the peanut butter balls my uncle found so incredibly delicious.

Jeff used to taste test Shea's treats. While the peanut balls may have been hard for him to turn down, I think Jeff would have even shied away once he found out the kids made them. Oh well, what my uncle doesn't know won't kill him. Hopefully!

Paintfest

Good friends of ours just bought a house. Before they move all of their belongings in, they want to paint all of the rooms to their liking. I couldn't agree more. It's definitely the way to do it. Since I have superior painting skills, I was recruited to spend my Saturday helping out our friends by wielding a paint brush. 

The last time I painted, Jeff and I weren't quiet married yet. He had just moved to Schenectady and was given a spectacle of an apartment to live in. The walls were painted a spirited, American flag type of red, white, and blue. When you walked through the door, your right hand immediately was drawn over your heart and you instinctively began to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Jeff and I both love this great country of ours, however, the incessantly bright red, white, and blue walls were burning our eyes and pounding our heads. They needed to be painted!

Jeff informed me of  his plans to paint, and I enthusiastically volunteered, "I love to paint!" The truth was, I had never painted before in my life. Well, I had never painted walls. I guess if I told him I loved to paint pretty pictures with water colors, that would have been more accurate. Nevertheless, Jeff accepted my offer to help and I did a fine job if I don't say so myself.

I have to be honest and admit that I felt somewhat envious walking into the new home my friends now own. I want nothing more than for Jeff and I to own our own home. A good start may be living in the same city. Either way, the feeling was still lingering. I couldn't help but think the last time I painted I was painting the first place Jeff and I would live together. And really, I had always thought the next time I would paint would be when we had bought our first house.

Pushing those underlying thoughts aside, I did my best to accommodate my friends and paint to the best of my ability. Maybe I didn't push those thoughts completely away. I guess, really, I look at it as practice. What areas I need to work on painting wise, like doing the trim, I practice at our friends' home. I screw up there, fix it, and learn. Thus, when Jeff and I eventually get a house, my painting skills will be extraordinary.

Practice and learn. That's what life is all about, whether it is painting, basketball, cooking, or life. The more you practice something, the more you learn, and the better you become for it.

A Window Is Open

As the temperature outside drops, odd enough, I want to be outside. Not because I like the cold, in fact, I despise the cold! I wake up in the morning, unable to move because my bones are freezing. I have to hover over the toilet because I can't sit on the seat. If I dare sit down, a chill shoots from my butt down to my toes and up my back. I can't blow my nose, for when ice chunks come out, it hurts! Shea gives me a little kiss, and his warm licks seem to immediately freeze up my skin. After spending the night sleeping in layers, underneath my heavy comforter, I am almost ready to remove layers before going outside for my morning run.


I have many times assumed that I have been leaving a window open somewhere. I have been obsessively checking my windows, thinking maybe I hadn't shut them all the way. I wiggle them, unlock them, re-lock them, to no avail. Maybe my uncle has his windows open. Maybe I am just incredibly frail and can't handle a little chill. I don't know, but something seemed really strange about how cold I am, especially at night. 


Each morning I check the temperature before I go out. I like to have an idea of what to expect and not to be surprised by the frost covering the formerly luscious green grass. Since the temperature has dropped more than 25 degrees this past week, I feel like I should be dressing like I am going out to explore the arctic. However, I walk out the door and am pleasantly greeted with a calm coolness, not the feeling that I have ventured out across a frozen tundra. 

Coming home from work today, I stepped inside from a nipping chill to be slammed in the face with what seemed like a cold, gusting wind. I announced, "Brrrr, it's freezing." With that, my uncle rushed to show me where the thermostat was. He explained that he turns it down while we are both at work, and pumps the temperature up a few degrees when we are both home. I know I can't complain, because, yes, Shea and I have been welcomed here with open arms. But, I can't help but think my uncle needs to pump the temperature up a bit more than a few degrees when we are both home. For a few degrees gets us to 58 degrees. That's right, the thermostat is always somewhere between 55 and 58 degrees! 


No wonder I am going crazy thinking a window is open! No wonder I am sleeping in layers of sweats. No wonder I am shedding layers of clothes before I go outside. And no wonder the temperature outside does not feel so cold. My body is being trained to accept bitter coldness. 


In trying to come up with a thrifty alternatives to firing my uncle's heat up, I have come up with a few options. None of them are too reasonable though. For now, I have resorted to warm showers three times a day, standing by the oven while it is on, throwing clothes into the dryer, then taking them out and putting them on immediately, and resting my warm computer on my belly. Like I said, not very reasonable, and probably not maintainable. But, in my opinion, either is 56 degrees! 


For some reason, Jeff is subjecting himself to these same living conditions. He has set a goal to keep the heat bill below $30 a month. I think he will freeze to death before that happens. I have always thought it is painful to be cold. It's even more painful to be cold alone! 

October 15th

Starting eight years ago, October 15th became a special day. It is the official start of the college basketball season. It was a joyous day when I was a student-athlete, and it is still has a crucial effect on my daily life, although for different reasons. While I don't need to lace my shoes up on October 15th anymore, my life changes with this day, possibly more this year than ever before. Why you ask? Because with Jeff coaching college basketball, his schedule becomes chaotic from today on.

For the first time since we moved Jeff to Cleveland, I will not talk to him before going to bed. Yea, corny. I know, but I like to hear Jeff's voice before I go to sleep. So, instead of sharing the happenings of our day, Jeff is currently in a scene somewhat similar to this:

Like the game in the kiddie magazines, there are differences between this picture and the scene Jeff is in at this moment. Can you spot them? There are the things you notice that aren't that momentous like, this team is maroon, and Jeff's new team is blue. There is a player in this picture that graduated and therefore is not on the team anymore. And there are the more drastic differences. How about that Jeff is now in a gym about 450 miles away from this one? Or, that I was actually able to run over to the gym, watch this practice, and take some photos. I don't think that is going to happen this season. At least not the running over part. I do enjoy running, but Cleveland is a little far!

With basketball season underway, Jeff will have no time, until at least March, to come visit me. (Not that that has happened anyways. Hmmmm, do you think he is trying to send me a message? Sure seems like it!) With Jeff unable to make any visits during his hectic basketball season, my visits should be more frequent, right? Yea, they should be. They can't though. The schedule doesn't allow for it. Times I can fly out there, Jeff may be on the road with his team, or may be at practice and unable to pick me up at the airport. Timing is everything, and nothing at the same time.

It's a good thing I am a huge, huge, huge basketball fan. I have a hard time believing anyone less would be able handle this. We will somehow figure this out. We always do. If not, it is a good thing I love basketball. That will keep me around forever!

The BIG 0-2

Today is Shea's birthday. Two years old! Wow, these two years have flown by! I can't believe that Shea was once this little puppy that could barely even open his eyes:

This morning Shea and I went through our normal routine. Well, as normal as possible for it being 28 degrees out. A far cry from the 38 it was yesterday morning. My uncle questioned if Shea knew it was his birthday. I don't think he did, and I didn't want him to think it was different than any other day until I got home from work. I would hate to think that he sat home in his crate knowing it was his birthday. He would feel so abandoned!

But, there was no abandonment for Shea today! He received love from all over the world! Ehhh, I guess it was more the east coast of the United States, but saying he received love from all over the world sounds much better. It almost seems pathetic that birthday wishes were sent from Florida, Connecticut, Massachussetts, Ohio, New York City, and a number of places in upstate New York. People really took time out of their day to extend their well wishes to Shea. Shea, the dog! Some came in the form of phone calls, computer messages, and also this one special message from Shea's Uncle Jon and cousin Diggy:

Jon and Diggy really miss Shea!

Shea loved all of these birthday wishes and I can tell he really appreciated everyone's efforts to make his second birthday special. Dogs have an uncanny way of showing appreciation; scratching, licking, and chasing their tails are the telltale signs.

Shea was lucky enough to receive a plethora of doggy treats for his birthday. As a lesson in following directions and measuring, my students were assigned to make Shea different kinds of birthday treats. The result was more dog treats than Shea can eat in the next year of his life. Okay, okay, I was exagerating. Maybe enough to last him the next week and a half. I laid them out in front of him, mind you some of each kind of treat, there are more. Shea just couldn't control himself and had to get a sneak preview in while I was taking this picture.

Look at all of those goodies! Obviously, I couldn't give him all of those things at once, so I trapped some of them inside the birthday canister my students made for him. He had to figure out how to get it open in order to get his treats.

To top Shea's birthday off, I cooked him a small steak for dinner and brought him to the dog park. He enjoyed every minute of it, relishing in the other dogs chasing him around while he had two tennis balls stuffed in his mouth.

The treats, the dinner, a trip to the dog park, and all of the special birthday wishes and attention were enough to make any dogs' day. However, one thing really topped Shea's birthday off. He got to video chat with Jeff. Although Shea can't see the screen as a normal human can, we can tell cause he has no concept that it is even there, he can hear the voices through the computer. When Jeff spoke to Shea, his ears perked up and he got real still. Then, his nose started going, sniffing the air around him, trying to find Jeff. I show Jeff Shea on the computer a lot. Usually Shea is asleep though. So, it was a special treat for Shea to hear Jeff talk to him over the computer. If only he could see him!

Play

When do we change over? When does our life become more about seemingly performing regular duties rather than play? I am tired. I daydream about taking a nap, or even better, sleeping for hours on end. As a kid, I never want the day to end. I wanted to be awake as long as my little eyes could stand. When do we, as adults, go from defying our bedtime to wishing someone would actually send us to bed. 

As a kid, I wanted to do nothing but play; all day long and hopefully as late into the night as I could get away with. It didn't matter what the weather was like, I wanted to be outside. If I was confined to the house, I made up games. When bed time rolled around, I turned a flash light on and would continue building with my Legos, or sorting my baseball cards, or putting together my puzzle. In the morning, I wanted to get up as early as I could so I could get back to my playing. 

Never, never, never, when I had a free moment did I think, oh I want to sit down and rest. I could think of anything better to do than rest! My friends and I used to build obstacle courses out of Cheese It's. We had to race through the obstacle course without using our hands. We would bob for apples in the back yard. We would pretend we were super heros and climb across the top of the jungle gym. Having a brother also kept me busy. We damaged the entire house wrestling. We played basketball on the nerf hoop hanging on the door. Even the not so fun games, like when my brother, Nick, would tie me up in my sweatshirt and roll me down the stairs, was better than being asleep! 

But now, I long for resting time, although that longing is rarely fulfilled. Why is this happening? What happened in the past ten years to completely change my outlook. I think a lot of life steps in the way. Whether it is the stress a career brings, financial burdens, or general upkeep, something significant changes the way we all look at and go about life. 

I am challenging myself, and I'd like to challenge you, my eight readers (yes, I gained one!), that the next time you feel like sitting down and resting, don't. Don't do it! Play instead! I would much rather play with Jeff around. I like to wrestle with him because I can definitely kick his $*@. I guess I will just have practice my moves on my throw back 80's wrestling buddy until I can use them on Jeff for real! Look at that! I already have plans to play!

Soapy Farts

Since Jeff and I got Shea, my mother has had this idea of giving Shea a bath in her jacuzzi tub. I think she's crazy. I have explained to her numerous times that he isn't exactly a bath-loving dog. He fights and squirms. He usually breaks free, slips and slides across the floor, and shakes himself dry. Plus, he loses enough fur to clog the Hoover Dam when he gets a bath.

After trying to convince my mother for, practically, the past two years, I finally let her have her way. I figured she will not get the idea out of her head until she tries it. And quiet frankly, I'm tired of hearing it! In her head, she must envision the tub filled and Shea will willingly jump in like it is a swimming hole. Then he will sit nicely while he is soaped up and rinsed off. She probably pictures him in a shower cap too! I decided she needs to get over this notion and there is no better way to relieve her of that than letting her experience it.

My mother felt the best way to go about this was to prefill the tub and take everything out of the bathroom. Shea and I went up to the bathroom and I shut the door behind us. He became uneasy as soon as the door closed. This isn't normal, so he had a sense something was up. After letting him roam around and sniff the bathroom, he spotted a  bar of soap near the wall. I have noticed, as of late, that Shea has a thing for soap. He likes the way it tastes. Funny, as I was always punished with soap in the mouth. Anyways, Shea climbed up on the tub and maneuvered his way around the edges of the tub. For some reason, my water dog wanted nothing to do with the water in the jacuzzi tub. And what did he do? He grabbed the soap and swallowed it whole!

When he gingerly made his way back to the floor, I took matters into my own hands. I got him in the tub and got him wet. He jumped out and slide across the tile floor. I soaped up my hands with his doggy shampoo and slathered it all over his body. Then, I filled my hands with water and continued to dump it on him. By this time, he was jumping at the door as if he could get out by doing that. While Shea didn't get a bath per say, I like to think that he got a Mexican Doggy Bath. The results were very similar to a real bath, as he smells good and his coat is clean and shiny.

As for the soap, I immediately researched the effects that this could have. First and foremost, he is not in any danger. I just need to keep my eyes out for some unfortunate side effects. While these maybe unpleasant, they will surely be entertaining. Diarrhea, burping bubbles, and farting bubbles. I am hoping that we can skip over the first and only see the latter two for a short period of time.

Airport Living

I am here at the Baltimore/Washington International Airport waiting for my flight to board. It shouldn’t be too long. I used to love the feeling of being in an airport. It usually meant that I was heading to some exotic location for a nice vacation. As of late, however, that feeling is not present. I feel as though my second home is the airport.  Only adding to the sense that I am living the life of a nomad.

Overall, the weekend was absolutely amazing. I do feel that the time apart from Jeff is bringing us closer together. We know to cherish the time we are together, for it never lasts long enough. Since the move, we have been doing nothing out of the ordinary with our time together. This weekend, we had extravagant plans thanks to the wedding. We had reason to get all dressed up, to fine dine, and to dance. There is no greater scene than men in tuxes, women in black dresses dancing to a little Snoop Dogg, some Black Eyed Peas, and of course, a spoonful of G-Unit. Nothing fancies up dressed to impress like flailing your arms around like monkeys. While none of us in particular are good dancers, we do love to dance!

Now, while Jeff is driving back to Cleveland, I am flying back to Albany. We are beginning the boarding process. The sitting next to me told me she was going to get a bottle of water. I told her I would keep my eye on her things. Apparently I won’t. She said it is clearly stated not to leave your belongings with strangers. I can’t help but believe that either I look suspicious, or she is hiding something in her precious luggage.

Well, see you in Albany.

Make It Rain

My brother-in-law, Jim, got married today. There was a beautiful ceremony and a wonderful party following. Food, family, and dancing.

The gift table is always interesting. You almost wonder why there is even a gift table and not just a card slot of some sort. Any new bride and groom don't want gifts; they want money. A nice card with some moola.  Gifts are the norm for the engagement and bridal shower, but not the wedding. Jim made this clear. "You are Italian, you give money," he announced to his brothers.

Jeff and I filled a card with cash. Jon, the youngest of the three brothers, filled a box with money. It's not that he gave him a ridiculously huge amount of money that he needed more room than a card would allow. It was that he wanted his big brother to "make it rain." In order for this to happen, Jon filled the box with a few hundred single dollar bills. The hope is that Jim will take the single dollar bills and toss them in the air. Maybe Jim will go beyond making it rain and find the need to roll around in them afterwards.

Before Jim opened this gift, he was upset. He thought he had made it painfully clear to Jon that he wanted money, not a gift. He was at the point where he was refusing to open it. Good thing he did! You can't been hundreds of ones. That thick stack of money in your wallet can make you feel much wealthier than you really are!

MD

Here I am in Baltimore. No, not Cleveland; Baltimore. The only thing better than being with Jeff, is being with Jeff on a semi-vacation. You see, Jeff's brother is getting married tomorrow right here in Baltimore.

When I arrived today, Jeff was golfing and I was signed up to get my nails done with the bridal party. I was happy to be involved and spending time with the bride, however, I would have loved to see Jeff first! The wait didn't seem as long as it actually was. I guess getting manicure while you are lounged in a massage chair makes time pass a little faster than normal.

We went through the whole pre-wedding rehearsal all evening. The church scene, the dinner, the party, all of it. I cannot say that I have been to many weddings that I haven't been an integral part of. Whether it was being the bride myself, or being a bridesmaid. Although Jeff is a groomsmen, I was able to sit back, observe, and take it all in. I enjoyed being on the outside looking in.

I am pretty easy going and I stayed fairly calm through the whole pre-wedding ordeal of my own. The only small faltering I had was when the lady who waxed my eyebrows actually plucked my skin. I was a little upset as I walked out of the salon with blood dripping off my face. Not always the best circumstance the day before you wedding.

My future sister-in-law has the same calmness about her. While it would make for a much better story, she has done nothing like those bridezillas you see on TV. However, I think there is clearly an underlying stress. A stress that comes with any big event, especially a wedding. I'd love to tell you all about it, but I'd rather spend time with my long lost husband!

Oh Baby

Today I was asked if I was pregnant. Uh oh. Has the absence in my life that I have been filling with food really gotten that out of hand? This could only mean a few different things. One, my stomach is bulging out. Two, my head and ankles appear to be swollen. It seems as though I have gotten little sleep as of late due to morning sickness, or I have a beautiful pregnancy glow.

Being taken by surprise, I declined the idea with great relief. What exactly would I do if I were pregnant? Can you imagine? Me being pregnant would be a very bad thing on so many levels. The most obvious, my husband is 450 miles away. What a way to go through a pregnancy; alone. I know dogs have a sixth sense, but dogs also have no hands to hold my hair back while I get sick, and they can't have a driver's license to go get me ice cream when I have a craving. I also run too much. My poor baby would come out all wiry and ready to run a marathon. I devote too much time to Shea. It can't be good for a growing fetus to be squished all the time as I bend down to pet my best pup or to pick up his tennis ball to chuck again. Pregnant women should also rest. With the big guy, I don't rest much, just play. Lastly, we don't need more babies having babies. I am certainly old enough to have a baby, and, actually, I know that I could handle it quiet well. But, I am still just a kid at heart. I am the adult that you see doing stupid, harmless, childish things. I still try to balance on the curb while I walk on the sidewalk. I try not to step on cracks, as I don't want to break my mother's back. I push a shopping cart and then jump on to bring it back to the corral in the parking lot. Should I be bringing life into this world?

Luckily, this is all hypothetical. No baby, no pregnancy. To be honest, there isn't even a sign of it. My belly is still pretty flat, nothing is swollen, I am not ridden by morning sickness, and I am not glowing in any way. I was asked if I was pregnant because my co-worker overheard me say that I had a craving. She shared that she only had cravings when she was pregnant. My response was that someday it could happen, but not today.

Really, not today. My husband is in a different state. Tomorrow though; you never know.

The Fresh Prince

I have gotten a lot of negative feedback about yesterday's post. People not quiet understanding the new way Jeff and I will go about life. People, not thinking this new method of madness is a good idea. Why not? Will Smith and Jada Pinkett do it! That's right, I just compared Jeff and I to the Fresh Prince and his crime fighting angel of a wife. And why shouldn't I? We live very similar lifestyles!

Maybe, because Jeff and I have morals. Maybe because we possess self control. I don't know. It could be the respect we have for one another. Or the fact that we have build a foundation for a strong marriage. It could be that we did vow to honor and cherish each other, and have decided that the "each other" in there is more important than anything else.

Either way, if you believed the post yesterday, two things are very evident. First and foremost, you have not read previous blogs. If you had read those, you would find the revelations in yesterday's blog impossible. And secondly, you obviously do not know either of us. I'm not saying that is a good or a bad thing, it is just an obvious thing.

Different Area Codes

"If you are in different area codes, it's not cheating." Those words resinate in my mind. Is this true? Does being in a different area code make cheating ok?

Over the past month, Jeff and I have realized that while this move we have made will benefit our future, it is leaving us unfulfilled right now. We have been going about everything thinking positively, trying to remember how this will make our relationship stronger, help us both reach our professional goals, blah blah blah. All the things that someone trying to make a ridiculous situation sound normal would say.

This stuff we have been saying all along is wonderful. But, really, living hundreds of miles apart leaves something to be desired. So, the question is how to we solve this problem. With an open relationship of course.

Never, I mean never, had I ever considered such a thing. But, on that blessed day in September 2007 when we exchanged vows, we promised to honor and cherish each other. With that, I cherish Jeff enough to allow him to fulfill his desires. And he feels the same about me.

Do I have fears about this? Of course. How many major decisions are made without some fear? I can simply turn on the television and realize the problems that can come. Does David Letterman ring a bell? I can't imagine the pain his wife is going through. Once it starts, maybe there is no way to end it. I am hoping that, in our case, proximity will help. For while we are in different area codes, there is no such thing as cheating. But, we will not be in different area codes forever!

NYC

Jeff, born and raised in a land where cows run rampant, is really a city boy at heart. How this happened? I'm not quiet sure, but it is for certain. Milking cows was never for Jeff. The fast life and the city that never sleeps is what holds the key to Jeff's heart.

Cleveland is no New York City, but it sure is closer to that lifestyle than Schenectady! Maybe a step in the right direction for Jeff. Personally, I need to know that we will be financially stable if I were to consider moving to New York City. Sure I could teach down in the city. I would do it in a heart beat. Although, the money I would make may be able to buy me meals off of the McDonald's dollar menu once a week.

 In thinking that at some point I will end up in New York City, I have tried to imagine what that lifestyle would be like beyond eating off the dollar menu. I have tried to envision myself working there. What would I do? Personally, I enjoy an active lifestyle and would hate anything less. I also hate being on someone else's schedule. I hate the idea of the subway because if I am running a few minutes late one day, I will miss my ride. So, I came to the conclusion that the best job for me would be a pedicab driver.

Being a pedicab driver would meet all my most important needs. Number one, I would be involved in a physically active and challenging job. Can't beat that! Another major plus is that I get to meet all kinds of people. There is no doubt in a city like New York, I will meet people from all walks of life. I will see and hear interesting things I couldn't anywhere else in the world. And beyond that, I would be on my own schedule, pedaling around finding customers and dodging that crazy New York City traffic. Ahhhh, that would definitely be my ideal New York City job. It may not be a job that has me reaching for the stars, but hey, it will do!

I felt comfortable with this decision and the idea that this could be what my life comes to if Jeff decides New York City is his next move. The mixture of wind and smog in my face, pedaling around my own body weight plus that of my customers. I like a challenge and this would be my new way of facing one each day. The only problem, I don't think I am tough enough to beat up a cab driver. Apparently that is a job requirement. Don't believe me? Check it out.......

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/cab_pedicab_fight_in_times_square_irK6W3egAoNqKgPlt1TZ4O

So much for that idea. I guess I have to stick with teaching!